Mutant Ascension [IC]

[Altito Asmoro]

Giovanni Serrano
Dragon's Maw

"Hey! I'm 20!" he yelled back, only to saw in front of him that the concrete walls had been built. Great, now he couldn't get out, even if he wants to. He looked elsewhere for any signs of outside door. "Hey, bartender!" as he looked at the bartender and approached him, "You sure you don't have any outside ways beside the freaking front door that had been blocked!?" he asked furiously.

---

"Yeah, we have a group of three mutants that are causing havoc downtown. Oh, by the way, Suzuki, you're hired. Welcome to the firm. Anyway, if any of you want to help, we'd love to have your assistance. We'll probably have contract stuff better worked out this time, but, then again, we're better prepared for this one. Who's in?"

Suzuki Hashimoto

The holiday was a good one for her. In time, she had spent lounged herself in the room, with the room service and TV, lazying around, telekinetically lifted food to her mouth as she swallowed it. Wow, this is such fun, you know. And relaxed.

It was not for long.

Soon they were summoned to met with Tristan, and beside the fact that now she's an agent as well, there's something else. Three mutants, downtown. "Sure, Agent. I think I can find myself helping you. Of course, I don't want anyone to disturb my holiday, so we better do this fast and efficient, brutal, if you ask me."

[Bycrest]

The gangsters left the bar, to be followed by an Italian man. The first one turned around and stared at the man. "Hey, old man! Stay out of this, unless you want to feel the wrath of three mutants!"

With that, he stomped his foot and a ten-foot wall of concrete and asphalt arose, effectively closing the entrance of the bar from the outside world. From behind the wall, one could hear the stretching of an elastic substance, as well as the choking sounds of the patron. The first mutant spoke up. "That's enough." The woman was released and could be heard slumping to the ground.

Then two walls of concrete arose, and the bar patrons could hear the loud slamming of two concrete slabs. The third mutant was the first to cry out. "What the fuck did you do that for?! We didn't want to kill her, did we?"

"I... I don't know what happened. Something came over me."

"Well, now you've done it! The police are going to come after us for sure!"

"The police can't do anything, 12. Face it. We're the gods of this world now, and there's nothing anyone can do to stop us."

Max had been watching the situation unfold from the counter, he's always got his eye on the new faces but since they were too young he had mostly ignored them. That was until they said they were mutants and instantly pick a fight with one of his patrons, it was one of his regulars too. "I should really hire a bouncer one of these days to just stop people like them from coming in here." he said to himself as he noticed a man with a gun move to get a better view. On most occasions he would have taken the gun until the customer left, since guns and alcohol don't mix too well, but seeing as how thing were about to get a little violent, the gun was the least of his concerns.

The overconfident young mutants blocked off the door to stop people from following, but Max was more pissed that it stopped people from coming in. Then he heard the sounds of the mutants killing his patron, which really got him pissed. "Well that's bad for business." Max said as he got from behind the counter. "Sasha, get ready for another mind wipe." Like Max, Sasha was also a mutant, but she was a psychic. Max didn't just hire her for her just for her looks, her real job was to erase the thought of Max being a mutant from the guest. While Max wasn't 100% sure of who would be anti-mutant or not, he knew drinks couldn't hide wings and fire breath.

Giovanni Serrano
Dragon's Maw

"Hey! I'm 20!" he yelled back, only to saw in front of him that the concrete walls had been built. Great, now he couldn't get out, even if he wants to. He looked elsewhere for any signs of outside door. "Hey, bartender!" as he looked at the bartender and approached him, "You sure you don't have any outside ways beside the freaking front door that had been blocked!?" he asked furiously.

Max didn't even pay the other man much attention except to answer his question. "There's one in the back but you won't be needing it." As Max marched up to the blocked door, his hands started to become covered in scales. When he reached the concrete he focused all of his energy and started a flurry of punches, busting down the wall. He punched his way outside to see the scene that had already unfolded and hear the last part of what the other mutants were saying. "Oh, you brats don't know what a real god is! You don't mess with a man's bar and kill off his customers!" Max was furious, he eyes giving off a stare that would make Death shiver, and smoke and fire were escaping his mouth as he spoke. He didn't know who these gangsters were but the corner might have a hard time identifying them when Max was through.

[Talchyon]

Shauna Marks (aka "Lady Lang")
Her apartment
Christmas Day

You are supposed to be happy at Christmastime. But for Shauna, the holiday season was actually more depressing than anything. With no parents to share it with, her few friends from school that were still in the area out with their families, and her brother who wasn't around half the time, doing who knows what criminal activity, Shauna found herself alone again. Her brother Shay had gotten her something though. A few gifts for her this year, one from Shay, a few others from her friends, plus the bonus her boss had given her at the end of the year. One friend had given her a gift card to a restaurant she'd never been to. Another had given her a cd of some local band. The music was ok, but Shauna wasn't much of a music fan. She thought her friend was related to the bass player, and she was probably giving this same gift to everyone on her list. Shauna had opened her gift from her brother, and found a jade bracelet. She put it on halfheartedly, and said, "Merry Christmas."

Not wanting to watch Rudolph or Charlie Brown's misadventures with a Christmas tree again, Shauna got up and grabbed the paperwork from MISC that was on her counter where she had left it. For about the thirtieth time, she looked over the details of the contract that was still unsigned. Why she was re-reading it, she didn't know. She had practically all the facts memorized. The salary was at a mere $40,000 a year, well under the six figures she had requested. Health benefits seemed pretty standard, but who knows? Probably had some expensive premiums that came with it. Retirement benefits. Which in this line of work, who knew how many agents lived long enough to retire?

She hadn't signed it yet, and she wouldn't now either. There was just something about having to be at someone's beckoned call. And having to take orders. Thoughts of Monica, the giant mutant they had fought several days before, haunted her. She had been imprisoned not for a crime or for any dark deed, but simply out of fear. Fear of her mutation. They didn't even give names to these people. They were nothing but numbers to the MISC. The dehumanizing treatment of her, more than anything, stayed Shauna's hand from signing that document. If she joined up, she'd have to be a prison guard for people who were stripped of their humanity in the eyes of the agency. Or a retrieval specialist as they called it. Nothing more than a glorified bounty hunter with health benefits.

The other option was to work alongside Tarmo, and help other mutants. Help them how, and how much could be done, that was a lot less definite. It sounded volunteer as well. Which had its upsides. She wouldn't simply be a paid stooge to help. She could help because she wanted to. She didn't like the thoughts of dread that came over her when the news shows would cover what had happened at the airport. Public scrutiny was ramping up big time. There was a fierce intensity, and the same reaction that was expected. Fear. Fear of people like her.

Getting a drink of water, Shauna left the jade bracelet on and headed for the bathroom to do her nightly routine before bed. A few pills, some cream to make her skin soft, brushing her hair and her teeth, using the restroom. Who knew where Shay was right now. If he came back tonight, he could let himself in. But she didn't always know whether or not to expect him.

Merry Christmas indeed.

---

A few days later

Tarmo's offer had been on her mind. Helping people. And not having to work as a foreign government agent to do so was also a nice plus. She took out her cellphone, called the number he had given her earlier, and after a brief conversation, found where this mutant school was going to be. Ten minutes later, she was on the road.

Finding the place was not hard. Thanks, GPS. Lancaster was somewhat of a drive for her, but do-able. She parked her car on the street, finding one of those rare spots that didn't have a meter, thanking God, and walked in the door. Tarmo was there, with a few others she didn't know. He was on the phone. Shauna approached and waved. Tarmo saw her and waved back. She couldn't hear everything the person on the other side of the conversation was saying, but she did clearly hear the words "mutants," "subjects" and a few numbers. It seemed pretty clear who might be calling - the only one who ever referred to people as test subjects. The mysterious Mr. Tristan. And apparently, he had another mutant incident that needed their help. Well, she was signing on to help people.

They really should get paid for this. But just as consultants, not as general agents. They don't need to be under Mr. Tristan's authority. Shauna couldn't help but think that bad things would happen down the road for those who were under that man's command...

[Anxiety Cafe]

Jacob came back down, having only his backpack. He felt a nostalgia, a desire to finally go back home after so many years. It was, after all, Christmas. He had come back downstairs just in time to overhear Tarmo's speech, about forming their own agency. He assumed, separate from the MISC. He was tempted, of course. He had questions of course, but he was interrupted by the agent he had talked to before, explaining that there was no way for him to see his mom again. He became dejected, but at least that gave him time to talk to Tarmo about it. He talked about the Eesti, the Estonian government. Jacob felt conflicted about his offer. He wanted to help people, for sure; but he didn't see himself as being part of a Justice League style force. He had always been more of a loner, the guy who stays away from you. His few friends probably had forgotten about him by now. But maybe this was an opportunity, to make more friends. Perhaps he could finally start his life out, something he had delayed ever since he left the school. No doubt, this would be a hard path to take, but nothing in life would ever come easy.

Then again, there was Tristan's offer as well. To work for the government, under his command. Jacob grimaced at the offer. He had never trusted the government, although he wasn't often the conspiracy theory type. Working under the government would have its benefits, of course. Everything they did would be sanctioned, he would get money, and protection, if he needed it. But he would just be a lab dog, like the government's own mutant mercenary. And what would happen if he didn't want to do what they told him to? If he disobeyed orders? As powerful as they were, mutant threats were still people on the inside, people who used to have lives, families, people somewhere who loved them. They had the same thoughts, and probably the same sorrowful story. They wouldn't deserve death, to have their most precious life leak out of them, alongside their blood. Jacob was no stranger to violent, but the thought still made him squeamish. No; he would not work for the government. That was out of the question.

Still, wouldn't he do the same with Tarmo? Wouldn't he just be a lap dog? At least he knew Tarmo probably wouldn't kill, wouldn't do things to him if he disobeyed. He knew Tarmo's organization would be more of a team thing, a school. Like a new home, for mutantkind. That was enticing, and he told Tarmo as such when the others had left. Tarmo kept an almost emotionless face, but he could tell he was both surprised and somewhat happy that his idea had the possibility of succeeding. Tarmo gave him his number after explaining about getting a building. Jacob kept it, before going back up to his room at the hotel.

The Christmas was mostly uneventful, at least compared to the events before. It was almost like a Christmas break, break from the world. Jacob spent the majority of it in his room, sleeping and relaxing. "Calling his mom, telling her about what had happened, both years before and recently. It was good to hear her voice, but that voice was cautioning him. Telling him he should just forget. Meanwhile, Jacob was thumbing Tarmo's number between his fingers, a nervous habit. He told her about his offer, he told her his feelings about it. She told him she disagreed, but was happy he finally found something he felt passionate about; something he wanted to. She supported wholeheartedly, and Jacob made the final decision to call his number up.

The next day, Tarmo had taken the bus to downtown LA, Lancaster. The building was rather large, a business lot, unexpected for Jacob. He same just as another woman, Shauna showed up. He was glad knowing he wasn't the only one who decided to join. But still, was that all they were? Just the three of them? Jacob, hoping he hadn't made the wrong choice, followed her into the building. Tarmo waved, but he was on the phone with a few others. Jacob greeted Shauna as well, while Tarmo was talking. He heard a voice, uncharacteristically informative. Tristan, no doubt asking for their help. Once again, Jacob felt like the government's lap dogs, but Tarmo had made his own school for a reason. They would't be under his control; they'd be helping out. Helping, that was what Jacob wanted to do. And if it would save lives, then there was no reason not to.

When Tarmo put the phone down, Jacob joined Shauna as they conversed. Today, his job started.

[Altito Asmoro]

Max didn't even pay the other man much attention except to answer his question. "There's one in the back but you won't be needing it." As Max marched up to the blocked door, his hands started to become covered in scales. When he reached the concrete he focused all of his energy and started a flurry of punches, busting down the wall. He punched his way outside to see the scene that had already unfolded and hear the last part of what the other mutants were saying. "Oh, you brats don't know what a real god is! You don't mess with a man's bar and kill off his customers!" Max was furious, he eyes giving off a stare that would make Death shiver, and smoke and fire were escaping his mouth as he spoke. He didn't know who these gangsters were but the corner might have a hard time identifying them when Max was through.

Giovanni Serrano
Dragon's Maw

Well, this certainly an interesting development.

The person in front of him seemed to be the owner, and the bartender seemed to possessed mutations, just like him. This can't be good, though if he wanted to be involved deeper, his only other skills are considerable knowledge of science and military. Some cloths and alcohol would be good for some Molotov, but other than that there's nothing that can be done. "Oi, let me help too!" he grabbed back his handgun and put an aim of it to the three mutants. "And I just have this handgun at the worst possible time. Dude," he groaned to himself.

He took a cover behind one of the table near the door to the exit. There's less things that can be done, sadly.

[NewLakotah]

Los Angeles, California
December 27, 2016
Kw'eh T'soh Dai/Keith Dai (Red Wolf

It had been a quiet Christmas for Kw’eh. As it usually was. He had spent the day mostly with his old friend Sol, and the rest of the time thinking and researching. Thinking about the offer and researching what he could, with what assets he had, on both the MISC and Tarmo affiliation with the government. Most of the information concerning MISX was inconclusive, mostly coming from unconfirmed sources, varying in claim from Special Anti-Terror Task Force, to a secret government agency bent on controlling and spying and every American. Neither was entirely wrong or right, and he spent several hours looking through every scrap of information that he could. The rest of it was looking at the extremely limited and brief reports on Tarmo and his affiliation. It appeared most of his work was behind the scenes, so getting full detailed scripts on his work without using any official database, most likely secured, would be mostly impossible. Though there were some various connection between him and Soviet scientists. He wasn’t sure what that meant, entirely.

He wasn’t entirely sure what to think about the two offers he had received just before going home for the holiday. Part of him still just wanted to return to a semi-normal life, but that dream was becoming more and more of just that. A dream. He knew that sooner or later he would have to pick sides. Spinner had told him about the numbers of the mutant population. It was high, and more and more would feel more and more free to expose themselves to the public. Some of them would get the bright idea of using their powers for good, others for the not so good. He knew which side he was on. But which side were Tarmo and MISC on. MISC appeared to be squarely on the side of protecting the innocent. But at what cost? How, in their grand scheme, would they treat mutant-kind. And Tarmo. He appeared to be good and helpful. But Kw’eh still struggled with trust issues. For most of his life he had been a good solider. Most of the time for the Canadian Army, and recently, a bit for the American military. He had also felt a true Canadian, only in America temporarily. So, doing anything long term for the US government, again, wasn’t in his top priorities. Neither did their handling of said mutants they deemed threats seem, strictly speaking, entirely legal from a humanitarian idea. Either way, he knew that he would have to gather more information before coming to any conclusion.

His phone started to ring. He checked it. It was Tristan from the Agency. He smiled, then picked it up. He smile turned to a frown. Another incident, he thought. Great, just great. In seconds, he was ready and out the door. Last time he was caught without anything, this time he grabbed a bag with him. His .45, tomahawk, a few medical supplies. That was it. He still hadn’t figured out what was the best instruments to take down a mutant yet. His only experience being with a giant that pretty much just make him an innocent bystander. At least these weapons gave him a bit of class, he thought.
It wasn’t long until he was with the assembled group of mutants and agents. Tarmo, Shauna, the other electric mutant who he now knew was Jacob, and Suzuki were all there. He joined the group and turned to look for Tristan. He found him.

“So, what’s the situation here?”

[Xah]

For Kari and her 'companions', Christmas had been nothing special and mainly consisted of trying to stay out of people's way and hoping that Karl wouldn't try to burn the hotel down. Kari had taken the offer from MISC and hung around at the hotel, chiefly for a lack of any better offers; whilst her ability gave her a more anonymous stance than most, it did make keeping a legitimate job quite hard and some of her more... colourful personality aspects were, if not anti-social, certainly difficult to integrate into polite society.

On the day they were all called downstairs, Kari had woken up, as usual, as Kari and had enjoyed a good few hours as herself; showering without feeling too self-conscious, eating food that she enjoyed and glad that the myriad voices in her head were quiet. When the call came to assemble, however, one of her personas found it too good to be true. Leaving her room as Kari, it was Kane, the 6'4", athletic, super-strong, hero wannabe that walked into the room where everyone else was.

"Okay people, let's get on with it!" Kane said, all but bouncing into the room, his enthusiasm irritatingly evident. "Let's catch the bad guys and save the world!" His gaze found Tristan and a wide smile broke over his face. "Hey Agent Boss," Kane ssaid, walking over. "What's the story and where do you need me"?

[Zjaum]

“So, what’s the situation here?” "What's the story and where do you need me?" "Sure, Agent. I think I can find myself helping you. Of course, I don't want anyone to disturb my holiday, so we better do this fast and efficient, brutal, if you ask me."

Wow, that was a big change of mood. Tristan felt a little bit of pride that all the mutants, which came as close as possible to "friends" in his field of work, were so ready to support him.

Tarmo, however, was not. Earlier in the day, when nobody showed support for him, he would have reluctantly joined him and played along with the government. Now, there was a good showing, and that just from Bakersfield! He looked up from the phone to see Shauna and Jacob both entering the room. He flashed the biggest grin. Friends, or at least faces he knew, had his back.

Tristan, who was excited with affirmation of the mutants in the room, was excited and a tad impatient for a response. "So, Tarmo, are you interested? We'd love to have your support."

The answer was blunt. "No, I'm not interested." Tarmo, equally prideful, tried to find the right accent to punctuate his statement. What was it the Americans said? Ah, yes. "Fuck you."

Tristan was a little taken aback with such a contrary response to what he expected. Never the one to give up, he changed his pitch. "Look, Tarmo, you're always the first one to want to help and protect people. These are three dangerous, reckless young mutants that could wreak havoc throughout downtown LA. There are civilians out there who need your help."

Tarmo paused. Tristan had intentionally brought up a point. There are three dangerous, reckless young mutants out in Los Angeles who needed help. Help that, at this point, could only be provided by the International Mutant Center. Surely the three of them wouldn't want to go back into the custody of the MISC. He turned on the speaker function of the phone. "All right, here is deal, Tristan. If we help you, those mutants go into our custody. We take care of them, do not go back to your facility. Mõista?"

Tristan paused. That was a curveball. "I don't know where you guys are, Tarmo, but I'm pretty sure you don't have the facilities necessary to house them."

"Then you make them. You owe us, anyway. That, or tell us what need, and we build them."

"...You know, if they escape your place, there's no stopping them from ravaging your area."

"We are in Lancaster. Is hour drive away from Los Angeles, and very far away from anywhere important. They will be fine."

"I... I can't take that risk."

"Good. Happy hunting." Tarmo reached for the hang-up button.

"Wait!" Tristan paused. "Look, I couldn't get clearance for that right now, but I'll do what I can. You might get one or two of the weaker mutants. Could that work?"

Tarmo paused. "You better deliver, or we are done." With that, he hung up the phone.

Tristan looked back at the rest of his compatriots. "Well, if you're interested, I'll see what I can do about contract work. They can get that fixed while we're away. Susuki's already one of us, so she's covered. Let's get in the van!" Tristan walked out of the room into the hallway, where agents were already packing up and getting ready for a fight. They would not be made fools this time.


Tarmo turned to address the group. "I will leave business for few hours, for reason you have heard. If wish to join me, can help bring publicity to center. We call ourselves International Mutant Center Squadr- KURAT!" Tarmo realized his stupidity in naming things. IMCS. MISC. Kurat. He had to think of something on the fly. The only thing he could think of was the Estonian word for heroes: "Kangelased. We are Kangelased. It mean 'heroes,' 'strong ones' in Estonian. Is best I could think of; open to what you all want. Anyone with?" With that, he grabbed the keys to his building (and those to his car) and motioned for everyone to head out, preparing for the hour-long drive back to Los Angeles. Tristan had better deliver, or they are done.

"Hey! I'm 20!" he yelled back, only to saw in front of him that the concrete walls had been built. Great, now he couldn't get out, even if he wants to. He looked elsewhere for any signs of outside door. "Hey, bartender!" as he looked at the bartender and approached him, "You sure you don't have any outside ways beside the freaking front door that had been blocked!?" he asked furiously.

Max didn't even pay the other man much attention except to answer his question. "There's one in the back but you won't be needing it." As Max marched up to the blocked door, his hands started to become covered in scales. When he reached the concrete he focused all of his energy and started a flurry of punches, busting down the wall. He punched his way outside to see the scene that had already unfolded and hear the last part of what the other mutants were saying. "Oh, you brats don't know what a real god is! You don't mess with a man's bar and kill off his customers!" Max was furious, he eyes giving off a stare that would make Death shiver, and smoke and fire were escaping his mouth as he spoke. He didn't know who these gangsters were but the corner might have a hard time identifying them when Max was through.

Subject 12 had a face of terror to the point of comedy. "Oh, shit! He's gonna kill us all!"

"Ah, quit being such a fucking tool. It's a guy who can punch. We can take care of him, easy." Subject 67 made a cross pose, and his arms stretched out five meters. He reached out to the man with scales with the intent to envelop and incapacitate him. If possible, choking him was preferred. Meanwhile, Subject 38 noticed the firearm in the hands of the Italian dude. Apparently, although he was technically older than the three of them, he got really ticked at being called "old man." He lifted the asphalt out of the ground and began building a makeshift blockade for himself and his two fellow mutants. "See, 12? We're practically bulletproof."

[Anxiety Cafe]

Jacob immediately felt uncomfortable in the room. The area it was in felt too detached from society, although signs of it could be heard and seen in the distance. It was a kind of scene that he had taken for granted, a scene he had grown up in and lived in for the past years; he didn't hear constant slamming of brakes, didn't smell the cool air, which was fresh only at certain times, and didn't have the environment of people, somehow both hostile and kind. This place was unfamiliar, and strange things, unknown things, almost always led to harm. Then again, the whole situation they were in was unknown, new territory for everyone involved. There was the existence of mutants themself; it took Jacob a while to get over his abilities, their strangeness and alienness, as if they came from another planet to enhance him. He had been scared of them and himself, and he had suffered through a period of depression due to it. Only through practice, only through learning about it, did he calm down. He could never shake the nagging thought, however, that he was insane, some mental abnormality eating away at his thoughts and corrupting them with lies. That is, until he learned about all the other mutants that existed the world. Here, just in LA, there could be hundreds, and he had already met more than he could count. That had helped, the new feeling that he wasn't alone, or going crazy. In fact, he felt a sort of camaraderie with his fellow mutants, even those that he barely knew, which was all of them.

Then there were the events after their exposure. including how their abilities could be used for selfish purposes. It's not like he was an angel, never thinking of such a thought. But he had always kept himself in check, preventing himself from doing so. Mostly, it was his guilt, but it was also his fear. Fear of what he would become, corrupted by his own power, and fear of what would have to be done in order to take him down. He hadn't wanted to live with that self-loathing. But others, as the last few days had shown, were not so reluctant. Perhaps it was not by choice, or because they did not have control over their abilities, but there would be more using their powers selfishly, who probably had the same fears as he had. What would happen to them, after they were caught?

And then there was the problem of control, of who would be there to fight those misusing their abilities? Would the government have to step in, capture these people and hide them away, never to let the light of day touch their skin again? Or would there have to be an organization, like Tarmo's? How would such an organization survive in this world, especially without government support? All those questions, and then there was the suggestion Jacob had heard back in the hotel, with Tristan. An expert himself had explained that mutantkind needed to be registered, and such registration seemed impractical. Not only would it requires time and money, but what would happen if a mutant didn't want to register, to have their name on a list, and be forever grouped with criminals and others who use their powers incorrectly? And what if that list fell into the wrong hands, namely other organizations seeking to take advantage of vulnerable and scared mutants?

The whole situation seemed volatile, a bomb ticking down to its explosion. And the devastation left by an explosion of that magnitude could not be fixed; life for many, would be changed forever. Jacob didn't want to be there for such an event; he wanted to prevent it from happening altogether. But how? Although Tarmo had paid for rent for the building, they still weren't exactly secure financially. In fact, Jacob doubted anyone would even recognize them as real; instead, they'd turn to their government counterparts for reassurance. They needed manpower, respect, and a secure financial foundation; none of which they had. Then again, everything did start from nothing. Perhaps working for the government, as consultants, could pay them for a while, enough, at least, to keep them running. Whatever happened, however, Jacob knew that this school needed to succeed.

Brought back into reality from his labyrinth of thoughts, he heard Tarmo say, almost emotionless and with his thick accent, "Fuck you" into the phone. Those two words, said in such a way from such a reserved man, almost had Jacob laughing in the middle of his call. He barely kept a stream of chuckles inside as they negotiated about custody of the mutants they were undoubtedly about to arrest. Jacob made it a point to assert that they needed means of holding them as well through the phone to Tristan, hoping her heard. He doubted they'd need it for these mutants, but they could be necessary int the future; not because of violent mutants, but ones with powerful abilities and no control over them.

He followed Tarmo into the car almost immediately, trapping himself in another situation with too many unknown variables. Perhaps he was becoming the hero he had fantasized himself as in the beginning.

[Altito Asmoro]

Suzuki Hashimoto

Suzuki went into the van, quietly. She wasn't in the mood of speaking, so she just followed. There maybe plenty of vehicles around, should be good to throw at.

"Hey! I'm 20!" he yelled back, only to saw in front of him that the concrete walls had been built. Great, now he couldn't get out, even if he wants to. He looked elsewhere for any signs of outside door. "Hey, bartender!" as he looked at the bartender and approached him, "You sure you don't have any outside ways beside the freaking front door that had been blocked!?" he asked furiously.

Max didn't even pay the other man much attention except to answer his question. "There's one in the back but you won't be needing it." As Max marched up to the blocked door, his hands started to become covered in scales. When he reached the concrete he focused all of his energy and started a flurry of punches, busting down the wall. He punched his way outside to see the scene that had already unfolded and hear the last part of what the other mutants were saying. "Oh, you brats don't know what a real god is! You don't mess with a man's bar and kill off his customers!" Max was furious, he eyes giving off a stare that would make Death shiver, and smoke and fire were escaping his mouth as he spoke. He didn't know who these gangsters were but the corner might have a hard time identifying them when Max was through.

Subject 12 had a face of terror to the point of comedy. "Oh, shit! He's gonna kill us all!"

"Ah, quit being such a fucking tool. It's a guy who can punch. We can take care of him, easy." Subject 67 made a cross pose, and his arms stretched out five meters. He reached out to the man with scales with the intent to envelop and incapacitate him. If possible, choking him was preferred. Meanwhile, Subject 38 noticed the firearm in the hands of the Italian dude. Apparently, although he was technically older than the three of them, he got really ticked at being called "old man." He lifted the asphalt out of the ground and began building a makeshift blockade for himself and his two fellow mutants. "See, 12? We're practically bulletproof."

Giovanni Serrano
Dragon's Maw

Great. Now there's asphalt protected them. Great. Perhaps if he could put on some molotovs, but it might be quite not be the best idea. But there's nothing he can do. His mutation consists of no sickness and slow healing regeneration. Pretty much supportive ones, not defensive or offensive. He put the handgun out, grab two alcohol bottles, ripped out parts of his clothes, put it in and light it up. Now he has two cocktails of fire.

"Here, I'll throw this at those asphalt," as he threw two of those molotovs into the asphalt that protected all three mutants. Then, he fired some rounds into the asphalt as well. Perhaps it can be good, great, who knows.

[Talchyon]

On the way
Shauna Marks (aka "Lady Lang")

There were things that fighting giant Monicas taught you. One of them was to keep your own personal car as far away from a mutant confrontation as you can. After all, the last time, Suzuki had mentally brought a car into the airport from the parking lot as a shield. And who knows what other mental mutants they'd meet. Or mutants of excessive strength and body odor, no doubt, who'd toss cars around just for sport.

For that reason, Shauna had decided to leave her car parked at the future sight of their mutant center, which now was rather sparse and makeshift.

She hitched a ride with Tarmo, and... Shoot. She really should introduce herself to this other guy, who she had just been calling "new guy" in her mind. He seemed a little distraught and edgy. But who knows? It's not like anyone of them who had demonstrated abilities at the airport were having a normal week now. Not with the reports pumping out their airport stories, first with fear, then with speculation. The guy had a right to be on edge.

Sitting in the shotgun seat, she turned around and gave him a friendly smile that she hoped wouldn't be mistaken for attraction. "Hey there. I don't think we've actually met, and it's probably a good thing if we're working together. My name's Shauna. I appreciated your helping us at the airport."

Was this next encounter with mutants going to be a repeat of the last time? Tarmo had gotten the call but didn't know much about the nature of the emergency. Just that Mr. Tristan on the other line was getting on his nerves. And for that matter, she was starting to get a genuine dislike of the guy herself. Sure, he was a cold, efficient government agent type. But he had very little people skills. And ultimately, deep down, that's what these mutant test subjects they had lost, were. People. People with hopes that were blocked and denied by a mysterious agency that instead imprisoned them and took away their right to have names. People who needed satisfaction at their lot in life. People who could be just as damaged emotionally as they could by any mutant ability.

She was happy she was helping with this center, this school. It had a lot more going for it, even though there was a lot to be done.

"Hey, Tarmo. About the name of this group. Yeah, I get what you're trying to say, and honestly kind of flattered to be called a hero when all I do is talk to people. But, the name. Kangle- argh, it's hard for me to say it straight. Kangle-whatever it was is not the easiest name to remember. What about something basic, like "The Center?" Or we call it "The Center," and it's longer official name is something like "The Center for Mutant Trust" or something else along those lines?"

She wasn't using any of her abilities now. Whatever name they were going to have for their operation, she wanted them all to come to agreement on their own, without being induced to like it unbeknownst to them.

[Bycrest]

"Hey! I'm 20!" he yelled back, only to saw in front of him that the concrete walls had been built. Great, now he couldn't get out, even if he wants to. He looked elsewhere for any signs of outside door. "Hey, bartender!" as he looked at the bartender and approached him, "You sure you don't have any outside ways beside the freaking front door that had been blocked!?" he asked furiously.

Max didn't even pay the other man much attention except to answer his question. "There's one in the back but you won't be needing it." As Max marched up to the blocked door, his hands started to become covered in scales. When he reached the concrete he focused all of his energy and started a flurry of punches, busting down the wall. He punched his way outside to see the scene that had already unfolded and hear the last part of what the other mutants were saying. "Oh, you brats don't know what a real god is! You don't mess with a man's bar and kill off his customers!" Max was furious, he eyes giving off a stare that would make Death shiver, and smoke and fire were escaping his mouth as he spoke. He didn't know who these gangsters were but the corner might have a hard time identifying them when Max was through.

Subject 12 had a face of terror to the point of comedy. "Oh, shit! He's gonna kill us all!"

"Ah, quit being such a fucking tool. It's a guy who can punch. We can take care of him, easy." Subject 67 made a cross pose, and his arms stretched out five meters. He reached out to the man with scales with the intent to envelop and incapacitate him. If possible, choking him was preferred. Meanwhile, Subject 38 noticed the firearm in the hands of the Italian dude. Apparently, although he was technically older than the three of them, he got really ticked at being called "old man." He lifted the asphalt out of the ground and began building a makeshift blockade for himself and his two fellow mutants. "See, 12? We're practically bulletproof."

"You better learn to keep your hands to yourself." Max said as he blew flames onto the stretching mutant's arms. He would either try to remove his arms or get burned by the fire and be forced to remove them. Either way, Max was ready to grab the other mutant's arms and pull him away from the "safety" of their little asphalt shelter. " You never know who's going to rip them right out of their sockets!"

At the same time, Max was focusing on developing his wings so he could have air superiority. That earth mover would be a problem if Max stayed on the ground, plus he would move a lot faster and hopefully clean this mess up quicker. Luckily the street seemed to have cleared out during the time the three mutants started a fuss, so he wasn't afraid to go all out. Max just wanted this done before any reports decided this was the scoop of the century.

[NewLakotah]

Los Angeles, California
Kw’eh T’soh Dai/Keith Dai (Red Wolf)

Kw’eh’s eyebrows shot up in surprise as he could sort of hear the “fuck you” from Tarmo at the other end of he line when talking to Tristian. He could see the surprise on Tristan’s face as well. He smiled a bit. He didn’t think that Tarmo was really all that type of guy that would just drop something in like that. Maybe he had figured Tarmo wrong a bit. Tristian continued to banter back and forth a bit about the custody and whatnot of the dealings with the mutants. After a little more conversation, Tristan lowered his phone and looked around the room. Kw’eh sits up a bit and looks around the room.

The room is an eclectic mix of mutants and “men in blacks” as Kw’eh had internally nicknamed them. Most of the agents were gathered around getting ready to move out, while the mutants, Suzuki, himself and the Multiple Person Mutant, who seemed eager to participate, at least, this one of them did. Tristan, composed himself and looked at the mutants.

Well, if you're interested, I'll see what I can do about contract work. They can get that fixed while we're away. Susuki's already one of us, so she's covered. Let's get in the van!" Tristan turned and started to head out, the agents filing in behind him. Kw’eh got up. Grabbing his own bag and moving forward, following behind Suzuki down the stairs and into the car. She remained quiet. As did Kw’eh. He thoughts collecting in an focusing for the task ahead. He wasn’t sure what the situation would entirely entail, but it would intense, he could only imagine. He got down and hopped into one of the lead vans. Sitting down and getting comfortable, waiting to see what the next few minutes would bring.

[Zjaum]

67's arms were scalded. With a string of expletives, he moved his hand out of the way as he listened to the bartender gloat. Ripping 67's arms out was practically impossible; he would just continue to stretch them! What a foolish thought, but the bartender had much more bite than bark, apparently.

The bar patrons and the passers-by, as well as the dozens of motorists now late for work, stood in awe at the scene caused before them. Curiosity is the most dangerous yet compelling of human emotions, and the chance to witness a novelty act for free got the better of most of them. They stood there, in awe, not even considering the imminent danger they could be in.

The bartender also seemed to have a few aces up his sleeve. "Uh, 38? Punching Guy's growing wings..."

38 knew as well as the rest of the mutants involved how dangerous a flying man could be to their security. To make matters worse, he had to brace himself against the two Molotovs thrown by the patron, with little hope of the small wall remaining intact. His mind raced for a solution and finally came up with a, for lack of a better word, Doomsday scenario. "67, get back here!"

67 retracted his arms and leapt toward his friend's part of the bunker. 38 muttered something about not taking up space and crimped into a ball. Summoning all his strength, he lifted the concrete around him and pushed the ground they sat on lower, essentially creating a ball of asphalt and concrete around them, out of sight and, nearly, out of hearing.

38 grabbed a hold of 12. "Now you listen, and you listen good. We don't have much time, the Wings Guy could come punching through at any minute. You're going to have to use your power. Got it?"

12 was in shock at this point. He'd never expected things to go this wrong, despite all the worry-talk. "Are we going to die?"

"Listen to me! You need to use your power if we're supposed to get out of this!"

"But I'm not supposed to use my powers outside!"

67 chimed in. "Yeah, 38, why don't you just make a path away from the action?"

"I need to recharge, 67. I spent all my energy making this bunker. 12, I know it may be tough for you right now, but you have to use it!"


After a few minutes, Tristan, his team, and a number of suits arrived in their surprisingly-pristine cars. Granted, they were behind a slew of blocked-off traffic, but they were within sight of the incident, if that helped at all.

Agent Spinner piped up on his radio, making sure all his bases were covered. "All teams, sound off."

"Rocket launcher, check."
"Drill team, check."
"Sniper team, check."
"Containment team, check."

"Good. Now, let's not fuck this up like last time, all right? You all have five minutes to get yourselves ready and be at the site of the bar. Spinner out."

He turned to his friends and opened his door. "All right, everyone. Three people this time, so you're going to have to watch your back on this one. You thought one was dangerous, and she was, but three of them can form strategies much more easily. I agree with Suzuki on this one: quick, easy, finish. Do that, and you'll get your checks, even if they have to come from me. All right?"


"The Center" just sounded so boring, though... Not that "Heroes" was anything better but still... "Yes, I suck at names," Tarmo replied. "We should sit down and think of something soon..."

Well, there was plenty of time to think of something right then. Traffic generally was never this bad in Estonia. Even with all the navigation power in the world, Tarmo still had trouble navigating the massive overpasses and exits and whatnot. Granted, he was doing relatively well and making progress, but there were time when he thought he could walk faster than this. Perhaps...

He looked around and his fellow mutants who were with him in the car. He trusted them to do their work, and to do it well. He spoke to Shauna: "You can drive. Need to make sure Agent Spinner doesn't do something stupid, or kill kids or such. Must leave." He pulled the car over to the side of the road and pulled out the keys, putting them in the seat. "Shauna, please drive. Must protect mutants."

With that, he ran electricity through his hands and forearms, heating the air above him and creating lift. It meant constantly lifting himself off the ground, and Tarmo grimaced as he heated himself. After a little pain, though, Tarmo lifted off the ground, gaining momentum as he headed southwards towards Los Angeles. He knew the general area where it was, and it shouldn't be had to find the people. But he had to make sure that his recruits-to-be were protected. He had to make sure all mutants were protected, especially from someone like Spinner.

Meanwhile, back at the car, a Bakersfield recruit tapped Shauna on the shoulder, saying, "You know, my dad had a car like this. If you don't want to, I could drive it."

[Clashus]

Ace kept his head down, avoiding the gaze of the Suit. He slid past the man, picking up a few phrases from him, a mention of a sniper team and a containment team.

Agent Spinner piped up on his radio, making sure all his bases were covered. "All teams, sound off."
"Rocket launcher, check."
"Drill team, check."
"Sniper team, check."
"Containment team, check."

Had they already found him? Maybe Scorch gave him up, but it definitely wasn't Grey or Roche. They wouldn't backstab him like that. He knew he had to get rid of his gear and the loot, maybe keep the weapons. Shadow had warned the crew that it may as well have been their last heist together, but he hadn't expected it to come true. After all, they were the best, him, Scorch, Grey and Roche. 135 heists and not a single conviction, maybe he was just lucky. He should give them some gifts.

As he slinked away, he began to whistle a tune 'Dream On'. Out of his peripherals, he saw the Suit turn around and yell.

"Sir, excuse me, but I have something I think you could help me with."

And just like that, it was over. His record was broken. Finally, his luck was up.

[Talchyon]

Heading out
Shauna Marks (aka "Lady Lang")

He spoke to Shauna: "You can drive. Need to make sure Agent Spinner doesn't do something stupid, or kill kids or such. Must leave." He pulled the car over to the side of the road and pulled out the keys, putting them in the seat. "Shauna, please drive. Must protect mutants."

With that, he ran electricity through his hands and forearms, heating the air above him and creating lift. It meant constantly lifting himself off the ground, and Tarmo grimaced as he heated himself. After a little pain, though, Tarmo lifted off the ground, gaining momentum as he headed southwards towards Los Angeles.

Meanwhile, back at the car, a Bakersfield recruit tapped Shauna on the shoulder, saying, "You know, my dad had a car like this. If you don't want to, I could drive it."

And just like that, Tarmo was a personified form of electricity, and flying to boot. Who knew? Shauna thought about how little she actually knew about these people. Of course, it went a few ways, too. They didn't know everything about her, either. Not that she'd had much chance to sit down and talk with anyone.

But now, it seemed like it was up to her to drive. Her or new guy. The new new guy, not the other electro. She thought his name was Jacob, but had no clue what the new new guy's name was. He offered to drive as well.

"Nah, I got it. I know the area anyway." So they all hopped in Tarmo's car, and Shauna took off. After a few side streets, she was able to get on Sierra and then HW 14, the main highway that led to the southern L.A. area. Given that this wasn't her car and she didn't know where the car's registration was, she made sure to keep with the flow of traffic. There wasn't much traffic, but enough to give her a general feel of the other drivers. Fortunately, they were all going about 7-8 miles over the speed limit, so she had no regrets doing so, either.

"Hey, could one of you guys set the GPS for the exact address for this bar? I forgot to do that. How about you?" She asked the new Bakersfield recruit. "Oh, I'm Shauna. By the way."

[Zjaum]

Tristan popped out of the car and brushed past the very scared-looking man. Fortunately an agent was already covering him. What'd'ya know, it was Sevenson.

Sevenson cleared his throat before addressing him. "Sir, excuse me, but I have something I think you could help me with."

The man turned around in panic and Sevenson continued. "You see, we want a description of the scene, just so we know what specifically happened with the mutant assault. Do you know what happened here? We'd love any information you could provide."

Tristan left the two to work it out themselves; he didn't want to crowd the two. He pulled a megaphone out of the car and surveyed the damage. He saw a large hemispherical bunker of concrete; clearly 38 and whoever else was with him were trapped inside that little ball. Besides that, there was a ton of shredded concrete and angry cars. In the middle of all the chaos were two adult, fairly-young mutants. He squinted his eyes to identify them, walking forward while doing so. One of the two was a man who he clearly didn't know from his recent encounters, nor did he look like an individual who would pick up on their radar. He instantly recognized the other as the road block they encountered on Christmas Eve, the flame-throwing scaled man. He looked irrationally angry, but the man-sized holes in the concrete seemed to indicate that he was adverse to the younger gang.

He advanced forward with his weapon. On the one hand, the dragon-man seared the back of one of his closest friends. On the other hand, the dragon-man seared the back of one of his fiercest rivals. Regardless, he definitely leaned toward the chaotic side, so Tristan took extra precaution. She stood twenty feet away from the dragon, shouting out to the two, "HEY! We're the suits from the Christmas Eve incident! I figure you need help?"

As he spoke, the rocket launching team gathered behind him, trying to get the appropriate angle in such a cluttered mess. They were a tad on edge, seeing that this would be the first and only chance to redeem themselves, but they had the composure befitting of a government agency.

At this time also, Tarmo came charging in, trying desperately to (but succeeding at) slowing himself from the speed of a missile a hundred feet in the air to a reasonable four miles per hour at jumping distance. His hands ached immensely, but he was glad to have gotten there speedily. He surveyed the scene. The spherical bunker probably meant mutants of a different caliber. His back instinctively started to ache as he noticed the scaled character who burnt his back a few days ago; he didn't need drastic treatment, but the wounds still itched. The concrete meant that his electric powers would be nearly useless, so he'd have to be creative. The most dangerous prospect, however, was Tristan. He, his mutant cadre, and his rocket launching squad didn't seem to care whether the young mutants were dead or alive. He'd have to be doubly sure to get the mutants out of there.


Meanwhile, in the hole, the mutants were listening intently, bracing themselves for a possible breach. All three of them were mildly scared, not expecting this much of a pushback this time.

"HEY! We're the suits from the Christmas Eve incident! I figure you need help?"

"Oh, shit!" whispered 38. "It's Agent Spinner! Freaking hell, he's always such a killjoy."

67 felt the same concern. "He'll take us back to the Resort for sure! 12, you have to do your thing now!"

12 nodded, his hands and eyes beginning to glow.

"Hey, could one of you guys set the GPS for the exact address for this bar? I forgot to do that. How about you?" She asked the new Bakersfield recruit. "Oh, I'm Shauna. By the way."

"Hey, Shauna! I'm Nick. Yeah, I'll need to use cellular data for this one."

After five minutes and about a mile in the Los Angeles traffic, Nick finally managed to pull up the right bar. "All right, I've got it. 1310 South Saint Andrews Place. Should be a little drive away."

[Bycrest]

Tristan popped out of the car and brushed past the very scared-looking man. Fortunately an agent was already covering him. What'd'ya know, it was Sevenson.

Sevenson cleared his throat before addressing him. "Sir, excuse me, but I have something I think you could help me with."

The man turned around in panic and Sevenson continued. "You see, we want a description of the scene, just so we know what specifically happened with the mutant assault. Do you know what happened here? We'd love any information you could provide."

Tristan left the two to work it out themselves; he didn't want to crowd the two. He pulled a megaphone out of the car and surveyed the damage. He saw a large hemispherical bunker of concrete; clearly 38 and whoever else was with him were trapped inside that little ball. Besides that, there was a ton of shredded concrete and angry cars. In the middle of all the chaos were two adult, fairly-young mutants. He squinted his eyes to identify them, walking forward while doing so. One of the two was a man who he clearly didn't know from his recent encounters, nor did he look like an individual who would pick up on their radar. He instantly recognized the other as the road block they encountered on Christmas Eve, the flame-throwing scaled man. He looked irrationally angry, but the man-sized holes in the concrete seemed to indicate that he was adverse to the younger gang.

He advanced forward with his weapon. On the one hand, the dragon-man seared the back of one of his closest friends. On the other hand, the dragon-man seared the back of one of his fiercest rivals. Regardless, he definitely leaned toward the chaotic side, so Tristan took extra precaution. She stood twenty feet away from the dragon, shouting out to the two, "HEY! We're the suits from the Christmas Eve incident! I figure you need help?"

As he spoke, the rocket launching team gathered behind him, trying to get the appropriate angle in such a cluttered mess. They were a tad on edge, seeing that this would be the first and only chance to redeem themselves, but they had the composure befitting of a government agency.

At this time also, Tarmo came charging in, trying desperately to (but succeeding at) slowing himself from the speed of a missile a hundred feet in the air to a reasonable four miles per hour at jumping distance. His hands ached immensely, but he was glad to have gotten there speedily. He surveyed the scene. The spherical bunker probably meant mutants of a different caliber. His back instinctively started to ache as he noticed the scaled character who burnt his back a few days ago; he didn't need drastic treatment, but the wounds still itched. The concrete meant that his electric powers would be nearly useless, so he'd have to be creative. The most dangerous prospect, however, was Tristan. He, his mutant cadre, and his rocket launching squad didn't seem to care whether the young mutants were dead or alive. He'd have to be doubly sure to get the mutants out of there.


Meanwhile, in the hole, the mutants were listening intently, bracing themselves for a possible breach. All three of them were mildly scared, not expecting this much of a pushback this time.

"HEY! We're the suits from the Christmas Eve incident! I figure you need help?"

"Oh, shit!" whispered 38. "It's Agent Spinner! Freaking hell, he's always such a killjoy."

67 felt the same concern. "He'll take us back to the Resort for sure! 12, you have to do your thing now!"

12 nodded, his hands and eyes beginning to glow.

"Hey, could one of you guys set the GPS for the exact address for this bar? I forgot to do that. How about you?" She asked the new Bakersfield recruit. "Oh, I'm Shauna. By the way."

"Hey, Shauna! I'm Nick. Yeah, I'll need to use cellular data for this one."

After five minutes and about a mile in the Los Angeles traffic, Nick finally managed to pull up the right bar. "All right, I've got it. 1310 South Saint Andrews Place. Should be a little drive away."

Max Astor
Max watched as the three mutants retreated to the "safety" of their concrete dome. This only gave Max more time to scale up and get ready for his next attack. He was about to go in on the concrete structure when the suits came in and interrupted him. "Figures you guys would show up eventually and take away all the fun away. But to answer your question, no I don't need help and if you get in my way, I won't hesitate to burn you."

Max was too furious to listen to anything Tristan had to say, especially if it meant the three mutants would go unpunished. Max started hammering on the concrete bunker, cracking it as each bunch connected. What these mutants thought would be their protected was now becoming their tomb. "I'm just a simple bartender trying to run a business and I don't have the time or patience to deal with little brats like you. I've seen your kind before, you think you can come in here a rough people up because you're stronger than them, well you can't. You're weak, just like the rest of them. They did not deserve to exist in this world, and neither do you. Prepare to join them. Prepare to die!" Max punched the bunker more until he saw the result he was looking for, a crack that spread across most of the concrete surface. He back up and unleashed a devastating roar of fire at the concrete bunker. With the state the structure was in, it wouldn't last long under the intense flames as they broke apart or melted the so-called protection. It was only a matter of time before the bunker failed and the three mutants would be cooked alive.

[Xah]

Kane stretched his arms before slamming a fist into a palm with a loud sound. "All right then, time to save the day like the heroes we are," he said, starting to move forwards, towards the ball of asphalt and concrete and the fire-breathing agitated man-dragon assaulting it. "Gonna crack that shell and get the nuts inside." His determination to be the hero he so desperately thought he should be lending him an air of invulnerability. "Hey, mini-Smaug, stand aside and I'll get those losers out for you."

He picked up his pace, lifting a fist as he sped up.... and then stumbled as his visage shifted..... "Oh shi.... not you...." ...from a tall, dark-skinned heroic figure, to a thin, emaciated red haired man who stopped and flexed his fingers. "Oh yes..." he whispered, his eyes spying the flames being produced by Max. "Someone's singing my tune."

Karl, reached out to the rock ball and the fire breathing dragon-man. "Hotter." He murmured, turning the flames already there into a white hot incandescent inferno.

[NewLakotah]

Max's Bar
Los Angeles, California
Kw'eh T'soh Dai/Keith Dai (Red Wolf)

Kw’eh glanced out the window as the LA traffic slowed down in front of him. He had always hated the annoying traffic of LA. Not that Toronto was too much better, but nonetheless, it made driving a chore. After a few minutes, Tristian turned to him, the rest of the agents getting ready and checking their weapons. Kw’eh does the same, pulling out his revolver, checking the ammo in it, then holstering it. He jumps out of the van along side Tristan and the Mulitple-Person-Mutant, who immediately starts to rush into action. Kw’eh hangs back along side Tristan as he attempts the diplomatic route with the Dragon-Man mutant, who was responsible for a lot of damage and annoyance back at the airport battle. Kw’eh still wasn’t sure what side he was on, if he had a side. He still had no reason to trust him or back him up at all, so if he had the chance, he would take him down. A threat was a threat, no matter who they were.

He took another second to survey the area. The concrete “bunker”, for lack of a better word, was holding back the dragon onslaught for now, but it was starting to break down bit by bit. He wasn’t sure about the abilities of all the mutants inside, but considering the firepower the MISC had brought along, he could tell they weren’t taking any chances. Not again. They had a few SMAW rockets and the team was hurriedly trying to set them up. He frowns and looks over the situation. It was all pretty close quarters. Unless they all had abilities that made them blast proof, they would more than likely be killed or badly wounded in the blast.

He walks up next to Tristan.

“So, are we dealing with dragon-guy this time, or just the bunker?” He asks. As he speaks he attention is abruptly shattered by the arrival of a flying Tarmo who flies in haphazardly but still sticks the landing.
“I guess you learn something new everyday.” He mutters out loud. Tarmo apparently had a few more tricks up his sleeve then he had let on. Kw’eh had been privately working on a “threat level standard” to judge each mutant’s abilities, potential threat ratios, abilities and allegiances. Despite knowing him somewhat and feeling that Tarmo was a “good guy” overall, his threat level just increased with his new abilities. With the ability to fly, control electricity and form a Mutant Organization, he definitely was at, or near, the top at a 4. Suzuki with her mind reading ability and telekinesis was also rated at the same, however, they did seem aligned at the moment. The Dragon-guy, with the ability to fly, breath fire and form a thick skin layer also rated a 4. He hadn’t gotten any intel on the other mutants, but considering how the MISC prepared for them, they definitely seemed nervous.

He turned to Tristan again.

“Looks like we might have ourselves a Mexican standoff if we aren’t careful. What’s your move? What’s the abilities of the mutants inside the bunker?”

[Anxiety Cafe]

On the ride to their destination, unknown to Jacob, he became almost oblivious to his surroundings. He felt like he was about to embark on his journey, about to start helping people and making a difference in the world. So why did things seem so wrong? He felt like he was falling to his death, smiling on the way. Undoubtedly he was unconsciously worried about the way his life was heading. With this new school, he essentially outed himself as a mutant during a turbulent time when mutants were not necessarily liked by many. He threw away any chance he could possibly have at even a somewhat normal life. Then again, his life was already far from normal.

And then there was the situation at the school itself. which wasn't good either. They had no financial starting point; Tarmo himself had said he was spending everything on rent. He doubted any of them could go back to their normal lives and jobs. They couldn't even get paid for all the risks they were taking. Even their current mission; Tristan, an independent man, had asked for help even though he knew of their separate affiliations. The mutant threat was large.

His thoughts were interrupted by Shauna, from the airport. "Hey there. I don't think we've actually met, and it's probably a good thing if we're working together. My name's Shauna. I appreciated your helping us at the airport." He smiled back, doing an awkward shake given the confines of the car. She suggested a name to Tarmo, for the school. "The Center". Jacob thought it was too unnoticeable for their purposes, but had no suggestions of his own. He was glad Tarmo rejected it.

Tarmo himself, was an unknown factor to Jacob. Sure he was nice, friendly; but he didn't speak much about his past. And his first suggestion was for them to work for the Estonian government, or at least in affiliation with it. His abilities too, seemed unknown. They were so similar, yet so different from Jacob's. As if to demonstrate this, Tarmo lifted himself off the ground, sparking with electricity. It seemed similar to Jacob's shockporting, yet it was so obviously different. All the mutants he had met so far, they could all be threats. What would happen if they decided to start using their powers for their own personal gain?

Jacob turned back to his previous train of thought, although it was more a discombobulated mess of ideas, impossible to discern. They needed some way to conceal their identity, prevent any criminals from hurting them and the people they lives. He giddily flicked back to the memory of his drawings, when he first imagined himself as a superhero. Childish, for sure, definitely immature; but he simply couldn't help himself. But that wouldn't get them money either, although it did have its benefits. And then, the car reached its destination, and Tristan came into view. There, they had everything they needed. If they were consultants, on a job, then they had to get paid, right?

Tarmo was already there, and so was the dragon from the airport. A chill went through his spine, followed by an insane semblance of excitement. He had hoped for a rematch, after the airport catastrophe. He seemed to be pulling apart what looked like a concrete dome, outside a bar. It was cracking, and he roared with rage. He was going to kill them inside there, cook them alive! That definitely wasn't helped when the flames turned from an bright red to a pale white, as if transitioning to another color. That could only mean the flame were getting hotter, ready to barbecue the poor mutant inside.

As his colleagues exited the car and started towards Tarmo, Jacob followed, just overhearing the words "Mexican standoff", which meant the dragon man was an enemy as well. No problem. Jacob blasted him with his strongest bolts without warning, aiming for holes in his armor of scales.

"What the fuck are you doing? You're gonna cook them alive!"

[Zjaum]

Max watched as the three mutants retreated to the "safety" of their concrete dome. This only gave Max more time to scale up and get ready for his next attack. He was about to go in on the concrete structure when the suits came in and interrupted him. "Figures you guys would show up eventually and take away all the fun away. But to answer your question, no I don't need help and if you get in my way, I won't hesitate to burn you."

Tristan thought about lecturing him on how dangerous the mutants that he was handling were, but he figured that the dragon already knew. Tristan changed his mind as the dragon-man began monologuing and preparing himself to spout flames. "Um, whoever you are, wait, I wouldn't-"

He back up and unleashed a devastating roar of fire at the concrete bunker. With the state the structure was in, it wouldn't last long under the intense flames as they broke apart or melted the so-called protection. It was only a matter of time before the bunker failed and the three mutants would be cooked alive.

"...do that."

The shapeshifter joined him, converting into a flame-type superhero and continuing the onslaught. Tristan thought better than to stop the two, but he grew increasingly nervous. He pulled up his radio. "Sniper team, you're going to be most important now, looks like. The rest of you may not be that useful, but be alert just in case."

Tarmo was more concerned with the words that just came out of the dragon's mouth. "You're weak, just like the rest of them. They did not deserve to exist in this world, and neither do you"? That was the most dangerous mindset imaginable, especially for a mutant. Genocides were carried out under those words. He stood silent for a moment, realizing the implications more fully.

“Looks like we might have ourselves a Mexican standoff if we aren’t careful. What’s your move? What’s the abilities of the mutants inside the bunker?”

Tristan swallowed. "Energy manipulation and absorption." He sighed. "At least the one. Another is responsible for the concrete work of art you see around you. The third just stretches his appendages; not a serious threat."

As his colleagues exited the car and started towards Tarmo, Jacob followed, just overhearing the words "Mexican standoff", which meant the dragon man was an enemy as well. No problem. Jacob blasted him with his strongest bolts without warning, aiming for holes in his armor of scales.

"What the fuck are you doing? You're gonna cook them alive!"

Upon seeing the younger electric man blast the dragon, Tristan got really upset. Things were already out of hand, and he didn't want a three-way battle (or four-way battle, depending on where Tarmo stood), especially when all the sides were evenly matched. He began to shout. "Hold your fire! Tarmo, make sure you keep your people in order!"

Tarmo understood and nodded to Jacob, but he responded adversarially. "Well, what's he supposed to do? You don't want three dead mutants on your hands, right?!"

"Two dead mutants," Spinner responded. "Odds are that the energy absorber would just build up in energy and become strong enough to fight most of us." He threw up his hands. "And you know what? One mutant is easier to handle than three. I'm fine with that."

Tarmo was aghast. Spinner abandoned at least two mutants to die. Clearly Spinner was not interested at all in holding up his end of the bargain. It was up to him to save those inside the bunker, but he could neither mitigate nor fight the assaulters without, at least without the risk of death. He turned to Spinner. "So, the deal is off, then?"

"I'm not risking my men to fight off five mutants for an uncertain outcome! What would you d-"

At that moment, the concrete bunker, or at least a part of it, exploded into a massive cloud of dust. Tristan as a gut reaction fired five bullets into the cloud, with no sign of hitting their target. He returned to his radio. "Sniper team, can you see anything?"

"Negative!"

"Just my luck," Tristan muttered. He heard the sounds of gravel from behind the cloud and stood amazed when, as the dust cleared, a series of concrete walls were erected, each one leading further and further away from the area. They were hastily made, and some were crumbling, but it was still an impressive feat. Tristan replied coyly, "Well, we know where they went. Follow the walls."

...

Max was too furious to listen to anything Tristan had to say, especially if it meant the three mutants would go unpunished. Max started hammering on the concrete bunker, cracking it as each bunch connected. What these mutants thought would be their protected was now becoming their tomb. "I'm just a simple bartender trying to run a business and I don't have the time or patience to deal with little brats like you. I've seen your kind before, you think you can come in here a rough people up because you're stronger than them, well you can't. You're weak, just like the rest of them. They did not deserve to exist in this world, and neither do you. Prepare to join them. Prepare to die!" Max punched the bunker more until he saw the result he was looking for, a crack that spread across most of the concrete surface. He back up and unleashed a devastating roar of fire at the concrete bunker. With the state the structure was in, it wouldn't last long under the intense flames as they broke apart or melted the so-called protection. It was only a matter of time before the bunker failed and the three mutants would be cooked alive.

The three mutants inside were terrified. Bright December light shone in through the solid barrier. They thought there would be more, but the flames seeping in through the cracks were even worse. Before the flames could do any damage, 12's glowing hands glowed brighter as they absorbed the energy. Without 12, the other two mutants would be fully baked and consumable for the dragon outside. With 12, however, it felt like a hot summer's day.

67 piped up. "I never thought I'd die like this."

12 responded. "We're not going to die like this. 38, do you think it would help if I transfer energy to you?"

38 nodded readily, happy at 12's sudden change of mood. He could feel the power flowing from 12's hands, and at once he felt strong enough to lift all the streets of Los Angeles 100 feet into the air! He eagerly stated, "All right, if you want to, I can move concrete outside the barrier now!"

12 replied. "No need. We're getting out of here. 67, you're going to be carrying 38. 38, you're going to set up walls behind us as we run, without stop. We'll surprise them after a dozen or so walls. Is that good? All right, squint your eyes."

12 held his hand to the piece of wall opposite the crack and surged a great amount of power through it. As expected, the wall exploded into dust. The three mutants immediately booked it down the street, following 12's orders exactly as described. It was nice to feel the cool December air after getting cooked inside that makeshift furnace. They didn't even seem to mind the dust at that point, so happy they were to be out of that mess. 38's walls were terrible, but it was the best he could do at such speeds.

After twenty minutes of running in one direction, they stopped to catch their breath. Practically all civilians had run off from fear of death. A small gang remained. 12, 38, and 67 looked at each other then back at the gang, surprised at the tenacity of the group. After a few moments of precious time, 38 called out to the gang. "Hey, we're a bunch of mutants fighting the cops. You want to help out?"

A few more moments passed. One of the gang shrugged and stepped forward. "Sure, I'm down. Sounds like fun."

Would make for a nice hostage, anyway, thought 12. "What's your name?"

"Shay. Shay Marks. What's it to you?"

[Altito Asmoro]

Suzuki Hashimoto

It didn't last. The battle, she meant. The three mutants escaped, as expected. As for them, well, now they need to do something about this, she assumed that way. They should be able to follow their directions via the walls but that's it. Other than that, it's assumed that there's less thing that she could do for now.

---

Giovanni Serrano

The heat from the blasts to the concrete bunker finally donned the mutants inside and they escaped. That heat must burned them if not for their quick-thinking, he assumed. He picked up his gun again, before approaching the collection of people and....mutants from TV. Great, mutants. He looked at them, before asked, "Who's the...leader? I assumed one of you mutants, or humans beside you, is the leader of wherever you are with now, right?"

"Giovanni Serrano, at your service," as he bowed to the Tristan, Tarmo, pretty much anyone whose on the vicinity of both of Tristan and Tarmo as well. "I need a gun, though. A bigger one. My mutation strictly limited to healing regeneration and immortality on sickness."

[Clashus]

Hopefully, the Man in the Suit wouldn't arrest him, but if worse came to worse...

"I was hoping you could just, well you know, get out of the area", Suity McSuityface said while pointing towards the massive earthy bunker thing, and what appeared to be a couple of flame-eaters.

Tristan changed his mind as the dragon-man began monologuing and preparing himself to spout flames. "Um, whoever you are, wait, I wouldn't-"

Ace briskly walked away from the Suit and the carnage, of course he knew what was going on, probably some Mutant gangster's inside the Earth Dome, the Flame-Eaters helping the Domers, and the Suits trying to mess with them. He knew that no good outcome would never come from this. But maybe, if he helped then the Suits would go easy on the convictions, maybe he might even get a couple of years of from prison.

Stupidly, he began to walk back to Suitstrap, "Hey, Black Diamond, is there anything I can do to help. And um, what's your name, Black Diamond makes you sound like a stripper."

[River Tree]

Los Angeles, California

TJ sat perched on the corner of a building, a pair of binoculars in hand. She had watched the fight unfold beneath her, trying to pick out what was happening. Through the dust she could see concrete walls leading away, more appearing farther out. She desperately wanted to fly down and do something, but she was nervous about revealing herself.

Two days ago TJ had driven to Los Angeles from her home in Wyoming in search of other mutants. Her parents hadn't wanted her to go, but she was determined to find others like her. She had lived in seclusion long enough.

She looked over her shoulder, then back down at the cloud of dust below. Well, she came out to meet mutants, and she couldn't do that from the top of a building. She quickly turned around and slid the binoculars in her bag, pulling off her hoodie and throwing that in as well. She stretched her wings now that they were uncovered, picking up her backpack before diving off the side of the building.

She landed a safe distance away from where the fighting had taken place, folding her wings across her back. She was starting to see better through the clearing dust, and she wondered if anyone had seen her. She almost hoped no one had.