vignette January (and February) Vignette: Day of Wrath

[KnightDisciple]

Thunder Rolls, Hammers Strike

January 15th, 2013 (Day of Wrath)

It had started as an ordinary Tuesday. Paperwork, bit of software development, tinker with a couple diagrams. Typical for Magnus; despite running the company, he liked to keep involved with his own projects. His American home wasn’t far from the office, and he liked being up early (not that he needed quite as much sleep these days, what with the nanites and all), so he’d been there for a couple hours already. So when Candice, his office assistant, burst into his office and wordlessly switched the nearest wall panel to a half-dozen news feeds.

“Candice! What the devil are you-?â€

His question cut off as he saw the news feeds, took in her frightened features.

“Sir, we’ve already started a lockdown, but....people are worried about families. Kids. Spouses. What do we do with them?â€

The Baron took a moment to consider, his eyes flickering over the screens even as the nanites attached to his brain stem talked to the computers surrounding him.

“Initiate a Level 2 lockdown, with preparation to go to Level 1 if one of these...Wrathful...approaches the building. Security is authorized to be armed and armored. We...â€

He sighs as he considers his next words.

“We cannot force people to stay in this building, but we will strongly recommend it. Try to have people move in groups. If their family is close, they can shelter here. Have Security touch base with the police, UNISON, AEGIS, FBI, all those folks, so that there’s not a blue-on-blue incident when they see our men in body armor waving stun pistols around. I’m going down to Laboratory 15.â€

His secretary gave a nod as she regained a bit of color; she was clearly still worried, but “sheer panic†was gone thanks to Magnus giving clear, precise orders. That and the fact he seemed no more bothered than if someone told him it was raining outside when he’d forgotten his umbrella at home. Not that he wasn’t bloody terrified at the thought of heroes going mad.

****************************************************************************************

It didn’t take much time in Lab 15 to start triangulating some extremely strange signals scattered around the city. A bit of finagling some local security cameras, along with some other observation methods, they’d figure out what it was. A series of boxes, with a large number of radio signals flying in and out...guarded by Foundry drones. Magnus almost growled. He’d just dealt them a blow here in the city, and now they were rearing their head again? So soon?

“Send word to the authorities about this.â€

“Sir, where are you going?â€

“My office. I need to make sure the other branches are locked down. This may not stay local.â€

Technically, this was true. However, the fact was, that wasn’t the only thing he was about to do...

*******************************************************************************************

A message sent across the globe had Katastroff & Sorenson Technologies locked down within 90 seconds, as managers and employees alike fearfully watched the news to follow the terrible developments.

Meanwhile, moving in an essentially invisible blur, flashing into existence for mere seconds at a time as he moved across streets and roofs, Fenris was drawing close to the nearest “Control Boxâ€, powering his weapon systems up so he could leap into the fray as soon as he arrived. That miniscule power draw saved him some broken bones, though. Right as he stopped for a moment to re-orient himself and re-engage his VFC, a streak of blue light flashed across his vision, and a hammer embedded itself in the rooftop, ice forming a sheen for about a foot around the impact point. He just stopped and stared for several moments, processing the image.

“I knew it! You show your true colors!â€

The voice echoed off the surrounding buildings; a shout driven by powerful lungs and tinged with something else. Before Fenris could locate the source, he felt a flash of heat at his stomach, and was suddenly stuck in the street down below, civilians running away in fright. He looked up, and saw a young man who could have passed for a Norse god, if he wasn’t wearing jeans, a tshirt, and-

“Chains? Really? That seems a little too “biker gang†for a hero or one of your Aesir folk.â€

“SILENCE! Servant of Chaos! Devotee of the Fenriswulf! Worshiper of Ragnarok!â€

“Whoa now, let’s calm down man. I punched that thing in the face last time I saw it. I don’t worship anything or anyone. But especially not that wolf, or any of you Norse meatheads.â€

“You mock us! With your words and your visage! I am Magni Thorson, and I shall silence your impudent mouth!â€

“It’s a catchy name and I do sorta like flipping you the-ACK!â€

Twin hammers to the chest signaled the end of talking and the beginning of fighting. The goateed young Aesir was faster than his somewhat bulky form would suggest, and his blows with the hammers (one frighteningly cold, the other terribly hot) were fast. But then, Fenris was pretty fast, too. He kept moving, disappearing from his spot before a blow could land, ending up 30 feet behind Magni and snapping off a couple of shots with his PPCs. While he boasted of his relationship with the so-called “God of Thunderâ€, he didn’t seem to have any real resistance to artificial lightning.

Of course, the fight was by far not one-sided. Magni kept landing glancing blows that left dents. As the fight dragged on, some of the dents started to tear the outer layer of the armor. The extremes of temperatures started to warp other parts of the armor.

At one point, Magni managed to land a solid blow on the lower jaw of the armor; the plating cracked and the teeth sparked. Another hit in the opposite direction saw it torn off completely in a shower of sparks and metal, while the man inside howled in pain from the sympathetic feedback his nanite interface sent roaring into his brain. Magni got two point-blank PPC shots to the gut in return. They “danced†back and forth for a few minutes more, before a blow from the flame-shrouded hammer sheared one of the PPCs off. Almost in the blink of an eye, the fight shifted.

Fenris was trying, and failing, to fend off a veritable storm of blows. His armor was blackened and curling in multiple places, heavily fractured in others. The claws on both feet were snapped off or crushed. His other PPC was shorted out and useless, and his VFC was flickering dangerously.

“Ha! Your pitiful technology stings, but before the son of Thor it is not enough! I will cleanse your taint from this city, before removing the other stains upon this shining beacon of civilization!â€

“Not-*kzzzk* on your life, pretty boy.â€

And then he was gripping Magni’s head between his clawed hands, and shoving as much power as possible into the electrical conduits there. After a moment the “intact†PPC exploded, followed shortly by most of the circuits in the arms. By that point, it was enough, though. Magni screamed in pain...and quickly devolved into an electronic warble of verbal 1’s and 0’s. Magnus’s eyes widened in his helmet as, just as he released the face of the young “heroâ€, it started to melt while the rest of him caught in eerie green flame! Seconds later, an otherworldly metal skeleton stared back at him, mouth hanging open and eyes filled with rapidly-fading light.

And then it exploded in Fenris’s face.

He was flung a good 10 feet back, the top half of his “jaw†shattering and melting, most of the front of his armor suddenly soft and runny like hot wax. Only the strong insulation of the inner layers kept him from a world of hurt; as it was he still gave a yell of pain. Thankfully, the street was abandoned, so when he stood and red-hot metal droplets fell to the ground, no one hurt themselves running to help. He swayed in place for a moment, then diverted all power to his VFC, vanishing in a flash of light, leaving only scraps and puddles of metal on the ground behind him.

Of course, teleporting when your teleport system is half-fried is not always the best idea. So when Fenris slammed into the far wall of his secure lab, moving at a relative speed of about 200 miles an hour, he was lucky to “only†fracture 2 ribs, both legs, and an arm. He grit his teeth around a scream of pain, forcing himself to drag over to the armor rig, which quickly stripped the wrecked suit off of him. His nanites were in overdrive, and his legs healed enough for him to stumble over to his office chair and put one hand on the work table.

Within 30 seconds, the internet was flaring with information about the Control Boxes. Locations, estimated guard forces, appearance, all of it. The official KST Twitter feed “anonymously†fed the information out, and other tech sites soon took up the news. It spread further and further, so that even those who didn’t have the resources and skills he possessed could find out where they were. He held off the information about Magni being a robot; he was out of it so much he didn’t trust it to be a universal rule, or even an accurate memory.

With the information spreading on its own, Baron Katastroff smiled....and fell unconscious in his chair for the next several hours as his body fought to repair the damage it had taken in the rather brutal fight.

[KnightDisciple]

Blackstone Prison Blues

January 15th, 2013 (Day of Wrath)

Gabriel had just conferred with the one remaining guard in the hallway for a moment. Things were looking a bit bleak. Apparently Blackstone had enough power to lock the doors, at least. But the guards needed to know he was available, and he needed to contact some other heroes for help. He couldn’t do this alone, after all! So he closed his eyes and subtly shifted his powers, spreading his attention to the prison first, focusing on the staff.

“Blackstone staff, this is the hero Gabriel. The threat to the reactor is neutralized. The reactor seemed damage but generally stable; I would recommend a repair team get there ASAP. I also request an infirmary team. We...have two bodies that need recovered. And one...well, it’s hard to describe, but you’ll need a couple guys to get it lifted. You’ll know it when you see it; set it aside so we can get it to some of the science-types on the outside. I’m going to request backup now.â€

His hearing shifted further, encompassing much of the city. But before he could talk, he became confused at the panic or confusion he was hearing, with a couple of voices sounding...angry? His control slipped, and suddenly he heard all the voices in Freedom City.

And he nearly collapsed weeping as he heard his adopted home tearing itself apart. Cries of pain, of loss, of fear, rang from every corner. Shouts of anger, hatred, and raw violence echoed from the walls. Worst of all were the voices that suddenly stopped, cries that were silenced. He knew what all of it meant.

His adopted home was in crisis, and there was absolutely nothing he could do.

Not until he’d taken care of the hundreds of dangerous prisoners between him and the Outside, anyways.

He stood, only a single tear falling against the stone floor. His spear was once more in hand as he strode to the stairs, not even looking back. He was at least on the bottom prison floor, so he knew his back was to comparatively safe space as he floated up the stairs like an avenging angel, his face expressionless and as hard as steel. He radiated an aura of utter calm and control, which somehow conveyed more menace than his typical booming speeches of condemnation.

It took less than a minute for two thugs who looked to be jacked on super-steroids to charge him. Sonic blasts to their groins followed by blows to the back of the necks felled them with little trouble. The men who followed them were smaller, and simply felled like trees when sound slammed into them.

For the next couple of minutes, “small time†thugs and dumb bruisers charged him, all receiving similar treatment. He never spent more than a few seconds on any target; he felt the race against the clock. Any guards he encountered were acknowledge and directed to unconscious thugs. Where clusters of guards were pinned by powered prisoners, Gabriel broke the siege to give them that critical chance for a breakout. Everywhere he went, rioting prisoners fell like wheat before a combine, and guards rushed in to restore order.

By the time he was halfway up the prison, Gabriel had a sizable force of guards moving with him. They worked seamlessly together, the trials of the riot forging them into a smooth, coherent force. Gabriel was the metaphorical point of the spear, but the guards gave his presence weight. Had he been alone, it likely would have been a different story.

Of course, there were times even the experienced and powerful hero had trouble.

The speedster who had raced up from behind the group and knocked out two guards had been troublesome; it was only thanks to Gabriel quickly deafening him (thankfully the guards had ear protection) that the criminal mis-stepped and presented a target to be knocked out.

The man who could negate superpowers, followed by a couple of what appeared to be high-end martial artists, had been a challenge. He’d had to knock the attackers out while absorbing a couple hits on his armor (a bit of a surprise to them, but if there was one thing Gabriel knew it was how to take his licks and keep going!). The power-negator was less sturdy still.

He was in the middle of fighting a couple of super-acrobats bouncing all over the place when he took a call on his comlink; he slapped the receiver (that miraculously still worked), but had to concentrate on “surviving†for a few moments. Finally he spoke up for a few moments.

"I would love to chat but-"

Suddenly another prisoner jumped out of a hiding place, his eyes blazing with red energy. He’d sewed a bunch of X’s and T’s into his uniform, and was jabbering about “intersectionsâ€, “Terminusâ€, “Futureâ€, and things Gabriel couldn’t comprehend. His eye beams took a couple of small divots out of the surrounding rock of the prison, but just refracted harmlessly off of Gabriel’s breastplate.

"-kinda busy. Give me five minutes tops, I'll call back. Have a prison to pacify."

He slapped the comm unit again, not wanting to break it.

Since his next move was to take a deep breath and unleash a scream worthy of a banshee. The two acrobats and Mr. Eyebeams were slammed against the far wall, falling unconscious almost immediately. Gabriel just rubbed his throat and continued up the stairs.

It took him 7 minutes to make it to the top, where he was told that 90% of the prisoners were locked up or knocked out, and the rest were being contained by the guard force (who thankfully had just gotten reinforcements). Gabriel nodded and spoke quickly.

“I need to go check something with the infirmary, and then I’ll be on my way.â€

With a whoosh of air, he was down the halls and at the infirmary, which, while not idle, was by no means overflowing. A few moments of talking got him a raised eyebrow and an empty bodybag. A few more moments had him slipping down the stairs into the reactor room. The guards were gone, though the rest of the mess remained; the “Terminator†that had impersonated Steve was also gone, scrapes on the floor showing where it had been dragged before being lifted onto some kind of cart. He’d seen it wrapped up and over on one side in the Infirmary.

No one had found the “body†of Miss Americana, tucked away in a pose not unlike the ancient mummies. Gabriel was calm and efficient as he moved the much lighter gynoid form into the bag, zipping it up and carefully lifting it into his arms, still surprised at how light it was. With one last glance at the now-patched reactor, he disappeared in a burst of speed, making it to the front door in a few seconds, checking out with a few quick words that reassured the guard it was not a prisoner, but instead some evidence related to the events in the reactor room, and emphasizing that discretion was key.

After that, he took to the air, his pace quickly slowing over the Bay. He needed to make a call...

[Semi-Autogyro]

Myrmidon

Tin Can Hit Man

Airspace above Freedom City

0945 hours EST

January 15, 2013

Myrmidon did not have to wait long for his scanners to pick up a potential location for one of the androids that had been mimicking Freedom City heroes.

“This is Patrol Unit 164 outside of Atlantis Casino. Requesting Backup! Multiple Officers and civilians down! Subject is Orion, and he's shooting at anything that moves!"

With a lean, the clone hero had changed his airborne trajectory towards the waterfront as he rapidly approached the airspace above the ocean-themed casino.

<< Myrmidon here, I will be on scene momentarily. Where is the shooter firing from? >>

“ About time somebody showed up! He’s ---" The transmission cut short to a burst of static, seconds later being replaced by a bored sounding male voice. “I was beginning to wonder if there was going to be any real challenge today.“ The radio cut to a hiss of white noise as the famed assassin had apparently brought a radio jammer. Scanning the rooftop and upper penthouse floors for possible perches for a sniper, the Claremonter slowed his approach to the casino.

“Ah there you are.“ The voice cut through the static of the jamming as the clone hero caught the glint of reflected sunlight from a raised section of rooftop. Instinctively he slewed laterally and a heartbeat later there was a sledgehammer like impact to his jetpack followed by the controls going unresponsive. Probably an Anti-material Rifle. With his flight path now unguided, the helmeted hero tumbled out of control and his planned landing on the roof was instead replaced by a jet-powered headlong crash dive into the penthouse suites’ pool. “9.4 for the dodge, 3.7 on the landing.†The voice deadpanned over his comm.

Myrmidon was now officially annoyed as he lifted himself out of the pool to a trio of two women and a man that were taking pictures of him with their camera phones. << You missed. Now it is my turn to hunt you. Prepare yourself. >> he stated into his headset, the only response an amused chuckle. << You. >> He pointed at the nearby man. << Call the front desk and have them start evacuating the casino. Get everyone else out even if you have to pull the fire alarm. >> Done with the civilian bystanders, he moved through the penthouse and paused before the main entryway of the suite which opened into the interior of the casino. According to the nearby map, the Atlantis was built around its underwater theme, with massive aquariums that ran through the structure available for casual viewing from almost anywhere in the casino. The main attraction was the open air atrium with a massive central aquarium as its centerpiece. The doors of the upper floors looked down into the aquarium from above, with the lower floor rooms giving the more traditional aquarium viewing experience.

Knowing his quarry was somewhere above him, he augmented his armor with active camouflage and began his hunt for the master assassin. A minute later, a shot rang out, followed by a noise of disappointment over his radio. “Tch. Just another Bellhop.†Mentally triangulating the snipers general location from the shot, which led him to a maintenance passageway with a ladder to the roof and access walkway over the aquarium atrium for the lights. The assassin android was crouched by the exit to the catwalk with his rifle, scanning the upper floors for him.

Ordinarily he would have just flash-banged the room and stormed in weapons blazing to clear it, but the current events required an intact and relatively undamaged android. Something was off though, as no professional would leave their back exposed. His caution proved prudent as he had almost missed the tripwire at ankle height wired across the door, attached to a claymore mine facing the doorway. Stupid, Myrmidon mentally chastised himself. Of course he would have a failsafe. Stepping lightly over the tripwire he moved within arm’s length of the duplicate assassin, and formulated his plan of attack. Intentionally knocking over a mop, he caused it to fall across the tripwire. The resulting detonation caused Orion to whirl around to face the perceived oncoming threat.

Myrmidon used the explosion as a distraction, grabbing the barrel of the rifle and slammed the firearm back into the assassins’ face; the blow shattering the other man’s shooting glasses and sending the impostor reeling. With a hard twist of his wrist he freed the weapon, yanking it out of Orions’ hands and sending it clattering to the tile floor. The fake proved to have the same reaction speed the original, already whipping out a pair of heavy pistols and firing not in the direction the attack came from, but at a nearby fire extinguisher. The pressurized canister promptly detonated, evacuating its chemical foam contents all over the room which included the now white foam covered outline of the formerly concealed Myrmidon. “Found you! Tag! You’re it!†The duplicate replied with more than a little manic glee as he turned his akimbo weapons on the clone and backed onto the walkway while laying down a withering hail of gunfire.

The teen felt the impact of a trio of bullets deforming against his torso armor, which had likely prevented what would have been a fatal injury. Rolling with the impacts, he put the door frame and wall between him and his assailant as a temporary shield. He needed to end this, the quicker the better as the robot assassin duplicate seemed to becoming more unhinged as time went on. Pulling a few items from his combat harness, he concentrated and had created the weapon that he estimated had the best chance of disabling one of these robots. At its core it was basically a glorified knife that funneled an electromagnetic pulse through the blade, hopefully overloading the internal workings of anything relying on advanced technology while leaving it mostly salvageable. Now all he needed was a distraction to close the distance, not to get shot as he did so, and coupled with a hopefully disabling strike. Not to mention avoiding triggering the android duplicates plasma fail-safe device in close quarters which would likely cause him to be flash-cooked in his own armor.

Apparently the civilians from earlier had not been able to convince the front desk, as fire alarms started blaring throughout the structure followed by the beginnings of a panicked evacuation of the casino. Well, that is convenient. John thought as he leaned around the door frame and threw the EMP spike at the assassin android. It was a solid hit even though the duplicate did its best to dodge the attack, resulting in the weapon being buried in the fake Orions' shoulder instead of its chest. The assassins next shots went wide as Myrmidon followed up with a charging tackle that knocked the both of them prone on the narrow metal catwalk.

The jolt of the tackle knocked one of the duplicates pistols free, causing it to skitter across and off the catwalk followed by a barely audible splash due to the nearly overpowering screeching of the fire alarms. Something then triggered in the impostor robot and it began to fight back even more, trying to cave in the Claremonters’ head via heavy blows wit the butt of his heavy pistol utilizing a savage strength that did not match the real Orions'. Fighting against the nausea from the ongoing attempt at concussing him, Myrmidon grabbed the embedded EMP spike by the handle and used his body-weight to roll the android off the catwalk while activating the device.

The android spasmed and went limp, followed by the heavy smell of ozone and a light smoke wafting from its orifices as it tumbled of the catwalk. His hope was that the immersion in the aquarium below would prevent the plasma scuttling charge, after which he was going to lie on this catwalk until the light dazed feeling from the pistol whipping passed. He was not expecting the inhuman grip to not release and consequently seconds later he had followed the android over the side and into the aquarium. Today is not my day when dealing with water, he noted as the weight of the robot dragged him below the surface and deeper into the aquarium.

Five minutes later, a dripping and very irritated Myrmidon was thanking the hotel divers for pulling him and the waterlogged android out to take back to Freedom Hall, followed by an apology for his reactive punching of one of the aquariums numerous sharks when it got nosy. For the most part the android was intact, and he hoped that the immersion had not ruined the internal workings. He had enough time to bandage his minor injuries and take some painkillers while they fished out the robot, so that was a positive. Afterwards, Myrmidon made sure that the police had recovered the weapons that the Orion robot had before dragging his catch of the day to Freedom Hall for further analysis.

[KnightDisciple]

Big Bad Corbin

January 15, 2013 (Day of Wrath)

Cobalt Templar desperately wanted to punch something. Or someone. He wasn’t really super-picky. Between one of his best friends going crazy (because she was now a robot), another friend clearly going through emotional turmoil that manifested in him (somewhat rightly) being short with Corbin, the stress of worry about another Terminus invasion, and having a subway station fall on him, he was feeling a bit out of sorts. It wasn’t quite “stir-crazyâ€, but it was definitely “itching to do somethingâ€.

Two things happened in quick succession. He got a semi-automated message over Freedom League channels that detailed the location of several “control boxes†that were sending signals to some of the other impersonator robots running around the city. And less than a minute later, he stumbled on a wide-band signal from the Star Squad requesting backup, reinforcements, or any sort of aid as they assaulted one of these “control boxesâ€. Apparently they were keeping the Foundry bots guarding it penned in, but due to the deployment of heavier combat units, they weren’t breaking through. It was a stalemate that could quickly turn ugly. CT nodded his head with resolve and keyed up Midnight on his earpiece.

“Midnight. Cobalt Templar. Moving to support Star Squad taking out control box. Location is-â€

He rattled off the address he’d heard a moment ago on the radio.

“Will report when done.â€

He switched to the Star Squad frequency.

“Star Squad, this is Cobalt Templar. I am moving in to aid and support. I will be dropping from above. Can’t miss me. Please watch my back. Hold the line, gentlemen!â€

As he talked and accelerated through the air, his uniform almost unconsciously altered itself. His already-bulky form was further built up as “metal†plates formed and shifted around him, until finally he was clad in bulky, ornate armor that had small “booster jets†on the back of his shoulders and calves. One arm bore a bulky double-barreled firearm, the other grasped a glowing sword wreathed in ethereal flame. He ascended for a brief moment, before suddenly arcing into a vertical dive, aimed right between two of the smaller warbots. Before the metal warriors noticed him, he’d already crushed one under his feet and torn the other one in two with his sword. He looked directly at the fortified Control Box, raising his arms in the air and yelling.

“Come face me, Foundry! Come at me, one at a time or all at once! I WILL BURN YOU TO ASH EITHER WAY!â€

With that, he sent a burst of fiery bullets into a small group of approaching combat drones, which were all promptly shredded, much of their center mass turning to metallic ash. Another group tried to flank him, and were also riddled with holes. A larger “anti-hero†unit slammed to the ground in front of him, raising a large energy cannon. Inside his helmet, Templar just smirked. In a blur he raced forward and cut the cannon in twain, before slicing the robot’s head from its shoulders. He leapt through the air to land on the back of another large unit, driving his sword in to open its back up before sending a burst from his arm cannon into its mechanisms.

So it continued for several minutes, the Star Squad on site slowly tightening their cordon as Cobalt Templar tore through more and more robots, almost like a man possessed. Slowly the metal tide slackened, until finally it seemed it was over. By this point Templar was breathing a bit heavily, but was feeling a lot better and more clear-headed. He slung the sword-construct on his back, walking over to the line of Star Squad members, stopping a few feet away and snapping off a quick salute. His angular helmet folded away to reveal his domino-masked visage, a slight sheen of sweat present, while a huge grin split his face.

“Appreciate the backup, guys! Sorry to maybe sorta steal your thunder, but I needed to blow off some steam. Anyways, I guess if you’ve got some demo guys, I can go in with you and help clear out any-â€

One of the armored men pointed behind CT even as the Squad dove for cover.

“Look out!â€

Templar blinked and turned, his eyes widening as the helmet snapped back into place and the sword entered his hand again. He was airborne within 2 seconds of the warning. It was 1 second too late.

A beam of energy as big around as the totally-not-a-half-giant hero was tall slammed him into, and then through, the pavement. He was pushed 3 feet down, entering a crude mix of gravel and dirt that was quickly turned to glass. The building-sized robot that had unfolded from around the now-smaller Control Tower impassively poured firepower down for a full 30 seconds. When it finished, the mine-crater was filled with smoke and ash, and for a moment the Star Squad sniper team couldn’t see Cobalt Templar at all.

Finally the spotted him, crouched in the middle of the crater, his identity and dignity barely shrouded by the clouds surrounding him. His entire skin looked red and raw, like a whole-body sunburn. Slowly, blue energy trickled along his body from his right hand, finally leaving him in loose blue pants and a domino mask, standing defiant in the crater looking up at the large robot.

“That stung. Now I’m mad.â€

Without a warning, he was suddenly embedded knee-deep and foot-first in the energy cannon. Even as it overloaded, he was on the opposite arm, punching his way through the machine’s forearm before it could deploy and energize the over-sized claws. Another blur of motion saw him gripping one of the machine’s 4 eyes and ripping it out, crushing it against another eye to leave it half-blind. The robot started to flail at itself, moves that CT calmly wove around. He planted himself high on the machine’s back, where it couldn’t reach him. Rearing back with both arms, he punched down, creating handholds. He then took a few leisurely moments to tear open the upper back of the robot, exposing three central support columns running down its back. He grasped the center one with both hands, and pulled. After moments of groaning metal and sparking wires, he managed to pry one of the giant robot’s spines loose, forming a stiff flail of metal and ceramics as big as a telephone pole. A flail he proceeded to use to beat the giant robot into a pile of scrap with.

While most of the Star Squad had simply watched and tried not to be noticed, a few of the more veteran members who had seen stuff a lot crazier than this simply ran by the over-sized fight and planted charges on the Control Tower. Any drones that got in their way were taken out with extreme precision and prejudice.

So it was that just as the last bits of the giant robot fell to the ground, the 6 members of the Star Squad casually walked up next to Cobalt Templar (who had landed to inspect his handiwork) With a nod, they began walking toward the other Star Squad members, as well as a couple of news crews that had gathered. The somewhat exhausted CT, who was still wearing nothing but what appeared to be martial arts pants and a domino mask and sporting what looked like a Grade A Bad Sunburn paid them no mind. When they reached a certain point, the large hero nodded to the senior Star Squad member next to him, who triggered the charges on the Tower. So it was that the 7 of them were filmed and photoed calmly walking toward the camera, an exploding, collapsing, burning Control Tower highlighting the pile of scrap that had once been a high-end Foundry Combat Mech.

After a couple questions had been answered with the Squad, Templar dashed off once more into the sky, briefly activating his comm link to Midnight.

“Control Tower neutralized. No human casualties. Swinging by my residence to get some new pants. Call me if you need me.â€

With that, he “hung up†and hurried on to his home. Where he had non-construct pants and clothing.

He really didn’t want to flash someone if his concentration slipped.

[Thunder King]

Henry arrived back in Freedom City less than a second after he left Arlington. The benefits of truly insane flight speed. He landed in an alley near his apartment, and instantly realized that things were very, very wrong. The tension in the air was palpable. He had not been on Earth when the Terminus had attacked, but he'd read and heard enough to know that it was one of the darkest times the Earth had ever known. He could only imagine that the tension in the air then was the kind he felt now.

He walked into a nearby bar and stared at the television screen. The reports were scattered, but it was obvious; heroes and villains alike were going berserk. Star Knight, whom he had spoken to once, had gone insane. Some heroes were already on the scene to take her down, and similar reports were coming in from all over the city.

His first instinct was to put his costume back on, but he stopped. What good would it do? Add one more combatant to what he was sure was a huge, city-wide battle? Maybe it would help, maybe he'd just create even more damage trying to help. Either way, he had a different way he could make a difference.

He ran back out into the alleyway. Azure light sparked around him as he vanished into the air, a blue contrail the only evidence he had ever been there.

He landed in an alleyway beside his station and ran in, hoping there were people there who hadn't left yet.

“Henry Mason, reporting for duty, Sir.†He said, standing tall. His captain, who was standing there, directing traffic, looked started and turned towards him.

“Mason, how the hell did you get here...never mind. We need every hand we can get. Get dressed and hop on the truck that's on it's way out. I'll be joining it.â€

Henry ran upstairs and changed as fast as he could before grabbing the pole and sliding down. He grabbed the ladder of the truck as it pulled out of the station.

Apparently, one of the fights had caused some significant damage to a nearby building. The building was holding up, but probably not for long. They were to go in, grab everyone they could, and get out.

He hopped off the back of the truck and waited for orders. The moment he got his orders, he walked into the building, careful to avoid causing any disruption to the integrity of the building. There were, apparently, about ten or twenty people still inside. Two of his fellow firefighters entered the building beside him, with him on point. They all knew their jobs, all knew what to do.

Then he heard the sound of soft crying as he turned and spotted a young woman, no older than maybe twenty five, huddled in a corner. He motioned to one of the other guys who then walked over. One of his fellows bent over and tried to gently guide the woman out of her hiding place.

Suddenly, Henry heard a crack. Instinctively, his hands reached forward, catching the boards before they landed on the other man's head.

“Get the girl, I got the boards†He said.

The man turned and gazed at his fellow firefighter, who was obviously straining. He saw the the young woman was uninjured and, working quickly, bodily pulled her out of her hiding hole and began escorting her out of the room.

The boards cracked again, and it was clear that no mere human could hold the weight that was now in his hands. He knew the other man could see what he was doing, but none of that mattered. He moved his hands, quickly but carefully, to the wooden beam that was now beginning to give into the stress.

He shifted himself under the massive weight and lifted it, using his full strength. The other man stared.

“Mason?†He mumbled, staring even as he walked the girl towards the exit.

There were more here, Henry knew. More lives that needed saving, more people that needed protection. So he lifted, even as his body began to radiate energy. He pushed, even as the bluish light filled the building.

“Mason, get the hell out of there!†He heard across his comm.

“The building, Sir, it'll collapse. Everybody will die if it does.â€

“What the hell are you doing!â€

“Holding it up, Sir, holding it up.â€

“H-how...I...how?â€

“Just get the people out, Sir, and you'll get your answers.â€

Outside, his commander blinked, and turned towards the men. “We have a rare opportunity, fellas, get your asses in there and get those people out. Seems we got a hero inside, holding it up for us.â€

Holding up an entire building was taxing for Solar Sentinel, who began to hover in place to avoid letting the weight collapse under him him. He felt another crack, and his knees buckled as the beams began to collapse further. He bent to one knee, but exerted more of his power, forcing himself to his feet.

The bluish glow was now manifesting as flame as he pushed himself further. His cosmic powers had limits, and he was already at them. His fellow firefighters could not see him properly because of the glow. None of them apparently knew it was Henry, they didn't even seem able to realize it was a firefighter.

His arms began to burn and he could feel his energy dip slightly. He had no idea how much he was holding up, but it was bound to be beyond what he was used to, what his previous known limit had been. None of that was relevant, only holding up that beam until the last of the civilians were free.

“You're clear, Mason, get out of there!â€

Relieved to be free of his burden, Solar Sentinel's aura flared again as he shifted his power from strength to flight. He vanished from beneath the beam and dashed out of the wall, blindly. He burst through the brick and skidded to a halt in an alleyway. He felt two pairs of strong hands lift him up and tug on him, pulling him away from the imminent collapse.

He managed to stand on his own and dismissed his worried allies. The flight and exertion had taken a lot out of him, and while he was tired, he was fine. Though his feet were a bit shaky, he still walked towards the captain, who was even now ordering everyone back on the truck.

“Sir, I...â€

“Don't need to hear it, Mason.†The older man said with a curt nod. “You were there when we needed you, that's all that matters, you hear?â€

Henry nodded. “Yes, but...â€

“I don't know which of them heroes you are, and I don't really care. Don't matter to me if a man has powers, dresses in tights and fights the Crime League. All that matters is that you were here, and ten people are alive because of that.â€

Henry nodded even as he grabbed the ladder.

“With that said, Mason, do you think you could pull that stunt again?â€

“As many times as it's needed, Sir.†Henry said, nodding.

The truck took off, for another rescue, another group of people to save. Henry felt that while none of his fellow firefighters had powers, they did the exact same thing he did, day in and day out. They did it without the benefit of invulnerability, super strength, and with only relatively fragile equipment to keep them from burning or suffocating to death. He was honored to be counted among them.

[Thevshi]

Picking up the Slack

 

January 15th, 2013 (Day of Wrath)

 

After leaving the superpowered teens from Claremont as they began to depart towards the first of the transmitters she had asked them to deal with, Velocity sped off back towards downtown Freedom City.

 

Along the way, she made a brief stop on a rooftop to make a call as Megan Howell to her supervisor at Summit Transnational, putting on an act of being in near hysterics after almost being caught in a cross fire of a gang shoot out in the fens (which was at least partially true). She had told him she had managed to make it home safely to her apartment, but was in no condition to try to go back into work, which turned out to not be a problem as the offices were currently in lockdown anyway. She had also made a quick call to her mother, to both reassure her that her youngest daughter was alright, but also to make sure that her father was safe as well. Once that was taken of, Megan Howell could focus on being Velocity and get back to the tasks at hand.

 

Moments later she was speeding down the eerily deserted streets in the southern part of Midtown. Up ahead, the building that sat at the coordinates provided as the site of one of the control transmitters came into view. The technology in Velocity's goggles picked up movement at the top of the building, and zooming in, she could see three of the Foundry's eight foot tall war model Myrmidon robots launching off from the roof and starting in her direction. Well, there they are. The speedster thought as she slowed down some and turned away to let the war bots follow her. Though she had never actually faced any of them before, she had participated in wreck room exercises while an active member of the Freedom League which had included them, so she was familiar with what they could do.

Given their flight speed, it would not be hard at all for her to outdistance them and then double back for the control box. But the last thing the city needed right now was three war bots flying around with no primary objective left to fulfill. So, she would just have to deal with them, a task made all the more difficult given their ability to fly, even if it was so slowly.

 

Even with Velocity running far slower than she could, it still took the war bots flying at full thrusters before they began to catch up with her. As they began to draw close behind her, she knew perfectly well where they were, thanks to the 360 degree view her goggles provided her. Turning backward slightly as she continued to race along the deserted streets, Velocity sent a number of steel ball bearings flying at supersonic speeds towards the lead war bot. Knowing how tough their armor plating was, she put a bit more force behind the projectiles, at the expense of some accuracy. Even so, she scored a hit with three of the hyper-velocity projectiles, which struck the war bot square in the chest, clearly causing some damage, but not nearly enough to disable or destroy it.

 

The three pursuing war bots returned fire with their built in blasters, the powerful beams blasting holes in the pavement as the yellow clad speedster weaved and dodged a bit too quickly for any of the blasts to come too close to hitting. Taking a sudden left turn, the speedster caused the war bots to make a far steeper turn than they were really designed to perform in an attempt to keep up. One of the three clipped the side of a building while making the turn, resulting in its falling behind slightly as it righted itself once more, but otherwise causing little in the way of damage.

 

Accelerating once again, the speedster forced the war bots back into full thrusters just to keep up as she led them under an over pass. Watching as the war bots were forced to drop in altitude, the speedster suddenly accelerated even faster, looping back around to speed straight towards the trio. The war bots did not even have a chance to react to Velocity's sudden change in direction before she passed just underneath them, letting loose a sonic boom as she went. The shockwave rippled out in every direction, but Velocity was already hundreds of feet away as it did.

 

The chest plating of the previously damaged war bot crumpled completely under the impact of the shockwave, small explosions going off among its internal systems. One of its thrusters sputtered out, sending it spiraling out of control before crashing to the ground, skipping across the pavement a couple of times before coming to a smoking stand still a dozen yards later.

 

One of the other war bots rocked as it was hit by the shockwave, a few sparks flashing from some damage, but it otherwise remained in the air. The third managed to get to the outer edge of the shockwave, leaving it unharmed as the shockwave dissipated around it.

Turing around as sharply as they could, the two remaining war bots rocketed after the retreating form of the yellow clad speedster as she started back in the direction of where the control transmitter was located. Yep, that has got them closing fast. Velocity thought with a small smile as she watched the two robots engage full thrusters as they tried to close with her. Taking another sharp turn, she once again sent a barrage of hyper-velocity projectiles flying at the war bots, aiming at the one damaged by her sonic boom. Once again, she had put more force behind the attack, and this time she hit with all five.

 

The solid steel ball bearings ripped through the armored torso of the war bot, two blasting back out of its back. Once again there were a series of internal explosions triggered by the damage, including one that detached the robot's head. Spiraling out of control, the war bot smashed down onto a parked car, where it lay in a smoldering heap.

 

Alright, just one left. The young woman thought as she dodged a blast from the remaining war bot. But I've got an idea.

 

Taking yet another sharp turn, Velocity cut to the right and up onto the deserted sidewalk, passing inches from the corner of a building. The pursuing war bot followed after, making a slightly wider turn but still coming within ten feet of the side of the building as it straightened out once again. But Velocity was already in action, accelerating at close to top speed, a small sonic boom echoing down the street as she did. The young woman cut sharp to her right, running up the wall of the building and angling back towards the war bot.

 

Everything seemed to be going in slow motion to the speedster, as she ran up the wall until she was just above the war bot, the ground forty feet below. Suddenly, she pushed off the wall, jumping out into open air. For a brief moment, she was facing upward towards the sky, parallel with the ground, her body straight and her arms out to either side, the war bot about ten feet below her. Then suddenly her legs piked toward her chest as she executed a double backward somersault, adding a half twist at the end so when she opened back up, she was facing the last war bot as she dropped down toward it, her right hand pulled back behind her in a fist.

 

The war bot was trying to bring up the arm that held its blaster to track her as the combination of gravity and her own momentum carried Velocity the rest of the way down to it. Her right hand shot forward at blinding speed. A loud *CRACK* echoed down the deserted street as her hand broke the sound barrier. Putting everything she had behind the attack, the speedster drove her fist into the center of the war bot's torso.

 

WHAM

 

The impact sent out a small shockwave that rattled nearby windows. The front of the war bot caved inward, as its momentum was completely reversed and it flew downward to smash into the street. Chunks of pavement flew in all directions as the war bot's impact created a small crater.

 

Velocity, meanwhile, continued to drop the rest of the way down towards the street. As she fell, the speedster executed a perfect piked front somersault, which helped to slow her momentum slightly, before she opened back up and landed lightly on her feet in a low crouch. She paused for just a split second, before standing back upright and looking down into the nearby crater to confirm that the war bot was out of commission.

 

Alright, time to take care of the transmitter thing. The speedster thought to herself before she was off again in a blur of movement. A second later she was at the top of the building the war bots had launched from. It took only a fraction of a second for her to spot the high tech looking device attached to the support beams of a radio antenna. A couple of hyper-velocity steel ball bearings quickly turned it into a smoking ruin.

 

One down, lots more to go. Velocity thought with a small bit of satisfaction. Pulling out her Freedom League communicator, she put in a call that this transmitter was taken care of, and then she was off once again, heading towards the next identified location near the Waterfront. This time, the speedster went in at full speed, reaching the rooftop before the war bot guardians had a chance to even react to her approach. Catching them by surprise, she was able to set off a sonic boom, which both destroyed the control box, and softened up the war bots. Then it was a somewhat simpler to finish them off before moving on.

 

The speedster repeated this tactic again at a site in Riverside, then in the northeastern corner of City Center, before she crossed the Wading River into Kingston. There she cleared out two more transmitter locations before heading back into the northern end of City Center for one more. Once she was done with that one, the now slightly battered speedster made her way back towards Freedom Hall to coordinate with the other League members and reservists on what needed to be done next.

[Thunder King]

It was all over the news. Star Knight went insane and started killing people. Reports were all over the news of other heroes in similar circumstances. Almost immediately, Thomas sat in his chair and started scanning the city for anything unusual. News reports, police scanners, anything that could prove useful. It was then that he detected a signal unlike anything he'd dealt with before. Very advanced stuff, far more than a typical wireless internet signal.

Within moments, his costume was on, and he was teleporting a thousand feet up. Once he was far above his home, he flew towards the location of the signal. As he did so, he realized there were several identical signals in place all over the city. He instantly fired emails to as many heroes as he had contact information. There was no way he could take all the signal sources by himself in a timely manner.

As he neared the first device, he spotted three rather large robots standing around what looked like an impressive piece of technology. In an instant, he recognized the robots by their make.

“Oh, great, the Foundry are involved.†He muttered under his breath. These weren't ordinary Foundry robots, that would make things easy. These were the biggest, toughest model they had, the war models.

He was glad they hadn't spotted him already as he quickly teleported to a nearby roof. He wasn't normally one for stealth, but even one of those things would be annoying to fight, let alone three.

He glanced over at the robots who stood guard and concentrated for a moment. Current appeared beside one and slashed through it, right through the core. It collapsed instantly. Unfortunately though, one of the other two turned toward him and spotted him.

It fired a volley of laser fire, causing Voltage to dodge away from his hiding spot. It was useless, now. They had to be dropped, either way.

In mid-air he twisted around and fired an energy blast at one of the robots, missing it by a mile in the heat of the moment. The volley of laser fire resumed and Voltage narrowly dodged another shot as he flew upwards into the air.

Taking advantage of the moment, he loosed another blast of energy at one of the robots. This time, he hit solidly, and it crumpled into a heap, only one left. The other one continued firing, but he was too evasive to be struck.

Voltage tried to blast the robot again, but he missed again due to the angle. He realized that the attack angles were such that he wouldn't get a good shot so long as he evaded, so he'd have to remain stationary in order to guarantee a solid strike.

So he paused in mid-air and felt the energy course into him. The robot's weapon aimed directly at him. Voltage felt the blast strike him directly in the chest as his own blast found purchase. With that, the robot was down. He grimaced in pain at the singe mark, but the suit took most of the damage, and he was largely unharmed.

He landed beside the real target, the control box. This was indeed the source of the strange signal. He memorized the signal's unique properties, taking a moment to remember every important detail about the device that he could.

He landed a short distance away from it, safely out of range of any exposions. It was a simple matter, adjusting his electrical current into magnetic waves, and pouring as much of that into the device as he could. After a few moments of doing so, the device sparked and smoked. Not content, Voltage grasped the machine with his magnetic control and pulled it in opposite directions, sending components flying everywhere. He checked, and the signal was gone. He gave one last scan of the parts, identifying anything unique within the device that could be of use.

It was then that he got something from the Lab. Lots of Lab members were busy with the crisis, and they needed help tracking down vital information. Apparently the berserk heroes and villains were actually robot duplicates. He fired off a message of assent, and took off to meet someone named Comrade Frost.

[Thunder King]

The moment they got back to Claremont, Mali immediately called her parents. After a short conversation, she discovered that both of them had decided to stay at home all day after finding out what happened. Her dad had already decided to stay at home that day, and her mom had canceled some appointments. Both of them were perfectly safe.

With that done, she began to help with the cleanup of Claremont. Some of the other students wanted to go help out and go on patrol, but Mali was mentally and emotionally exhausted. Once she'd helped for a while, she felt all of it hit. Everything from watching the Nazi soldier die, up to Sharl's death.

She had to leave, had to go home. She couldn't handle being there anymore, she was risking a complete breakdown if she didn't retreat immediately. So she did.

She grabbed her car and drove off, heading towards her house. This had been a long, terrible day, and she needed to stop. She needed to get away.

She pulled up to her house and walked in the front door, where her parents were sitting and watching tv. The stress of the day was clearly on their faces, but they had managed to get by without getting mixed up in the worst of it.

“Are you okay?†Her dad asked as he saw her.

“Mali?†Her mom said as both parents stood up.

The gently guided her into the room and shut the door behind her. She was breaking down, and they could tell. She'd kept it bottled up, she'd ignored it, she'd pushed it aside all day, but she just couldn't anymore.

They walked her to the couch and sat her down gently as she stared across the room. They were worried that whatever happened would scar her, permanently.

“Do you want to talk about it?†Her mother asked.

She tried to talk about it, she tried to talk about Sharl and the Nazis, the Curator and the Sanctum. She tried to talk about Summers, the robots, the school. Nothing came out but tears. She felt her mom's gentle arms around her and her dad's firm hand on her shoulder. It was okay, their speechless faces said. It was okay to stop being a superhero for now, to let herself be a teenage girl.

She didn't cry out or scream, she just cried as the emotion exploded out of her. Slowly, she stopped crying and found her voice.

She told the story of the trip to Erde, how she'd watched someone die. She told the story of their return home, and how Summers, that nice man, died as she watched. She told how they'd discovered he was really a robot, and how they had to get Tronik out of the area. Then she explained about the Sanctum, and how Sharl sacrificed himself to banish the Curator.

She was angry at herself for not being strong enough, for abandoning the school to go home and cry. She was angry at herself for being weak when she needed to be strong.

“Little Tiger.†Her father said, firmly, yet kindly. “You are not weak. You saved another world, came home and saved this one.â€

“You stayed strong as long as you could, Mali.†Her mother said. “You helped despite all the anger and sadness you were building up. It was only once the real danger was over that you crashed.†Her mother hugged her gently and kissed her forehead.

“Mali, if you want, I can call the school. I can tell them you are withdrawing from Claremont Academy. You can come home and go to a different school. Doesn't have to be the one you used to go to, either. Say the word, and I will take you out of there.â€

Her father's words hit her then. She could just back away, walk away from the school, leave, never return. She could throw away the mask, become an ordinary teenage girl. She lowered her head. No one would think badly of her for it.

“No.†She said, shakily. “That's not what Great Grandfather would have done, so no.†The second no was firmer than the first. “If I contemplate stopping every time something bad happened, what kind of hero would I be?†The words were a challenge to herself more than response to her father.

“I understand.†He said as her mother nodded along.

“I know a friend died....and I know more friends might die, but that's life. Death happens whether you're a hero or civilian, whether you fight or hide. Sharl might have died there if I hadn't been there anyway. Sharl died knowing what he was doing. He died so that others could live. There's no shame in that, no matter how it hurts"

“I'm glad you've decided not to quit.†Her father said. “I would not have been angry with you if you had, nor would I have judged you. It's moments like this that I am proud to be your father.†He said with a smile.

“It's fine that you want to keep going, Mali.†Her mother said. “But you're home tonight. No patrols, no going back to the school. I'll call the school and let them know that you're going to sleep at home tonight. You can't push yourself any farther tonight, I'm worried.â€

Mali nodded her assent, half angry and half grateful. She would need time in her own bed, her own room. She'd need the privacy to cry and decompress if she needed to. That's what it took, that's what she'd need. It was going to be a long, long night.

[Thevshi]

Find Your Center

January 15th, 2013 (Day of Wrath)

It was late evening by the time Tsunami made her way back into her dorm room at Claremont Academy. The day had been a long and weary one, not only for her fellow students and herself, but for the entire city. Already some of the other students had departed the school, wanting to go back home or otherwise get away from the events of the day, her roommate being one of those. But the Asian teen had nowhere else to go, not that she would necessarily have felt the need to leave even if that were not the case.

Tsunami's side of the room was very Spartan compared to her roommates, in large part because the Asian teen had, or needed, little in the way of possessions. Though she was quite tired, Tsunami felt that she needed to mediate some before doing so, to help the chaotic array of emotions that had built up over the course of the day.

Moving to the center of the room, the Asian teen sat down with her legs crossed on the floor, her back perfectly straight. Placing her hands on her knees, Tsunami closed her eyes and began to take several deep breaths to help calm herself, just as she had been taught by her various instructors over the years. Instruction that had been at the direction of her biological father, she reminded herself, the thought not helping as she tried to relax.

Taking several more deep breaths, the Asian teen focused her thoughts, imagining herself in the waters of a vast ocean. Around her were surging, chaotic waves, the result of all the emotions and feelings that had resulted from or be set loose by the events of the day. There was the knowledge that her entire life had been a lie, her upbringing designed to prepare her for a roll set out for her before she was even born by her biological father. The conflict between what she had been thought regarding honoring ones family and elders, and what she believed to be the right and moral decision to turn away from her family. Memories of the weeks following her flight from her father and his plans, surviving on the streets in Hong Kong and then Singapore without any true plan of what to do. Fear that was associated with memories of some of her father's men having finally found her, before the timely intervention of Raven. The uncertainty that followed as she left Singapore with Raven, even as the heroine seemed conflicted about whether to trust the Asian teen. Anxiety and uncertainty that she had felt when she had been brought to Claremont and first introduce to whom she thought was Headmaster Summers. Somewhat confusing emotions about John Smith. The tension associated with the meeting earlier today in the Headmaster’s office, when she had been told Mali and other members of Young Freedom might have been corrupted by the Terminus. Anger that had followed as she and the others had begun to realize that they had been mislead and the danger that the school was still under. Even just plain weariness, not only physical, but mental as well with having to keep everything in check while still being able to perform what was required of her.

The combination of all of that would seem more than enough to overwhelm the Asian teen and pull her under the thrashing waves. But this was her environment, one where she could control the flow of current and eddies. Focusing on the waters around her, Tsunami began to break up the swells and shift the various undercurrents. The task was not easy, but the teen was patient, and determined. A feeling of calm and control began to form, flowing through her just as she controlled the flow of the waves around her. Soon, the turbulence lessened, becoming rolling waves and then gentle tides before finally stopping all together.

She was now floating in the center of a still stretch of water, almost as smooth as a sheet of glass. All the chaotic thoughts and emotions were still there, but were now like a far distant shore. Tsunami allowed herself to remain there for a short while, taking comfort in the control she had established. Then, almost reluctantly, she let out one last deep breath, and opened her eyes.

The teenager felt a feeling of peace and tranquility, though she knew it was only temporary, and she would need more time to fully deal with the variety of emotions that were still there. But for now she was relaxed and firmly in control once more, if only for the rest of the night. Satisfied for the moment, the Asian teen stood up from the floor and when to finish preparing to go to sleep.

[Avenger Assembled]

Heavy Reckoning to Make

“Indiana Dunes”

Ringworld

?

Steve sat before the fire by the waterside, listening to the crackling wood and the nearly-silent ripples of Lake Michigan. The night was otherwise quiet but for the wind, a legacy of the dead world on which they found themselves. He’d been on murdered worlds before, far, far more than any man should have, but this place was different - not a dying planet, not a decaying one outside of the cities, simply one that had no life. There were fewer dangers, but more challenges to replace them. If the ship in Chicago didn’t work out, they’d be stranded here in a very difficult situation indeed. With only stored food to eat, and no animals, preparing an expedition across the seas to the nearest ‘map’ was going to be challenging. With the others asleep he added another cut piece of wood to the fire, the wood burning sweet and sparking slightly in the reddish flames. His ears were open, but so far there was nothing but the sound of the wind and the slight sleeping noises of his peers. Another man might have been uneasy at the dead city amid a dead world, but the comforting presence of his allies and his knowledge of their situation greatly reassured Steve. He’d been in worse places than this.

A rustling of synthetic fabrics broke the disconcerting silence as Ellie shimmied her way out of one of their salvaged sleeping bags and made her way quietly over to the fire, careful not to wake anyone else. The young woman picked up her well worn jacket as she went, tugging it around her shoulders like a shawl against the cold rolling off of the lake. The flickering light of the flames deepened the weary lines on her face as she sat down across from Steve, giving the stoic sentry a tired attempt at a wry expression. "Couldn’t sleep," she mumbled quietly, cracking some of the stiffness out of her neck after tossing and turning against the hard ground. "Again."

"Silence can be far less comfortable than familiar sound," agreed Steve, his lined face cast into shadows by the crackling fire. Perhaps he and Ellie had different personalities, but she was a friend cast adrift with him in this quiet place, and welcome. "But the fire is warm and the company is welcome." Not much of a conversationalist himself, Steve let the fire crackle for a while. Discussing Earth risked dwelling on what they’d left behind, particularly the replicants that had taken their lives on Earth. And if he dwelled on that, even he would have trouble sleeping, as he pictured a robot with his face closing on Gina in her sleep. "I remember... it took time getting used to Earth. On the Silver Tree, where I was before, there was always someone awake drinking, fighting, singing... but your cities sleep for truth."

"Clearly you’ve never visited a university campus with a twenty-four hour coffee shop," Ellie quipped back gamely for all that her heart clearly wasn’t behind the humour. Throughout their cross country trek the medic had never been too long at a loss for a sardonic comment or witty rejoinder, but in the oppressive quiet of the night with no one listening but the largely humourless security guard the forced bravado slipped slightly. "The Silver Tree... that’s where the good guys in the Terminus dimension live, yeah?" she asked after a few beats, leaning a little closer to the warmth of the campfire. "I don’t know that much about that stuff, honestly. Guess I should have after seeing what happened to Yoyo’s home world..." There was another depressing thought along with another absent face to be missed.

"I never have," agreed Steve. "I do not know enough of the world to be a student at one of your universities." He thought of little Yolanda, who had three replicators in her ‘family’ now, and pushed on. "The Furions are an arrowhead of good, lodged in the belly of evil. They taught Blue Jay, from what she has said, and sheltered me after I gained my freedom." He sat awkwardly for a moment, conscious of the young woman’s tensions. Ellie was very brave, all the young people cast adrift with him were, but some things were beyond their experience. Until they had their own freedom again, perhaps it was time to go beyond his own experience as well. "In those days, I found it difficult to relate to others, even to speak to them as I walked by them on a path. I know that news may shock you." He poked the fire with a stick as it began to die, bringing it back to life with a faint puff.

Ellie let out a short breath that would have been a laugh had she had the energy for it and mentally underlined the largely in largely humourless. The liberated cyborg wasn’t prone to delivering anything approaching a punchline on his own and she recognized the gesture for what it was. "Heh. Thanks, big guy," she replied quietly, giving him a small smile that for the first time in at least a few days wasn’t a conscious effort. She looked up at eerie false sky of the manufactured replica of a forgotten alternate version of her home and shifted her jacket around her shoulders pulling it tighter. "Hard to imagine one little world standing up to all that badness, though," she mused after letting the crackle of the fire fill the silence for several moments, trying to picture the Furion planet Steve described. "How do they keep going, day after day, with everything stacked against them?"

"They have their courage and their warrior spirit," said Steve reflectively. "And power enough to keep Omega’s forces at bay. They know that they will never reconquer the Terminus, but they have the power to give it defeats. In a bad place, that is enough." He relaxed faintly, glad to see Ellie’s spirits perking up ever so slightly. "And there are escapes. Myself. Blue Jay. I have heard talk of actually sending a Furion student to Claremont some years down the line. It is... such is life. Eventually the end comes." He shrugged, trying to make what might have sounded like fatalism from someone else positive. "The victories that are won today are no less sweet for that fact. Even if the only victory is that there _is_ a today."

There was another long silence as Ellie considered that fully, weighing Steve’s words in her mind and bringing her knees up to her chin in a huddle. "...I don’t think that’s enough," she said finally, stretching her legs back out and sitting a little straighter than before. "I mean, I understand what you’re saying but I want to do more than just make it through one more day, y’know? I’m going to get back home to my family and to Mara, I’m going to help make sure everyone else gets home in one piece too and if the opportunity presents itself I’d sure as hell like to kick our gracious host in the teeth." She gave the somber man a grin with a flash of teeth reflecting firelight. "But maybe that’s exactly what you were saying, huh? You’re a pretty wise guy, Steve-o."

"I would not say that it is so. But I have come from bad to better, and none can aspire for more than that in this life." He stared into the fire, remembering the light in Gina’s eyes. "To do more than survive, you must have something to live for, even if it is just the satisfaction of another day. Or another." He folded his hands and said suddenly, "The Curator has taught me this. I had thought I lacked the ability to lose. The power to have something that could be taken. It is... reassuring. Despite all this. This is..." He waved a hand at the cosmic construct all around them bearing the skin of how many dead worlds. "Something that will pass. But the feelings, the feelings never go away. Whatever happens."

"Well, the zen is good, but don’t get too fatalistic on us," Ellie noted with a serious look and a pointed finger. "We don’t want to lose you, either." Steve was about as far from the medic’s impulsive older brother as anyone was likely to get but she did recognize a certain lack of self-preservation instinct, or more accurately a willingness to put others’ safety ahead of his own. "Well, I should probably give the whole sleep thing one more shot. Like you said, there’s another tomorrow to look forward to, yeah?" Rising to her feet, she shrugged off her jacket and slung it over one arm, walking around the fire as she headed back to her sleeping bag and placing her free hand on Steve’s shoulder as she passed. "Thanks again."

Steve smiled back, and for once it didn’t look odd on his face ."Don’t thank me today. Thank me tomorrow."

[trollthumper]

Cannonade

Beat the Press

January 15, 2013

1:30 PM

“Cannonade, what can you tell us about the incident at Grant Pharmaceuticals?â€

Cannonade was really starting to hate reporters. Normally he was totally in favor of a free press and the right of the people to know everything – but right now, it was a gigantic pain in the ass. Especially when he didn’t know half of what had happened earlier, and everyone seemed to think he had all the answers.

The latest gaggle of press had caught him in the middle of Bayview, after he’d left the Midnight Manor to try and deal with some of the other damage that had been wrought. Though most of them were no doubt covering the aftermath of Rep. Walsh’s press conference, word had reached them about the other incidents – and when Cannonade touched right down in the middle of the square, they’d seized the opportunity and gathered around him.

“No comment,†he said, trying to push by as gently as he could.

“Is it true that Wander’s dead?â€

Why, of all the goddamn questions in the world, did you have to ask that one? He didn’t know. Most of them didn’t. He’d remembered the League gathering once the smoke had cleared; Midnight had been perfectly composed, absolutely driven, and one of the most frightening things Cannonade had ever seen in his life. But while they had an idea of what had happened to Wander, they still didn’t know where she was, or even –

No one had wanted to voice the possibility. But they all knew it was there.

“That wasn’t her,†he said. “That was… we’re still trying to figure out exactly what it was. We’re working on it -- â€

“How can we be sure that other members of the League haven’t been co-opted?â€

All the rage that had been building up in Cannonade’s head erupted in a flash of red as he turned back towards the press. “I said no freaking –"

He paused when he saw what the reporters were doing. They were all taking a step back, as if bracing to flee. The looks on their faces told the whole story, and he didn’t like where it was going. They were already afraid, and he’d just given them a gigantic reason to feed that fear. This city was in enough trouble without him.

He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry,†he said. “We’re all really confused at this point. What’s happened to this city is a tragedy, and we’re all desperately trying to find some kind of answer. Whoever did this wanted us to look at our friends, our families, the people we trust, and fear that they’re going to turn on us – and worse, get us to try and act first. Now, more than any other time, we need to keep our eyes open… but we also need to make sure we’re not jumping at shadows.â€

“What about Wander?†asked one of the reporters. “Are there any leads as to what happened to her?â€

“Like I said – we don’t know how she was replaced, but we’ve got leads that we’re following. But I can say this – she’s survived a hell of a lot worse, and I think we should start praying for whoever tried to take her.â€

He stayed there for five minutes, patiently fielding the questions of the press. Every part of him wanted to get out of there, to get away from the press. Edge could have had them dancing in circles, and Midnight could have shut them all down with a glare. But he was there, and he had to step up. The last thing this place needed was to really come apart.

[Electra]

Wander

Ice and Silence and Dark Skies

“Here, you finish this up, I'm not hungry.†Erin passed her plate, still half-full of beef stew and cornbread, over to Dorothy. The young teen had inhaled her own portion as though she hadn't eaten for a week, which wasn't that far away from accurate. Erin remembered her own first days of learning to survive, how frightening it had been, how sometimes a single poor judgment call could mean no food for a night, whether it was from not going the right way to find a store or from spoiling a meal trying to cook it. Dorothy had been fending only for herself, but she'd also had no idea what was happening, no time to adjust to losing everything. Erin liked to think that Dorothy would've figured something out if they hadn't come along, but it was really just as well the team from HAX had found her. She was already losing the pinched cheeks and desperate hunger of the first couple of days.

“Thanks,†Dorothy accepted the plate and dug in, hitching her coat a little closer around her shoulders. They'd hit up a mall on the outskirts of Phia that had netted them clothes and camping supplies enough to fill their bus, if not to strain Baxter's flight capabilities. Between Erin and Tona, they were most likely overprepared, but it beat the alternative. She herself had traded in her dirty uniform for a set of sturdy coveralls over jeans and a turtleneck sweater, while Dorothy was wearing long johns under jeans under coveralls under a puffy down coat. With the fire going, it was nearly comfortable, even in December... or January, or whenever this was. Easier not to think about that. “We gonna get to Chicago tomorrow?†Dorothy asked, her mouth half-full.

“Yeah, we're not far from there,†Erin replied. “We might've made it tonight, but I don't like setting up camp in strange cities at night.â€

“Why not?†Dorothy asked. “Cities are where all the stuff is, right? And we could get an early start.â€

Erin shrugged. “You never know what you're going to find in a city,†she temporized. It didn't seem necessary to admit that it was a holdover from a time when cities were traps full of zombies. “Just because things were one way in Freedom City and in Philadelphia doesn't mean they'll keep being like that. There could be other survivors somewhere, and they might not be happy to see us. You saw whath happened with Baxter and Tona. Everyone is on edge, and we don't want to start a fight by barging in during the night.â€

“Yeah, I guess,†Dorothy said, nodding. She was silent for a minute, polishing off the food while Erin used sand and water from a bottle to scrub out the cast iron skillet they'd made the bread in. “It's gonna be dark soon, maybe I could go get some more firewood before everyone else gets back from their chores?â€

“No!†Erin snapped, with a fervor entirely unsuited to the question. As Dorothy stared, she shook herself, managed a trace of a smile. “Sorry. We've got enough wood for now, and I don't want you getting too far from camp. You're our escape route if the Curator decides to grab us up again. You wanna help, pack up that stew and rinse out the pot. We'll have it for breakfast.†Dorothy still looked confused, but she did as she was told. Erin could only be grateful for that. There was no way she could've explained to Dorothy how this empty world brought back memories of her most painful failure, one she was determined not to repeat. Things were different now, and she wasn't going to make any mistakes.

Much later in the night, in the dark cold hours just before dawn, Erin climbed out of her sleeping bag in the tent she shared with Ellie, Tona and Dorothy. Her internal clock told her she'd be on watch soon anyway, and there was no point in laying around not sleeping. As she left the tent, she waved a hand to Baxter keeping watch on the hill, then headed in the opposite direction a little ways. A quarter mile from camp, she found a ridge overlooking the water and sat down crosslegged. The sky without moon or stars was still unnerving, but at least the fog obscured the vertiginous view of the rest of the Curator's ringworld.

How far away was fifty light years, anyway? It seemed like a very long way. Could a spaceship really get that far in any reasonable time? Trevor would know. He would also know how to fix up a spaceship when they found it, and probably even how to pilot it. She wished he was there. She wished he was there for a lot of reasons. What was he doing now, back on earth? Had he discovered the Curator's deception? Was he looking for her even now? And who was taking care of Charlie? She just had to get home, and the sooner the better. Chicago had better have some answers for them.

[Electra]

Papercut

Silver Wings

It had been a very quiet trip back to Claremont for the surviving members of Young Freedom. After the bioweapons were offloaded and Erde-Tronik was plugged in as best they could get it with the help of the surviving Centuritrons, there hadn't seemed to be much left to say. Sharl's holoemitter lay on one of the back benches, dark and silent now with no image projected. Koshiro had turned it off before they got on the bus, because it seemed too horrible to keep projecting that empty, half-formed shell when nothing was inside to animate it. He thought maybe some of the girls had cried on the trip back, but he hadn't. He hadn't been able to think of a single comforting thing to say, either. Instead, he had folded.

Crease, open, turn, crease, fold, fold, twist... The motions were repetitive, almost hypnotic after awhile. Useful too, since no more than a dozen dozen of his cranes were left after the back-to-back missions to Erde and the Sanctum. Jamming up electronics was a very useful trick, but when it involved flying straight into the fans of giant computers and fleets of helicopters, the paper destruction rate was high. Koshiro'd finished a score of cranes during the trip, folding till his fingers cramped, but had made barely a dent in the losses.

They'd finally arrived back on campus, after the worst of the mess was mostly taken care of. Koshiro wasn't sure what he'd expected, anything from arrest to simple debriefing, but instead there had been nothing. Everyone had been off doing other things, nobody so much as acknowledged that Young Freedom was back on campus, much less what they'd done. With no better ideas, Koshiro had picked up the holoemitter and taken it back to his room, where he'd set it on Sharl's bed, then kept folding.

Flip, crease, fold, fold, crimp the wings, turn the beak. They said if you folded a thousand paper cranes, you could make magic happen, have a wish come true. Koshiro knew the truth of that saying, he remembered the thousand cranes he'd folded in juvie, and getting his powers as he finished the last one. That seemed like sort of a one-time event, though. Even if it weren't, what could he wish for now? That Sharl wasn't dead? That Summers hadn't been turned into some weird robot and sent them to the Sanctum in the first place? That they'd just stayed in Erde for another day? None of it even made sense, so how could he know what might have averted this mess?

The room was starting to get dark by now, the short day bleeding into dusk that was leavened by distant street lights. The sirens outside were growing fainter and further between, a sign that the city was beginning to return to normal. In the dimness, Koshiro's eyes were drawn to the flickering abstract design of the screensaver on Sharl's laptop, twisting and folding in on itself eternally without even a crane to show for it. Unaccountably irritated, Koshiro jumped up and jostled the laptop, turning off the screensaver as the computer hummed back to life.

He was startled to be greeted by a cheerful woof and a screenful of grinning doggy face. “Oh, Lora,†he said dumbly. “Forgot about you. Crap. What do I do with you?†He moved the trackpad, clicked the buttons that filled the dog's bowl with virtual food, just like Sharl had showed him months ago in case it was ever needed. “Guess I'll take you to Miss Americana or something. She'll know what to do. God, what do we tell her? What are we supposed to tell his family?†His thoughts raced unbidden to his own family, and how it might have been if things had gone a bit differently and someone was having to go tell them they'd lost another son. The idea was unbearably painful, so he forced himself not to think about it. Instead he watched the virtual dog eat, then made sure the door to the virtual backyard was unlatched for her. His obligations fulfilled, he went back to his desk and kept right on folding. Such a large absence in the ranks would not be easy to fill.

[Raveled]

Ringworld

Campfire

A forest was a forest was a forest was a forest. That was something that Antoinette Baudin had clung to all throughout her short life. She had been born in a forest, and had learned early on that it was a place to shelter from danger. The forests of her home were made of wood and silvery metal and the forests of the Furions had been shining steel and crystal, but there had still been a sense of stillness and shadow there, still a nearly-silent web of life that the young girl could tap in to if only she could find the right signs. It had made her feel powerful, and connected to a larger world that other people couldn’t even glimpse. She could track a predator’s movements for weeks just by seeing which trails it had taken, what kind of bones it left behind, what was in its spoor. On the other Earth, the one that was beginning to think of as home, she had met people who looked at a forest and only saw a grouping of trees, but Tona knew that there was life there; even when the trees were bare and all the undergrowth was brown and dead, there was life there just waiting to burst out. She had always hoped to be like that, that no matter how bad things got there was always a way out if you just looked.

Except here, on this crude mock-up Earth, there wasn’t any life. The trees were dead, and the brush was dead, and any signs of animals were dried up and dead. Tona had walked out into the forest around their campfire as far as Wander would let her, and she hadn’t seen any signs of genuine life. The whole thing was like a museum piece, poised in an unreal mockery of life. The Curator had a lot of knowledge about Earth, but it clearly didn’t know a lot about forests.

Except it knew a lot about Tona. At least, enough for a not-real Tona to walk around Earth and fool her closest friends (And Sam a tiny part of her sobbed) for long enough to… to do what? To attack someone like the false Dorothy had? Was it using Tona’s face and body and skills as a weapon? The young archer had killed before, but she tried to keep that fact away from her new friends. The new Earth placed a lot of emphasis on not killing others no matter how dangerous things got, and Tona tried to live up to those standards. Was that why the Curator had chosen Tona? She knew Wander the Brave had killed Physician Friendly, and Harrier was an Omegadrone so of course it had killed, and Stratos recognized the Bee-Keeper as a fellow villain so maybe he had killed before. Had the Curator picked people from Earth that could kill, that had killed in the past? If so, what was it that it wanted their duplicates to do? Was Blue Jay going to be used to kill someone?

Wander started handing out soup, and Tona was quiet as she took her portion. She sat apart from the others, trying to imagine what was going on back at Claremont. Mali was probably training with Young Freedom, and Cerys might be heading home for a few days. She mentioned something about going home for “the holidays,†but Tona had never managed to ask her what holidays she was talking about. Sam was undoubtedly

-- facing a drawn arrow, ready to bolt but looking for options --

Undoubtedly looking to cause trouble for someone. She always seemed to have a plan to make life a little hell for

-- the woman with the bow had already covered the angles. She smiled, savoring the moment for the kill. “You should know better than to trust someone from hell, Kit,†the woman with Blue Jay’s face taunted. “We’re all bad in the end.†–-

Making life hell for a teacher, or an RA. Always had some plan going. It was almost like a reflex for her, like how Tona always had an eye on the exits from a room. And Mali would be getting to know her new teammates better. It made Tona a little sad to realize that she wouldn’t see her friend as much anymore, but Young Freedom seemed like a big deal and Mali certainly was good enough to

-- Kit made her move, lunging for a shadow even while she threw a ball of blue fire at her attacker. But Blue Jay, or the thing everyone thought was Blue Jay, knew exactly how much that didn’t hurt and simply fired through the ball. She didn’t miss, because how could she at this range? And the arrow punched straight through Kit’s -–

Tona started, spilling her cupful of soup on the ground with a clatter. She acutely felt the eyes of her companions on her, as she bent down and tried to recover the dish as casually as possible. “Sorry,†she said. “I… didn’t really like the taste.†She winced internally at how lame the excuse sounded. “I’ll just… sit on watch.†And she moved away from the fire, looking out at the darkness of the dead forest, and tried very hard not to think about what was happening back home.

[Avenger Assembled]

Citizen and Miss A's Vignette

Reticulating Splines

January 14, 2013

With his friends busy working on the Wonderbus, Sharl transmitted himself up to the sixteenth floor to meet with his mentor for one last checkup before his trip to Erde. He was nervous, but looking forward to hearing her familiar voice before they left. Gina wasn’t what you’d call friendly, especially lately, but she was _a_ friend, and someone who knew a lot more about the world than he did, especially after working with him on their cross-dimensional backsignals to the Erde across the way. Just a short hop over, a short stay there, and they’d be back in Freedom City.

Miss Americana was waiting for him in the converted exam room that bore the lofty title of “Infirmary” for Young Freedom. She had his code schematics up on one screen, while simultaneously on another she reviewed what looked like the design of a high security prison cell. Even as she examined both of those, she was talking on the phone over a discreet earpiece. “Yes, that’s fine, put ArcheTech down for a major sponsorship again this year. We’ll do the normal season, and then the children’s theatre workshop again. Make sure it’s scheduled so as not to conflict with the ArcheTech Youth in Science week at the museum center, third week in July. All right, mm-hmm... yes, of course I’ll be there, I wouldn’t miss the gala. Mark me down as plus one, if you would. Thanks, that’s perfect.” She noticed Sharl’s arrival and said her goodbyes, then removed the earpiece and blanked the prison screen. “You’re late,” she pointed out.

“We were busy,” replied Sharl. “My friends are coming a long way with me, I don’t want them getting lost over there if something goes wrong.” He took a ‘seat’ on the examination table, close by the scanners Miss A used to check his programmed measurements when she was working on him. “We are ready, though. Everyone knows their job, and they know what to expect over there. And they know how to handle the Bus and do low maintence on the Tronik unit, just in case.”

“We’re all busy, but some of us are on time,” Miss A pointed out, picking up her scanner and pointing it at him. Even beyond Sharl’s transgressions in her lab, Gina had been especially touchy this past month or so. When he’d ventured to ask whether it had something to do with Harrier not seeming to drop by as often lately, she’d nearly bitten his head off, so it seemed safer not to inquire. Testy or not, Miss A was all business as she checked him over, uploading the scan results to a wall screen where they ran parallel to the stored data she had on him. “You’ve been studying,” she noted. “Computers and technology, general knowledge, all increased. That may come in handy on your mission.”

“I’ve been thinking a lot about what I want to do after I leave Claremont,” said Sharl with a little shrug. “I mean, sure, I’ll go home and be the defender of Tronik, but I want to be able to help the people outside too. If I know enough about computers and Earth technology, I can be a technical consultant when there’s a crisis, or I can go back and forth if I have to.” He smiled a little. “And knowing how computers work will make it a lot easier to live in one, right? Maybe I’ll get a job working in Leroj’s lab, so he can cover for my secret ID.”

“Don’t knock the ignorance as bliss theory,” she advised him dryly, giving him a push on the chest with the flat of her hand to lay him out on the bed. “Whatever universe you live in, the more you learn about how it works, the more aware you become of how fragile and unlikely it all is. You’re a paragon, not a cyberkinetic. Computers and technology are good things to know, but they’re not going to be your strong suit when you go back to Tronik. They’ll need you as a hero. Best work on those social skills,” she advised, a wry twist to her perfect lips.

“I guess I’d better,” replied Sharl with a little smile of his own. “If I’m the only hero they’re going to see on a day-to-day basis, I’d better make sure they don’t think heroes are all arrogant punks.” He didn’t really pay attention to what Miss A was doing, except to take note of the kinds of machines she used for this task. “I’ve made some mistakes, but I think most things have worked out all right.” He took an imaginary breath, then added, “Things are going to change after this. They’ll have to, with the new Tronikians to move in. And you know, I can’t wait to see it. All my life I wanted to change my world for the better, and thanks to you, I can.”

“I think we’d better wait to see what’s going to be done with the Erde-Tronikians,” Miss A advised him, her tone softening just a little bit. “I’ve got a couple of sociologists looking into the issue in the hypothetical, but I’m worried that an integration of the two societies could be traumatic for both if done too rapidly. Your Tronik doesn’t even realize there is a world outside, much less that Tronik is a computer simulation with other versions of the same program running simultaneously. It may be wise to stabilize the society on Erde-Tronik internally, then look into a more managed interaction between the two cities over the long term. At this point, we don’t even know the degree of population overlap.”

Sharl winced. “You don’t have to tell me about how hidebound we can be, believe me. But there’s nothing wrong with planning for the future, right? In a few years, or maybe more than a few, my Tronik will be ready for the outside world and to welcome our sisters and brothers back home. And I’ll be there to see it.” He looked serious for a moment, adding, “I want...I want to matter, you know? All this schooling at Claremont, all this time I’ve spent studying with you, and adventuring with Young Freedom, I want to mean more than rescuing people out of gravcars that flip in the air. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but there’s more to do with life.”

Miss A looked pensive for a moment. “You ever hear the story about the starfish?” she asked, even as she kept scanning. “Guy’s walking on a beach at low tide, and sees that a storm has thrown up hundreds of live starfish onto the sand. Starfish can’t move on land, so they’re all just baking in the sun. There’s a little boy on the beach too, and he’s running up and down the beach like a madman, grabbing starfish and chucking them into the ocean. The guy watches him, then goes up to him and says “Why are you bothering to do that? There are so many starfish on the beach, throwing a few of them back doesn’t even matter.” And then the boy held up the starfish he had in his hand and said, “It matters to this one!” and he threw it back in the ocean.” Miss A tapped a few more lines of command into her scanner, letting him think about that one.

Sharl did think about that one, pondering over the meaning of the parable even as he accessed Wikipedia to make sure that a starfish was what he thought it was. “That’s true,” he admitted. “But I guess I’m more like a starfish that learns how to fly and starts rescuing the others,” he added with a little smile. “There’s nothing wrong with spending my time helping individual people in need; I mean, I’ll probably spend most of my life doing that. Most invasions and dimensional crises aren’t going to touch Tronik. I just...want to take care of the beach, too.”

“Sure, and that’s fine,” Miss A told him, “but you have to keep in mind that without all those individual lives, the world as a whole would be meaningless. Every life is immeasurably valuable to someone. Now hold still and no more talking,” she ordered, as the scanner over the table slid into place and bathed Sharl in painless blue light.

When the scans were done and his last tests completed, Sharl paused at the door on the way back down to join his friends. He knew how sensitive his mentor was about contact, even through the robot, so he extended a hand to her. “Thanks for everything. Now, and all the times before. I couldn’t have done any of this without you.”

Miss A hesitated for a moment, a sure tell that it was Gina peeking out, and not the smoothly polished persona, then took his hand and gave it a quick squeeze. “Be safe, and don’t screw up,” she told him. “And try not to crash the bus. Good luck.” She gave him half a wave as he went out the door, then uploaded the fresh backups to her database and got back to the million other things that were demanding her attention. January was shaping up to be a hell of a month.

[TheAbsurdist]

Asad. Jan. 13th, 2013

Feelin' Good.

The plan was simple. Do an interview, try to calm people. He had his commlink on, and he was wearing the his 'hero' outfit. The morphic molecule shirt with his colors and the stylistic lion's face was on, as were grey cargo pants, combat books, and a pair of gloves. He had seen the video of Star Knight freaking out, and he had been on the phone with van Cleef immediately getting this press conference going. Looking pensive at the camera, and then over his shoulder, he didn't like this, all of it. His contacts were effectively dried up, and his messages to Jube, Sil, and Winter were unreturned, and he knew the Vanguard were busy. He managed to keep calm, however, as he knew he could talk to the public, and attempt to reassure them.

"Mr. al Misri?" Came the words of the female anchor, snapping him out of his thoughts, and he turned to her, flashing an immediate and warm smile. Trying not to think of where Agnus was. He was less worried about a woman who could fly and teleport. Less being the operative word.

"Ready, Ms. Pedersen?" He responded back as he unfolded his arms, and turning towards the camera and sound guys. They were in the lobby of Summit Transnational, it was safer than other places. He started to move into the position for the interview when he felt the buzz of the comm going off. "One moment." Turning from then, he cupped his right hand over his right ear. "Yes?"

"Amir! I just did a headcount, I didn't realize..." Came the surprisingly panicked voice of Anastasia van Cleef.

"Ana, stop. Tell me what is happening." It was more disturbing that she sounded, but he was glad she wasn't under the influence of whatever the hell was going on.

"Megan... I forgot that she was going to be in the Fens today collecting some paperwork from the realitors you had been talking to about your stupid charity." She stopped and drew in a sharp breath. "I can't get ahold of her."

"I will handle this. Ana, we are locking down the building. Employ all the security measures, no one is leaving, and get in touch with the police or whoever is running this. I will get her." And then he disconnected the comm, and he turned back, smiling at them apologetically. "I am sorry Ms. Pedersen, gentlemen, I have things that are very pressing right now." And then he turned away from them before pushing off the ground and rushing out of the lobby in a huge hurry.

The cameraman took the camera off his shoulder and frowned, checking the battery back on it. "Huh... it's dead."

"Mine too..." The sound guy frowned a little, as he brought the boom mic down and tapped the edge and shaking his head. "Completely dead."

---

In moments he was up over the builds and turning at an angle that pulled Gs as he started to pushed himself beyond his normal cruising speed. He had dealins with Megan's father for years. He was not going to face that man if something happened to Megan. And he was not going to have that happen. Period.

So he was distracted as he coasted over the westside of town towards the Fens, he didn't notice that his comm was indicating a inbound transmission, until it just jumped on without him accepting it.

"AsadIneedyourhelprightnowIfoundsomethinginteresting-" Came a man's voice buzzing along in a stream of consciousness that could only be described as caffinated.

"Who the - Voltage? I told you do not hack my communications!" Asad snapped back, uncharacteristically annoyed.

"Foundry! They're causing this!" The response was urgent, it was a vague statement, but both men knew precisely what Volate meant.

"Go on."

"I found signals being transmitted, I have identified one that you are moving towards, can you get to it, it's probably guarded. Or boob-trapped"

"I would like to, but I am looking for the daughter of a friend-"

"Yes, yes, Megan Howell. Intern, just started. I found her. GPS in her phone and card show she is at her residence, Asad, we need you to look into this..."

"Fine. Tell me where." And then came the directions hurried being said, and then repeated, slower so that Asad could actually interpret them.

---

"I, officially, hate sewers now," he pronounced, fortunately blessed enough to be able to float above the waster that coated everything. "Though... why are there so many tunnels that a person can fit into... We are on a flood plain, what are the civic planners and engineers thinking." His words echoing his thoughts at the moment as he kept moving down the way, and then coming to a bend, and then a hole in the wall that wouldn't be in on any blueprint. Moving past the aperture and slowly lowering his feet onto new concrete, he frowned a little looking around, seeing actual lights in here, so he could stop burning the battery of his little LED flashlight.

"Huh, well this is a thing." And then he came across the massive box, with some workstations and a control panel on it, which to his untrained eye looked new and startlingly- And then came pain, as he was hit, and sent hurtling against the far wall. "Nngh... ow!" Holding his head in his hand, Asad looked up to see the size of the fist that had impacted him, and the fact that there were five more just like it, all in the possession of robots that were towering over him. All red and black and intimidating. "Aw, crap..."

"INTRUSION ABATEMENT COMMENCING," came the expository statement of the three, in unison as they aimed their hands at him.

"Would sorry help?" And then came the blasts of energy. Shoving him back against the wall. It was hard to get bearings even for someone like him when you are getting blasted hard enough that the excess force was crumpling the reinforced concrete around you. "Nnnghnot... fair! Three on one! Dirty pool!" And then he pushed off the wall, as hard as he could, as he started to absorb the energy that was being thrown into him. He came back at them, slamming into one with a rugby tackle, carrying them both back towards the far wall. The robot managed to adjust, and shift, making sure that Asad caught the majority of the force as he was pancaked between the robot's frame and concrete.

Without missing a beat the other two follow suit and blasted him as the first moved back. Once more driving him against the wall. "E-e-e-ENOUGH! You are robots! Worst thing to send against me, and here is why!" Managing to shove a hand between himself and the robot, he started to draw it in, the energy being directed at him, and it formed a circuit, a bridge. And Asad gutted a giant robot, pulling all of it's power source out from it. Losing it's balance as it's systems crashed, it pitched to the floor, reducing one of the combatants. "You are not going to listen, but I suggest you re-evaluate your threat assesment."

There was a pause then, momentary as they reassessed the situation, and then one of them backhanded him hard, trying to throw him away. A fortunate part of the being able to fly was an inability for something to really be able to knock you around effectively. So he altered his course, and surged past them as breakneck pace before ramming his fists against the side of the box. It bowed but did not break, leaving him exposed as the other robot blasted him him sqaured in the back. It along with every other blow they gave him was simply too much for his powers to handle. Each other something slipped through, and it was acculmulating.

Knowing he couldn't only outlast them for so long, he pressed his hands flat to the cube and improvised. Light flaring up through his form and suffusing it, as the robots closed in to batter at him with strength that was only slightly less than his. As the light travelled to his hands, it burned bright, enough so that his gloves caught fire from whatever was happening. Bits of debris started to skitter towards him, until they adhered to the box. Then it all exploded out, the energy sparking out of him and then just cascading off, flooding the chamber in a blue-white searing light. Asad slumped to his knees, leaning against the box and breathing heavy, before a sound had him looking up to see the two robots still looming over him and looking active. "Crap..." And then a metal fist descended against him.

10 minutes later.

Asad laid on his back, breathing heavily, staring at the ceiling above him. Beneath him was one of the limbs of the robots that had guarded the box. "I just wanna lay here awhile. Would be nice..." Pressing a hand to his face, and rubbing at his temples, before his other hand pressed to the commlink. "No rest for the wicked... I just want some mimosas and a hot tub... maybe Agnus in a bikini..."

"Hey Voltage, I think I turned this one off... give me co-ordinates for another." Nodding at his compatriots instructions, when Voltage was finished Asad pushed himself to his feet, and turned to kicked viciously the face of one of the robots, filled with petty ire, and ripping the head off the robot's shoulders, arcing it through the opening that lead him here. "It's good!" Throwing up his hands in victory then he made fake crowd cheering noises for himself then. "They go wild! He's just won the Superbowl!" Then wincing as he lowered his arms as he slowly lifted off the ground, and headed back the way he came, unaware that he was glowing as he moved down through the sewer.

As he did he started to sing to himself, loudly, and a touch offkey, because he was battered, singed, and he really didn't care at this point, considering this was going to be a long day.

"Birds flying high

You know how I feel

Sun in the sky

You know how I feel

Breeze driftin' on by

You know how I feel."

[Gizmo]

Midnight II

Masquerade

January 15th, 2013

Even if the city hadn’t been whipping itself into a frenzied panic it would have been simplicity itself for Midnight to enter the apartment building undetected, slipping through the security camera’s blind spots and stepping purposefully from shadow to shadow. The methodical vigilante was hardly in a frame of mind for patience but he was even less in the mood to be delayed explaining himself. Besides, he already had a key.

Focusing on the minute precision of his movements only took the slightest edge off of the roiling ball of emotions clenching the pit of his stomach as he stepped inside and closed the door silently. Something, some organization or force had abducted Erin and replaced her with a robotic duplicate, one that had managed to go unnoticed for the better part of two months or more, if his belated deductions were correct. He had been personally manipulated to some unknown end and the face of the woman he loved had been used to spread hysteria and discredit Freedom City’s heroes. White hot rage burned through his every vein, threatening to burn him from the inside out.

Another time, years ago. A dark haired youth, barely a teenager, toppled gracelessly from his perch on a balance beam as a carved wooden cane unexpectedly slipped between his ankles. Trevor Hunter struggled to arrange a physique seemingly composed mainly of elbow beneath himself and glowered at his grandfather, cheeks colouring slightly. "That wasn’t fair."

Midnight moved through the apartment like a confined tempest, opening cupboards and moving objects brusquely aside to sift through them. Somewhere there had to be some clue to what this was all about, something to point him toward the person responsible. The media had wasted no time in dubbing the inexplicably violent heroes 'the Wrathful,' no doubt playing right into the mastermind’s hands but they had not begun to see the sort of vengeance whomever had taken Erin had brought down upon themselves.

The elder Hunter raised one angular eyebrow and tapped his cane against the floor. "Fair?" Travis repeated dryly, using his free hand to stroke his goatee. "What is the first rule?"

Finally rising to his feet, the teen frowned in confusion. "Fear is a tool, not a master," he recited from rote, rubbing a stiffness in his shoulders and trying to loosen the taxed muscle back to working order. "I’m not scared," he objected frankly, "I’m... annoyed. Angry."

The overripe and decaying remains of an array of fruits and vegetables littered the kitchen counter and refrigerator’s crisper, bought and forgotten about. Erin loved fresh produce, he knew, having lived for so long on whatever canned food and non-perishables she’d been able to scrounge up on her homeworld. She would have never let food go to waste in such a manner or tolerated the accompanying scent in her small and otherwise tidy apartment.

It was a glaring red flag, one he should have spotted weeks earlier, one he would have noticed if he’d been to her apartment. Instead he’d taken Erin’s uncharacteristic outburst in December to be a symptom of the holiday malaise she suffered through each year. He’s decided to give her space, as though the problem would simply take care of itself if ignored long enough. It took a quiet snap to make him realize he’s broken the browned celery in his fist.

The original Midnight raised a finger to cut off his protege and underscore his point. "Anger is fear in masquerade. Invariably." Making a low sound in the back of his throat, he gestured for Trevor to take a seat on the balance beam. "Fear can be useful in small doses. Heightens senses, speeds reflexes. A natural response." Travis nodded to himself thoughtfully as he paced. "Too much fear clouds judgement, tints perception, makes you sloppy. Gets you killed," he emphasized, stopping to tap the head of his cane against his protege’s sternum. "Anger is sugar-coated fear, hiding the taste so you don’t realize you’re drowning. So. What is your fear?"

Midnight tossed the vegetable back into the refrigerator in disgust. Face twisting into a scowl behind his featureless mask, he slammed the door hard enough to rock the weighty appliance back on its tiny rubber feet. He was getting nowhere, wasting time when it might already be too late. He didn’t want to be rummaging through a place violated by some robotic thing, he wanted to be fighting something, to have his hands around a guilty throat--

"Mrowr?"

Trevor opened his mouth to object again but closed it slowly instead, concentration creasing his young face. There was a pause while he thought and Travis waited patiently. "...failure," the youth finally admitted glumly, both to his mentor and to himself.

The older man nodded sagely. "Anger would tell you to give up or lash out, making your fear come true. See through the masquerade." His cane thumped against the balance beam twice. "Now. Again."

The small sound pulled Midnight’s thoughts out of their spiral and turned his attention downward as an furry orange form raced out of the bedroom to crash against his ankle. Charlie, Erin’s kitten, rightened himself and climbed his white paws up the black pant leg, mewing plaintively, intermittently butting his head against Trevor’s shin.

Without hesitation, the young man bent down and gently scooped the feline up in both arms. Charlie rubbed his face against the jawline of the featureless mask, continuing to make sounds conveying his distress. "...I know," Trevor told him quietly, barely loud enough even for that cat’s ears to pick up. "Me too. Let’s go find her."

[Electra]

Fleur de Joie

Benediction

“Don't try to move yet, just lay still and let them put you on the stretcher. You're going to be fine.†Fleur de Joie smiled reassuringly and patted the young woman's hand as the EMTs approached with their equipment. “She's got broken ribs, a lot of bruising, but the punctured lung is fixed up, I think,†she told them. “Check her legs, I didn't have time to do anything there.†The EMTs acknowledged the information even as they carefully loaded the victim and carried her away from the rubble that had once been a three story commercial building.

Aside from Freedom Hall itself, it was the worst scene Stesha had seen today. A fight between two fliers, she didn't even know who, had compromised the structural integrity of the second floor, causing it to collapse and take the rest of the building with it. Only the fact that people had already been fleeing from the fight had kept casualties from being much higher, but it was plenty bad enough. Fleur had been on scene with the League for over an hour already and they were still pulling people out. As soon as the EMTs were safely away, she let the smile fall off her face and took a moment to draw herself into a ball with her head on her knees. She was not cut out to deal with this kind of violence, this kind of mass trauma. All she wanted, more than anything, was to be home on Sanctuary with Amaryllis in her arms and Derrick holding the both of them. That scenario was about as likely as someone rewinding time to undo this whole scenario, which was to say highly unlikely though not outside the realm of possibilities, and useless to think too hard about anyway. She still had a lot to do.

Straightening up, she drew another handful of seeds from the dwindling supply in her pouch and began forcing them as she made her way to where the rescue crews had congregated. A young man so fresh-faced that Fleur couldn't tell if he'd even gotten into Claremont yet was using a glowing field of telekinesis to shift debris away from another pair of victims while the rescue workers pulled them to safety. As soon as they were clear, Fleur knelt down to get to work. The two victims were young, probably in their twenties, and in the inexpensive but trendy clothes that said they were most likely college students out shopping. The woman was in stable condition, at least, unconscious from concussion but not actively bleeding internally or externally. The man, though, she realized with a touch, was just beyond her help. Still warm, still pliant, but help for him had come a little too late.

An unaccountable and furious wave of frustration swamped Fleur. How could she be everywhere at once? She'd done everything she possibly could, teleported all over the city to put out fires of one sort and another, healed until she had no supplies and precious little strength left, and still she was failing! It wasn't fair! Letting the seedlings fall from her fingers, she slapped her hands against the corpse's still chest as though he were the cause of all today's calamities. Power shot through her fingertips, the sort of raw energy she used when she wanted to grow a lot of plants all at once, making her hands feel hot and giving her a metallic taste at the back of her throat. A waste of energy, she chastised herself, on a day when she had none to spare. People weren't plants, you couldn't make them live by wanting it badly enough.

But then, even as she watched, the chest expanded under her hands, lungs sucked in a breath and expelled it. Within seconds, the deathly pallor of his face gave way to living color, and the heart she could feel beneath her palms fluttered and beat once again. Snatching her hands back as though they'd been burned, Stesha stared at the unmistakably living victim and wondered if somehow her judgment had been wrong. Maybe he'd only been very nearly dead, surely that had to be the answer. Nobody else seemed to have noticed anything, not that it was easy to see detail anyway in the heart of the disaster. But you just didn't raise the dead without someone noticing and making a fuss about it!

The man moaned with the pain of his injuries, and she shook herself back into work mode. There was no sense in saving a life, however you did it, if you weren't going to take care of it. She'd just have to save the rest of it to think about later. As it turned out, by the time she got home, some six hours later, she was too tired to think about a doggone thing. Life found a way, she told herself as she tumbled into exhausted sleep.

[Aoiroo]

9:08 AM

Late,

The thought went in her mind, but she didn't care as much as she normally would of. She was just too tired. Stiffling a yawn she took another sip of coffee and coasted on her break through traffic. It was awful today, something about a court house case. She probably should of kept more up to date on this sort of thing, but there was always so much going on. She put herself into a stop as she reached down to switch her CD. During a few seconds of silence as she shuffled around with the disk there was a crack of glass and several screeching tires as well as a long single noted beep of a car horn.

She was out of her car before she really thought about it, was at the scene before her mind caught up. The was broken glass, and a dead driver his face on the horn still. There was flat tires with, something sticking out of it. But more importantly there was a man, and the man was shuffling away from the car. Something shot after the man, and hit him in the leg, he fell to his knees. Jasmine took a quick look around, there was a figure in the distance. She had to take off her glasses to get a better look. Was that? No, it couldn't be. But it was lining up another shot, she could tell the vantage from here. She ran, she managed to close the distance and she pushed the man in a tumble behind a honking car as another arrow hit the ground where he had laid.

They ran through the stopped traffic. There were honks and dirty looks. The man was not in shape, he was bleeding badly and blue in the face as Jasmine pulled him along, but he kept huffing forward. Death seemed to be a good modivator to get forward. She got him to her van and pushed him into the back. Closing the doors she worked with what she had. First aid wasn't her specialty, and he was bleeding fast, but she had something most first aid kits didn't, liquid nitrogen. Once the wound was frozen, the bleeding haulted she finally figured out the man had pass out, probably happened once she got him in the van. She didn't have much time to reawaken him as there were several clinks on the side of the van. She might of tried to investigate, but there were two more, and then, an explosion, and for a moment there, everything went black.

There was a tapping on the door. That's what woke her. She swam back to conciousness as fast as she could, cause something in her mind told her she should. It hurt though, her head. She surveyed the van interior. It was completely tipped, her head was hurting, probably a light concussion. That explained why everything seemed kind of spinny then. The cabinets were still in place, the doors still locked shut and builted up against their side in defiance of gravity.There was still a tapping. She turned her head towards it, when she heard a voice,

"Hey, anybody in there, could you please surrender Philip Kemm?"

It was a polite voice,

Is that who this is?

She looked at the man, she noticed some things, he was very well dressed, it was clear even if it was bloodstained that the suit was tailor made. He was middle aged, he looked like a Philip for sure,

"He's a very influencial boss for the Russian mob, he's killed and ordered murders, he's scum that needs to be cleansed."

Killed,

She knew that's what that last word meant,

"The, the driver?"

Her mouth reacted before her head,

"Guilty by association, he accepted his bloody money and."

That was the opening Jasmine took, she squeezed the pellet in her hand, and the entire block filled with smoke.

________

There was several honks, screeching of breaks as the thick fog enveloped the city block. A grappling hook attached to a nearby building and out of the fog Bowman rose to clear air,

"What the heck was t...."

He was interupted as something shot at him through the fog. Side stepping he saw it hit the side building and a bubbling mass of thick foaming liquid exploded from it. It took him little time, he took cover on the ledge as several more shots poured out of the fog at him hitting the building and coating it in the foam. He quickly used his hook to jump from one roof for another. Several shots tried to hit him midair, one succeeded, catching his leg and the foam started spreading. He rolled onto the roof smudging away as much of the sticking mass as he could, but it stuck him to the roof, at least he had cover. He pulled out an arrow and started chipping away at it.

________

Catalyst ran through the fog, and through the roof. So many things didn't make sense at the moment, but one thing did. Murder, she had witnessed a murder, and the murderer was on the roof. Hopefully she had slowed him down, he was agile. She was almost certain she knew who it was, it didn't make sense, but it was arrows that were on the side of her van, and that voice didn't belong to arrowhawk. Very few people used arrows with that much effiency, especially exploding ones. That murderer totally owed her a new pair of tires with those exploding arrows. She got to the daylight and out of the fog as she saw Bowman sticking to the roof her hand on her gun,

"Stop right there,"

The man looked at him,

"You're new, wait, umm, Catalyst, I've heard there was someone in hazmat. Mind unsticking me."

He had almost gotten through himself, she tried another shot, but he pulled loose and rolled for cover. Once she stopped shooting he got up and aimed an arrow right for her arm. She gasped as the arrow knocked the paintball gun from her hand, before she rolled for cover of her own and pulled out her spare,

"You murdered that man, killed him, and you tried too."

"He needed to die, this city needs to be cleansed, lift your fog so I can kill him."

"No!"

She shot up, and shot wildly at his cover, the ammo was switched, the pepperspray splatted around him. When the thing ran out, Bowman took his shot, though nicking Catalyst in the side,

"A pity, but if you side with them, you're not better, and should be cleansed."

Catalyst held her side, and reached for her ammo to switch again but was interupted but the sound of a bouncing. The arrow hit broadside the building and buried itself into her belt, the pellet in that pouch exploded and she was quickly enveloped in her own snaring foam.she grunted and tried to scream but it was no use. She didn't have a way out, well a sane one. She heard a laugh from behind. Bowman came up from next to her,

"You really shouldn't of gotten in the way newbie."

He notched an arrow,

"This is justice,"

"No, it was execution. Without trial, without jury. It's not right, doesn't matter, we're better then that."

"This is why the city is rotten, you only cure the symptoms. But that's the difference between you and me, I'm willing to do what it takes to stop the disease.

Catalyst glared at him, she wiggled her hand around, she got through to one of the pellets in the pouch she was closet and held it,

"No, the difference between you and me,"

She squeezed the pellet and there was a glow,

"is that you're not fireproof."

The foam went up around Catalyst. She winced at the burning slightly at bay by the thick hazmat, but rolled forward onto bowman. It was a lot of things, but the green outfit was definitely not fire proof. He patted himself franticly as the flames spread. Catalyst took the second to retreive the gun he'd shot out of her hand, and she shoot him clear in the face while he was distracted. There was a lot of things about pepperspray that wasn't well known. There was something that was very clearly written on the bottle, it was very flamable. The ball ignited instantly with the already flaming Bowman and caused an explosion that pushed him back against the wall. Catalyst took a few seconds before she reached in her belt and switched to some liquid nitrogen. The quick burst of cold quenched the flame and lefted the slightly charred Bowman out on the concrete. She leaned down to check a pulse but noticed something odd. She looked through a patch of skin that had gotten in direct contact with the explosive pellet and gingerly pulled it back to reveal, metal,

"What in the heck?"

[Aoiroo]

9:38 AM

Carrie woke to an explosion. The couch under her shook and she looked out the window. Almost immediately she scurried to the window. What the heck, she scrambled around the appartment over to her brothers bedroom. Carly was just getting out of bed, Trent was nowhere to be found, she glanced at the time, right, the shop. The shop opened at eight. She left Carly there and headed for the stairs. She had stayed the night because the evil ems had been sick the ended up sick and nether Carly or Trent could take time off to take care of them. The 'rents were off to Atlantic City for the week, and Ali was studying for midterms. Carrie did a quick trip from the Em's shared room. They were still out, probably the cold medicine. Well that meant Trent was the only one unaccounted for. Grabbing Carly's phone off the counter she called up Ali as she headed downstairs into the street.

There was massive crowds surging through the streets. Guess something crazy was happening again. She might of cared to check if she wasn't trying to rush to Trent's shop. Trent she caught over the crowd, locking up. Bless his stubborn freaking heart,

"What the hell?"

Trent looked at her,

"They might loot the store. Anyway, have you heard, it's the heroes, they've gone crazy and,"

"And stuff's happening, is it Thursday again already, come on, come on, lets move."

It said a lot about Carrie that details weren't the most important part at the moment, but then again, her family was still in the city, that was a very important detail. Trent filled her in on the way there. Heroes killing villains apparently with a court thing in progress. Well, that was messed up, she really wish she had her car, though driving was likely a mess in this rush to get out of town. It was trouble just to cross the street.

"Anyway, we'll get the kids and..."

That thought was interupted with something horrifying flew over head. It might of been a stray bolt of energy from somewhere that had missed it's target by a long shot, but that didn't matter, cause now it was in straight collision with the third floor,

"Ohh, sh..."

"Carly!"

Her brothers voice drowned her out as he rushed upstairs and Carrie followed. Her heart pounding as she heard the sounds of the roof collapsing overhead.

The way up was blocked by many running people. Trent outpaced Carrie for virtue of leg lengh and franticness. He literately slammed throught he door and dust poured through the door. There was a burn mark that scorched straight through the family room and through the kitchen, it had incinerated the couch she had been laying on not five minutes before. It hit half the support beams and it seemed like any minute the roof might cave. Trent called out his wife and kids names, Carrie however moved towards where she last saw them her room. That was when she heard the tell tale sign of it. There was a certain sound that came when something started collapsing. She looked at Trent for half a second, and made her decision as she ran forward and tackled him into the hallway as the roof caved in.

As the dust cleared and the different things did, Trent tried desperately to get Carrie off of him, but found unexpectly that she held him easily in place,

"Wait,"

He screamed at her,

"But their!"

"THE ROOFS UNSTABLE, YOU DO NO GOOD BURIED WITH THEM!"

Carrie screamed at him and he stopped for a second as she let out a sigh.

When it seemed like it was safe, she let him go and started to push through the rubble. She was better overall at getting over the rubble, though one part seemed a little strange. One half the appartment was still standing, in fact it had some parts pushing back the rubble completely. Carrie took a tennative step forward before she found an opening, it seemed to be a bubble surrounding them. She saw a crack and slipped through since he brother couldn't see her to find, something in the center. Standing there her hands over her head looking scared was Emilia, and around her everything was pushed back. Her mother was at her side gawking, Emmanuel was sleepily holding onto her. Carrie inched forward as she looked at the girl,

"Emili..."

The girl was startled and nearly let down her hands,

"Don't!"

The girl stopped,

"Just, focus, you're keeping the roof up."

"Auntie,"

The little girl squeaked,

"It's okay, just keep your hands up, focus on the bubble, and we'll walk out."

It was slow going. Carrie led the way, and eventually they got around to the already collapsed part of the house. With Emilia no longer under it, that part did creaked without the support and boomed into itself. But everyone was out, Emilia and Emmanuel clung to their mother as as Carrie led them to Trent. Carly was the first to speak up,

"What was that?"

"Nothing important for now, the worlds gone crazy again. We need to get out of the city,"

"But,"

"Carly, we're leaving,"

Trent was the one who spoke this time. And they hurried down the steps. Carrie stopped for a second and looked out in the distance. Stuff was happening, crazy stuff, heroes killing villains, she'd get there as soon as she could. But family came first, and there was a lot of explaining to do.