Are We Heroes? Ch2: The Dawn of War[IC, Superhuman]

[The Cyberiad Council]

Vanguard camp near Chadron, Nebraska

The day had slowly worn on to dusk, and Sentry stood in her favorite spot in the camp; a little hill just a short distance from the main body of tents. Her eyes glowed with a soft golden light as she kept watch on the horizon. With her powers she could see farther than any human; even around corners to a limited extent. It was her task to be an early warning system. She could see everything all the way to Chadron in perfect clarity.

The sound of rustling grass caused her to whirl around, her eyes piercing through the lengthening shadows. Sentry scanned the trees but didn't see anything. Satisfied that there wasn't anything awry, she turned around to face the camp only to be met with a knife in her gut. Staggering back and clutching her gut in pain, her neck suddenly jerked violently to the side and she collapsed lifeless to the ground. Shard stood holding the bloodied knife in his hand; his eyes burning like red embers, and a satisfactory smile plastered on his face. He raised his hand to his ear and spoke into his earpiece, "This is Agent Shard. Sentry down. Proceed with the attack."

The first shell impacted without warning.

The earth erupted in violent explosions, as the small caliber artillery rained down, on tents and open field indiscriminately. Men in black tactical gear swarmed over the ridgeline opening fire on anything that moved. The alarm was raised in an instant as mutants swarmed to take up the defense. The founders, Angela, and Cypher rushed out of the main tent and looked on in horror.

Rage twisted Tempest's face as dark clouds formed from seemingly nothing, and a violent gale picked up. Tempest focused his power, and the wind was sufficient enough to blow the artillery off course. Paladin charged to the front lines, his armor glowing in the dark.

"Angela we have to evacuate, we don't stand a chance."

"I know, Cypher, but they need cover."

"I'm on it, just sound the retreat."

Cypher slung on his long coat and drew his guns.

Angela's superpowered voice thundered through the camp, "Flee to Petra!" The code phrase was developed to mean everyone head west, and meet at a special location near the base of the Rockies. Angela looked on as those capable of fighting ran toward the oncoming forces, and the others ran west.

[Higher Japan]

The Armed Servant

"Target down, the east flank is open." She shouted out to the others as she pulled out her own SMG and began to charge into the enemy positions. Quickly checking that everything was perfect and that the gun was ready, she jumped over a barricade and released a hail of gun fire towards a few mutants as she landed down on one's dead body, quickly taking a necklace that belonged to them as she ran forward towards the enemy, releasing gunfire towards some of the poor men that attempted to take her down as she came to stop only to reload her guns or knock enemies down at close range.

As the violent gale began to pick up, she realized that with the winds, her shots would be off centered and quickly switched to a sawed off shotgun, changing her attack style such that she got close enough to knock some of them down, while others still resisted and even managed to hit her and partially injure her. Quickly seeing that some were charging towards the west, running away from the battle, she quickly knocked some of the guards down as she got down and quickly drew her rocket launcher, taking aim and taking note of the wind before firing a shot which hit the ground, exploding although casualties were unknown, even the probability of a hit being dubious.

[Kenmoria]

Charles Smithson
Vanguard camp

Vanguard camp near Chadron, Nebraska
Richard Weinkauf (aka "The Artisan")

This fellow had to be European. Or Canadian, possibly. Americans don't think of the temperature in Celsius. If an American said that it was 26 degrees outside, they would be freezing. Americans think in Fahrenheit. Richard knew that Europeans were on Celsius, and he thought Canadians might be too, but he had forgotten. 26 was roughly 80 Fahrenheit. Funny how Richard couldn't detect an accent. This fellow had probably been in the States a long time to sound more American.

"You're right about the temperature. But it's the humidity that's even worse. I feel like I'm going through a sauna here. At least in Phoenix, when it was hot, it was a dry heat. This is like having gills and breathing hot water. You know? I had a transfer student from Nebraska once. From what he said, it gets a lot worse than this.

"As for what we can do against this group of soldiers and CADMUS agents. Surely, we can do something, right? Wasn't there something awhile back about a new bill in Congress?" Richard hated politics, and most of the times could care less what the political hacks harangued about. But when it dealt with mutants, the news tended to catch his ears. And that was one issue that he had heard about.

"Or news? If firepower isn't working, maybe we go the old way of capturing the minds of the public. With the pen. Write articles, essays, pamphlets, sob stories, letters to the editor. Charles, there's always a way. That's a lesson I've been teaching my students for a good long time. At least, that's a lesson I had taught them..."

Looking around, and getting more of a feel for this poor soul, Richard ventured again. "I say. Would you like to relax a little more? Get away for a little while in a comfortable place? Maybe get some coffee or something? Because I know just the place..."

Charles was warming to the Artisan and was rather thirsty, having not drank anything for the past three hours. "Yes please, I could just do with a coffe righ-" the next words were meant to be, "right now," but they were interrupted by a loud, blaring signal on his computer. On the screen, the words "Flee To Petra" appeared in large, bolted print. The words were a signal to head west from the camp, to a location more secure. The manoeuvre had been practised twice as a drill and in the ideal circumstances, everybody should be able to leave within three minutes. These were not the ideal circumstances, for Charles had months of work that needed to be saved on a USB drive and the warning was supposed to come days before the attack.

It took a few buttons being presssd, one or two levers being pulled to what appeared to be a random configuration, the mouse being dragged along the desk with such vigour Charles could have sworn he saw a bit of the table be scraped off, and the work was saved to a small, detachable USB in the shape of a pen. He hurriedly yanked it out of the machine and detached its power supply. Now he could properly leave. The Artisan had already left the building through means Charles had been too preoccupied to notice yet some of the younger ones had not. This was the problem with the recruiting drive Vanguard was one, it was necessary to prevent CADMUS from gaining even more ground, but it meant the hallways were filled with scared-looking youth. Grabbing a handgun from a draw in the desk, a token gesture that exponentially incereased his confidence, Charles went into the hallway.

Luckily, they had not managed to reach the centra, hall yet, but there was already a smell of blood in the air. There were about four operatives running in slightly irregular circles and searching in vain for the concealed exit, three children curled into the fatal position on the floor, and two guards aiming with growing unease. Outside it was carnage, CADMUS were realeasing a hail of bullets but Vanguard were firing a barrage of everything imaginable. Charles could see waves of fire, light, air, mud, crystal, sonic force, concussive blasts and raw energy along with a few streams of elements he couldn't identify. He brandished his walking stick as though it were some mighty sword and pressed it into a hole in the wall. A click was heard and the wall dropped back into a series of descending stairs, illuminated by torchlight. Charles fired one gunshot into the air to gather everyone's attention and went through the passageway.

As he shut the door, explosions ricocheted through the section he had just left, killing instantly the guards who stood their. Charles shut the door and disabled the entrance, then led his fellow Vanguard members, at least half young enough to be his children, down the stairwell. If CADMUS knew about this passageway, they were dead, if they didn't, they had only a 25% chance of dying.

[Talchyon]

Attack on Vanguard Camp near Chadron, Nebraska
Richard Weinkauf (aka "The Artisan")

Charles Smithson
Vanguard camp

Charles was warming to the Artisan and was rather thirsty, having not drank anything for the past three hours. "Yes please, I could just do with a coffe righ-" the next words were meant to be, "right now," but they were interrupted by a loud, blaring signal on his computer. On the screen, the words "Flee To Petra" appeared in large, bolted print. The words were a signal to head west from the camp, to a location more secure. The manoeuvre had been practised twice as a drill and in the ideal circumstances, everybody should be able to leave within three minutes. These were not the ideal circumstances, for Charles had months of work that needed to be saved on a USB drive and the warning was supposed to come days before the attack.

It took a few buttons being presssd, one or two levers being pulled to what appeared to be a random configuration, the mouse being dragged along the desk with such vigour Charles could have sworn he saw a bit of the table be scraped off, and the work was saved to a small, detachable USB in the shape of a pen. He hurriedly yanked it out of the machine and detached its power supply. Now he could properly leave. The Artisan had already left the building through means Charles had been too preoccupied to notice yet some of the younger ones had not. This was the problem with the recruiting drive Vanguard was one, it was necessary to prevent CADMUS from gaining even more ground, but it meant the hallways were filled with scared-looking youth. Grabbing a handgun from a draw in the desk, a token gesture that exponentially incereased his confidence, Charles went into the hallway.

Luckily, they had not managed to reach the centra, hall yet, but there was already a smell of blood in the air. There were about four operatives running in slightly irregular circles and searching in vain for the concealed exit, three children curled into the fatal position on the floor, and two guards aiming with growing unease. Outside it was carnage, CADMUS were realeasing a hail of bullets but Vanguard were firing a barrage of everything imaginable. Charles could see waves of fire, light, air, mud, crystal, sonic force, concussive blasts and raw energy along with a few streams of elements he couldn't identify. He brandished his walking stick as though it were some mighty sword and pressed it into a hole in the wall. A click was heard and the wall dropped back into a series of descending stairs, illuminated by torchlight. Charles fired one gunshot into the air to gather everyone's attention and went through the passageway.

As he shut the door, explosions ricocheted through the section he had just left, killing instantly the guards who stood their. Charles shut the door and disabled the entrance, then led his fellow Vanguard members, at least half young enough to be his children, down the stairwell. If CADMUS knew about this passageway, they were dead, if they didn't, they had only a 25% chance of dying.

Coffee would have to wait. There were more important matters, like not getting blown up. The explosions close by left Richard's ears ringing. As he saw Charles begin to react - more, like get pumped up with adrenalin and go into protection mode, Richard calmed down enough to figure out what his best move would be. Clearly, it was not staying as he was.

While Charles tried to get all the necessary files off the computer, Richard pulled out his artistic journal and tried to focus. Look at the lines, at the design. See the engraved muscles of the exhibit before you. It took as much as he could do to concentrate in that war zone that was their camp. But he pulled it off. This time, instead of focusing on a painting, he was looking at a statue from Bavaria in Germany. A statue of two connected things: a metallic woman holding a kind of plant in one hand, a sword in the other, connected to a lion.

With this form, Richard could face CADMUS bullets. They'd ping off, most likely, which might give him bruises when he came back to his human form. Sore spots at most, that is. But he wouldn't be dead. He put his artistic journal back in its satchel.

Running outside, the stifling hot sun heating his skin(s?) up, Richard felt like himself in the body of this armed woman with a special kind of connection and empathy to the lion. It was more like he could mentally control the lion rather than moving, though there might have been a lot of overlap in that distinction where the two sides crossed together as one. In a sense, he could feel himself as the lion - but not exactly. It was an odd thought, being split in two, but Richard didn't quite see it that way.

Bullets came raining down, and pinged off his newly metallic skin. Some of it chipped him away. Some of it left some welts. That would hurt when he came back to normal. But right now, he had other matters on his mind.

Two soldiers ran up to him with automatic rifles of some kind. Richard, the Artisan now in Bavarian lady form, took their payload without flinching, charging at them. His heavy metallic sword swung, crushing bones more so than cutting flesh. The two soldiers crumpled in a heap, howling in pain. Looking ahead, Richard could see more coming, all the while energy blasts of every kind filled the air from the mutant defense. Richard took their guns and bent them, folding them in on themselves. Less that can harm others with.

To those approaching, Richard willed (?) the lion to pounce. Getting a ten foot vertical jump and going a good twenty foot distance, the lion landed on three soldiers, biting with its awful jaws at anything that moved. Meanwhile, while their attention was distracted, Richard came in swinging both his metallic plant (like a pineapple, only not quite) and his sword at whoever was left. The remarkable thing was that metal never clanged against metal. No time sword hit lion. "Must be like that psychological mental map where you know where a part of you is," thought Richard. That in itself was unsettling.

He made quick work of things. The woman ended by bending more assault rifles in on themselves, effectively neutralizing those weapons. The lion likewise bit some of the weapons in pieces. That done, Richard looked around to see if anyone needed help. He found two teenagers struggling under a fallen wall trying to get out. Lifting the crumbling wall, the two teenagers squirmed out as best they could. One looked like his ankle was broken. The other put his friend's arm around his neck and tried to help him go. Richard guarded them so nothing would strike them down.

It was an awful feeling to lose your home, and to lose whatever source of refuge he had found. Richard was going to let those home wreckers know what he thought of them.

[New Cobastheia]

Theodore Ashbrooks-Benn
Charon, Nebraska

---

Theo walked around the tents, he was bored and wondering if either Arthur or Juliet were in either of their tents. Of course, being bored and lying on the crack of sanity and insanity, and having the set of powers that Theo possessed didn't exactly lend itself into to having a "normal" time being bored. As he walked a shadowy slim figure walked next to Theodore, invisible to all others.

"Why or why do you need to both of them?" It said in a hissing voice.

"Becuase they're both people who I find appealing in a number of ways and the three of us are ok with our situation and we've been able to work it out since we started our relationship."

The whole time the black figure was moving his hand around like a face, mocking him. When Theo finished his sentence the shadow faded into the air and a new pink figure appeared, clearly in the form of a very voluptuous human female. Walking in front of Theo she stuck her arm out and put a few of her fingers onto Theo's chest, stopping him.

"Oh by my dear boy, wouldn't it be more fun to dedicate all your effort to one and then try the other," The pink figure morphed into a deep blue muscular figure of a male human, "And keep it like that? Keep on switching in a never-ending cycle of lust."

Rolling his eyes, Theo put the both of his arms through the center of the psychic manifestation and ripped into two masses of formless grey things that Theo held at both of his sides, "See, I'd think I'd like to enjoy all the joys of life before I get killed, and I just don't understand why you all can't seem to stand that."

Then a piercing pain slammed into the left side of Theo, the two formless masses turning into a black, smoky cloud that took over all of Theo's vision. Falling to the ground, Theo heard screams, people dying. Thank god for Tactile Telekinesis.

"What's going on!?" Theo yelled into the void, getting only an echo of his own voice in response. The world seemed to fade, not only the vision but all the other senses, smells of fleshy dawn blood, sounds of mother's screaming, the feeling of bullets wissing past, they all faded away. After a second Theo finally got a response, in the form of a yelling pounding him into the ground, "PERHAPS YOU SHOULD FIND OUT ON YOUR OWN!" With that, two figures of light appeared in the far off distance. Theo knew who they were. Whispering, "Arthur and Juliet." He got up and ran through the inky black.

As he got closer, things began to get more and more clear, to him the world was starting to come back into focus. To everyone else, a purple figure of energy was running through everything to get to some unknown point. Some people got in his way, they fell apart into bricks, singular clumps of what they used to be, when he touched them. To anything that wasn't alive and just happened to be in his way, it turned to atomic dust.

When he finally go there, he was too late. Both of them ran from the bullets, but they were only human, they both turned their heads, just seeing Theo. Theo saw the both of them get shot in the back. Both of them fell to the ground, blood pouring from the holes. Time seemed to freeze. Bullets not moving, nothing moving, everything silent. The form Theo was in allowed him to hold it all together. Theo walked over to the body's, a face of horror and fear as he looked upon them. He fell to his knees. This was his fault, that's all he felt. Crumpling to the ground, he pounded his fist into the ground.

An explosion formed, a bright purple sphere enveloped everything within a 10ft diameter of Theo. Everything that came into it was turning into ashes. After it finished expanding, it exploded onto the Energyied Theo, forcing him upwards into a standing position with a cloud of dust above him, it looked much like the aftermath of a nuclear explosion.

Surrounding the circle of nothingness Theo had created was a ring of purple fire. Slightly confused by this, he looked down to his hands and saw that they were purple and flowing freely, clearly not in a physical form. When the bullets started to come at Theo, they only flew through him. Realizing what Theo had become, he started to fight.

[Korhal IVV]

Vanguard Camp

As the assault raged on, a certain mysterious figure appeared seemingly out of nowhere from the shadows. Looking on, Il-Kaithe Servioj was a little... Concerned. As he investigated further, he would see the unmistakable forms of CADMUS agents, spewing gunfire and death as they enacted their campaign of mutacide. Il-Kaithe knew what he must do.

The Dark Angel teleported into the fronline, right in the thick of the fighting just behind the Artisan. Il-Kaithe immediately summoned his automota from the depths of the Warp, Karathos and Stellasir. The bullets of CADMUS could do little to scratch their inviolable forms, and their shimmering ghost swords pierced through flesh and bone, cutting of heads and limbs as the ghosts within unleashed their repressed fury and hatred. Two soldiers charged up to Karathos, guns blazing in a vain effort to neutralize the raging automaton. It was truly of no avail, for Karathos turned around and bisected them both with his blades from head to groin, the tips only stopping inches above the ground. Stellasir charged, stabbing one soldier at the heart, and another at the head. Il-Kaithe meanwhile, waded through the battlefield, incinerating his foes with the Witchblade, turning them to ash with perfectly timed strikes.