vignette July 2011 Vignette: Ia! Ia! Archeville fhtagn!

[Lone Star]

Kid Cthulhu- Eldritch Boogaloo

Kingston- Starbucks. 7:04 PM

It seemed like it would be just another Friday for Blake. He sighed and sipped his Chai Latte with his free hand, the other texting his girlfriend with the dexterity that only the youthful and technologically-savvy can master. He looked out the window at the evening sky, and the sun setting in the way that could only be described as majestic. The beautiful reds and purples that a summer sunset fell against his eyes, and Blake turned his chair around to glance at the television.

A news reporter was giving an unusually boring spiel about weather and the economy, and Blake turned back around, his eyes glazed with boredom. The television screen filled with static, and the barista went over with the remote and tried to adjust it.

“People of Earth, attend!â€

A figure in a labcoat- oddly familiar, gave a speech on how he would recreate society and better the world. What exactly the figure was didn’t escape him- it was a Deep One, the race of Atlanteans corrupted by evil sorcery.

“Looks like this is right up my alley.†Blake thought, and he smirked to himself as he speedily ran to a bathroom, and unfolded his costume. Within a minute, he had his suit and robes on, and he adjusted his tie in the mirror. A balding man walked into the restroom, and Blake asked him “Does the tie look okay?†The man, confused, nodded, and Blake offered him thanks and disappeared.

He was on the move, his shoes flashing with magic power as he teleported from one roof to the next. Blake could almost smell the dark sorcery- it came from the bay in South Freedom. It was odd to him- to have his magical senses be so acute. To have the ability to find magic where it’s being used is one thing, but to be able to nearly smell the fell sorcery put Blake a little on edge. He leapt from a roof, teleporting in mid-jump to the roof across the street from it. His Converses squeaked against the tar of the roofs between jumps, and a bead of sweat fell from Blake’s forehead.

“Why do I feel compelled towards them? I know it’s my duty, and of course I need to help out, but it’s almost like a magnet is pulling me towards them.â€

Blake took the next leap, and an intense agony in his head caused him to miss the next jump and misjudge how far he needed to teleport. A scream barely escaped his lips before he fell onto a pile of garbage bags. He staggered to his feet, clutching his head as psychic waves of nausea and agony threatened to destroy his grip on reality. A vision of the dead walking, grey skin stretched over bones, and then they all flew together; a terrible monster being formed in the North Bay. Blake felt his hands reach into the air, and his back arched painfully. His eyes popped open, but his mind was in another place altogether.

It wasn’t an unfamiliar sensation, being detached from one’s own body. It had happened once before. Blake felt himself floating in a space which felt like it went on forever. He felt vulnerable, and wary of what was about to happen.

“What do you want from me? You took your power back, you bastard!â€

He felt his arms and legs being bound by slimy tentacles, and he resisted, even though he knew it was useless to do so.

The creature spoke, in a voice that made Blake’s mind hurt.

“You will be used. Weapon.â€

Blake thrashed his arms and legs frantically. “No! NO, GODDAMN IT! I WON’T BE USED AGAINST MY FRIENDS!â€

His mind struggled against the tide of terrible eldritch power. Thoughts raced through his head. What do you think you could do with this power? Why would you want to save people when true power is just at your fingertips? You could be a ruler, a god among men. No one would have the power to stop you.

Blake looked down at his arm, and his body began to transform, becoming something beyond imagination and horrid to behold. He screamed, his willpower pushing against The Unspeakable One.

“NO! YOU WON’T TAKE ME AGAIN!â€

He awoke on his knees, hands in front of him. Blake blinked, and stood up. His knees gave way, and he collapsed again, and panted heavily.

Blake stood up, supporting his weight with the wall. He looked at his arm, and saw the familiar green skin and a rash of scales. He flexed his back muscles, and felt the scales adjust. He had beaten The Unspeakable One, but his power had taken him once again. Blake’s eyes fell to the sky, which was growing dark; a storm brewing at the bay.

He held out his hand, and ignited the eldritch powers that flowed through him once more. The otherworldly fire sprang to his fingertips, cold to the touch. Blake stood upright, and flexed his back. A pair of monstrous wrings sprung from his back, as if they had been waiting there for a long time. He looked to the North Bay, and ran towards the street. His wings extended, and carried him closer to the harbor. Kid Cthulhu was back once again, and he had a job to do.

[Fox]

Dragonfly - Wrath

ArcheStern, Earth Orbit

Dragonfly had long since run out of the patience required to stand still, alternating between pacing and patching one of the many bunches of dangling wires and equipment. Several nearby screens contained complex, unrefined readouts and raw code, the information available dominated by a single number: 15%.

Mara had been in her warehouse when the broadcast had gone out; like most her attention had first been on the strange fish-man, wondering what supervillain had decided to cause trouble this time. Then her eye caught the shadowed figures behind him, and her blood had gone cold. Frantic checking and a computer-assisted search later had led her to ArcheStern, which didn’t make her feel any better at all....

32%. Three of the circuit boards for this piece of her little project had burnt out already; she salvaged a piece of another console this time, in the hopes that it could handle the backwash of building power. A few minutes. She needed a few minutes....

By the time the world was well and truly in trouble Mara had already been planning, and the wide-spread chaos only put a sharper edge to her designs. Not long after the broadcast she appeared on ArcheStern itself, space unraveling to drop the young engineer in a fairly random location. Just as important was the small machine she carried, which she wasted no time plugging directly into ArcheStern’s data lines before tearing through what few, mistakenly-loyal humans remained like a hot knife through butter.

73%. Dragonfly reflexively glanced at a monitor cycling through security footage as she stepped over an unconscious scientist, dimly noting that the people still on their feet across ArcheStern were putting up a better fight than she’d anticipated, even with the station’s defenses turned against its occupants. It would have been impressive if they weren’t trying to stop her...or anyone else. She couldn’t know if she was the only person who’d followed the signal here, but if there were others she hadn’t seen them, and wouldn’t have cared.

Ellie wasn’t here. Ellie wasn’t here, but the equipment was, and evidence that they had been here maybe she’d taken too much time preparing or designing something that could deposit her here safely, maybe she shouldn’t have spent those few minutes designing a viral, dog-brained AI to sweep through the station, maybe.... Maybe. She didn’t know where to go from here, until she realized how bad things had gotten on the surface, spotted a large and growing threat in the city. She could get back down there, search by hand...or maybe....

100%. Most of the screens went red, and somewhere in the back of the room a piece of equipment that had served its purpose cooked itself, releasing acrid smoke as it died. Most of the communications array of the satellite - she had to assume the same array that had let Archeville or whoever take over broadcasts - had been repurposed, inside and out, lashed together here and out in space with a number of salvaged cables and equipment. It wasn’t pretty, but it was functional, and it had only two functions.

Smaller, ancillary systems drew a bead on the city below, her viruses turning their attention away from the remaining threats aboard the station and down to the large, writhing tentacle creature making its way through the town. She was drawing a bead too, lights dancing behind her eyes as equipment calibrated and oriented itself toward the planet in precise, stuttering clockwork.

On the little planet called Earth, every television set and radio within two blocks of the monster (those that still worked, anyway) lit up, playing sights and sounds of a wrecked and ravaged room. The walls were covered in burn marks and open panels, the floor littered with a few unconscious - but breathing - bodies. In the middle of it all stood Dragonfly, the lower part of her helmet pulled away to expose a set and angry mouth. Tears or sweat had cut lines through the dirt and grease on her face and her armor showed no small signs of damage (or, oddly, some salvage), but she stood strong, unwavering. And she had only one thing to say:

“Hey!†she shouted, echoed in a thousand voices across several city blocks. “F*** YOU!â€

The repurposed array unleashed the fury of a very angry, very clever young heroine. As the televisions and radios cut out into static something shone up in the sky, far up above the clouds...just before a massive, rippling beam like god’s own wrath cut down through the atmosphere.

[Setzer]

???

???

-re outhus?

-Uh?

He tried to focus his eyes, but it was like slipping through a clouded glass. All he could see was a vague image of what looked like three white giants mingling with each other. Still took a while before the world began to stabilize, which resulted in a horrible sort of a throbbing hangover and pain all over his back, becoming a crying howl in the shoulder.

-I ask that if you are already with us, Mr. Rubio.

"Mr. Rubio" took a few minutes to answer honestly to that question, at least until the world stopped moving like a ship in a storm. And when that happened and began to realize where he was, felt the cold in the head and back and that was flanked by ... eh ... supermarket pizza boxes. Not what he had expected in that situation, as he had not expected to the pharmacist on the corner looking at him with concern as he was lying next to what appeared to be the freezer of the minestrones and chef laurie´s specials. He put his hand to his head, feeling what seemed like a good shot; it hurted and scratched like one.

-What happ...

And at that moment all the information came from blow to head. Did not even have answered himself.

-Aw CRAP.

Vanguard

West End, Freedom City

For when it all began, it was too late. People were not prepared to fight rampant arising abominations of all places, or mindless creatures that come out of what seemed a moment before was your wallet, your car, your daughter. People, even one, simply could not make a difference in a battle that was for the heroes, created by the heroes and (hopefully) solved by the heroes. That's when a few people in few places, regardless of their profession, dedication or abilities, they decided that this was a good time to decide what exactly made ​​you a "hero". With firefighters busy, the police completely overwhelmed and special forces engaged in other parts of the city was left to the neighbors to try to stem the tide of Deep Ones with the media that might have on hand. The war tests the man and reveals whether the coward and is not really a brave, if the bully actually has substance or is facade. As for tests, the city and its inhabitants learned a valuable lesson: when creatures that reek of brine, crude parodies degenerate, threatening the lives of loved ones, man reveals himself as a creature of righteous anger and indignation. Come on, nobody likes when a squid tries to mess with the friend of one. These people were looking for a serious ass-whooping.

Those who knew fighting, or had some idea of ​​urban design, guided and advised others that were eventually gathered in part, entrenched in the safest places. What people could do with some excitement, a couple of baseball bats and hockey sticks and protections that isolates them from the more superficial shock was amazing, blessed Sportacus and his policy of not closing with gates. West End patrol was there, and had several stories in the future be counted as they entered a bar and managed to rescue the world by opening the kegs or one where they got a great weapon upgrade after dig after an accident which was isolated in trying to get people out of the synagogue attack and ended with them in an improbable series of events, including a school bus desperate driving and at the pharmacy, who was being led by an old school ex-villainess of the old school with a few memories and a kind of pump-action shotgun that fired globs of sticki resin. Not to talk about the acts of insane awesomeness one can do with an near-impenetrable shield, well-toned muscles and a training that allows to launch said iron shield with uncanny precision. Until the end of the days seven-on-a-row would be a phrase claimed between beers and laughs.

Now, while we hid in the ground floor of the supermarket, I can not help wondering if what we did for something really worth. I suppose the answer is "yes", but when all your friends and colleagues are injured or exhausted, are fighting to not let the gates burst and the Deep Ones enter continuously as a couple trying to stay connected and get some clue as to why Viktor Archeville and several of the most beloved heroes suddenly decided instead to become universal dictators makes you worthy of at least a modicum of concern. Oh, and I mentioned that a guy with a stone hand head slammed me against the wall until I was knocked out and that I have three chitin spear stuck in the shoulder to the bone? No? Well, now I have. I am the de facto leader and I have no idea what we should do. I have my responsibility to everyone, especially the kids, my daughter! What will I do if I can´t do anything? We have to get make that call. We have been to divert that energy down to the basement to connect cablesy to do this. Hopefully that works. I wish...

-We got the signal! -cries Beaumont- It comes from a place in Euorope... impossible to go further.. the code is too...

-Alright, alright -I sighed- Well done Tad.

I rubbed my eyes slowly, trying to stay calm, keep the ideas clear. We tried everyone were cheery, specially the kids, but more that not all knew we were in trouble. We needed that rescue, we needet it BAD. Thank God things seem to do well even in the worst moments. Help was on its way. Those who received the news silent and looked at us, wondering how we would explain it to others. It was difficult. It was less a speech to a group of words strung together one after another out of necessity and desperation, but it worked. I've never had an audience like that. It was all cheers and freedom, but some I swear that wonder what was happening. I guess it's not a surprise...

The roof of the place was huge, with the coating that had contributed so much to scrape the knees of many people who slapped and fall. A giant H was drawed with chalk in the floor.

-Do you think it will work? -he asked with some difficulty.

-We'd better -said with the cigarette in the mouth- We need to draw that helicopters sight. The say there are accidents and fires everywhere.

-Say what you want. The plan is pants-in-head retarded.

-So? You have a suggestion, Tad? -asked a femenine voice, amused.

-Not really. Ready to die, people?

All but one breathed the air and put in place. Back to back, so that when everything happen they weren´t cornered. A few people mumbled, one of them was kissing a cross and the rest were, well... expectant. It was a difficult decision to make, except that it was already taken. If they wanted to be out of there would have to draw the attention of rescuers, a lot. And if they attracted the attention from there plus the helicopters would come all that was behind them in that place without anything to hide behind it. So for most might have a chance to escape, they would have to attract attention. Care that began when the man with the glasses up the flare gun (in his honor will say that his hand trembled only the slightlest) and fired once, twice, thrice. He sighed and dropped the empty gun as he took another. eventually they all could hear a noise that grew, as the creatures began to close. Soon they were going to be completely overwhelmed. It was a matter of minutes, or perhaps even seconds...

-I´ll miss you guys. It has been a pleasure and an honor.

-Not for me. You owe me 20$, you dirtie commie!

-Oh, suck it up!

They laughed. A last, honest laugh. The last laughters were coming, and they were all teeth. Now everything would be reduced simply to see if they could contain the attack at least until the helicopter arrived and rescued the others.

-How do you think being dead is?

They were here. Fifteen feet. Thirteen. Eleven. Nine. Seven. Five. Three.

-Beats me -Vanguard smiled resigned, positioning the shield- Let´s find out together.

One. Goodbye.

[Gizmo]

Midnight II and Wander

U and I and Centery Brdge

Freedom City, North Bay

With the Scarab and Arrowhawk off on their own assignments, Wander lost no time getting back to the stately manor in North Bay that she was currently calling her home base. She had to stop a few times to fight off some of the bizarre critters attacking the city, but today all the heroes of Freedom City were out in force and not too many seemed to be getting through the lines in North Freedom yet. How long that would continue was anyone's guess. Her first priority was to make sure that the Manor was secure, and after that they could get a tactical analysis of the situation and figure out what needed to be done. That was Midnight's strong suit, not hers.

As she made a final leap from Kingston into North Bay, she picked up the phone again. "I'm coming in now," she told Trevor. "Be there in sixty seconds."

"Opening the garage now," the clipped, precise response came over the line, the calm baritone accompanied by the faint sounds of typing and punctuated by the whir of motors. The second Hunter to take the mantle of Midnight didn't bother with the gates to the estate, given Erin's bounding trajectory, but the door to the sizable garage slid softly open while the floor descended into the subterranean base below.

Despite their retro stylings, the bank of computer screens Midnight stood in front of, mask unfastened and hanging about his neck, was able to display most of city and the chaos spreading across it. A few dials turned caused several of the scenes to shift to the Centery Bridge shown from different angles, under siege and on the verge of collapse.

Erin took a moment to hurry into the house itself and grab her uniform from her bedroom, pulling it on before running for the basement. It just felt better to be in uniform when everything around them seemed to be falling apart. She came to a stop next to Trevor and took a moment to study the monitors as well. "Looks bad," she observed. "Where do they need us first?"

"Hnn. Fighting everywhere, but response time has been good," he noted, taking a brief moment to look over his shoulder to confirm that Erin was alright. He'd been understandably concerned when it had been revealed that her new employer was the mastermind behind this global attack. There would be time for careful sweeps for malicious nanites and mental scans courtesy of Sage later, for now it was enough that she was whole and beside him. "Robot squid destroyed center of bridge," he continued, indicating the grouping of monitors showing the Centery Narrows. "Rest is collapsing. We’re close."

Erin nodded, looking towards the bridge. "Bridge collapses are tricky," she observed with the air of someone remembering personal experience. "We can get the people off, but I'm not sure about the bridge. We don't have Edge with us, so we'll have to do it the hard way. You got equipment that can help stabilize the bridge til the crisis is over?"

"It hurts you have to ask," Trevor replied with the faintest ghost of a smile, stepping over to another section of the massive bank of controls and pulling down a lever with an audible shifting of mechanical components. As it slid into place, light abruptly lit up further back into the Manor, illuminating a large helicopter, unsurprisingly detailed in shadowy matte black. The craft was one of the largest vehicles in the smoothly carved cavern, two sets of blades resting on the ends of slightly inclined wings, while a third adorned the tail. "Redbird is already getting settled."

As if in response to those words, the morphic molecule paint on the sides of the great aircraft rippled, forming stylized representations of a predatory bird's wings in dark sangria. "Integration successful. I am ready to deploy," the Furion artificial intelligence announced, its voice playing though the helicopter’s ample speakers.

Despite everything Erin had seen Trevor come up with in response to the needs of a situation, her mouth dropped open a little when she saw the helicopter. "I guess I should've expected this, after you already told me about the flying saucer. We load that up with steel cable, then all you’ve got to do is tell me where to anchor it. No problem." Still shaking her head a little, she headed for the storage room and began carrying out spools of cable, two at a time, and loading them into the helicopter. "Your grandpa good to hold the fort down here?" she asked.

"Feed the cable into the harpoons," a gruff but perfectly articulated voice noted from off to the teenagers' right. It was hard to say how long Travis Hunter, the original Midnight, had been standing there; even in his advancing years there were some habits and skills that hadn't deserted him. "Damn bridge. Think it was made of crêpe paper." The old man stamped his cane in annoyance.

Erin startled when the voice came from nowhere, reaching for her bat, but managed to check herself before actually drawing it. It wasn't the first time Travis had managed to sneak up on her despite his age, and what was she supposed to say about it? That was the price to pay for living with the reigning kings of stealthiness, even temporarily. She hoisted the spools into the copter as though they weighed nothing, then nodded to Travis. "You'd think they'd make them stronger after the first few times they fall down."

She hopped into the cargo bay of the helicopter, noting the first aid kit and rescue equipment with a nod. "Looks like this is everything we should need," she observed, feeding the ends of the cables into what were obviously aftermarket harpoon launchers. "Let’s get going." She didn’t ask whether Trevor or Redbird would be flying the copter, and wasn't entirely sure she wanted to know.

Midnight fastened his mask, nodded briefly to his grandfather and took a seat behind the aircraft's controls. While he grasped the yoke and flicked the switches that started the great rotors spinning it was clear his extradimensional copilot was doing a considerable amount to help, as several of the controls moved and adjusted on their own.

A significant ways from the Hunter estate, the rocky cliff wall at the edge of the Centery Narrows split in two and slid apart, revealing a carefully constructed tunnel. With a surprisingly quiet thrum, the great helicopter slid out into the night, the stone walls rumbling seamlessly back into place. Erin breathed a sigh of relief as they slipped into the open air and stopped with all the pitch-darkness and the jouncing. She didn't like to fly that much either, come to think of it.

All secondary considerations faded away, however, as the bridge came into view. Far away on the peninsula of Midtown there were signs of an ongoing battle, but here there were only the alarmed cries of civilians still trapped on the bridge, and the fearful creaking of stressed cables and pylons as the two unsupported halves tried to hold themselves upright. "I'm going to clear the civilians!" she called to Midnight. "Start placing the cables, and yell when you need me to drag something!" Grabbing the first aid kit, she slid open the cargo door and leapt gracefully from the helicopter to the precarious footing far below.

Taking a brief moment to watch Wander's nimble landing, Midnight narrowed his eyes beneath his featureless black mask and smoothly jockeyed the helicopter into position. With the press of a muted red stud, precisely aimed harpoons fired in opposite directions, biting into the remnants of the bridge on either side and trailing woven steel behind them. Another button disengaged the cable from the helicopter itself, leaving the gleaming line taut across the chasm. Repeating the process, he gradually replaced the missing section of the bridge with a web of lines. It wouldn't hold the crumbling structure together on its own, but it would buy them enough time to get everyone safely away.

Wander moved quickly once she was on the bridge, shifting debris and righting a couple of overturned cars. She could only hope that no cars had gone into the water, as it was surely already too late to save them, even if she could've found them in the dark. There were plenty of people who did need help, people who were very grateful to see any hero come to save them. She passed the first aid kit to a woman who said she was a nurse, and herded civilians through the fallen pillars and buckled roadway to the comparative safety of the shore. When she’d gotten the North Bay side fully cleared, she jumped the gap and headed to the Bayview side of the span. As she went, she looked to the sky, watching the black helicopter as Midnight carefully wove the bridge together with a spiderweb of steel. She took a moment to be damn grateful he was up there before turning her mind back to the task at hand.

The crumbling materials one of the harpoons had embedded itself into finally collapsed into the water as Wander evacuated the last of the trapped commuters, the sharp metallic twang of the cable going abruptly slack heralding a chain reaction that brought the center of the bridge to ruin, leaving only the sections immediately next to the shorelines. Leaving reconstruction for another day, Midnight flicked through the reports coming over the radio as he brought the helicopter down to hover near Erin's location. The city’s heroes seemed to finally be making progress pushing the aquatic invaders back, though the information available was scarce and disjointed.

Erin settled one last somewhat-injured civilian into the back of a pickup truck for a trip to the nearest hospital, then took a look at the scene. The bridge was clear, well, what was left of it, anyway. The injured were being cared for, the others were making for home as quickly as they could. There were no monsters immediately visible, and the noise of fighting was far away and dying down. With a last wave to the folks she'd helped, she leapt from the truck and raced for the copter, jumping neatly into the open door as it hovered fifteen feet in the air. "Nice shooting," she told Trevor with a small smile, settling into the copilot seat.

Extending a thumb and forefinger into the vague shape of a pistol, the masked vigilante gave her a subtle, wry salute as he lifted the helicopter back into the air and pointed them toward the center of the city.

[trollthumper]

Nick Cimitiere

Hip Bone's Connected to the Leg Bone

Eric had been in the Black Petal when the transmission had gone out. Doctor Archeville - a man he'd never met, but who was to Freedom what Bill Gates was to Seattle - had gone completely power mad, made a deal with eldritch powers, and was claiming dominion over all the earth. So, exactly like Bill Gates, then, he thought as he drove the Pale Horse through the chaos-wracked streets of North Bay. It was tight maneuvering, given all the cars that had been abandoned and all the security barriers that had been set up, but he managed to get the car through with barely a scratch. After a brief trip to Tartarus to change, he emerged from the car as Nick Cimitiere, and promptly got to business.

Out in the bay was the monstrosity. Nick shuddered when he thought of the live footage of the thing coming together. A mass of the undead had formed the base, trying to claw their way out of the humanoid mass but failing utterly. Then the other creatures had arrived, some flying of their own will but many more dragged as if grabbed by the hands of a rapacious God. They had settled on the undead monolith, and had... settled into it. Their flesh had run like paint in the rain, forming a hard musculature and a many-limbed outer corpus for the behemoth. Looking at it with death sight was like staring into the heart of the sun... and made all the worse when Nick realized that he was only seeing the massive necromantic uptake that went into the frame alone. Whatever tortures had been inflicted on the creatures that formed the exterior, they were still alive and cognizant.

He couldn't falter. He knew there was no way he could take the thing entirely. It was too large, too strong... and he dreaded thinking about the acts of atrocities he might have to do to gain power on its level. But it was still a piecemeal work. And for some accursed reasons, the undead at the heart of the beast weren't mere necromantic constructs. The souls of the dead had been used to fuel the blasphemous creation.

Which was just what he needed.

He reached into the rucksack and pulled out a set of sunglasses, these ones inscribed with the veve of Papa Legba on the rims. They were horribly improvised, deliberately rushed, but as he slipped them on, he was pleased to see they worked, if somewhat overwhelmed by their results. He could see the souls of the dead, not as one gigantic mass, but as individual souls knit together by the working. And he could see their names. Their true names.

He reached in and pulled out the rest of the ritual pieces; he'd bought them from a religious goods store in Lincoln when he'd first moved back into Freedom, and had never had cause to use them before. But with everything that was standing in the way of him, he figured he could use the help. A copy of the Holy Bible, King James edition. A silver bell, never rung once before. And a white votive candle, with a sticker depicting the Virgin Mary.

This is going to be horribly, horribly improvised, he thought. I just hope some part of it takes.

He isolated one of the souls, lit the candle, and began the ritual. "Franz Mueller!" he cried out over the rising winds with the fervor of a Southern preacher. "You have been dragged from your rightful rest by forces that harrow humanity, that deny peace to the living and the dead alike! You have no cause to torment mankind, and your tormentors have no cause to bind you to this earth! In the name of the archangel Azrael, who sees and records the names and deeds of all who live and die, I sunder your bonds to this firmament, and cast you back to your proper rest!"

The bell rang. The book shut. And the candle went out. And somewhere, in the mess of the writhing dead, Nick watched as the soul of Franz Mueller went slack, a look of peace sweeping across his tormented face. The soul began to dissolve away like fog... and more importantly, the body, preserved and vitalized by necromantic energies, fell slack, loosening its grip on the flesh around it. And two writhing corpses, held in place by Franz's hands, desperately struggled to compensate.

He knew it would take a long time. He knew that the thing would notice at some point, and would come for him. But that was for later. For now, he was going to break the damn thing's bones, one by one.

[Avenger Assembled]

Edge

What Are The Odds?

The Lands Beyond

The Black Forest

6 AM local time (five hours after the battle in Freedom City begins)

From her safe position in the nearby UN base camp, UNISON Director Jennifer Ellis looked up at the smoking ruins of Schloss Wissenschaft. She'd been in Geneva when the crisis had begun and joined her people in clearing the streets of maddened crowds of locals and tourists alike. The briefings about "Castle Archeville" that seemed to be at the center of the European crisis had been grim: high-tech weaponry, several German supers who'd gone to investigate captured, and with an endless stream of battle-forged Grue streaming out its gates. But in the time it had taken her to organize a counter-offensive with UNISON agents from the ground, a team led by a UNISON agent on the ground had gone in, rescued the prisoners and the brainwashed mind-slaves inside, and taken the castle itself out with no casualties to themselves, the former prisoners, and even the enemy except for all the destroyed Grue. When she'd heard about that, she'd expected to greet any one of several top UNISON solos and his handpicked team by the castle's remains: not a new employee from the Aid and Relief Division, and certainly not a..."Aren't you a little young to be a UNISON agent?"

"Yes ma'am," said Mark Lucas, standing at attention automatically. "It's my first day," he added, "well, second day now, I guess." He'd been sleeping in his Geneva hotel room after his first day of orientation when the alarm had hit, both his old Young Freedom alert and the new combadge he'd picked up from his new employers beeping frantically. His first thought had been to call the first, but even after hearing the news from Freedom City, he'd picked the crisis at hand instead of the crisis across the Atlantic. The heroes of Freedom had saved the day, just like they always did. "When I got the alert about the crisis here, I headed for HQ," he added. "When they asked among the meta staff if there were any teleporters, I pulled a team out here and we went to work."

Ellis took out the clipboard with summaries of the briefings of that team, a group of field operatives who'd been assigned to clear out the landing area before supers could arrive. "Yes, I see that you disabled the mind-controlling gas, assisted in shutting down the castle's nuclear pile, then assisted in tracking down the captured German supers?" The veteran agents who'd written the report had sounded a little irrational, enough that Ellis had summoned the teenager at the center of it to speak to personally. "Before destroying the castle itself."

"Well, yes," said Mark, uncomfortably reminded of his chats with Duncan Summers. "I mean, it was scary and all, but my powers didn't get shut down by that gas the way it did those other people. So when the gas came down and started messing with our respirators, I turned the gas to nitrogen. That way everyone could see through it, and no one was getting their brains fried anymore." Ellis's eyebrows were going up, but Mark kept talking anyway. "And then, uh, the nuclear pile had lots of safeguard on it, so I just went ahead and turned most of them into lead. And then we disabled the machinery so it couldn't get turned on again," frankly, he hadn't really been following what the nuclear specialists had been saying: he'd missed Trevor's quiet genius! "I didn't really help that much with finding the prisoners, I really just got lucky. All I did that was important was blowing the castle up."

"Yes, about that..." Though the walls of the castle still rose, Ellis had toured the smoking craters within: Schloss Wissenschaft had gone from a high-tech retro-fortress to a smoldering crater deep enough to hit the groundwater beneath in what her report told her had taken seconds. "There was something about dropping a series of fireballs on the castle, destroying everything inside without so much as scratching the landscape outside?" Despite the difficult day and the very early morning, Ellis managed to keep her voice calm as she inquired of this teenager just what it was he'd done.

"Well, not really fireballs," said Mark, feeling oddly guilty for a moment. "It was actually meteors. An iron asteroid blew up in the atmosphere, see, and so I made all the pieces fall inside the castle walls so they smashed everything. It was pretty cool to watch; I was glad I was out of there, and that we'd rescued all the hostages. They say it'll take years to so much as make the place safe enough to visit, much less live again."

Ellis stared at Mark Lucas. "You dropped an asteroid on the castle. An asteroid. Did this...strain you in some way? Or is this something you can do routinely? Perhaps for fun?"

"Yes ma'am," said Mark with a little shrug. "I mean, no, I wouldn't want to do it for fun. But it was a little tiring." He gave her a concerned look. "Is there something else that needs to be blown up? I mean, I heard the fighting in Freedom City was just about over or I'd be there now, and they said the thing in outer space had just about taken care of itself..."

Ellis held up her hand. "No! No, Agent Lucas, you don't need to destroy anything else today." She eyed him carefully. "Agent Lucas, I see that you are a trainee agent in the Aid and Relief Division. You were supposed to be shipping out to Cote d'Ivorie in a few weeks to begin work in building relief housing. That's an admirable choice, and I respect it. But you are the most powerful metahuman in the employ of UNISON. I would be remiss in my duties if I did not find additional work for you."

"Oh...okay," said Mark, getting nervous. "I can still work for Aid and Relief though, right?"

"...yes."

[trollthumper]

Cannonade

The Madness of Crowds

The end was nigh. At least, that's what the words written in mustard said on the glass window of the Southside Deli.

Cannonade had been on the way home from work when the announcement went out - Doctor Archeville, hero of Freedom City and scientific genius, had declared himself the ubermensch and claimed global dominion, threatening to crush all those that stood in his way. Instantly, he'd ducked into the nearest restroom and changed into his outfit, intent on going to find the mad scientist and beating his face in.

Then he'd landed in Southside, stopping to gather strength for the jump into North Bay. He'd landed to the sound of screaming and breaking glass, and the smell of burning gasoline filled the air. He looked down onto the streets below, to find bedlam had taken hold. Citizens were running screaming, but it was the ones who weren't that concerned Cannonade. They were moving in a strange sort of synchrony; while they wandered the streets at random, tearing down and setting fire to whatever they could find, a pattern emerged from their movements. Whatever madness was driving them to it had some common source.

His plans diverted, Cannonade jumped down to the street below, landing on the burned out wreck of a car. The sound of crunching metal drew the rampaging madmen, who turned as one towards the hulking hero. "Come and get me, you bastards!" he yelled at the top of his lungs, just in case he hadn't made enough of a din before. "Not like you can miss me!"

The mad hordes stormed towards Cannonade, and he stormed in turn -- running down the streets of Southside, yelling and screaming with abandon. He knew he had to keep pace -- fast enough to avoid their grasp, but not too fast that they might lose interest and turn on slower targets. The madmen came out of shops, out of apartments, and out of alleyways. Within a few blocks, Cannonade had an army of the rampaging mad behind him. They followed him through the maze of roads and alleyways; a few fell by the wayside, out of breath, but the horde in general did not let up.

The trail had to end somewhere, however, and the hero came to a steep wall blocking off a dead end alley. There were three walls around him, and the army of the senseless had blocked off the only way out. Cannonade turned and held his ground as the army charged forward, longing to tear the hero limb from limb.

Which was exactly what he wanted.

The second everyone got into the alley, Cannonade let out the massive breath he'd taken the second he'd gotten to the end of the alley. The gust of hurricane-strength wind tore through the crowd, knocking most of them to the ground and trapping those who remained upright amongst their fallen comrades. As soon as they were down, he was upon them, knocking each one out with one blow. Once they were all down, he blocked the path with two dumpsters. He'd noticed in his running that those driven mad would attack anyone but another madman; whatever was behind the madness wanted maximum damage, not for the hordes to tear one another to pieces. Even if they rose before he could find the source, they'd likely focus more on getting out than killing one another.

He heard a scream in the distance. He took off, seeking to put an end to the chaos in Southside. And once I get this place cleaned up, he thought, I'm gonna find that bastard and make him pay for doing this to my home.

[Ari]

King of Suits: The Defense of the Fens

Fens, downtown Freedom

Marceau had been patrolling down by the waterfront of the Fens district checking up on a lead about drug-smugglers when the attack first began. He had managed to briefly drive back many of the attacking terrors, and had gotten word to the everyone he knew in the district to get to safety, and tell everyone they knew to do the same. He then lured a large group of Super-Grue to a square of connected alleys he knew well...

The i-beam in the King of Suit's hands was abominably heavy. It hadn't been like that before, in fact, it had been as a feather in his arms until that very moment. Marceau frowned behind his mask, looking thoughtfully at the ring of Super-Grue slowly edging towards him. He had already smashed around a dozen of their number with a sneak attack in an alleyway by the simple expedient of dropping a number of heavy blocks on their heads. Out here in the open, however, Marceau could tell quickly that the battle wasn't in his favor.

And it's getting heavier..I couldn't make that little box with my powers this morning like I usually do..what's going on?

His thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a lunge at his mid-section, which he responded to by leaping back far enough to avoid the attack, and close enough to see with more clarity than he would have wished what happens when someone is hit in the head with a steel club as long as a truck and much more heavy. Side-stepping a blow from another Super-Grue, he jabbed his improvised weapon into its stomach and sent it flying into a wall of boxes stacked in the alleyway intersection and forgotten years ago, the contents long pilfered, leaving none of the cushions, blankets and mattresses that would have softened the altered Grue as it crashed into the concrete wall.

With a sudden feeling of weightlessness, the familiar strength supporting Marceau's arms vanished. With a stifled cry, the young man managed to narrowly avoid being pinned to the ground by the steel beam he had been carrying, and found himself alone in a near-certain lethal situation. Thinking fast, Marceau jumped onto an abandoned car, grabbed his left wrist with his right hand, and aimed his left palm at the nearest Super-Grue. The fact that there was no coursing ray of power firing from it after the first couple of seconds told him everything.

Turning on his heels he bolted, clambered up a fire escape in record time and set off for the familiar blocky shape of Monkey Towers. The squat greenish building had been his home for the last 3 years, and housed not only his companions and the manifold vagrants who had attached themselves to him, but his specially-made card weapons. If he could get his hands on them, the tide of battle could be turned against the Grue. Only when he was within leaping distance did he recall: They're still in there.

His friends were still inside along with the other homeless and those who didn't have any kind of shelter agains the attack.

But he still needed the weapons or he couldn't fight.

But if he went inside to get them the Grue(it's should be noted he didn't know they were the Grue. He did know they were unpleasant and violent, however) might just decide to go and try to kill someone else, and he might be too late...

He hadn't stopped running while thinking about the situation, and thus got to the side of the building where his apartment's porch was in under a half a minute. Calling hastily up the three stories, he managed to make himself heard and understood that he wanted a large box thrown down to him, that could be found under a bundle of clothes in the communal closet. It was the work of moment to find it and toss it down, four seconds to recover from being slightly stunned by striking his head against the brick wall a few yards behind him, and ten seconds to get a suitable distance from the Grue who charged into the alley, having tracked him by his scent. He had flung his arm back, aimed with care, and flung the box containing liquid explosives, smoke bombs and razor blades at the approaching red monsters, ducking behind the corner of a tiny side-alley to avoid the almighty explosion that shook the street.

With a weary sigh, Marceau glanced down the alley he had thrown the box, shuddering at the sight of the mangled corpses of the monsters. Oddly enough, no damage had been done to either wall, but there was a large dent in the ground. Shrugging off this puzzle, Marceau took stock of what he would have to do now. His powers were gone, he had no idea when they would return, and his weapons were now in minuscule pieces embedded in the walls, pavement and bodies in the alley. He wouldn't be able to do much on his own, but he could...

He looked back up at the third-story window. He thought of Doe Tighton, the gun-dealer sheltered in Monkey Towers. He thought of barricades and armed militias striking against the monsters from the sea. He ran inside the apartment complex, his voice like a bull's, calling for everyone inside to come down...

~Seven Hours Later~

The King of Suits examined the 11-foot tall mass of wood, reclaimed cars and strategically-placed metal crates across the narrow road. There were already twelve similar structures built in the Fens, and the Deep Ones and Grue who had attempted to attack them had ended up shot to pieces by entrenched snipers. Admittedly, sniping was hard to do with a hunting rifle, but, Marceau reflected, listening with deep jolts of horror at each hated retort of every loathed shot, at least the vile monsters died more quickly than when the militias had used the smaller-caliber arms.

He had set up a delivery system of water and bullets to the snipers via the patrolling civilians given arms. The number of people living in the Fens who could be trusted with firearms was much smaller than he had hoped, and thus the area of the district that could be reliably defended was worryingly small.

He hadn't dared expose anyone to the full fury of the marauding beasts, and had hit immediately on the idea of a wholly-defensive countermeasure, and had taken all the armed people he could through the dirty streets and dismal lots, gathering all the people he could find to help mount a defense of their homes, or else to find a good hiding-place.

Still, he thought, even though it had been such a short time the invasion already seemed to be trickling out. The numbers of attackers reported by the snipers grew smaller by the half-hour, and Marceau could make out, from the distant din of the fighting in the streets to the north, west and east that the other districts were likewise seeing a slow drop in the number of aggressors. He looked earnestly forward to the time when he could rest at ease, for he could already see a small band of Deep Ones sneaking through a crack in their defenses. With a sigh, he jumped off the rampart and hit the ground running, kicking up a garbage can lid that he sent sailing into the jaw of the lead aquatic terror, giving him that vital few seconds of surprise for him to strike. He made quick work of the rest, sending brutal blows into their necks and stomachs, only realizing when he had bashed the last distorted Atlantean into insensibility that the gunshots had stopped, that the din without was rapidly lessening almost to silence, and that he could hear cheers from the victorious Freedonians all around.

With a deep sense of relief, Marceau laboriously began the weary task of gathering the unconscious Deep Ones for returning to the depths they came from. At least there would be no more, fighting human monsters was bad enough, fighting inhuman terrors from the depths of the ocean was simply terrifying. He wondered vaguely if he would ever learn why this had happened, how the strange being naming itself Dr. Archeville had shared existence with the doctor he had heard so much about, and where the bizarre red monsters had arisen from. For now, he set himself sternly to forgetting such things, and concentrating on his knots.

[Electra]

Fleur de Joie

How My Light is Spent

The Lands Beyond

It was quiet in the little plant house as the evening dripped away into night and the sun slipped behind the curtain of the forest. The only sounds were the rustling of leaves and the quiet breath and murmurs of sleeping children. Normally Stesha loved the quiet at the end of a long day, but tonight the quiet was ominous, serving merely to emphasize the isolation in which she'd chosen to live. Sanctuary was a safe place, a secluded little alcove of a world far off the beaten path for dimensional travelers, but that didn't mean it was inviolable, especially with the Scarab's warning still ringing in her head. Suddenly a peaceful evening of grocery shopping had turned into a nightmare, not for merely herself and Derrick, but for the world.

Doctor Archeville, a supervillain? She found she could hardly credit it, even after seeing the images herself, even after the warning in her mind. Viktor was her friend, her teammate. He'd recommended her doctor to her, and they had an appointment made already for him to examine Amaryllis! She shuddered as she looked at her green-haired daughter, swaddled peacefully in her flower-lined cradle, and then over to the improvised playpen of vines and couch cushions where Jack Jr. had finally gone to sleep. She wondered what the message from Scarab had meant. What could Archeville want with the children? Stesha suspected the answer wasn't anything she wanted to hear.

Whatever the reason, neither the Farettis nor the Lumins had lost any time heeding the warning. Taylor had been in such a hurry when she dropped JJ off that she hadn't packed so much as a spare diaper, let alone food or sleeping arrangements. She and Avenger were holding the line in Freedom City, while Dark Star put out fires all around the globe. Stesha wanted to be there and help! Maybe she hadn't been a good superhero at first, but she was now, and there was sure to be plenty she could do. Except she couldn't. Someone needed to defend the vulnerable babies, someone strong enough to take action if the unthinkable happened. By staying behind, she freed up three more powerful and experienced heroes to go to work.

"They also serve who only stand and wait," she murmured, her voice sounding unnaturally loud in the silent room. Jack Jr. twitched in his sleep, his preternaturally acute senses still attuned to the world around him, and Stesha wisely shut up. It had been hard enough getting the little terror to sleep in the first place. JJ had inherited fortunate genetics from both parents that made him both adorable and durable, but he'd also inherited his father's sharp teeth and bad attitude. Overtired and overstimulated, he'd toddled around the living room for more than an hour and tried to bite everything in reach, from the coffee table to Ammy. Finally Stesha had put herself in reach of his teeth, with the resulting unpleasant taste putting the toddler off any more oral exploration. She'd pinned him into one of Ammy's cloth diapers and sung both babies to sleep, and eventually it took. That had been a relief, except now there was nothing to do but wait and wonder.

She thought about making food for when everyone returned, but she was the only one who'd be eating it anyway. There didn't seem to be much point. She didn't even know when they would all be back. Was the fighting on Prime going their way yet, or was it going to be a long and brutal campaign? Were things ever going to be the same after this? She remembered Derrick's stories of how the Knights of Freedom had collapsed over one member's unthinkable actions. Could that happen on a larger scale here, with all the terrible things that were happening? A Freedom League member going rogue on this scale... could there be a return to the Moore years? Surely not, but she couldn't help but worry as minutes of silence ticked into hours. Sometimes peace and quiet was a wonderful thing, but other times it just seemed like the ominous lull before a storm. Stesha was perversely relieved when Ammy woke suddenly with a full diaper and an empty stomach, her cries rousing JJ to a wail as well. At least it gave her something to do!

[Semi-Autogyro]

Myrmidon: Hold the Line

Freedom City, Riverside District, The Never-Ending Story Bookstore

Late Afternoon - 7 pm

We interrupt this broadcast...

John referenced the handwritten note once again, making sure that he had retrieved the correct book in question. Mister Summers had sent him on this mission, informing him that it would help with their daily training sessions. He walked to the counter, and set the book down. Andrew Orlando looked up from the book he himself was reading and smiled at the young hero. “Ah, I haven’t seen you in here before.†John nodded in response. “Yes Sir, I…†He was cut off mid-reply as the radio in the corner changed from the light classical music it had been playing to the lunatics’ ultimatum.

John slid the book towards Andrew. “Would you kindly please hold onto this for me? I will hopefully return later to pick it up, if you are not closed by that time.†He said as he laid the money also given to him by Summers on top of the book. Orlando fixed John with an incredulous stare. “Did you not hear that son? I think the man is serious.†A flicker of a rueful smile crossed Johns’ features as he turned to leave. “The threat of annihilation means nothing to the people who are willing to die for a just cause.†The bell tinkled as the door opened, the reverberations of something outside clearly audible before being cut off as the door closed behind the young Claremonter.

---

Gathering Shadows

John looked about the makeshift forward base a few blocks from Riverside Park as an EMT named Zoey Fontaine bandaged his upper arm from where a Deep One coral quarrel had punctured his armor. Cops, civilians, firefighters, EMTs, doctors, off duty AEGIS, even a few heroes were all here fighting to secure the safety of their city. John had rescued some of the people here, his efforts alongside working with others resulting in this partisan group. A sharp stab of pain brought his focus back to his injury. “I’m done.†the EMT replied. “Thank You, Miss Fontaine.†She smiled at him and patted his uninjured shoulder. “No thanks needed, hon.â€

John flexed his arm lightly to check the mobility of the bandages before reforming his armor over that section. Before he could stand a Freedom City police officer wearing a very battered looking riot suit approached him. “Sectors II-A and III-B have just been reported to been swept clear, so that means that they only control these sections." The officer gestured to a quintet of circled positions on the map. “What's next?†John studied the map intently for a few minutes, performing various tactical calculations aiming to keep the casualties to a minimum with his current array of forces.

“Have your team hit here. Fall back after you draw them out to here.†He drew on the map as he described the plan, finishing by circling a open air dining area. "With a few hidden sharpshooters on the buildingss here, here, and here. We can easily thin their ranks before we close the pincher by using vehicles to trap them in the KZ...here.†He made the officer walk through the plan so he would recall it as well. John then gave an aside glance to the cop “Any word on supplies yet?†"Yes. Since we have a direct route to the rest of the city secured, we should be getting some reinforcements and more supplies soon.†"Excellent. Would you send some recon teams out to make sure these creatures are not doing the same. We cannot afford to lose what we just secured."

---

Riverside in Twilight

Deep shadows were cast about as the sun slipped further under the horizon, as John surveyed the scene with a set of digital light amplification binoculars. They had pushed the Deep Ones back to the borders of Riverside Park, but John knew that the cover of darkness would assist the abyssal-born creatures and hinder the defenders of Freedom City. His instincts told him that the fishmen would try a night attack, but it looked the defenders might have some luck tonight with a nearly full moon and hardly any cloud cover forcasted. John had ordered the streets sealed around the park by blocking them with makeshift barricades reinforced with everything from garbage trucks to sinks. They were a decent beachhead against the Deep Ones, in his opinion. What he really wanted to know at the moment though, was the situation of the heroes that some of his scouts had described as attacking or entering the submarine at the far end of the park. Since he did not know their current predicament or plans, helping or assisting them wasn't feasible at this time. All that mattered to him now was keeping these defenses held long enough that they could gather enough forces to crush these Deep Ones on this makeshift beachhead.

A fatigued looking bank security guard handed him a walkie-talkie open to the channel they were using. He held it in hand, still a bit overwhelmed that some of these people saw him as a leader figure and wanted a speech of all things. Not one to deny people who might not live to see the next dawn, he complied. He spoke into the device, hoping that he had a little bit of his genetic templates’ innate charisma.

“I do not need to tell you all what is at stake. We are the citizens of Freedom city; a city whose history is defined by its stalwart defiance against all odds. As citizens we have suffered through and stopped greater threats than this. Think of the great heroes of Freedom City. Centurion, who defeated Omega at the cost of his own life. The Freedom League, who halted the Grue Invasion. Many countless others, both lauded and unlauded. These heroes can inspire us, but they are not here. Not today. We are. We, the citizens of Freedom, have drawn a line right here and now. All of us here are united in a common goal, one task that we will execute without fail. Our presence here will stop these creatures, FOR WE WILL HOLD THE LINE!â€

[Cyroa]

Dark Star

Earth (all over)

Dark Star had reacted quickly after hearing Scarab’s message. Stesha and their child were safe on Sanctuary along with Avenger and Phantom’s boy. It was a huge load off of his mind. Now the only thing concerning him was the apparent worldwide invasion of some kind of evil monsters. That and what those creatures had done to his friend of course.

He had immediately recognized Doktor Archeville. Those creatures must have captured him somehow, forcing the brilliant and good scientist to change and do their bidding somehow. Dark Star would have gone to find the man but unfortunately, the world came first. People all over the world were in danger from multiple threats, even themselves. He would have to hope Scarab and the others could help their friend until everything else was resolved.

He had to stop in Madrid, Prague and Moscow to deal with hordes of people simply going insane. Crowds of people, seemingly at random, were fighting and hurting themselves. It made his heart heavy to do it, he even apologized to them all (not that they seemed to understand or acknowledge it), but he ended up slamming heavy gravity zones all over just to keep them safe, relatively speaking, until the authorities could move in. Unfortunately, the problem was just immense, too widespread. He kept heading towards the bigger problems, the drones. He kept having to stop and help the local authorities with the ‘rioting’ citizens.

The hordes of drones were…troublesome. They were tough and dangerous of course, and there were certainly enough of them. Blasting through them, he took down one after another, but there were always more. And they hit back, often. Luckily, most weren’t strong enough to do more than ring his bell a bit. Still, they were a threat he couldn’t dismiss. Even only a few of them were dangerous threat to the innocent people of the world, let alone other heroes. In the huge numbers these drones were in, they could do untold amounts of damage and take who know how many lives?

Bruised and battered, with a host of scattered and unconscious drones everywhere, Dark Star tried to focus. Individually, he could take the drones with ease. Even 5 at a time were not too much of a problem. But dozens? Hundreds? He was tough but after all that… He hurt. Stars above did he hurt. And if he could take a few minutes to zip off to a star and heal, he’d be properly restored. Unfortunately those were minutes no one could afford. Even now, through his addled and aching head, he could hear signals, call for help.

He never even considered those minutes. It wasn’t his way. Forcing the pain done, the world came into focus. He dropped a simple gravity field on the drones, just to make sure as well as to help slow down the troublesome rioters, before shooting up and away. There were hordes in abundance that needed to be stopped and stopped soon. As he flew, he hoped the others were successful at freeing his friend and saving the others. Seeing another group of drones, he summoned a thought of his wife and child to fortify him and flew at them, hands ablaze with power.

[Cyroa]

Torque

Freedom City

Torque dove around the corner of a building, a millisecond before the energy beams tore through the space he’d just been inhabiting. He created an explosive energy disk and tossed it around that same corner after a quick peak. Without looking to see the result, he turned and leaped upwards to cling to the side of the building with a quick adjustment. Activating the suit’s stealth systems, he waited a long moment and wonder what was going on.

It had been a normal morning really. He was thinking ahead, far beyond figuring out what materials he would needed to finish up the VR project Vicky had asked him about. He just needed some superconductive wire, a thermal regulator and some part found in a regular microwave oven and he’d be done the physical creation. Of course, he still needed to work on the coding. That was what was occupying most of his attention when he walked into the convenience store to grab a case of soda. Curse Vicky for that…it hadn’t taken much for him to become a full blow caffeine addict.

Of course when he went to go pay for the soda, everything went nuts. The guy behind the counter started randomly screaming incoherently at him. And one of the other customers in the store attacked him with a broom. They weren’t too much of a threat of course, even without his suit. But still, he had a couple lumps on his head from that crazy lady and her broom. He finally had to suit up and subdue them when the store clerk whipped out a shotgun. Cole finally had a moment as he stepped back from the tied up people to look around. It was then he noticed the other problems. The first was the crazy news reports on the store’s TV.

But the immediate problem was marching down the street towards the store…a bunch of goose-stepping aliens in lab gear? That gave him pause, or at least made him blink in surprise. That blink quickly turned into a crouch as those same drones started attacking. He recognized them, sort of, from his readings and research. Grue. Ok…not good. He couldn’t beat hundreds of the things, well 248 to be precise, certainly not in a regular fight. He doubted he could win even by being sneaky as heck. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much of a choice.

So, activating his stealth suite, he started his one man guerilla attacks on the hordes. Throw some explosive disks then run around a corner before they could blast him. Reset and repeat. A lot. He whittled them down here and there, slowly but surely. At this rate, he should take out the entire group in approximately….4 hours, 23 minutes and 15 seconds. Give or take. And that was assuming that he didn’t get injured or other circumstances arose. Not exactly a likely prospect.

A change of tactics was needed. He wasn’t a leader, but he could plan and do strategies with the best of them. It was time to link up with others. Heroes, police, army, whatever. His previous strategy was just delaying the inevitable. If they wanted to win, they needed to organize and get moving.

Even as he leapt away from more blasts, he frown in frustration. He never did get his caffeine fix.

[KnightDisciple]

Gabriel and Ironclad

Marine Salvage

Riverside Park, Freedom City

June 17, 2010

Carson Keefe had been sitting back for a couple of hours or so of relaxation; after all, it was Friday in the summer. Things were going pretty well; he had a good book ready to read, and was just catching a bit of the afternoon news.

'Man, today's going great. I'm sure nothing could possibly-'

That was the moment when a mad German scientist who looked like a fish came on the television and started talking about how he was going to rule the world. For several long moments, he sat there blinking, the full measure of just what was going on not fully sinking in yet.

At the same moment, the Scarab all but blindsided him with her hurried warning that this was Dr. Archeville, likely transformed by Terminus energy, and she considered it an extinction-level event.

His book was hitting the floor before she and the broadcast were don speaking, and he was dashing to the bedroom to put on his costume; he jogged back into the room as the TV switched to a flurry of news reports on what was going on. Just in Freedom city, there was so much going on. He frowned as he watched the news, absently pulling his mask over his face and adjusting his hood. He was straightening his gloves when the news about what was going on at Riverside Park hit.

Later, Gabriel would wonder how it was he actually managed to open his balcony door instead of simply blowing it to dust as he flew out the window. He didn't really care, though. All he knew was that he needed to get to Riverside Park before those inhuman monsters hurt anyone. Especially women and children; as much as he really did believe in gender equality and such, his upbringing meant his blood nearly boiled at the thought of women being treated like that. Add on to that the instinct almost all humanity has to not harm children...

'Pray to the God you don't believe in that others find you first, Archeville. No one threatens the innocent like this. Not even for "science".'

With that dark thought, he pulled his cell phone out and worked to dial Miss Americana, even as he slowed to a holding pattern, about 1000 feet above the Park. He couldn't just charge in; he had to pick his targets first.

"Come on, come on, pick up! I could use some backup here Miss A...."

By the time he was nearing the Park, he could see a few bits of the metal monstrosity menacing the meandering civilians.

---

Jessica Parker was relaxing in her Parkside apartment, reading up on the latest industry information, when Archeville's broadcast went out. With her unusual abilities, she just didn't hear the words on her television; they were beamed straight into her brain. The audio/visual assault was overwhelming. The sheer power behind the broadcast had to be staggering!

When the young genius had recovered somewhat, she stumbled out onto her balcony and stared out across the city towards the water, almost unseeing as her brain tried to process everything that was happening at once. A full-on assault on the city! Fish-men rising from the deeps, and their strangely familiar leader broadcasting his demands to the world. It was a strange feeling to be standing there right in the middle of something she'd trained for, but to be unable to decide where to go first. And something about that leader was nagging at her mind...

A tickle in the back of Jessica's brain let her know that someone was trying to call her. She connected with a thought and listened to a receptionist from the Lab. Apparently someone was trying to get a hold of Miss Americana, but the heroine wasn't answering her pages. Jessica pinched the bridge of her nose and thought/sent to the harried woman to pass it on to her. At the same time she touched the bracelet on one arm and armored up in a flash of light.

Ironclad lifted off from her balcony, scanning the city even as she talked. "This is Jessica Parker. I'm one of Miss Americana's co-workers. Can I help you with --" At that moment the Fjölnirskraft breached the waters of the Centery Narrows, opening up on the bridge that spanned the water and obliterating it in a flurry of weaponsfire. The heroine didn't waste anymore time, opening up the throttle and making a beeline to where the craft was beaching itself. "This is Ironclad. Speak fast if you're going to, I'm about to be busy."

---

For a split second, Gabriel's mind raced to place face and names together. Then it clicked.

'Hm. Seems like she's a good choice, too. Don't know her as well as Miss A, but beggars can't be choosers. She works with Miss A, she's got to be one of the best.'

Perhaps it was an unfair comparison, but he didn't run in the "tech circles", so he had to use the one point of comparison he had.

Besides, the girl had built her own suit of powered armor at an age where most kids were deciding what major they wanted to take in college.

"This is Gabriel. I'm calling for backup, air support, and tech support in one. There's a giant squid-sub-thing in Riverside Park. Fishmen are hurting men and taking women and children. Seem to be focusing on women. I think, maybe, I can mostly take on the fish-men. But the sub would get away. I could try taking out the sub, but I'd be firing blind. I don't want to accidentally kill hostages. I need help. Can you help me?"

His voice was firm, and there was an undercurrent of barely restrained righteous anger in all of his words, but especially the ones describing how they were taking women prisoner.

---

Ironclad was silent as Gabriel described the situation to her. She watched the sub grind its way onto the land and latch tentacles onto the Sentry Statue, before its mouth opened and it began disgorging mutated fish-men in large quantities. Finally, she answered the hero, her voice terse and flat. "The tentacles. Sever those, and we can push it out to sea." Her next words were grimmer as she bellied down over the rooftops of Riverside. "Let's see how well these guys can swim."

The armored heroine came in over the park, barely a meter over the carefully kept lawn. She tucked her head into her body, held out one hand, and smashed into the leading rank of Deep Ones, brushing them aside like so many blades of grass. From overhead it was no doubt almost comical, the green-and-gold heroine sending a line of mutated Atlanteans into the air as she cut through their ranks. From her perspective, however, it was far more harried as her cameras gave her a constantly shifting view of black-scaled Deep Ones flashed past and being clubbed aside. Fjölnirskraft's layout wasn't public knowledge, and it wasn't stored on any of the servers that the heroine could access on such short notice, but if the need arose she'd lift the sea craft from within and fly it out to open water.

---

"So long as we're pushing after we rescue the prisoners. Let me knock down some of the riff-raff. Also, taking down the weaponry from the inside wouldn't hurt."

With that, Gabriel hung up his phone and dove down at one of the largest groups of Deep Ones. Stopping less than 200 feet up, he spent several seconds taking deep breaths, clearly preparing himself for something. He took one last, great breath, just as the crowd below him started to notice him.

Then he let out a roar worthy of a lion or a tiger. It was less something heard, and more something felt, from their scaly skin all the way down to the things which passed for bones in their twisted bodies. And as they felt it, to a one they locked up where they stood, unable to do anything but stand there, paralyzed by fear, shock, or something else. Whatever the case, the brave citizens of Freedom City took over from there, and that pocket of Deep Ones was summarily driven back.

Meanwhile, the hero in white had already started dodging energy beams, weaving complex patterns in the air. He dove close to the squid, landing on the craft itself near the base of one of its huge metal arms. From there, he directed a concentrated beam of sonic waves at the metal, desperately trying to weaken it enough to the point where he could hopefully blast it off. All while the craft worked hard to shake him off and crush him!

---

Ironclad almost didn't notice when she was finally within the sub, but the timbre of the sound of her gauntlets smacking aside Deep Ones changed slightly, and her extra senses could tell that she was surrounded by a wealth of technology and information beyond even what she worked with every single day. It was almost enough to overwhelm her visual impression of the interior of the sub; dark, narrow walls that looked more like carved stone then metal, inadequate lighting, and a rapidly-thinning number of Deep Ones.

The heroine followed the data stream deeper into the machine, taking turnings almost at random; at once point she used her enhanced strength to punch through an inner bulkhead. She was, in fact, following the main data trunk straight to the bridge. There she came upon a strange sight; another of the black fish-men dressed in what looked like Roman armor, surrounded by a phalanx of armed and armored warriors. He opened his mouth and started gurgling at her in their weird language. Ironclad replied by blasting him in the face with her particle beam, then wading in to lay into his guard.

Several minutes later, feeling the aches and pains from her battle but stoically ignoring them, the heroine stood before the main console, palms flat on the computer. There was no time for a physical interface. Her brain dove into the unfamiliar computer system, working far beyond her normal abilities; she could feel a nosebleed start under her helmet, taste copper on her lips. She pushed herself harder, fighting back defense systems and boring firewalls and encryption.

---

Outside, Gabriel had just managed to slice through the first tentacle when the weapon ports stopped targeting him. Instead they turned on each other and started blasting each other apart in carefully timed sequences. At the same time the sub's engines spooled up and the vessel started backing into the bay. Unfortunately, the other tentacle was still wrapped around the legs of the Sentry Statue, and the imposing edifice to Freedom's most famous son began to tremble and groan as it was pulled against.

Gabriel had had to stop his work on the giant tentacle several times to dodge fire from the various defensive turrets. He'd managed to turn one into so much slag, but there were many more scattered over the vessel. As he fought, the effort to repel the Deep Ones slowly gained ground; despite his focus on the submarine, other heroes seemed to be in the thick of things, driving the hordes back.

When he cut the first limb free. a smile crossed his face. Right before the whole vessel lurched. He looked towards the sound of screams; it seemed that while someone had worked to free the hostages, they weren't all out of the boat yet. He grit his teeth at the sound of the besieged statue, and focused on communicating with Ironclad. After a moment, he could hear her, though it was muffled by the vessel. His voice was slightly "tinny", but less muffled.

"Ironclad! Stop the engines! We've still got hostages evacuating the sub! And at this rate, you're going to bring the statue down! Disengage the arms first, keep them from retaking the control center, and I'll work on severing some of these other arms! Don't worry about a radio, I'll hear your response!"

He waited those tense moments to hear from the armor-shrouded hero, hoping she wasn't too caught up in a fight to respond.

---

Gabriel's voice, distorted as it was, broke the young genius' concentration. She'd fallen into a kind of meditative state, so focused on her hacking into the sub that she'd pushed her physical concerns to the side. Now she fell back into her body and the aches and pains came in a rush. The nosebleed, of course; sharp pains in her hands where she'd retracted her gauntlets and pressed her bare palms against the controls and dials; a dull but growing headache, probably from the anti-intruder protocols she's subverted; and burning aches in her jaw and thighs where she's clenched those muscles groups during her machine dive.

Ironclad shut the sub's engines off and took a step back, glancing over the Deep One she'd fought to gain the control room. A few were stirring, and the big, ornately armored fellow was getting (woozily) to his feet. The heroine stepped up quickly and jabbed him in the solar plexus, finishing him with a rabbit punch. On Gabriel's recommendation, she hauled the Deep Ones out in the corridor and locked the door.

With the bridge secured she seated herself in the throne-like chair in the middle of the room -- no doubt intended for the master of the vessel -- and linked in with the computers. She was dumped back into the weapons systems, but now she noticed an attached folder labeled "Intruder Defense." Driving into that she discovered internal weapon systems, apparently intended to help the crew fight off potential boarders. It hadn't helped the human crew, but it already had the Deep Ones loaded as targets. It was easy enough for the technopath to arm and activate the system.

Thunder resounded in the corridor and Ironclad smiled grimly. Poking around a bit, she found the cameras and an internal routing system. She broke into the intercom and broadcast of the ship. "Folks, this is Ironclad. If you look up, you should see some green lights. Please follow those to the nearest exit." She disconnected and relaxed in the chair. "Thank you for sailing the unfriendly seas."

---

Gabriel heard Ironclad's announcement, and nods. He hears the grateful voices of the remaining hostages as they flee the boat.

And finally, hears the panicked yells of the Deep Ones inside the boat. Part of him says that they can feel fear, so they're probably at least somewhat sentient, so he ought to feel bad even if it's non-lethal. But the sight of wounded men in the streets, and terrified women and children streaming out of the sub, washes that feeling away almost entirely. He speaks one more time to Ironclad.

"Going off comms for the moment. You'll see what I'm doing soon. Might want to hang on to something."

With that, he flies out a bit further from the mechanical beast, moving to an undamaged side, with four of the huge mechanical arms in view. He closes his eyes for a moment, focusing his mind and his powers, waiting...

As soon as the last person is clear of the boat, his eyes snap open. He throws his hands forward, and a cone of half-solid sound waves roars through the air, sounding like a freight train coming out of a mountain pass. It slams into the base of all four fully visible tentacles. At first, it doesn't seem to do anything. But after a moment, ominous groans emit from the base of the arms, and those looking carefully will see the metal starting to warp. Not to be outdone by himself, Gabriel takes another moment to focus, then sends out a second cone of sound. This time it's like a supersonice jet screaming in directly at the sub. The sound hits the boat, and the lower quarter of the four arms just falls apart, splinters of metal falling into the water, as some of the hull is damaged.

He follows this mighty feat up with a couple of quicker blasts, striking two more arms, shearing them from the submarine. He then lands on the craft near where he thinks the control room is, and "flips the switch" in his mind to talk to Ironclad.

"Arms blown! You're clear to take her into the water! All hostages clear!"

---

Ironclad had to cover her ears when the sound of the tentacles being torn apart by focused sonic blasts tore reverberated through the metal skin of the craft. When the noise died down and Gabriel announced that his side of things was done, the heroine carefully took the craft back into the bay -- and then started powering up the Wading River! Before the hero on the outside could speak up, Ironclad did. "There's damage to the sub," she said. "One of the ballast tanks is completely ruptured. If I tried taking this out to sea, it would fill up while we were still in shallow water. It might even block the Centery Narrows." That last was a blatant lie, but the young genius couldn't countenance leaving this much incredible technology at the bottom of the ocean, for the crabs and sea plants to fight over. "I'll tie it up outside the Lab, we're best equipped to investigate this sort of thing."

In fact she did just that, squeezing the craft into the passage between Hanover and the North Side. Once the sub came to a shuddering halt (driving its remaining tentacle-stubs into the riverbed in lieu of proper anchors) Gabriel started hearing a loud, metal-on-metal sound emanating from the part of the sub just beneath his feet. In a few seconds he noticed a part of the hull denting outwards; a moment after Ironclad's gold and green fist punched through the metal. In minutes she had torn a hole a few feet across and climbed out into the sky. She rotated slowly, taking in the mangled sub, the nearby Lab, and the whole of the city. "Well," she said, turning to Gabriel. "If this superhero thing doesn't work, I guess we'll always have a future in marine salvage."

---

Gabriel decided he preferred flying alongside the submarine, considering how it stopped and started and was all around unsteady in its movements. As they left, he thought he caught a glimpse of a lone, bloodied Omegadrone flying off from underneath the giant craft. He'd seen a woman taking charge of the fleeing hostages, and a few heroes helping hold back the small army of Deep Ones. All in all, it seemed like the heroes of Freedom City had come together once again to save the day.

When Ironclad finally parked the sub next to the Lab, he carefully lowered himself onto the hull, then waited for the strange metallic sounds to stop. He quirked an eyebrow and smiled when the armored heroine ripped her way out of the mostly-wrecked sea vehicle. He smiled and reached down to help her up (a symbolic gesture at best, really).

"Yeah. I suppose we could. I'm pretty good at PR; I'm sure I could do the commercials for it."

He looked out over the city, which still rang with the sounds of fighting, but it was noticeably less than before. He gave a tired sigh.

"Well. Just glad I got to do my part today, I suppose. Gonna be some rough times ahead, though. Especially for folks like you and Miss A. You two, or any of your science friends, need some help, especially with Public Relations, just give me a call. We heroes need to stick together, no matter the battlefield."

[Quinn]

Push

SPAAAAAACE!

Unstoppable Force, Immovable Object

Push blew through one of Nichtuberall's walls like a bulldozer, his hammer held across his body, and two worse-for-wear Metaceptors landing rather painfully on the hallway. Casting a look back through the newly-made door, he spat on one of the unconscious mutant clones, wondering for the umpteenth time why he'd let Blueshift get the jump on him on this raid. After Blueshift's abrupt message to his commlink, he'd dropped his sandwich, made several very colorful swears, then inwardly cursed that his innate paranoia had been right yet again; a bolt-hole like this could only mean really big trouble was in the offing. At least he sort of remembered the layout; enough to get by, but not enough to keep track of Blueshift. He clenched his hammer grimly as another Metaceptor rounded the corner of the hallway, barreling at him with it's arm belching a fusillade of bullets. His force field caught the bulk of them, several stopping cold and thudding to the floor, their energy drained. One went right through, grazing his cheek as he reared back and swung the mighty weapon again, nailing the creature right in the chest and sending it into a nice dent on the opposite wall. The kineticist's commlink beeped, and he looked from either side, focusing his kinetic senses (which only barely gave him headaches this time!)...there! Two levels down, gotta be a command centre!

A twinge to his senses, and he threw up his free hand, launching a fusillade of blasts at the opposite corner. Three orange-skinned mooks came piling around it, two carrying blades, the other a sickly green aura, all pelted by a storm of kinetic bolts as powerful as a dozen sledgehammers. Waiting for a moment to catch his breath, the kinetic mutant ploughed forward, charging himself with a truly prodigious amount of energy. The next few minutes was all a blur to Gabriel Quinn, a blur of bullets, green blasts, muscled fists swinging at his squishy parts, energy swords, drones, drones, everywhere was drones. They threw themselves at him in droves, trying to slow him down, trying to stop him, an army of creatures created solely to carry out their master's will; and here, their command was to destroy all intruders. Against most, they'd have been an immovable object, a wall of scientific genius gone wrong...but Push was the unstoppable force in this equation. A runaway train standing at five foot something, his lover in danger, and an objective set firmly in his mind. If demons from beyond and eldrich horrors wouldn't stop him when it came to chasing his archnemesis, then no way he was letting these drones so much as slow him down. Unfortunately, it didn't seem like he'd have a choice in the matter.

He'd finally reached a hangar about two hallways over from Blueshift when a big enough force to at least stop him briefly was amassed. Bodies flew as he swung his hammer left and right, lashing out with energy-wrapped boots and firing blasts from reserves he never knew he had. One by one, they went down, but for every single Metaceptor he downed, two or three more would pop up into place. He'd made it to about the middle of the enemy force when they finally stopped him cold; they couldn't bring him down, but neither could he push further. The kineticist practically roared as he slammed more and more force into the creatures, until...

A runaway meteor. That's all he could describe it as afterwards. Right into the hangar, slamming into the middle of the Metaceptors like the hand of an angry god. Push couldn't believe his luck as he redoubled his efforts; with the Metaceptors in disarray, he ploughed through five of them to find...possibly the last thing he ever expected.

"...What in the bloody hell are you doing here?!"

[KnightDisciple]

Cobalt Templar

The Heat of Battle

Pyramid Plaza, Wading Way, Freedom City, New Jersey

Early Evening, Friday, June 17, 2011

Corbin had been looking forward to this dinner for most of the week; he and Quo-Dis had dined with his family before, but never at someplace quite this fancy. The restaurant at the peak of Tower 3 of Pyramid Plaza had an incredible view, and a menu to match! They were just finishing dessert when the intercom smoothly asked everyone to calmly proceed to evacuate the building; there was a potential gas main leak in one or more of the towers, and they were working to evacuate everyone as swiftly as possible. Corbin frowned a bit before shrugging at the inquisitive glances of his lover and parents. They all stood to leave (Corbin took a moment to sneak the last bite of his food, an action that caused his mother and Quo-Dis to roll their eyes), and ended up at essentially the back of the line to leave. Everything was calm and orderly...right up until the soothing music from the radio speakers stopped, and a harshly accented voice proclaimed it was going to take over the world from the "unworthy", kill all who opposed him, and so on.

Six months ago, Corbin would have been incredibly nervous. Now? He just shook his head with a resigned sigh as he looked at his worried parents.

"Don't worry. This'll be rough, but there are plenty of heroes who can-"

At this point, the four of them and three staff members were the only ones left in the room; due to the building's height, and the low-level "threat" they were under, the high-speed elevators were being utilized in the evacuation, especially from the top floors. The doors had just opened as Corbin began to speak. Which was almost exactly when the windows on the wall behind him disintegrated, and six Grue Drones (or creatures that looked much like them) flew through the ruins. Each of the drones seemed to be manifesting some sort of power, several of them crackling with electricity, while one of them was over eight feet tall. All of them looked deadly. And while Corbin and Quo-Dis had shielded Albert and Sarah Hughes, respectively, with their bodies, the staff members weren't so lucky; the shock-wave slammed them against the wall, knocking them unconscious just as the elevator doors *dinged* open. As the two teen heroes straightened, the Grue Drones started slowly walking forward. Corbin turned to meet them, and in a flash of blue fire, he was clad in the armor of his typical costume, his mouth set in a grim line. A flash of golden light precipitated Quo-Dis changing into her own outfit. However, as she stepped forward to stand by her boyfriend, he held out a hand to stop her. When he spoke, his voice was low and strained, and he kept his eyes on the drones.

"Get my parents out of here. Stay with them. Help the evacuation. I'll keep these punks busy."

He sensed her trying to object, and his tone softened.

"Please. You're the only one I trust with them right now. The three of you get out of here and stay safe. I'll meet up with you at the house. Be careful. I love you."

This last phrase was spoken both from his mouth and his mind. She could feel how much he meant it; both that he loved her, and that he'd see her again.

The Drones tilted their heads as one as Cobalt Templar stood in their path and barred the way while Ultiteen hustled his parents into the elevator. Just as the doors closed, she sent one last surge of her own love and hope for his safety. Templar just smiled as raw blue flame combusted over his arms; he cracked his knuckles slowly and deliberately.

"You boys don't look that tough."

The largest Drone finally spoke up.

"Resistance is fatal. All who flee will be added to the bio-vats."

One that had crackling electricity over most of its body threw in a comment.

"But the blond-haired one shall not die yet. The Master will wish to study her and her kind in-depth. She will be imprisoned, studied, and then dissected. Your powers seem to emanate from that ring. You will be terminated, and that ring will be confiscated, and its science will be analyzed for the Master."

Cobalt Templar's confident smirk disappeared, and the flames on his arm intensified. In the blink of an eye, he was suddenly holding the throat of the electrical drone.

"No."

There was a flash of blue flame, and that Drone was no longer a threat. The huge one tried to flank him with one that had guns for hands; the one with guns for hands fell to the floor engulfed in flame. Templar's flaming shoulder slammed into the giant's neck, ending that threat. His left fist slammed out in a punishing backhand into one that seemed to be moving to support the other two; it's head wasn't made for such an impact. One of the remaining two tried to flow around him, almost like liquid; it seemed like it wanted to restrain him while the other one revved up a flaming punch to CT's face. A flare of his blue flame released him, but the punch still struck his helmet.

It didn't even dent the metal, though his head did jerk to one side. He slowly turned to to face forward, a savage grin lining his face.

From the exterior, any observers who actually took the time to look would see a vaguely humanoid shape fly through the glass ceiling of Tower 3, flailing as it was engulfed in flame. Cobalt Templar was close behind, his right arm still in the follow-up pose from his devastating uppercut.

He glanced around, seeing that, surprisingly, Tower 3 was mostly free of attackers, though worry clenched in his gut as he saw the golden glow down near the bottom that signified his lover in the midst of combat. But he had to trust her to hold her own. She'd been training ceaselessly the last few months, feeling that she couldn't let Corbin outpace her too much, for multiple reasons. So for now, she'd have to stand on her own.

Tower 1 seemed to be untouched, though he could see people evacuating from it in a fairly orderly fashion. He cast his gaze on Tower 2...And saw that while it was also evacuating, there was a set of three Metaceptors (as the final one he'd...disabled...had called itself before his blow struck) blasting through the windows. He suddenly remembered it was an observation deck often visited by the public! He left a trail of fire in the air as he sped towards the attacking Drones. The fire rolling along his body rolled into his right hand, where it condensed and lengthened into a huge war maul, the square head bigger than two of his own glowing bright blue with internal fire.

With a wordless war cry, Corbin shoulder-tackled one Metaceptor and slammed his hammer into another; the final creature was taken by surprise and simply floated there in disbelief, watching the other three crash through the glass into the Observation Room.

Right into a room filled with panicked, screaming schoolchildren, with almost half of them riding around in wheelchairs. It seemed it was a day for children with physical disabilities to take a tour of the Plaza.

"Worst. Tour. Timing. Ever."

A snarl ripped its way from his throat as the Metaceptor he'd tackled stood up and pointed gun-hands at the children.

"Faulty genetics shall be purged from the human gene pool. So says the Ma-"

The rest of what he would have said was cut off when a giant hammer impacted his torso and sent him flying into a wall, breaking some of the stonework there and leaving the Drone inactive. The hero clad in blue armor turned in a blur to face the other Metaceptor, its own hand glowing with flames. It didn't make the mistake of focusing anywhere but Cobalt Templar. It got one glancing blow off before he'd slammed it into the ground with his own weapon.

Right before an 8-foot-tall Metaceptor punched him between the shoulder blades and sent him skidding across half the floor. Thankfully, the adults present were hurrying the children out, so most of them were out of the way of the fighting. But some were still vulnerable, so Templar spat out the few drops of blood that came from biting his own cheek from the impact, and flew head-on at the monster of science. Its flaming body flew out above the street, where the flames intensified for a moment, leaving only ash on the wind.

For almost a minute, he just stood there in the abandoned observation deck, taking in great gulping lungfuls of oxygen. Finally, he straightened and walked to the edge of the room, looking out through the windows at the streets below. He could see faint flashes from dozens of running fights with the Metaceptors. He had a feeling they were all over the city. Which meant his work wasn't done, as much as he just wanted to help Quo-Dis escort his parents home. Instead, he burned a trail into the sky and looked for a fight.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Over the next couple of hours, Cobalt Templar found many fights with Metaceptors. He was a relentless force of blue fire, slamming into foes left and right, almost always opting to fight them up close and personal. Half the time he didn't even bother manifesting any actual weapons, instead relying on the flames shrouding his arms to do the majority of the work. He found himself being unusually brutal; perhaps it was bleed-over stress from the events of just two weeks prior. Certainly, fighting these creatures wasn't much different from fighting Omegadrones; he had no compunctions about going full-bore against them. He "pulled" his strikes when he fought near civilians or most heroes. But if he was cornered in an isolated area, any Metaceptors quickly learned that this ring was forged for war, not just heroics. War was brought to these monstrosities of perverted science and egotism, and every battle of that war was a losing proposition for said monstrosities.

"Most folks are afraid of you things. You haven't learned yet that you monsters need to be afraid of me."

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Finally, the sun had fully set, and the battles were over. Other heroes had stopped the "mastermind" of the whole catastrophe, while some had struck agains the sources of the Metaceptor army. For his part, Cobalt Templar had driven back somewhere around 140 Metaceptors, typically in groups of 3. He was weary of fighting, of hearing the sizzle of burning Metaceptor, and of having to watch his back for another flanking attack.

It was with incredible relief that he touched down on the back lawn of his family's large home, before he dashed inside the back door, his costume fading just after he entered. He stopped to take several deep breaths, frowning at the rumpled state of his suit. He shrugged off the jacket as he walked into the informal dining room. His mother was busy making some tea in the kitchen, and rushed over to him.

"Oh my baby! You're safe, you're safe! Don't scare us like that!"

Corbin gave a soft smile as he wrapped one arm around his mother, who hollered for "everyone" to come into the dining room. "Everyone" turned out to just be Albert and Quo-Dis, who had changed back into her own rumpled dress (though Corbin knew she had some other clothes stashed somewhere in the house). Corbin tossed his jacket over a nearby chair and used his free arm to hug his father (who had a bit better luck wrapping his arms some of the distance around his son). Quo-Dis seemed to hesitate for a moment, but Sarah's vocal insistence and Corbin's mental prodding had her joining in the group hug. They stayed that way for over a minute, Sarah quietly shedding tears, Corbin reveling in the sensation of family, Albert just holding his son, and Quo-Dis smiling at the young man she cared so much about. Finally, the embrace broke up, and Corbin gave the very abbreviated version of the tale to all present. He took just enough time to scarf down a large sandwich and a larger glass of water before he headed up to his room to sleep. His parents didn't even try protesting when Quo-Dis followed, absently picking up her boyfriend's suit coat from the table where he'd forgotten it.

Corbin was taking his shoes off when Quo-Dis entered; each of them seemed to follow a now time-tested ritual of preparing for sleep (which included locking the door; Corbin loved and trusted his parents, but enjoyed his privacy nonetheless) without batting an eye at each other. The large young man slowly walked to his bed and sat down on the edge. For almost a minute, he just sat there, staring into space...

Before he collapsed into Quo-Dis's arms, tears running down his face as gentle sobs wracked his body.

"I was...so scared. I kept wondering if I should have stayed with you. Kept you all safe. Couldn't bear the thought of losing the three most important people in my life again. Won't let it happen. Can't let it. Saw so many hurt people. People I couldn't heal. There was death. Fear. Pain. So much of it all. I can't hear thoughts, but I could feel the weight of everything in the city. All while I fought those things that were hunting people like animals. I...I didn't show mercy. It felt right then, but...the smell. I just wanted a peaceful dinner. Peaceful day. Good day, wanted that. Couldn't lose you. Love you. Have you. Won't lose you."

His voice faded as Quo-Dis held him, stroking his hair and sending soothing thoughts to him. After a couple of minutes, he drifted off to sleep, and she carefully tucked him into the bed, giving him one last kiss goodnight. Just another hero getting the rest he so richly deserved after a long, hard day of fighting....

[Quinn]

Overclock

Just Got That Metaceptor Blues

Hanover

The fist hit the Metaceptor's face with an oh-so-satisfying crunch, the hero at the other end of the fist laughing as it went sailing across the street to impact a nearby car. Overclock was, despite the desperation of the times and the obvious chaos in Freedom City, having the time of his life. He was cutting loose, pushing the Woosh to the max, moving faster than he'd ever gone before, a blur of feet, fists, and laughing head. He'd made a beeline for the Secret Bar first, catching a small squad of drones about to haul away the clientele, and had descended on them with all the righteous fury of...of...well, he wasn't quite sure of how righteously furious he'd gotten, but it was damn righteous! And furious! And he had to admit, they'd been pretty tough customers. He still had scorch marks on his costume from where they'd hit, even!

Irons leapt up and swung around a nearby lamppost, placing two booted feet into the face of another drone. To his hyper-accelerated mind, he saw the resulting hit in slow motion, the rippling effect going outwards from the creature's smashed...nose? Across it's skull, it's eyes rolling backwards in their sockets, it's feet leaving the ground ever so slowly, the backwards motion...then time reasserted itself, and away it flew! He fairly bounced on his feet, eyes scanning the street for his next opponent. When none deigned to appear before the Fastest Fighter Alive, he fairly sighed.

"Aww, no more? Dangit, I was just getting warmed up!"

Then he was gone; a black and gold blur speeding through Freedom City's streets, a missile heading straight for Hanover and Master Lee's School of Self Defense. Enjoying the fight he may have been, but no way he was letting these orange freaks get their hands on his sensei!

That was the thought going through his head as he tore down the street that had the school; and the thought going through his head as sickly green energy lashed into his form and caused him to hit the pavement in a heap. The adrenaline was fairly tore from him, replaced with only PAIN; two Metaceptors stood above him, one holding up a sword of energy, ready to bring it down upon his head, the other flowing that same green power into his wracked body. Ezekiel Irons would have liked to say he stared up at them with heroic defiance, denying them any satisfaction in his demise, but truth be told he was too surprised and pained to manage so much as a blink. And he was even more surprised when the three heard a voice coming from across the street.

"...Hey. Uglies."

Overclock wrenched his head up, and the two Metaceptors stared. A frail old man in a suit, with only a walking stick, stood quite calmly, watching. Master Lee cracked his head left, then right. Then he looked at the drones over his student, and coughed slightly. The one with the sword turned his arm into a gun, and Overclock didn't so much as get a chance to breathe out a warning before it unleashed a hail of bullets towards his sensei. Without a word, Lee simply flowed around the fusillade, covering the ground in almost no time flat; the Metaceptor with the gun-arm found itself propelled into the air, every pressure point struck at once, and simply flopped back down to the ground limp. As the other drone sought to bring it's energy to bear, Overclock found himself abruptly freed, and lashed out with his own boot, catching it in the gut. A subsequent knee to the jaw sent it to the ground, and a follow-up boot to the head put it out of commission for a while. He turned, with a wide smile to his master, bowing in great respect;

"Master Lee! I'm so glad to see you-"

CRACK. Irons sat on the ground, dazed, rubbing at a spot on the top of his head where Lee's walking stick had connected. Lee placed the stick back in his other hand, and leveled a look Overclock had come to fear many years ago at him; the look of the irate teacher.

"Glad, hmm? Glad I okay, or glad I saved your butt? Yooooouuuu reckless! I tell you again and again, you punch before you think! Run in headfirst, and all you get is bruised noggin! But do you listen? Nooooo, Ezekiel Irons smarter than everyone else, faster than everyone else! Faster you run, farther you skid if someone trips you!"

Ezekiel hung his head in shame as Master Lee shook his finger at him, feeling considerably abashed at the whole proceeding. Lee went on for about a minute in that vein, before the old man roughly hauled Irons to his feet. Dusting off the costume, the master placed his hands on his hips, then pointed out at the skyline.

"Now! You not have faith in your teacher that he keep dojo safe? Hmm? Go, more people in danger. Need your help more than we do." His face crinkled in a smile, and he patted the kung-fu speedster's shoulder. "Dojo will be standing when you get back. Probably have more chores for you, cleaning up to do, but that will make good punishment for being too reckless. Now get going!"

Overclock didn't think twice, and dust was kicked up in his haste, as well as Master Lee's coat hem. The master then palmed his face, walking back into the building, mumbling a few irritated words under his breath at overly hasty students.

[Quinn]

Crow

A Murder Of Crows

Bayview

Morgan ducked under a lance of lightning, ignoring the bit of wall that exploded as he rolled and pulled himself into yet another sprint. The Metaceptor drones had descended on Freedom City with all the subtlety of a hurricane, and the metropolis was now pretty much a battleground. He'd lost track of his compatriots a while back when they'd made for the city in a group to wreak havoc on the invading forces, but time, tide, and lots of lightning bolts, bullets, and energy swords had a habit of causing sudden divisions. Crow, for his part, had found himself stuck ambushing Metaceptor patrols, lacking (to his eternal chagrin) the staying power to get into a straight-up slugfest. That had worked well, right up to the point one of those things had hit him with something, and his coat ended up hit hard. Hard enough to put it out of commission. Calling on runes made them sputter and smoke, but there was no joy to be had; hence why he was now running hell for leather to Parkhurst as fast as his legs could carry him.

Not for the first time, the teen wondered why his dad had sent him to Freedom City; they didn't have stuff like this back home in Boston. Granted, he'd been having a hoot actually being involved in something they'd be talking about in big mystic circles for a long time to come, but he also knew his limits; and right now he was right at the raggedy edge of them. Bullets spattered the wall above his head, and he checked himself, swerving and digging his shoulder into a Metaceptor that had just rounded the corner. Both went to the ground, but before the drone could react Morgan was rolling, on his feet, and sprinting at a gut-bursting pace. Lightning, greenish energy, bullets, they flew around him as he ducked, dodged, weaved, leapt, and fairly danced his way to another corner, just as an explosion hit the wall opposite the corner he'd taken, sending him spiraling to the ground.

His heartbeat thudded in his ears, and Morgan lifted his head, staring left and right. His vision was blurry, but he could distinctly see six orange feet walking up towards him, and the thrum of power in the air. Looking up, he blinked as a barrel was leveled at his face. He could see the silver leading up to the orange arm, and a mouth speaking in a thoroughly emotionless tone.

"Resistance is fatal."

A click...and then a caw. And then a truly prodigious number of black wings descended upon the three, pecking and clawing and cawing loudly; the Metaceptors fairly screeched as the birds harried them, firing blasts and bullets wildly, swiping with energy swords and green energy, but for every one bird that fell, practically ten more descended on them. It was as if every crow, rook, and raven in the entire city had flown into this one alley. Before Crow's very eyes, the flock lifted up, up, up, and suddenly the only ones in the alley were him, and a single crow. It hopped over to him and cawed, pecking at his coat. He blinked at it. It stared at him. He held out his arm, and it hopped up on it, cawing again. Morgan Crowe, descendent of Cuchulainn, son of Patrick Crowe, Red Hand, and son of the Morrigan, just sat on the alley floor. Then he clambered to his feet, threw up his arm, and watched the crow take flight, winging away from him; to his lack of surprise straight in the direction of Parkhurst.

"...Thanks, mom."

[JackgarPrime]

Victory

Nichtuberall

The dust from the asteroid began to clear,being sucked out into the void of space, with a few of the mutants going with it. The call from Push was half-lost in the vacuum, but when the emergency seals slid into place to secure the interior, the figure, now unobscured, heard him. The silver-blue “meteor†lifted a shining arm and brought it down, burying his foe into the floor. The figure stood and turned to Push, a smirk on his face.

“Same thing as you, I'd imagine. When the message went out, I fi- Oh, hold on a second...â€

Another of the so-called “Metaceptors†dove towards Victory, trying to get the jump on him as he speaks. His highly-advanced threat recognition system, in addition to his naturally keen senses, denied the creature. His arm shot up, catching it mid-leap by the throat, and he swung it towards Push, like a baseball pitch.

“Heads up!â€

It seemed that Push had recovered enough from his surprise to get what Victory was going for,and swung for the fences. With a loud CRACK, the enemy goes flying into a wall, becoming embedded in it. Dusting his hands off, Victory nods approvingly.

“Not bad. But to answer your question, I knew this place was kept top-top-top secret. Therefore, I figured that if he had any sort of backup plan or extra weapon, this would be the place to store it. So as soon as I put 2 and 2 together, I made my way up here. It took a while, but, if nothing else, it was a good test for something we've been working on. And since I'm not the only one here, I'm guessing I was right. Especially with all these guards!â€

At the word “guardsâ€, almost on cue, more came for the pair. But they were cut down, and quickly. If anything could be said about both Victory and Push, while they have little in common, they're both very difficult to stop once they begin.

Space Around Nichtuberall

While the heavy blows were landing within, going so strong as to shake parts of the asteroid away from the friction, a strange orange glow and begun growing in the void. Or it may be more accurate to say it was infesting the very nothing of space, right where it hangs....

Interior

Battling through the hangar, they were practically wading in enemies. Hordes redoubled their efforts and swarmed, where a ceiling camera would see their bodies flying in all directions. Within minutes, the room had been littered with the defeated enemies. Taking a breath once the horde stops, Victory dusts his hands off, and shakes out his natural, but armor-covered hand, having gotten sore from all the blows they laid down.

“Oh man. More than I thought I'd see on the way in. I knew there were a lot of heat signatures, but I thought it would take them longer to converge on one point. There shouldn't be too many more, th-â€

A shockwave rocks the hangar, with enough force to blow Push to the far side, up against a wall. When the momentary daze is shaken off, on the far side of the hangar is a winged black figure. One with an....unsettlingly familiar shape. The metal wings protruding from its upper back spit out a sickly orange energy, as it crouches over a laid-out Victory. Its horrible voice, at once human while echoing with something more, echos throughout the hangar, as the hole it punched into the side of the asteroid is sealed with another blast door.

â€There you are, Hand-Me-Down! I told you that you wouldn't get away for long!â€

Push didn't need to hear any more. Whatever this thing was, it was something that needed to be stopped right now. Shaking his head out, he hefts his hammer, beginning to charge across the massive hangar towards the two. There is enough time, however, for the creature to reach a black, metal hand down and grab Victory by the throat.

â€And now that he's gone, I don't have to worry about attracting his attention while I dispose of you!â€

The creature's opposite hand becomes engulfed in that same horrible orange glow that spouts from his wings, but just as he is about to land what may be a killing blow, a massive CRASH comes down across the back of his head. The figure stumbles for but a step, and turns its gaze to Push. Its face is covered by a twisted black helmet, but two orange spots can be seen below the visor. And when his mouth opens, that energy spouts in small bursts from his throat, like spit.

â€What do you think you're doing, WORM?! This is NOT your affair. You will stay out of it, or be TAKEN out of it!â€

That black hand, with its twisted knuckles,grab the head of Push's hammer, and, with a surge of energy, curls its fingers together and crushes it, the metal becoming little more than dust in his hand! And with one final, horrible scream, Push is blasted back to where he was, a sharp flash of pain going through his body.

The distraction may have helped,however. Victory, struggling, brings himself to his feet. Panting, he blasts forward, grabbing the monster around the waist. The two rocket forward, but it doesn't seem bothered.

â€Hahahaha! You know what's going to happen now, don't you, Knock-Off?! Fine then! Let's go!â€

Victory's moment of offense doesn't last long, as the two twist in mid-air, and Victory is the one in his enemy's grasp! The two blast through the entire asteroid, and Victory gets his mouth plate in place just in time as they head out into space, and disappear back into that horrible, orange tear....