Young Bloods(IC, Reboot Open)

[Finland SSR]

Viviana Couture August 1

Renata Martinez, the heroic Spectrum!

August 1st

---

Viv's answers were...

I'd guess he's the only one who bothers to see me for who I really am.
I'm safe with him.
When we're together, it's our own little world, and nothing gets inside.
He didn't put me on a pedestal like some other people.

This was supposed to be a light-hearted, somewhat playful inquiry into something Renata was honestly quite interested in. After all, Casimir and Viviana are not only completely opposite from what she had seen of them both so far, but the former also was... far from the most likeable as far as her teammates go. Hearing Viv's response, however, send the heroine careening towards deep thought, her eyes trailing across the ground.

She... she could apply all of those answers to herself, couldn't she? Every single one...

In her thoughts, Renata almost missed Viv's finishing words, worrying that she might have rambled on too much and not answered the question entirely. The pink-haired heroine raised her eyes, blinking for a few seconds, then replied:

"...No, no, it's fine, I heard you. Honestly..." Renata's eyes swiftly turned towards the sky. "I'd probably struggle even more than you if our roles were reversed."

Okay, okay, okay. Move, move, move! Before she catches wind of anything!

"Well... okay, whatever. We've got to pass the Bechdel test somehow, right?" Renata spoke as she perked up, smiling. Thanks for that line, Aleta. "I've been getting into Star Wars lately, thanks to a friend, have you watched any of those movies?"

[Charmera]

Cass had seamlessly broken off from Shi and followed the two guards who now escorted Ash to her cell when she was ordered to. She attempted to move with some stealth, however, both Warwolf troopers turned to notice her movement. Neither of them looked to be in a mood to deal with a rookie not following protocol. Cass didn't need human emotional intuition to see that they were obviously annoyed and perhaps a bit suspicious.

"You're going the wrong way rookie, this is the hallway to the prison cells. The mess is back that way." The rightmost guard, a female, indicated with a pointed hand.

Cassandra paused, then attempted a lie. "I was told to escort the prisoner on my own. They want you two in the processing room. They think there might be a... riot there."

The two of them paused, looking at her. "Rookie, you know two guards must escort prisoners at all times." Spoke the leftmost one, a male. The one who Ash had spat at. "Unless you got an imaginary friend, I think we've got this."

"These were orders," Cassandra said. "I suggest you follow them."

The two of them looked as though they had been slapped. "Are you threatening us?" Asked one of them, incredulously. "Rookie, I think you need to leave before I smack some sense into you."

This was not going well. Cassandra's limitations at communication were always present, but they had never jeopardized a mission before. She had to make sure whatever happened they try to actually ask their superiors.

She looked to Ash, who looked worried. Or maybe she didn't, Cass was a poor reader of faces. But she harkened back to Ash's words earlier, and her promise that she would not let everyone down. Cass supposed it was her turn now to not let Ash down.

Then, the lights went out.

It was in that brief instant that Cassandra knew she had to act.

With a speed born of steel, she sped towards the guard on the right. She reached out and grabbed the warwolf officer by the head, the helmet crunching slightly as the pressure of a sudden vicelike grip displaced on the surface of the headgear. Her foe had only time enough to let out a confused grunt as she was suddenly slammed against the wall with enough force to render her unconscious.

In the flickering lights, Cass turned, about to similarly dispatch the other with the same efficiency, but she suddenly stopped. The man had Ash in his grip and was pointing a gun to her head. His intent was clear.

"What the fuck are you?" He asked, shocked with the sudden brutality with which his partner had been downed. It was then that Cass considered the possibility that he did not realize that she had left the warwolf officer alive. "You moved fast. Too fast..."

Cass reached her hands upwards, then removed her warwolf helmet to reveal her face, synthetic hair reforming back into her normal hairstyle.

"I am an agent from the Wonder Foundation. You are in possession of an asset of importance to us." She explained, her bluff enhanced by her cold tone and dead eyes. "If you let go of the mutant, I will not harm you. However, if you harm Wonder Foundation property, I will be forced to exact protocol Retributor."

"What's protocol Retributor?" Asked the warwolf officer.

"I would be compelled to annihilate you in a manner that would be... demonstrative." She explained. "And highly painful."

There was a moment of hesitation, then a sudden movement of the gun towards Cassandra, pointing at her instead of Ash. "Not if I kill-"

Cass was sudden once more. She took a bullet to the chest, deflecting off the metal and dropping to the floor. The warwolf guard took a punch to the face, cracking his visor and rendering him completely unconscious.

Cass moved towards Ash to remove the restraints, but the Mothlike hero moved away from her cautiously.

Cassandra frowned. "Miss Moth, if I were an agent of the Wonder Foundation, I could have taken you many times and not have had to fight off an entire Warwolf garrison while doing so. There were approximately 7 times where you were sleeping, for example, and I was not. Or when you were off guard while on the toilet-"

"Yes. Okay. I get the point." The nervous moth replied. She sighed. "Just... You are a bit scary sometimes."

"I have heard that criticism before."

"I think it's the eyes. Your eyes are really not right."

"Miss Moth please-" Cass responded before she was interrupted.

This time actually using the comm linked she messaged Cassandra, "Cassandra this is the Red Princess can you hear me, over? Have you freed Ash, over?"

"Ash is secure. We are moving towards your position currently."

[The Rebel Alliances]

Alexis Cain/Vendetta-Condemned District, Four Roses Bar-August 1st

I could not even begin to comprehend what was going on. I had just watched someone who has saved my life several times. Die right before my eyes, as I was literally powerless to save him. My mind flashed back to when we first met, when I was ambushed and he arrived just in time to face some acid wielding terrorist. Then when he was at the Cathedral battle fighting right alongside Brianna to save Red from Marionette's grasp. The docks raid when he was again right next to me as we provided the diversion our team needed to hurt the established powers of the Russian mob. And when I was a moment away from being arrested and sentenced to life in prison.

Sebastian was right there. Rescuing me again and keeping me fighting.

My burning glare met the empty eyes of the assassin as he slowly wiped the blood away from his blade. And I knew that there was no way in which I could defeat him in a straight up fight. If even Sebastian was killed by him, what chance do I have?

But fuck that.

This man murdered my friend. And the best way to honor his sacrifice is to make sure that I and everyone else survive here. And if I can kill that motherless son of a bitch while I am at it? Well that will just be icing on the cake. The mob assassin, who still said nothing behind his mask slowly started his advance torwards the front entrance. He was in no hurry, I mean, where the hell was I going to go. I quickly checked my ammo and saw that I still had six shots in the revolver, having only reloaded a moment ago.

Glancing around I spotted the bottles of alcohol which Sina had purchased.

"Vendetta! Are you alright!?" Fuck, it's Nick and from the sound of things he is on his way back in. I hastily grabbed bottles of alcohol and shattered them on the hallway leading into the back and grabbed a cigarette as I ignited the alcohol catching the building on fire. And keeping my teammates from reaching me.

"Forget about me, I'll find another way out!"

Catarina was with Nicholas and I could see that Nick was considering trying to push past the rapidly spreading flames in his eyes. But he kept back, gripping Catarina and holding her away form the flames as well. Tearing my vision away from my teammates I made my way back to thr front bar and began repeating the process, setting fire to everything just as the assassin was nearing the building. Hopefully buying enough time for everyone else to escape and for me to find a alternate way out. I then immediatelt moved to grab the fire extinguisher and place it next to the counter. Well, I was about as ready as I was going to be. I stod a few paces back from the entrance only the realizing that if they simply fanned out and watched the other possible exits, they could just wait for me to burn to death in here.

Heh, guess I did not really think this through all of the way.

But strangely enough, the assassin started moving again. He was coming to get me. I began to wonder as to why he would do this. Was it only to have a head to bring back to his masters? Well, either way it gave me a chance, maybe a 1% chance, to get payback for Sebastian. I lifted the revolver as soon as he entered into the doorway, stepping through the flames as it seemed his armor protected him long enough to do so. In that narrow door way he had no room to evade the bullets which struck him dead center in the chest. Thrown to the ground outside, I knew it could not have been that simple.

And after a few moments, it was confirmed as he simply stood back up and as he once more turned to the entrance the places where the armor was hit seemed to be repairing itself. You have to be shitting me. I holstered the revolver and picked up a chair.

"Fuck you!" I yelled as I slammed the chair across him breaking it, only for him to grab me by the throat and then slam me one handed into the floor. The breath left my body as I tried to refill my lungs. But then a sharp blow crashed upon my face. And then my kidney, and then my gut and face again. Blood began to seep from my nose and fill my mouth as I tried to guard myself. Until finally, I forced my knee into his crotch which seemed to grant me a reprieve, but rather him roll around in pain. He simply scooped me up by the collar, where I finally heard the first words from his lips as the encroaching fires started to burn me from the heat.

"Seriously? I am wearing cutting edge armor and you think that I am not wearing a cup."

Fucker has me there.

With that he tossed me ahead of him and I skated away from the counter where the fire extinguisher was. I then tried to free my revolver from the holster and aim it as his boot slammed atop my hand, as I screamed in pain. Again he picked me up and began to choke me. I battled and clawed back at him as breath became a rare commodity. His back was turned to the fire extingisher and my left hand moved down to his gun. Without another moment I aimed his sidearm at the explosive canister and fired on it. The explosion hitting him hard in the back as breath finally flooded into my lungs. Retrieving my revolver I scurried upstairs as I coughed and gagged my way through the smoke. Finding a window and throwing myself out of it and onto the fire escape from the second floor and falling down the stairs into the side alley below.

Never ooking back once as I slowly limped and bled through the alley with the now burning carcasss of the bar behind me no doubt serving as a final resting place for the assassin. I closed my eyes for a moment as I bid Sebastian farewell, knowing that I had at least avenged him. Only to turn the corner and open my eyes to freeze in place.

"How the fuck are ya not dead yet!?" I roared as I seethed at the badly burned but very much alive assassin, as he lifted his own gun onto me. No final taunts escaping his lips. I closed my eyes. As if I was content to accept my own fate. Only for my left hand to sharply rise up in a quick draw-

Then for it to fall again. A gunshot had split the alley way. But not my own. His bullet had ripped through my chest as I fell backwards arms outstretched into the alley way. My eyes last sight were the dirty gutters above me. As the last sounds were approaching fire truck sirens. As the last people to see me alive stepped away from a rapidly bleeding out nineteen year old girl who gave her last breath fighting for those who could not do so for themselves. Who in her last moments hoped that she had managed to achieve some purpose in her life.

Who felt so...lonely.

So....cold.

So...tired.

So...very...tired.

[Aidannadia]

"How far is your hideout again?" The boy asked, glancing at Aleta.

"Well, I'd take you to the crack den, but I suspect it's occupied tonight." She spit. "And I had to burn my actual hideout with a party I'm not even gonna get to enjoy. So we'll have to go to plan C, which is a few blocks." She stepped confidently, arm intertwined with the older woman who was barely and ever so slightly leaning into her grasp between steps.

"It's more suspicious to be sneaking around. Let's chat." Aleta gave a sickeningly sweet smile at the pair of her companions, as they continued down the road. "Sparky, you been talkin' about me to someone recently? I had a tail the other day, and you're one of the only people that'd be able to leak anything big about me." She raised an eyebrow.

Icarus shook his head. "It wasn't me, I've been silent as a grave about you and everything else. Not like I have a lot of people I can talk to about my escapades as an outlaw, you know?"

Aleta continued prying, "I seem to remember a girlfriend, and I know that I can get boys to say just about anything. She's trustworthy?"

Icarus snickered a bit and then shrugged. "Yeah, she's trustworthy, she's got as little reason to support Warwolf as I do. But anyways, I haven't told her anything either. Like I said, wasn't me."

"Hm." Aleta switched her attention from Icarus. "What about you, haircut? I did a wonderful job blending too." She played with Eliza's hair. "So you worked on a super secret project, huh? Any gruesome details?"

Eliza gave a light shrug. "More than I care to share. Most are not important." She said. "You could say I was the project. Trained to kill supers more efficiently than the losers that got assigned here, not that that's a high bar." She scoffed.

"Clearly." Aleta said, looking around at Icarus.

"Not that Fenris or whatever did a much better job at it." He grumbled, noticing Aleta's glance, but his attention shifted as he began focusing on an oncoming patrol. The group fell silent, Aleta chippering on, her words slurring occasionally.

".... And then we headed towards the beach, and you won't believe what happened in the changshing rooms." The others thought little of her act, and the patrol seemed to slow for just a moment as the trio continued down the sidewalk. When they were out of earshot, Aleta smiled to the others. "I told yjou it'd work."

Within a few more minutes, they had come across a two story condemned garage, long abandoned and boarded up. "Home." She said plainly, turning the knob and lifting the door roughly, dust escaping from inside. The doorway opened up into what seemed like a waiting room, with the door to the garage padlocked. Aleta stepped confidently into the building, the slightly raised wooden floorboards creaking with her steps. "Rooms are upstairs."

Directly after the stairs, a wooden coathanger waited patiently for Aleta's coat, and she obliged it's waiting grasp with her leather jacket. She kicked off her boots and sighed. "No going in the room at the back left of the hall." She said to the others. "Don't open the fridge. I don't know what you'll find. Back door on the right is for Eliza. Icarus can stay on the couch. It rolls out into a bed."

Tadeo

The moment Elle grabbed his hand, the pair teleport to the back doors, directly between two armored guards. El Hechicero reached out for his guard's gun, his hand barely able to graze the muzzle before it was pointed at him. "Hah. Nice try, kid." The man turned to shoot the costumed teen, but his gun refused to fire, instead holding a bouquet of flowers from the muzzle. The guard threw away the weapon angrily, and grabbed an electrified baton.

The wizard's stance changed. I can't get distracted this time. He watched his opponent carefully, sizing him up. His gaze once again lingered on the insignia plastered on the man's chest. The mercenary lunged, but the magician dodged out of the way. The soldier then landed a back handed slap on Tad, solidly knocking him on the jaw.

Just. Focus! Tadeo looked at the insignia one more time, but when the soldier lunged, the hero smiled confidently. A portal opened, catching the baton, and then another appeared towards Tad's other hand, shifting the baton's momentum back towards the grunt, shocking the armor. Tad continued with his assault, the man now unbalanced, and placed a fiery palm on his chest, singing the insignia and creating a power failure in the armor. The soldier dropped to the ground, the wizard panting heavily from the exertion. He looked to Shadowkill, herself finishing her opponent, and apparently a few more in the mean time.

He nodded to her, then opened the back door.

[Indo-pasif archipelago]

Wyatt going Kaban

Amir
I must say, I sure had some talent in acting. After the little performance I put on, added with some extra effect from Wyatt, the soldiers were quick to scramble away from us. Running for their lives and I hoped calling for more helps. If the Warwolf thought me and Wyatt was a legitimate threat, they would be forced to divert their forces between us and the Extraction team. Even if we only relieved them of a squadron or two, it could mean the difference between a successful operation, or the doom of the Young Blood.

Images filled my head for a second, and I forced it away before it got too much at me.

The phantom flame I cast had receded into individuals bonfire before vanishing entirely. The whole area had returned to silence and stillness of the night. I walked towards the pedestrian sideways and just slumped right then and there. Until the next convoy come at us. or until Wendy told us to go raise hell somewhere else, I got time to sit back and rest for awhile. Acting like a powerful wizard was so much fun, but it was also freaking exhausting. My arms were stiff, and my heart was beating like hell. Still, no rest for the wicked. We were doing it for our friend, and what she suffered from the Warwolf must had been far worst than what I feel right now.

At the moment though, there was no danger. Only the cool wind of autumn night, blowing through the street like a gentle hand. I took a deep breath and just let myself took in the feelings. If not for the dangerous mission, it was actually a nice quiet night. And soon, the people of San Diego would be able to enjoy these nights without having to worried about Warwolf or their tyranny. It would be, in the future. Now all I could do was to wait for the next chain of events to begin.

"Wondermaker to Actual," I spoke through the communication line, "We dealt with the convoy. Waiting for the next order. Wondermaker over." After I finished reporting to Wendy of our position, I gestured to Wyatt to follow me. There was no use to let ourselves out in the open, right in the middle of the streets. It might not be much but leaning our back on the building means the enemy would only come from our front. I pulled out a small water canister from my jacket. I chugged it down before I offered it to Wyatt. "Want some? You know what those gym trainers say, gotta stay hydrated and all." I grinned at my attempt to break the silence, "Especially after some intense workout."

So we sat. Limbs aching, lungs burning, and hands ready to give Warwolf another round of problems. I prayed quietly for Kiris, and for my other friends, and hoped that God may protect us all until it was over.

[Finland SSR]

The Great Floyd Tolson! / Bu Liao, the King of China!

Battle Theme

---

Once again, Bu’s actions caught Floyd by surprise. Much like he had expected, the bald martial artist leapt up to grab his ally in mid-air and thus avoid the sword thrust at the same time - what he did not expect, however, was the King of China suddenly choosing to run away instead of facing him head on.

Obviously, choosing to evacuate your ally instead of holding them in your arms in the middle of a death match made sense, it just wasn’t what the British swordsman expected of his peer. And it didn’t leave him too happy, either.

“Get back here, you overgrown Chinese bootleg dildo!” Floyd exclaimed, running right after the bald martial artist as soon as he vanished in the first floor, making his way across the claustrophobic building just as swiftly, further tearing through the broken front door to break out into the open air of the Condemned District. Surprisingly, however, Bu was nowhere to be seen at first glance.

“Where the bloody hell did you-” Floyd muttered to himself, activating the rest of his senses once again, which was exactly when his ears caught the sound of the familiar martial artist muttering somewhere within the car park.

I'll take care of him for you. Mizu’s dazed, but recovering mind registered Bu’s voice speaking to her right after the martial artist pulled her back to safety and checked her pulse. It was still hard to breathe, her neck was still sore and her vision felt dizzy, but despite her less than poor state, the Lunarian heroine raised her right hand in a weak thumbs-up and muttered:

“Kick his ass for me...”

“I’d hate to turn this romance comedy into an action thriller, but-”

Floyd suddenly emerged from behind a truck with the logo of a local food processing joint slapped on the side, moving forward towards Bu until the martial artist assumed his Wushu fighting stance, at which point the swordsman stopped, standing about six meters away, holding his weapon up horizontally and leaning backwards with his feet in a classic defensive sword stance.

Until he suddenly leapt forward - not straight at Bu, however, but straight at the truck, landing on its side with his feet and pushing himself forward to gain additional speed as he flew straight at his opponent with a boosted descending vertical slash, while the truck got tipped over by the sheer force of the press.

Bu glared at the figure of Floyd, his blade glinting from the rays of the hot sun above, as it descended at the speed of a fighter jet towards him. He recognized the tremendous power this man was displaying and his gut instinct told him that he had yet to see what Floyd was truly capable of. But he was in no mood to find out. He grit his teeth, the veins in his neck pulsing with increased blood pressure, he intended to end the fight before it even began.

The Chinese teen stood firm and staunch, even when the ground below trembled from the fall of the truck, he was unflinching in his stance. As Floyd’s blade swung downwards, the velocities of the man’s motion a blur for the untrained eye, Bu swept his left foot around his body and rotated his upper and lower torsos, the multitude of fibers that composed his body becoming as hard as steel.

The Shaolin Wushu was one of the world’s oldest martial arts, dating back to the time of the ancient Chinese emperors. The art was akin to a great tree, its roots having extended to innumerable branches of techniques and philosophies. One of the advanced techniques of Shaolin Wushu, belonging to the Southern Dragon sect; Seven Ways of Plum Flower Punch, an attack designed for maximum speed and maximum power in the form of a right fist thrust into the enemy. And Bu had positioned his body for this single, precise strike against Floyd’s body.

The climax of the contact between the 2 was ridiculously minute in length, a fraction of a second was all it took. When the sword was mere inches away from his flesh, its steel poised to gruesomely cut the teen hero in half, Bu twisted his body like one would straighten a wrung towel, his body contorting into a stance he had hidden behind his previous stance, he suck in the wind around him just as the whistle of steel slashed down...the blade...he had narrowly evaded it within a fraction of his skin. Instantly his fist flew upwards like a viper lunging at its prey, and with the power of all the muscles within his body, he slammed it into Floyd’s chest, Bu’s body following through with his punch, his fist rotating inwards into the swordsman, resembling the motion of an armor-piercing round as it penetrated through thick material.

“HEEEI!” he roared, exhaling the energy he'd gathered within him, every muscle on his body reverberating from the punch connecting with the Floyd, Bu's feet embedding themselves into the ground, so great the pressure emitted from the hit was.

The sheer force of the blow sent powerful shockwaves across the asphalt pavement below, pushing apart dust and sending cracks across the ground, while the swordsman himself, having been caught off-guard by the sudden blow straight into his torso, got blown away at the speed of a speeding bullet, his body cleaving straight through the truck he had just benched off, splitting it in half and spilling waves of frozen fish fingers to the car park. After flying across the air for several more meters like a ragdoll, Floyd finally found his resting place in a Volkswagen Passat someone had left on the other side, crashing into it loudly.

When the feeling of foreign flesh on his fist had disappeared, Bu closed his eyes, allowing a moment himself a moment to regain his breath, he believed that without a doubt that his punch, having been aimed for the meridians that made up Floyd’s chest to inflict nothing but pure pain, had put the swordsman to sleep, possibly for a while. Satisfied that he had defeated the human swordsman, he turned around and began to walk back to Mizu.

A few muffled moans and grunts left the swordsman’s mouth immediately upon landing. Whatever Bu had just thrown at him, it was no normal punch, his body felt like it was about to break and his stomach was getting close to throwing its insides out. Floyd clenched onto his head and shook it a little bit to have the ringing pain blow aside, then focused his sight back towards Bu.

Really now, the bald guy was calling it quits already? Either he held so much confidence in his own ability, or he drastically underestimated exactly who he had just crossed paths with after the easy sweep across the rest of the Black Apostle hideout. Either way, I ain’t having that. Floyd’s arm clenched onto the side of the wrecked car he was half buried in, sparks of demonic energy crackling around his arm as he bent the metal in his grip before suddenly swinging his arm across the air and tossing the car straight towards the bald martial artist.

Mizu, who had sighed in relief upon seeing her teammate dispatch of the swordsman with a single punch, suddenly froze, her face contorting in terror, and exclaimed:

“W-watch out!”

Her warning was not enough however, when Bu turned around his eyes widened in confusion as he saw nothing less than an entire car hurtling towards him at the speed of a baseball pitch.

“Wha-!”

BOOM!

Bu suddenly disappeared from Mizu’s sight. Instead, an enormous crater-sized hole had appeared in the side of one of the boarded-up buildings around the carpark with the wrecked car appearing even more damaged as it blocked much of the hole it had created through the wall.

Despite being hit by a metallic object weighing more than 2 tons, the bald Young Blood was still alive though he coughed out blood from his mouth and doubled over on the debris-littered ground, his entire body wrenching in terrible pain. Weakly wincing, he shut his eyes and soon the pain was gone though shock was remained in his eyes.

“Im-Impossible!” he gasped, the stale air of the empty room was suffocating, clearly it had been abandoned for a while, pushing his body up and placing both hands on the car, “He’s at this level of strength?”

Exerting a loud grunt, Bu pushed the car out of the way then stepped out of the crater, a wary look on his eyes. Underestimating Floyd had almost cost him his life, it would not happen again. He broke out in a sprint towards the swordsman, his speed accelerating quickly to break world records, his eyes focused on Floyd, blood still fresh on Bu’s lips. He was going on the offensive against the swordsman, something he would never ever recommend to anyone. The optimal choice would have been to simply run away but Bu couldn’t do that, he was horrified by Floyd’s power, if it had been utilized by the Apostles then the damage that could have occurred would have been incredible. He was Young Blood, it was his job to stop this man. Problem was, he doubted the odds were in his favour for this fight...

“Trust me, I am just as surprised at you as you are at me...” Floyd muttered under his breath in response to Bu’s earlier comment, even though he was well aware that the Chinese martial artist could no longer hear him. He was still in awe at the man’s punch - a blow at this might was powerful enough to leave a normal man a stain on the floor - even though he had heard quite a lot about the exploits of the young King of China before. Pulling himself back up on his both feet and once again assuming a defensive stance, Floyd did not get to wait long before the battle picked up again.

When the distance had become mere meters, Bu rapidly rotated his lower torso and in a final bound he began to launch a flurry of power-packed kicks at the swordsman, the combination came from multiple angles with a series of attacks aimed precisely for where he had punched Floyd. The swordsman had been hurt and he needed to take the advantage, fast, lest the man recovers his breath which would be the worst possible scenario for Bu. His legs were long hammers of steel, the muscles on them powerful enough to block a shotgun shell and the skin hardened to resist the cut of a blade. Yet Bu’s form revealed a vulnerability to Floyd; the rest of his body was not as strong as his legs.

A vulnerability which, nonetheless, was not easy to exploit in the midst of such an onslaught. Employing both his sword, now only held with his right hand, and his free left, Floyd blocked and deflected kick after kick while slowly stepping backwards. Every single time he took care of one incoming strike, an another one would head straight his way before he could make a counter-attack, each one from a different angle, different direction and with a different fighting style behind it, which meant that Floyd needed to put all of his effort into defense and not a single ounce into attacks.

It was getting frustrating, because the swordsman knew that this was, always, an ultimately losing situation for the defender. Sooner or later, their reflexes will slip, their stamina will break, a strike will slip past, and the attacker will start landing hit after hit after hit until they can claim victory. Which is why the trick is not to defend, but to let yourself get hit.

Floyd made a faint jump, and in the brief window of time he was suspended in the air, he suddenly dropped his guard, his torso immediately struck by a powerful kick. With no foot friction in play anymore, the swordsman flew away for several meters before stopping on the ground with a slide. There, out of close quarters range and with just the distance between the two opponents for Floyd to finally do something in response. Ignoring the pain now ringing across his torso, the swordsman suddenly charged forward, ducking to dodge any incoming follow-up kicks and, as soon as he slipped past Bu’s feet and got closer to the man, suddenly sent his sword forward in a swift horizontal swipe towards the martial artist’s guts.

“GAH!”

Bu leapt back, naturally sucking in his stomach as he did so. Floyd had deftly penetrated inside, it was an impressive yet deadly display of martial skill by the swordsman though at that instance it was just deadly for Bu.

A long, rugged crimson line was drawn by the blade onto his abdominals. He furrowed his brows, his mind commanding countless blood cells to rush to the open wound and clot it up. Bu jumped onto the bonnet of a car behind him, his hand briefly caressing the wound he’d been gifted by the black-haired man. He clenched his fist, the window of time he’d been allowed had closed, the tables had turned, he had become the one on the back-foot...and it didn’t seem like he could get back up from that.

“Damn it, he’s one tough fucker,” he swore, frustration evident in his facial features.

Bu saw that there was a wide sphere around Floyd, invisible to the naked eye. It was his sphere of influence. Bu also had one though the contrast between Floyd’s and his was obvious; the swordsman’s one was much wider. His sword greatly extended his reach, meaning Bu would be hard-pressed in any offensive maneuver he could make against Floyd.

Nonetheless, he pressed his bare feet onto the dark blue surface then dived forward in a spinning kick at Floyd, Bu had committed himself to the fight, it would be a stain upon his name to withdraw, he was ‘King’ after all.

Floyd’s interest, however, was not necessarily in Bu getting wounded or attacking him again, but in what his enhanced eyesight registered taking place in the martial artist’s wound. Already, the bleeding was stopping and the wound was starting to clot - which, better than anything else, indicated that alongside incredible physical strength, the Chinese teen was equipped with some form of regeneration as well. The swordsman’s eyes were practically glimmering with joy at this point.

Inhuman strength AND regeneration? This has got to be a dream come true.

Leaning back and holding his weapon horizontally in a standard defensive stance, Floyd watched Bu lunge at him with a flying kick and reacted accordingly - running forward to meet the martial artist and then, at the last second, dropping to the ground for a slide and thus ducking underneath the incoming blow. Stopping with a short slide, now behind the martial artist, the swordsman immediately lunged back into the fight.

The trick at fighting regenerators… is finding the limit at which their power simply stops working. This is no comic book, they’re bound by real life rules, you just have to push their powers to the point when the fuel runs out.

As soon as Floyd closed in the distance to Bu, he instantly unleashed a barrage of sword slashes and cuts at his opponent, working in tandem with his enhanced senses - his superhuman eyesight searching for weak points in the martial artist’s body, soft spots where the blade of his weapon would be able to push through more easily, and the swordsman himself swiping and ducking past the opponent’s blows to continue trying to push him to the brink and keep him on the defensive.

And push him to the brink he did. Bu would suffer the consequences of attempting to engage in close quarters combat with the swordsman, numerous cuts manifesting all over his body, blood seeping from all of his wounds, his mind struggling to focus on both healing and fighting, so great the pressure Floyd was placing on Bu. The killing intent that the swordsman was exuding felt immense yet controlled, articulate in fact. His techniques and footwork were perfect, there were no flaws in his attacks which meant that, unfortunately for Bu, he would not have success in landing another strong blow on the swordsman.

Bu was being pursued by Floyd all over the carpark as the swordsman kept up the offensive. The stamina being displayed by the older man was astounding even if he was a superhuman. However, Bu was managing to take the full force of Floyd’s blade-work without a single wince of pain. The Chinese teen had relinquished his ability to experience pain after Floyd’s first slashed him across his stomach and had been controlling his own movement like a puppet master manipulates their puppets.

But Floyd was right, there was a limit to how much damage his body could take. A single mistake could see him losing a limb or two to the swordsman and Bu was pretty sure that regenerating an entire limb was beyond even him. Recognising just how overwhelming his enemy had become in the fight, Bu scrambled his mind, processing every variable on the battlefield. Then he saw it.

He darted around Floyd, keeping clear of the deadly range of the man’s blade. His purpose became clear when he reached one of the cars sitting in the area. Gripping the handle-bar, he grunted loudly, his large biceps hardening. Unsuccessful on the first pull, Bu narrowed his eyes and manipulated the blood flow circulating around his body to rush into his arms. He pulled again and was successful this time, the car’s door ripping off its metallic hinges. Holding the car door in one hand, he spun his makeshift shield around, getting a feel of its capabilities. Then Bu suddenly placed his right foot behind him and extended his left foot forwards in another fighting stance. It was a stance that did not belong to any unarmed martial art, neither modern nor ancient. No, instead, Bu had taken a shield stance of the Dardi School, a martial art sect of Italy that taught tried-and-tested techniques of armed combat, its origins being traced to the battlefields of old Europe, a place as dark and terrible as Warring China.

Bu, covered from head to toe in blood, beckoned his enemy to come at him.

Battlefield awareness, too...

Floyd wiped away a splash of the martial artist’s blood which had fallen upon the side of his cheek during the offensive, watching Bu tear himself a makeshift shield from a car door. It was an act which, while it may have betrayed a tinge of desperation from his opponent, was something Floyd could unquestionably call a good choice. After all, he’s armed with a sword and Bu was not - it makes sense to acquire something which is able to alleviate that advantage somewhat.

Only somewhat, though. Floyd let out a loud snicker and promptly charging forward, his eyes deadset towards the shield-wielding martial artist. The thing about battlefield awareness, though… it’s an advantage which both sides are able to employ.

Instead of simply attacking a shield-equipped opponent like an idiot and watching all of his strikes get deflected, Floyd suddenly switched his weapon from right hand to left - and then sent it straight towards the front of the same car from which Bu had just borrowed his shield from. The blade of the sword burrowed straight in the metal and electronics, and as soon as Floyd leapt into the air, the whole car got picked up alongside him, turning the weapon in his hands from a simple sword into a makeshift two-ton hammer.

Which Floyd promptly, with a spin across the air, descended upon the bald martial artist.

“Motherfucker…!” Bu quickly pressed his shield to the ground then pushed himself off it, flipping his body away before the man wielding a 2-ton monstrosity could crush him into the earth. He had leapt clear at the opportune time for the blink of an eye later a mighty quake erupted through not just the immediate vicinity but the entire neighborhood, a tsunami of dust particles following right after, blowing into surrounding windows and trees and coating them in brown.

The dust mixing with the blood on his body, Bu looked at Floyd incredulously, the prospect of engaging him in close quarters becoming more daunting by the second for Bu. Even when he had just the sword he had been hard to get a grapple on, so given how he had transitioned to wielding such a ridiculous hammer with such apparent ease and lack of visible strain, Bu wondered just how he could get inside of Floyd’s physical sphere of influence to inflict the damage he knew would end the fight.

Still oblivious to the damage he had taken as a result of engaging Floyd in high-speed combat, Bu positioned himself defensively, having been unable to take down the demonically powerful swordsman just as British officer William E. Fairbairn had said regarding unarmed fighters going up against armed opponents.

Although his attention was visibly focused on Floyd, Bu allowed himself to wonder if Mizu had already recovered. He hoped she had got as far away as possible from the battle because there was no way in hell he was going to beat Floyd in a battle of attrition.

In fact, even the swordsman himself was somewhat shocked at the raw power he had been able to draw out in this fight. Pulling his sword out of the wrecked car he had just slammed into the ground, Floyd took a few glances across the battlefield. Several wide cracks, resembling earthquake fissures, even if a little small in size, were now stretching across the car park, and many of the vehicles stationed around them had either gotten tipped over or their alarms were now wailing to no end. Several windows got completely busted by the powerful shockwave, and some of the buildings closer to the impact zone were now suffering from visible structural damage.

Well, you know what they say. People can make miracles if they put their mind to it, and Floyd certainly put his mind into this battle.

“I’d say you made a mistake choosing this battle...” the swordsman muttered as he leapt off the wrecked car and began stepping towards Bu. The martial artist was clearly ignoring the damage across his body, but Floyd was sure that he will soon come to a point where he cannot deny that his minutes are numbered. “...but, to be honest, this has just been a barrel of fun so far.”

But, alas, all fun times must eventually come to an end. Floyd suddenly pushed himself forward and ran straight towards his bald-headed opponent, his eyesight focusing on one of the many weak points he had registered on Bu’s body at the start of the fight - the neck. Decapitation was a classic finishing move for any swordfight to the death, especially if the other side is unarmed and lacks armor. And, the good thing is, once you actually accomplish it, there is little chance that the other side will miraculously stand up and ruin the spectacular finale.

Unless Bu’s regeneration is stronger than he thought, which Floyd chalked up as highly unlikely, seeing how his wounds don’t seem to be clotting up at such an accelerated pace. Not that it wouldn’t be fun if it were actually the case, even if extreme regenerators were always a bitch to take down.

Upon closing the distance to Bu, Floyd sent the flat side of his sword towards both of the man’s arms to deflect them out of the way before making a sudden and swift spin, descending the demonic blade straight towards the martial artist’s throat.

Travelling as fast as the wind, the blade suddenly connected, cutting into solid flesh. Bu’s eyes became red with the strain of keeping the pain at bay. He coughed out a red glob of liquid, his mouth stained with blood. Then, out of nowhere, it twitched...and slowly curved upwards into a ominous smile.

Floyd had cut deep into Bu and the steel of his sword had become crimson, a pervasive smell from the thick liquid wafting from the blade. Except…

His blade… was embedded not in Bu’s throat, but his upper chest instead. Over a decade of sustained combat against foes from all over the world had gathered into a well of experience, making Bu a veteran of a thousand fights. He had foreseen Floyd’s intentions the moment he had lunged towards him, and thus had prepared a counter to the attack. It was not a fault of Floyd’s that he had not predicted that Bu would have something up his sleeve because Bu’s counter was something that was unique to only the Chinese teen; his powers.

When mere milliseconds were all there were between the sword and his neck, Bu’s body experienced a massive growth. His muscles exploded in bulk and as a result his size suddenly blew up. It had been enough to redirect the blade aimed for his neck to his chest.

“Bloody hell...” Floyd muttered underneath his breath. He didn’t even get the time to pull the weapon out of the martial artist’s flesh before the second blow of surprise struck him like a freight train. The faint sound of someone snapping their fingers reached his ears, instantly followed by his sight starting to play shenanigans with him. Several more Bus appeared to emerge from the ground, the floor turned into a sinister dark, as if the martial artist’s power-up was distorting the fabric of reality itself. And before the swordsman could register what in the Devil’s name had just happened and what kind of illusion had just been cast upon him, Bu struck first.

A pair of trunk-like legs emerged from underneath and coiled around his enemy’s sword-arm like a pair of constricting pythons, his feet reaching and tightening around Floyd’s neck. His hand locked abruptly by Bu’s arms, Floyd would find himself pulled to the ground by Bu’s body which had increased significantly in mass and size. Both fighters fell, and they fell hard. The instant his back touched the hard concrete beneath him, Bu exerted an abnormal amount of force in his limbs, twisting Floyd’s arm as if he was wringing a towel. He wasn’t aiming to force a submission from his opponent, this wasn’t an organized fighting tournament, no, instead Bu was utilizing every fiber of muscle in his arms and legs in an advanced military sambo arm lock for the sole purpose of breaking Floyd’s arm, to effectively, and painfully, disarm the swordsman from his ultimate weapon; the sword.

“D-damn it...” a yelp left Floyd’s mouth as he felt himself pressed more and more into the ground after the initial impact, the sheer force which Bu had been exerting upon him practically forcing him to sink into the earth. The power balance between the two combatants had turned around - though Floyd might have hoped to wrestle with buff Bu if he was on the same footing, only a single distraction was enough to suddenly put him on the back foot. And the worst thing was - he knew what Bu’s plan here was. He could feel the pressure put on his arm and what it, at such overwhelming force, meant to him.

He still had his sword in his grip, however, so maybe he can-

Snap.

Floyd’s arm suddenly turned limp, the sword in his hand fell to the ground, the man clenched and breathed through his teeth, and if one were to touch his shoulder and feel the crumbling inside, they’d instantly tell that his shoulder got firmly dislocated.

“Fucking...” the swordsman gushed out, then, feeling Bu’s grip slightly loosen, suddenly pushed himself around with his other arm and threw a punch straight towards the martial artist’s cheek, punctuating it with a “Fuck off!”

It was an admirable but futile attempt to dislodge the Chinese teen. Parrying the punch with his hand, Bu quickly contorted his body around Floyd, using his leg lock to control his motion as he pulled his upper torso upwards. Then he thrusted his elbows down into Floyd’s face, repeating the vicious Muay Thai technique multiple times in a ground-and-pound strategy before suddenly sliding 90 degrees around to position himself behind Floyd’s head.

His movement was swift, honed by experience in the brutal bloodsport arenas of East Asia. Inserting his legs between Floyd’s own, Bu engaged a four-figure lock on the swordman’s body. Wrapping his large right arm around Floyd’s neck, he utilized it as a lever that he pulled using his left arm. Bu wasn’t simply choking Floyd, he was using a blood choke; an advanced form of strangulation that compressed one’s jugulars. It was capable of inducing unconsciousness in a human in seconds if done by an expert practitioner. However, the madness in Bu's eyes betrayed his true intentions. There was a darkness surrounding his body...it was killing intent.

He had returned to the arena. The scent of blood and the sound of chaos had invoked a demon within him. Mano a mano. Only 1 man would emerge the winner. And Bu had been indoctrinated since childhood to be that man. He increased the density of his arms tenfold, they suddenly became solid bars of iron, crushing Floyd’s carotid arteries and jugular veins, cutting off oxygen all the way to the tissue level. The Young Blood snarled, his face akin to a wolf, fierce and wild. Any semblance of rationality he possessed before had been replaced by nothing more than pure bloodlust…

“Just...die already,” he said, his voice jagged and weak, his gums abruptly breaking open in spurts of blood, the damage he'd sustained in the fight finally becoming too much for his mind to handle.

“D… D… Ngh...”

Floyd was trying to respond with something, but the only thing he was able to say were a few incoherent bumbles while his unbroken arm was clawing at the powerful limb pressing onto his neck. The bastard, perhaps even unknowingly so, discovered the one field where he can die just as quickly as any mortal man. The demonic energy pumped into his body sustained his stamina no matter how intense the fight could get, it made sure he no longer needed to eat or drink to survive - but it did not supply him with oxygen.

And, by God, did his brain really crave some oxygen right now. His right arm was in no condition to help pull the Chinese bastard’s grip off - and it was no ordinary grip either, Bu was clearly using a some sort of professional martial arts technique to make the sequence even worse.

D-damn it…

I… I can’t...

Vision turning blurry.

Thoughts turning into one jambled mess.

The rest of his body turning limp, his hand finally giving in.

And, just as Floyd was about to close his eyes to see what Beelzebub had prepared for him in exchange for being so foolish… a scream suddenly disrupted the scene.

“BU!!”

As foolish and potentially deadly as it was, Mizu had not left the scene and continued to watch the battle from relatively up close, hiding behind cars and fences to serve as a makeshift cover against all the shockwaves and impact waves. The relief of seeing her ally turn around the fight once she cast her illusion got quickly lost at the way’s side once she witnessed what Bu’s response was. The man was clearly out for blood - without an ounce of hesitation, he broke Floyd’s arm and was now threatening to strangle him.

And demanding him to die.

They’re not supposed to be murderers. They’re supposed to be heroes. And she was not going to let a man die before her eyes today.

Mizu ran out of her cover, frantically running towards the scene, and screamed at the top of her lungs:

“DON’T KILL HIM! BU!!”

Her screams registered in his mind, the only voice of reason in a sea of monstrous, dark thoughts. It almost drowned immediately, so overpowering the killing intent was. However, that singular anomaly, foreign and different, was all it took for Bu to pluck it out and heed its words.

“AH!” Bu gasped as he released his grip, his arms collapsing onto the ground.

Pushing himself out from under Floyd, he crawled then stumbled, slamming into a pile of debris.

“I was going to kill him!” he cried out, gazing down at his hands wide-eyed, “I...I WANTED to kill him!”

He looked at Mizu in horror then averted his eyes in shame, his mind tuned out of the chaos he had helped cause.

The sound of car alarms saturated the air, the devastation on the environment that both superhuman martial artists had sowed evident. The formerly flat surface had been reduced to a series of fissures in the ground, wrecked cars littered the place, resembling a warzone rather than the simple neighbourhood carpark it had originally been.

There were sirens in the distance, a sign that people had indeed noticed what had just gone down.

Bu’s chest pulsed abruptly and he coughed, a harsh wheeze followed, he was visibly not in good shape. Finally looking up at Mizu, he simply said, “I'm tired.”

Before Mizu could make a response to him, however, the girl cut off by the sound of a faint, but increasingly enthusiastic and hearty laugh. After letting his heart out and taking several deep breaths, Floyd pulled himself off the ground, sitting down, his heart registering the sounds of incoming police sirens. It was pretty rich to assume that a battle which ripped cars and asphalt apart would not get the attention of some local. Pain was still permeating the swordsman’s body in several places, his shoulder was still displaced, his neck was still sore and his oxygen-deprived mind was still recovering, but, comparing him to Bu, it was pretty clear which one of the martial artists was in better shape.

Mizu squeaked and stumbled back, ready to snap a new illusion to help them escape - however, Floyd’s words soon stopped her:

“You know, in any normal situation, you’d have to pay a lot more for basically giving up your chance for victory when it was in your grasp, but...”

The swordsman stood up and pulled out a cigarette and lighter. “After all that happened today, I’m in an amazing mood. I’m pretty sure this is the closest I’ve been to dying this year - and, you know, that’s what makes things like these exciting.”

Unfortunately, before he could comment about anything else - the new tricks he’s caught from Bu during the fight or how he wanted to offer the martial artist a rematch sometime later without anyone interfering to see which one of them is truly the better fighter - his mind practically sent alarms throughout his body. The police sirens were getting closer, a column was already approaching the battlefield in the visible distance. And after rescuing Marionette from prison, Floyd had no desire to end up there himself - or, worse, lose his sword again.

“Well, ciao.”

Leaping into the air and towards the nearest rooftop, the swordsman left Mizu and Bu alone.

“I’m… I’m sorry for letting him go...” Mizu muttered, her face somber and bitter, as she knelt down next to Bu. “Don’t worry, help is coming, we’ll get you to a hospital and they’ll patch you up in no time.”

Watching Floyd escape the area, Bu received the feeling that he'd encounter the swordsman again. And he resolved to prepare for that day when it came.

But, for the time being it was all over. He turned his face back to Mizu, managing to give her a grin, and said, “It's no big deal. That man won’t be returning to the streets anytime soon. Besides, we’ve just successfully completed our first mission, you should give yourself a pat on the back, Mizu,” then Bu closed his eyes and placed a hand on his cut forehead, “And...I'm grateful that you were there to stop me from killing him because I think I’d like to stay in the Young Bloods a bit longer...the past week has been so fun...and it's been a long time since I’ve had fun…”

Bu smiled, it was a smile of contentment, and for the first time in a while, just relaxed.

[Segral]

Carter Graystone
July 29th

Carter felt bad about going off on Mizu like that, especially after seeing how shocked she was upon seeing his arm covered in food coloring. Probably thought he was actually bleeding, and he didn't exactly do a good job of explaining the real reason as to why it was slick with crimson. But in his defense, he had plenty of reason to be upset. Even if the chainsaw was flesh and not metal (something he probably should've figured out earlier), of course, he was naturally going to fight-or-flight jump, and of course, he would be freaked out. Wouldn't anybody? Especially someone like him?

Pulling his fedora low over his face, he ventured out of Casimir's room, leaving the bottles on the counter as he walked out stiffly, massaging his wrist the entire time. It still stung like crazy, but at least it wasn't being crushed to splinters by the stupid shower tube. And he needed to wash his arm. Why didn't he do that before he left the bathroom? Oh yeah, anger and rage and overreaction on his part, duh. Well, he couldn't exactly go back now, he would just have to scrub his sweatshirt clean afterward. Plenty of soap and water and brushing required.

He waited outside in the hall a bit, leaning against the wallspace adjacent to the door casually, flicking through his phone. Not looking at anything in particular, just scrolling through aimlessly, doing it for no reason other than to look preoccupied. Wow, if it wasn't for his sex, he would be the spitting image of a bored white girl! Just add a Pumpkin Spice Latte in his hand and it all fit! God, he was so bored. Nowadays, he never had any fun. Between training and superhero-ing, he never had time to chill anymore. Even the novelty of the prank war was starting to wear off. Not even a single person came through the hall, not one. Probably off doing bigger things. Hopefully, some of the excitement would come back once things actually got going and Casimir was good and sprayed with "blood".

However, Mizu soon called him back into the room for some reason, a very odd sing-song quality imbued. Curiously, he strolled back in, only to see every bottle emptied and a lot of dye on the floor. Which Mizu wanted him to clean up, as well as screw the plate back in. Can do.

"Uh...yeah, sure!" Carter said sheepishly, trying his best to ignore Mizu's eye shifting itself back into its socket very oddly and somewhat disturbingly, instead focusing on picking up a mop in the corner of the bathroom to clean stuff up. However, he decided to abstain from using a bucket to clean up, instead simply turning on the sink faucet, plugging the drain, and wetting the mop in the sink. Crude, yet effective.

He simply grunted as Mizu offered her apology, giving her a wave-off. "S'alright, I kind of overreacted a bit. I tend to do that, I've got...certain shit relating to emotional control, it's a veeeery long story. So yeah, sorry if you were offended or anything...like...that." he trailed off, realizing how awkward he sounded. "It was pretty clever though, I'll give you that," he said slightly more cheerily, trying to lighten up the mood in the room a bit. "Really spooked me." he continued, continuing to scrub hard until the floor was spotless, so spotless he could see his own face in the reflection. Mop was stained very brightly red, but Casimir wouldn't notice. With a light shove, he pushed the mop back behind the toilet.

Bending over beside Mizu, he picked up the bolts and the wrench from the ground, keeping the bolts in one hand and the wrench in his teeth. Tasted terrible, but it got the job done. Furrowing his brow in concentration, he pushed the plate back up against the wall and pulled the shower head back into position. Using a gust of air, he kept the whole thing in place as he slid in the bolts, quickly tightening them with the wrench so he wouldn't have to use his air powers for long. Bada bing bada boom, everything was soon back to status quo, shower head looked exactly like it had before, only with a nasty surprise waiting behind the wall.

"So...now what?"

---

Lana Graystone

Alright, so Sam was prepared. Very prepared. Seemed like he really hadn't slept for the past few days, considering he apparently had every last detail worked out. Good thing for sure, Sam was their de facto leader, and they kind of relied on him to be the knowledgeable adult in the room. Although to be fair, once Sam replied, the answers to her questions became painfully obvious, and she had to wonder how she wasn't able to put two and two together in the same way. Warwolf obviously wouldn't let any mere grunt waltz in and work on their radios, they needed clearances from someone senior. And clearly, she wouldn't be the one fixing radios, she'd be accompanying a mechanic in to do it. Simple logic. Think, woman, think!

Luckily, there was very little else to go over, and they could focus on dinner. Just the thought of it was making her stomach rumble a bit, swirling around and tying into knots. Following Sam into the computer, she gave the menu once over, already settling her mind on the Kung Pao Chicken in the middle of one section of the menu. However, Sam was already onto other things, popping up a streamed news feed. And it was going absolutely haywire. Warwolf activity, roadblocks, imposed curfews, bombs, rogue hoodlums on the loose like it was Lord of the Flies. And even worse; roadblocks near them. Very good thing indeed that they were staying low. Oh god, and even worse. One of the kids, Carter's team had gotten locked up the Wolves. No wonder they had sounded so definate at the press conference. They were preparing this all along. Practically raising hell all over the city. Heck, one of the pieces of footage showed a black-cloaked guy who looked eerily similar to Carter. Stature and frame and all. Hoepfully that dumb kid didn't break his neck.

"Well..." Lana started, seemingly pondering the situation. "Like Doug said, it's only good for us if the Wolves are spread thin. Makes it easier for us to do our job, get in and get out. Hopefully, they don't add another nine members to that cell."

[Auropa]

Mike Mathews
WarWolf Facility, august 1st

As Alexis went around the group with her strange but beyond useful healing gem, she started giving out directions. Her, Frostbite and Jason would keep going forward, while Mike and Mars would go find, then clear the back exit. Some part of Mike wanted to argue that he should stay behind to make sure that they wouldn’t get surrounded but looking at Mars, even after the brief round of healing, he made up his mind. Buying the team an extra minute or so could help but they sending Mars out alone was out of the question ‘and besides, if there was ever a good time to leave it's now’ he thought to himself as an unexpected second wind passed through him. ‘Damn I love --whatever the hell that gem thing is’.

“Okay.” He finally said “You guys be careful though and try to get out as soon as you find Kiris. Mars, let’s go.” He added with a short nod before starting down another path.
The staff exit wasn’t too far away but with all the chaos unfolding around the station he didn’t want to take any risks. While Alexis’ little ‘pick me’ up did wonders for his power fatigue, he didn’t know if it was made to make him feel better or actually heal him and truth be told, he wasn't too keen to find out which in the middle of a battle. Plus, with Mars still carrying a bullet in his shoulder, he really didn’t want to get into any fights in these cramped conditions to begin with. Instead, he took the lead and focused on moving quickly and quietly past the troops. The team needed the exit clear but with everyone taking different paths to get there, he figured leaving a few patrols dotted around wouldn't be a problem.

Thankfully, they eventually moved past the conflict and chaos as they began to close in on the exit. At first Mike was cautious about the sudden the lack of troops but quickly and happily became more relaxed as he chalked it up to distraction thinning their numbers. Between the prisoners rioting, the youngbloods out front and their barricade trapping a bunch more downstairs, there wasn't enough people left to patrol the relatively unimportant staffing rooms. “Soooooo...” Mike eventually said in an attempt to ward off a growing awkward silence “...How’s your day been? Um, actually, yeah never mind. Bad time. Though getting Kiris back! I’m sure that’s worth, you know, being shot. Not like you wanted to be shot or that its okay but I mean, hey at least its in the arm right? Get three more injuries there and maybe Jane will give you a free Sunday huh? *ahem* ...So the weathers nice... right? I mean, I'm glad its not raining. Though I wonder if Alexis’ cloak would’ve worked in the rain. I mean, how awkward would that of been right? Like if we were in front of those warwolf guys then ‘poof’ just appeared out of nothing way too early…”
‘Kill me now’ Mike thought to himself as he flailed about making conversation. He didn’t know what was going on in the other boy’s head, he had said some pretty messed up stuff in the last few days but they both knew the mission took priority over any lingering feelings. Still, in the brief moment of peace they were getting, Mike was feeling the awkwardness and regret hitting him hard.
Before long though, they were just a few rooms from the exit. “Okay, homestretch.” He said as he opened the door “But stay behind me. We still haven’t heard from the others so there might still be a few guys guarding the ex-“

Entering the room and getting a clear view, Mike felt his jaw drop and his heart nearly stop. At the other side of the small unsuspecting side-room, stood 6 equally confused Warwolf soldiers looking like they were about to charge towards the same exit. The next millisecond felt like an eternity as Mike’s brain struggled to put the pieces together fast enough. If these guys were here and getting ready to strike, then that meant the others must have cleared the exit which meant they had a way out. But to get to it…

“Rocket run!” Mike called out switching back into his Forge persona and charging forward. As his first steps hit the ground, he felt a pulse come from him and pass outwards, as it went, guns and just about anything shaped like a baton shattered under its force. 'I think I've had enough of being shot at today' he thought to himself as he went.

“6 o’clock!” One of the soldiers called out as he turned to face the new threat. Not wanting to risk loosing the attention of the team, Forge slammed his shoulder into the guard turning around fastest and focused on sending out a message while he could. ‘Tad, Viv! We’re just a few doors from the exit and outnumbered badly! I need you here to get Mars out of-’ breaking his concentration though was a sudden horrifically strong blow landing across his temple as a powered fist struck his helmet and sent him reeling.

“Bad idea kid. Just lay down and puts your hands behind your back.” One of the soldiers said as the others started to surround him. Whether it was the adrenaline, the pain or his own stubbornness, Mike refused to let himself slip into unconsciousness or give up. Instead, as a he felt a cold trickling sensation across his face, an even colder sensation ran though his mind as he narrowed his focus upwards and closed his fists. “Have it your way then.” The same guard said before taking a step forward and sending another powered fist barreling towards Mike.

At the last second, Mike ducked low and slammed his own fist into the soldier’s chest. The moment it hit, a dozen orange veins of energy spread from the impact and as Mike turned around to face another attacker he felt a wave of heat pass over him as the man’s armored chest piece exploded outwards and sent him hurtling back. The next attack came low but as Mike sidestepped out of its reach, another blow landed on his back before a being followed by a kick to his ribs. Seeing a chance, Mike gritted his teeth and tried to ignore the pain in his chest before reaching out and grabbing the leg striking his side then bringing his elbow down hard. The protective armor and steel supports crumpled like paper and a sickening crunch sounded as the man’s knee gave way. Stopping him from continuing his assault though, a pair of arms grabbed him from behind and lifted him up, seeing him momentarily restrained, another solider took the chance to land a heavy punch on Mike’s now exposed stomach.

Even with his own reinforcements, he felt his guts practically flip and his head sway from the impact but again, that stubborn nature kept him fighting and before a second blow could be landed, Mike swung his head back and after feeling it smack against flesh, kicked off hard towards the attacker in front of him. When the soldier’s grip momentarily loosened, Mike broke free and tackled the other fighter to the ground. From there, and before anything else could be done, he flipped the other man on top of him and let loose his hail marry. With a resounding crack, a section of the roof now covered in pulsating orange veins shattered and burst apart, showering those below with chunks of plaster, concrete and steel. He knew it probably wasn’t enough to end the fight but it might mix things up enough for him to get clear. Though even below a makeshift meat shield, by god did it hurt.

[Absolon-7]

Harley

Carter Graystone

Casimir Herman August 1st
Boom. A tremendous boom of a dog bark was all that filled Casimir's ears as he landed on his feet from his high jump away from the incoming Warwolf patrol. His body pivoted on a single foot as he turned around to see the devastation Harley's bark had done. It was as if a hurricane had come and created a snowfield of broken glass all along the street. The three juggernauts were staggered but not blown away meanwhile the Warwolf truck carrying troopers had its windshield shattered shocking the driver within. It weaved from side to side before it slammed the back of the juggernaut Casimir had blinded with oil and only barely applying the break but it was enough force for the machine to be knocked to its face.

"Good job, boy!" shouted Casimir with glee at Harley once the dog ran to where he stood. Carter caught up after bouncing from car to car and throwing bikes. Casimir committed to a growl that developed to a sigh as it seemed Carter was having a bit too much fun vandalizing property. Hopefully this wasn't a temptation that broke the floodgates in that second rate. Casimir with bombox in tow waved for the two to follow him, "Lets ditch these fools for real now!"

Casimir leaped meters ahead as he hoped the two got the message they were supposed to follow him. It was still a race against the clock from running away from this patrol but it was still unfinished business. Casimir leaped over a streetlight and crashed boots first onto the pavement. He swiftly turned and leaped towards a small plaza in between two large buildings. Once the other two arrived, Casimir placed the boombox in front of a gentle fountain. He cracked his neck and crossed his arms across his chest.

"We can't let those three juggernauts run around or else they may go back to base and fuck up the other two teams. So we have to find a way to immobilize them but they have that patrol car filled with grunts backing them so we also have to separate them." Casimir's eyesight flashed back to a beetle observing the patrol and it looked like the juggernauts were still after them but the damaged truck was lagging behind, "I can come up with something to get the truck to stop and I can trap the soldiers inside with webbing. Think you can distract the juggs long enough for that?"

Renata Martinez, the heroic Spectrum!

Viviana Couture August 1st
Relief from answering Renata's question instead of it being an ignored ramble was overtaken by befuddlement at Renata's reaction. Especially the second half of what she said which raised all sorts of questions in the rubber girl's head. It was such a weird thing to say! The oddity of her uttering about reversing roles caught her interest like a carp to bait but a tidal wave of enthusiasm washed over it at the mention of Star Wars. Childhood joy washed over mind as fond memories flooded her mind with her body nearly bouncing up from the railing she was leaning on. However, why'd she change the topic so suddenly? They were just about to get to the juicy romance gossip! Granted she herself was taken but Casi was odd enough to tell stories about. Still the sudden turn was peculiar so perhaps Renata had something she didn't want to talk about on that subject?

"I've only watched them like three times each, hehe, so cool right?" said Viviana nonchalantly, "Jokes aside, heck yeah I have! You betcha those films were my childhood. Nothing like dressing up as Vader for Halloween. Anything catch your eye 'bout em?"

Truth be told she hadn't seen them in a while but the feeling of wanderlust that she could grasp from the vast world in them remained. On her road trip all the way down California to San Diego she had managed to capture a small facsimile of that feeling of exploration. Places she's never seen. People she's never met. "For me, I love the idea of the great big world it had. Lightsaber duels were rockin' too!"

[Finland SSR]

Carter Graystone
July 29th

Mizuma Ishiwara, the Lunarian Illusionist!

July 29th

---

Mizu wrapped her hands behind her back, fidgeting her feet and tilting her head, as she listened to Carter explain that it was alright and he was the one who overreacted - which got her to release a faint sigh of relief. It's good to hear that he didn't have any lingering harsh feelings over it - Mizu enjoyed pulling pranks on people and seeing their reactions, but breaking friendships over them would leave a deep pit in her stomach.

Thankfully, Carter lightened up the mood a little, and upon hearing his compliments to her prank, Mizu released a faint giggle, speaking while the blonde teenager screwed the shower head back in:

"Eheh, thanks, but it really wasn't anything clever, to be fair. Just applying my powers a few times, that's all. Back on Luna, everyone would have caught wind of what was happening already, but I guess the Earthlings don't have as many pranksters running around..."

As soon as Carter finished screwing the shower head back in and the rest of the room got restored to the exact same state as it had been before the two of them infiltrated it, Mizu got presented with a new question - so, what are they supposed to do now. The purple-haired girl blinked for a second before she recalled the operation plan they laid out earlier, and she swiftly pulled out her smartphone.

"Gimme a sec." Mizu muttered as she navigated to Viviana in her contacts and typed in a brief message, 'We're done'. Now the fate of the operation rest on her gummy shoulders. The purple-haired girl motioned towards Carter with her hand. "Let's go! Quick! Find a place to hide!"

As soon as the duo headed out of the room, Mizu making sure to not stumble on anything or touch anything which might leave Casimir suspicious, the purple-haired girl used her shapeshifting trick to lock the door again, and then, ignoring the pain ringing across her finger once again, leapt to the side, transforming into an innocent, inconsequential chair standing a dozen or so meters away, pressed onto the wall of the corridor.

---

Viviana Couture August 1

Renata Martinez, the heroic Spectrum!

August 1st

---

Oh, it turns out Renata had actually picked the perfect topic to move the conversation towards. Viv had not only watched all of the Star Wars movies before, but was also a deep and excited fan, the excitement seemingly washing over any suspicion which the heroine might have had over Renata changing the topic so suddenly. Oh, and getting to talk to a real Star Wars fan was a nice change of pace, too, if a little bit intimidating. What if Viv suddenly bombards her with knowledge a real Star Wars fan is supposed to know, but she had no clue about?

"Yeah, I can certainly see it..." Renata muttered under her breath once her friend listed the reasons why Star Wars held an important place in her heart. She didn't pay too much attention to the galaxy developed before her eyes while in the theatre, but she could certainly see the appeal in all the galaxy exploration she got to partake in as a viewer. And hey, who could deny that lightsabers are awesome, either?

And I wouldn't even get accidentally hurt by it if I ever fought with one, so that's bonus points from me!

"I only got to watch the newest one - the Force Awakens, right? I was afraid that I wouldn't understand anything what's going on, but it actually turned out to be a fairly self-contained story, you know? I couldn't place my finger on what caught my eye specifically, but the whole thing was a breath of fresh air to me - I guess the fact that I don't watch a lot of sci-fi helps there."

Renata's eyes turned to the sky with a dreamy glance, her feet slightly tapping at the ground from the impatience. How long are they just going to stand around doing nothing? Soon, however, her eyes turned back towards Viv and she spoke:

"Are you in the Rey and Finn shipping crowd, too? Or are you a heretic?"

[Northwest Slobovia]

Sam Croft/Blizzard
Team Old Fart Base
August 1, While the Young Bloods Break Kiris Out

Sam came down the stairs from the wine shop carrying a big bag of hot Chinese food, wearing the workman's outfit he'd changed into; fewer questions that way. “They weren't kidding about 'just ten minutes'. The delivery guy said that with all the excitement outside, they're turning away all but the closest delivery orders, and nobody is ordering take-out.” He set the bag on the center of the table, and pulled the top open, filling the air with the aromas of oil and spices.

“Let's see here...” He examined the scribbles on the container tops. “Lo mein, yours. Kung pao chicken for you. Orange beef for me. Rice for us, and some egg rolls. Bottles of water for everybody. Chopsticks, plastic forks, napkins.” He set everything out as he named it.

Rolling up the bag, he looked up to talk to his teammates. “I'm not sure what the teens like, but they'll probably be hungry. I got them some spring rolls and egg rolls, water, and soda. That should do.”

Sam pulled up the chair behind him and sat down. “Dig in, guys!” After a few minutes of said digging in, Sam set down his chopsticks. “So... what do you guys do when you're not trying to make the world a better place? I'm a theater person, acting and costuming. I keep my hand in for practice. I'll take small roles in plays these days, make costumes for major productions. Once in a while, I'll make a mask for a small movie in Hollywood.” He pressed his lips together, shook his head rapidly in tiny arcs. “I don't tip my hand, and show them my very best, but they know I'm good.

“It's relaxing. The simple act of making things takes my mind off bigger worries, and it's good practice for the kind of thing we're about to do. So what about you?”

[Absolon-7]

Mizuma Ishiwara, the Lunarian Illusionist!

Viviana Couture July 29th
Action team ready set go! Viviana had been waiting for Casimir in the Tower's lobby as she knew he'd be coming back from an errand. Although he didn't go to the gym until later in the evening so that made one part of the plan tricky. Hopefully, this one prank would be enough for Carter and Mizu as she didn't know how talking them out of their first prank idea would go. The low hum of the lobby ceiling fans were her only company as she sat on chair near an electric outlet scrolling through her phone. A familiar sound of the automatic doors made her look up and leap up seeing Casimir come walking in. She raised her arm and enthusiastically waved at her boyfriend with each step nearly culminating in a bounce.

"Heyo!," said Viviana embracing him in a hug, "Brought any snacks for later?"

"Oh I got some bags of chocolate covered plums," explained a reddened Casimir, "A proud national dish of Poland."

"Any normal foods?" said Viviana. The brunette paused for a second smelling him and afterwards she feinted a disgusted face, "P.U. You stink Casi."

"Wait how? I only use the finest deoder-" Casimir's defense was broken by Viviana placing her finger on his lips.

"Ya stink. Now take a shower," said Viviana smirking. She pulled her finger away to poke the tip of his nose. Her legs twisted around as she began to walk off. "See ya in fifteen minutes on the double, soldier!"

Confident in her assault working she let Casimir catch up with her and the two began walking to his room chitchatting about their day. At the drop off point for the operation Viviana saluted the confused Pole goodbye as she faked walking off but only stopped at the corner of the hallway. Once she heard the door shut she tiptoed to be next to the door and planted her ear next to the door to await the inevitable shock. She waited as Casimir presumably got into the shower to turn the water on. A thought of Casimir being in the shower popped into her head but she shooed it away frantically as she muttered denials under breath. She gasped as she could faintly hear the shower being turned on and then the moment they all had been waiting for arrived.

KURWA! SON OF A BASTARD IS THIS FUNNY BUSINESS!? DID SOMEONE KILL CARTER?

Viviana clamped her mouth shut with one hand as she almost doubled over in laughter at the shouts beyond the door. Her sides constricted as she laughed and tears began to form at the edge of her eyes. She could barely fumble her phone out her short's pocket and texted Mizu.

Let's go in n tell the dude he's been punk'd like that one show now! :D

[Solisian Union]

CATARINA THE SORCERER OF BONE AND BLOOD

---

"DON'T DIE!"

It was the only English that Catarina, the Colombian Outrider, ever said when she saw what she could through the fire and flames.

It didn't break her but it did ruin her.

Almost immediately, like an unchained Amazon, she tried to push against the arms of Nicholas. She tried and tried again, her claws out, touching not the skin of Nicholas but the air before her. She was so close to burning herself for Vendetta, for Sebastian. For the Outriders. For the tribe.

She howled like a witch from a certain video game, her throat harsh and her tone violent.

For every word she said, a certain shattered feeling came with it.

For every cry, every sound that came out of the tribal's lips, she sounded desperately sincere and clingy.

For everything that came out of her, she just gave her all. For Vendetta. For the person that made her think for what was better than this life.

She said, "¡Déjame ir! ¡Quiero ayudarles! ¡No puedo dejarla morir allí! ¡No me detengas, por favor! ¡Te lo ruego, Nicolás! ¡Están ahí fuera! ¡No podemos irnos sin ellos todavía! ¡No! ¡NO! ¡NO LOS DEJES, NICHOLAS! ¡POR FAVOR! "

[Confederation of the Equator]

[minecraft villager sound]

[Zarkenis Ultima]

---

---

---

The battle swiftly began and Alexis' teammates immediately closed in on their targets: Angelica targeted the werebear and the man who created explosions, while Jason went straight for the flame gunner. Since the two were collectively taking on three of the inmates, and the group was comprised of eight in total, that could only mean...

"AHHH!" Alexis cried out while tumbling wildly through the air, doing her best to maneuver around a wave of oversized bone spikes shooting towards her while trying to shake off the hand that was holding onto her ankle. At first, she had been content to just float in place and let the spikes harmlessly bounce off her force field while she tried to get a good grip on the disembodied hand to try and pry it off, but that quickly changed when the man with the toothbrush spear approached the spike-thrower and began using his power to grow the usually nail-sized spikes to the size of footballs, thus making them pose an actual threat to the tech wizard.

Things only got worse from there, as the concrete man grabbed a hold of Alexis' foot and used it to slam her into the ground.

"Gah... Psyche, a little bit of help!" The blonde shouted after a pained gasp, while unloading her remaining shock darts on the stone man, to no avail.

"Right away, Makeshift!" Yoshiro replied. With a light gesture, she used her telekinesis to lift the disembodied hand off of Alexis' body and send it flying back to the twin who was still whole. The hand flew up to him before slapping him a couple of times, all the while the Asian girl approached. The twin grabbed his brother's thigh in order to use his femur to fend off the telepath.

"...THAT'S YOUR IDEA OF HELP?!" Alexis shouted as she was lifted off the ground by her neck. She tried to break free from the golem's stone grip, to no avail. Shiiit, I can't lose here! But what do I do?!

...Ugh. Screw it. If you can't beat 'em, blow 'em up!

Before the concrete man could choke her, the genius girl expelled the power cell of her left gauntlet and quickly set it to detonate before throwing it at his feet. Realizing what was about to happen, he threw the girl away and turned around to try and run away, but his stone form was much too slow to escape the blast radius in time, and his legs were promptly blown off.

"Oh holy shit! Bricks, you okay?!" One of the two remaining inmates cried out in concern, before angrily charging towards Alexis with his oversized shiv in hand. Still recovering from the explosion, which had knocked her back several paces, she only barely managed to roll out of the way and avoid a nasty blow - nothing her shield wouldn't protect her from, but it was still better to dodge than to block. The inmate growled some insults at her, something or other about being a mean person along with an abundant use of the word bitch, but she was too busy thinking to pay any attention to that.

Alright, I know for a fact that's not gonna keep stoner boy down, I've got to think of a way to get him out of the game permanently...

Got it.

After dodging a few more attacks, the tech wizard slid right between his foe's legs and then kicked off into the air. Concrete man had already healed his legs by inflicting further damage on the floor and walls of the facility, but before he was able to stand up, Alexis pointed her right gauntlet at it and lifted him off the ground, pushing him into Oberon's arms. The mech immediately sprung to life thanks to a mental command from its master and put the hostile super under a tight headlock. Much as he tried, the stone man was unable to break free.

One down, two to go. Now-

"Most is not an answer, carajo! What if the rest woke up their peers, or attacked us from behind, or, worse, brought reinforcements? We're up against Warwolf here, Alexis, we can't afford this careless behavior!" Renata's voice suddenly screamed into her ears over the comm link, shocking her and cutting off her current train of thought.

What?! The girl questioned, but before she could actually say anything in response, she felt a huge boulder slamming into her back.

"Let's see if you enjoy that, little bitch!" The man with the shiv shouted in triumph as he watched the genius be carried off by the speeding boulder.

I'm gonna kill her I'm gonna kill her I'm gonna kill her!

Wait, she also said my name didn't she? In a Warwolf base?! RENATA!

Fuming, the blonde girl nonetheless realized that her highest priority at the moment was not being turned into mush when the boulder inevitably smashed into the wall - sure, she hadn't been turned into mush during her mission at the Wonders Foundation facility, but it still wouldn't do to take unnecessary risks. Fortunately, her gauntlet's traction module allowed her to pull herself to any nearby object as long as it was massively heavier than what it could lift, so she was able to slip away from the boulder by pointing it at the floor.

Meanwhile, the two remaining inmates were trying to break their friend free from Oberon's grip, to no avail - the man with the toothbrush in particular was trying to use his weapon as a crowbar, but before he was able to achieve results, a very angry teenage girl darted towards him and delivered a rocket-powered knee straight into his groin, leaving him writhing on the floor.

"Who's the little bitch now, huh?!" Alexis roared.

"Shit!" The remaining inmate, the spike shooter, cried as he quickly backed away from Alexis and looked around, only to notice that all of his allies had been taken out already. Frightened and not wanting to be taken back to his cell, the man backed off slowly, pointing his fingers at the heroes in the room, ready to shoot if they approached.

Before he fired a single spike, a pair of hands wrapped around his torso. By the time he realized what was going on, he had become the victim of a German suplex. The perpetrator was a tall, muscular black man. Alexis immediately pointed her right gauntlet at him, despite the fact it no longer held any shock darts, but the man quickly raised his hands and backed away.

"Hold on, I'm on your side!" He assured them, prompting the blonde girl to raise an eyebrow. Looking at him a bit more closely, though, a look of realization appeared on her face.

"Wait, no way..." Alexis mumbled softly. "You're... Duke?"

[Segral]

Sir Edward Whilton
A Failed Quest

Brother Nicholas seemed to approve of his plan, but yet have his own interjection on the appropriate course of action. After some thought, he suggested that Edward do his noble deed of carrying Sister Sina, as well as the wounded Sister Catarina, to an abandoned police station nearby, in case their current base was being attacked by these same criminal insects! What a great plan! Granted, it was not a very good plan for their base, belongings, and Issac's feline, but a great plan to avoid being injured! Harold was a trusty steed, of course, he could support the three of them. He was no ordinary horse, he carried Edward, Edward's suit of armor, his weapons, and a set of horse armor on his back, and did not even break a sweat. He would show Brother Nicholas and Sister Alexis that he was a great warrior, a great team leader!

Edward gave Brother Nicholas a very crude thumbs-up sign, bracing against Sina's weight as she shifted upon his back, muttering woozy words in his ear like a temptress. A very sodden temptress! She was asking...which brother was he! He was Edward, but Sina did not seem to recognize him, instead uttering names such as "May-en", "Rrrragar", and "Taaaasz", asking why he was...glamoured in metal! What a curious term... "glamour". He liked that word. And those names. "Rrrragar". He liked that name. He would use that name. Clearly, Sina was suggesting a new, more heroic name for a strong man like him! He needed a more appropriate title.

"Er...yes! I am Ragar! This is my suit of armor, Sister Sina! It's quite...glamorous, no? It protects my body! My body is ready!" he chirped as he meandered over to Catarina, roughly grabbing her by the arm and acting as a crutch for her to lean on. He was taking inspiration from that man Reggie on the vellytision. Er...television.

However, a sound then pierced his heart.

Sister Alexis screaming.

Sister Catarina suddenly yelped, tearing herself free from Edward and doing the same to her wounds, the bandages falling to the floor as odd blades began to rise from her hands. Swords. She was growing swords of her skeleton! She was bleeding, but Edward couldn't keep his grip, with his weak leg and Sina weighing on his back. He tried to grab her hair, but it was no use, it slipped away as she howled, tearing herself free. With a lurch, Edward fell to the ground, Sina still on his shoulder. His leg was splintering with pain, he was sweating, he was shaking. He was tired. He wanted to sleep, sleep in his bedroom on the train. With the cross above his bed of seats, the rosary on the nearby train seat, the bible at his feet. Harold tied away far off in the car, his weapons snug in the doors. No, he wanted to go back to Britain. Sleep in his quarters, sleep in his bed, sleep before the Crusade, still a squire cleaning armor. Why did he have to die? He was happy as a foot soldier serving God.

Struggling to his feet, he felt heat, shattering glass around him. The building was on fire. But how was Edward so cold, his veins, his blood so cold with terror, with fear. He was never scared. Even in the Crusade, he was never scared, only confident as he slew man after man. But he needed to remain strong. Brother Nicholas needed him to keep Sister Sina and Sister Catarina safe.

Struggling with one step after the other, he pushed onwards, making his way to Brother Nicholas struggling to hold Sister Catarina back. Sister Catarina was weeping about something, probably weeping over Sister Alexis. He needed to get her out, or she could hurt herself...or the Sister and Brother trapped outside.

However, as he reached for her, a gunshot rang through the air.

"No no no, this couldn't be happening, this couldn't be happening!" Edward thought frantically as he grabbed the writhing Catarina by the scruff of her neck, practically dragging her. It was just one of those metal toys, those guns. Maybe Alexis had fired hers, to kill some filth! Maybe it was a Muslim man, a Turk, an unholy spirit. Everything would be fine, Sister Alexis and Brother Sebastian would never let this happen to them! Brother Nicholas was a dramatic type, he was exaggerating. They were all exaggerating. Even if they were...gone, it was a minor loss. Everyone died in the war for dominance, it was nothing special. No use to weep, shed empty tears.

The trek was difficult, but Edward somehow managed it. It was not easy, with Sina weighing on his back and Catarina struggling to get out of his arm. But Edward had the strength of ten men, and he overpowered her with ease. He ignored Issac and Nicholas with contempt, pushing out of the parking lot, to the nearby side street where Harold was. Every step was a battle, pain shooting all throughout his body. Harold remained tethered, but he was whinnying, neighing, wanting to leave. He would, he would soon.

First, he pushed Catarina into the saddle, despite her earnest protests, grabbing her wrists so she couldn't object. With expertise, he swung himself into the saddle with Sina on his back, using Sister Catarina as a support, as a handhold to climb up. Sister Sina was still clinging to his back, and he pulled Sister Catarina in the rear forward, clamping down on her arms with the crooks of his arms. Harold squealed at the sudden weight, shrieking and buckling, but Edward refused to let go, lashing on his reins and poking his stirrups, torturing his horse until he rode, rode off into the night.

[North America Inc]

Ignacio Cortez
The man ran fast as could. His weight didn't matter, his breath didn't matter, not even the broken shackles around his leg. He had a singular mission and that was just to get as far he could away from the firefight as quick as he could. As the advancing teenagers and WarWolf hogged the spotlight, Nacho just snaked his way through every single side street and alley he could find. "Jesus Christ!...cough I need to lose weight." He huffed and cursed through every breath he drew; passing an intersection, he took a collection of everything had happened in the last few minutes.

First the transfer, than the power outage, than my powers came back, than those same niños came and attacked the station... You know what? Don't question it.

The sound of tailgating vehicles and sirens swerving nearby was more than enough to give him some more energy to continue fleeing. Running into an alley and hiding behind a green decal dumpster, he eyed the convoy through the small crack between the trash and the wall. Normal police cruisers were up ahead followed quickly by Army trucks and mounted Humvees. When did the Police start using Humvees? This is like Call of Duty level shit. Jeez those new pendejos are hard core.

As the reinforcements passed him on by, Nacho breathed a sigh of relief. Standing up and walking to the street to get a view of the encouraging force, Nacho turned back only to do a double take. A homeless man was there resting this entire time right next to him. They both looked kind of confused at each other, not sure what to say to the other. The homeless man put away his bottle and finally said, "Hey."

"Uhh hey."

"Rough day?"

"Yea...Rough day?"

"When is life not Brother." Sitting up and moving his cardboard and blankets away, the man began to dig into a near by garbage bag and grocery cart, "What waist size are you? I think I got a pair I can spare."

---

-snip-

Rookie Captain
"Hold... your side..."

"Wait, no way... Duke..."

"We have a security breach, over!...This is Oxide... Copy that...Requesting a SITREP....I repeat, Disciple Four, this is Oxide. What is your status over? Disciple Five what is your status..." the radio rested on the ground near his near lifeless body continued to go on and on. Slumped against the wall as the sound around him went on without much for him to go off of or even comprehend. Slipping in and out of consciousness, dragged every minute to feel like an hour. His armor made to protect him now served as his casket as he could barely even lift it now. His feeble arms and legs suffocating due to the sheer weight of the power armor.

"This isn't how I die..." Murmuring under his breath, he tried his best to stand to do anything but it felt nearly hopeless. "...this can't be it. This can't be it."

His head bobbed down for a second only for him to jerk himself back for a second. Did I pass out again? Damn it, why is it so hard to think. This shouldn't be happening. Slightly shifting his crushed left arm onto his leg, the excruciating pain he expected did not occur. Instead, it felt numb and almost nonexistent. As if he wasn't really lifting it beyond his imagination. Luckily for him, the UI of his helmet still gave him a clear enough of a picture for him to see it. It also gave him a good look at everything else going on. For the first time, he got a good luck at his injuries. His armor was shattered right through the center, no doubt everything under that looked as mangled as the chest piece. Shifting his shattered pelvis a little, he felt a moist substance shift and congeal under him. What is that again...what is it called?'

The radio came back to life or he was now just paying attention it. He really didn't care if it was either or. "Carnival Two, this is Oxide."

"Go ahead Oxide..."

"What's my call-sign again? Disciple, something...Disciple Four?" Pulling his still functional right arm up a little, he struggled to reach his neck. This helmet was so suffocating, all the recycled air stunk of iron. Coughing profusely for a few seconds, he worried that his worsening coughing fits might alert one of the Apostles about his status; but that thought soon eluded him, he really didn't want to think thoughts like that right now. He was too tired.

"...terminated with extreme prejudice..."

"Over and..."

One decompressed hiss and his helmet disconnected from his armor; slumping his head over, he was able to drag it off. The helmet clanked as it bounced against the floor, bringing more than a few eyes on him, a twenty something, down on his luck guy. Looking over at the sight before him to his right, he really didn't put two and two together. Although they were costumed heroes, at that moment, all that came to his mind was how young they are. They looked teenagers, reminded him of the gang his older sister use to hang out with all those years ago. "Where's Jeanette?" He said a little louder than his last couple outbursts. "Where's Jeanette...You gotta, you gotta...we have to go home. Mom."

Loud and painful wheezing interrupted him as he spit out everything out of throat. Slamming his head back just to use the wall as a crutch, he continued on his tangent. The pain was subsiding and he didn't feel the stabbing sensation anymore; he felt a little cold, but that was because he hadn't turned on the heater yet. Dad always got on his case when he did, said that the bill was going to kill him or something like that. "Jeanette, it's time for us to go. I need... need to go home. It's not funny anymore guys, we got to go. Have you seen her, where is she? I want to go home. I want...want to home. Please, I want to go home."

---

WarWolf Riot Team

The hustle and bustle of the temporary safe zone was developing into a rhythm; with minimal orders and direct contact with the outside, the haphazard group of different SDPD support teams and WarWolf were able to bring some semblance of order. Medical used the cafeteria tables to nurse anyone they were able to bring back from the chaos, communications were able to use cellphones and scattered radios to ensure that comms were fully operational, and the PMCs held security posts around it. Gunfire and canisters continued to ring out into the foyer; the riot team had been able to incapacitate anyone who tried to get out and fight back. Criminals were strapped down, and meta humans had their unconscious bodies laying off in the corner. The Captain in charge was relatively proud of how fast his boys were able to bring the pain down, and respond to the crisis. Walking back and forth on the lime green floors of the cafeteria, a beep on his radio caught his attention. Finally he was going to get some idea of what was going on. Bringing up to his face, he held down the side, "Carnival Two, this is Oxide."

"Go ahead Oxide." he answered as he walked towards the nearest bench and sat down.

"Requesting a SITREP on the situation within Cell blocks A to K." as Oxide spoke, numerous other operators spoke faintly behind him, becoming white noise.

"Situation appears stable. Undetermined amount of criminals tried to bust out immediately following the power outage. Carnival Three and Four quickly mobilized and handled the situation while One or Two secured the area for nonessential personnel, over."

"Were any able to escape, over?"

"As of now unclear. Multiple ploys to escape via the roof or through processing have so far failed. Most have been disarmed through nonlethal techniques, however, we have nine confirmed dead convicts, over."

"How about KIA, over?"

"Three...over." His mouth hissed at the thought of all those under him had just been surprised and let down by the automated system suppose to protect him. How does something like this happen. Wiping his forehead and his sweat filled grey hair, he went on, "Oxide, do we know what is exactly going on...over?"

"Unclear. Rathers has so not been reached. We lost contact with Reiniks a few minutes ago. Disciple Four are all presumed KIA, Butcher One through Five are all reporting a collapse of their holding line by an opposing force." Oxide's pained sighs was more than enough to give Captain Davidson more than enough of a clear picture of how bad it was.

"Any leads on who the OpFor is?"

"Nothing substantive, but a few men report that the powers and abilities are similar to those seen at some Wonder Foundation raid a few days back. Young Bloods, they're calling them; they may have made an ultimatum a few days back for something...over."

"Ultimatum?"

"Yes, give me a second..." Muffled snapping and orders were heard as Oxide ordered a cursory internet search into the subject. A minute went by a sound bite played from some outside audio. Davidson pressed his ear against his radio as he tried his best to listen, "known as Warwolf, was brought in to our city to provide justice and protection to its citizens. However, today we have seen a terrible example of their failure. Kirisvala, a dearly regarded member of our team and member of the San Diego community, has been unjustly arrested by Warwolf agents. The Young Bloods now stand together and call for the immediate release of Kirsvala, and we call on the public to stand with us as we demand accountability..."

Davidson scratched his head as he tried his best to recollect who this Kirisvala individual was as he walked over to a few of his injured compatriots and asked them what he had just learned. Kicking one seat to catch the attention of a laying guard, he got to the point and asked, "Kirisvala, do we have a prisoner by that name here or any of the cell blocks."

"Possibly....yea." the woman said as she pulled her broken arm to her chest, "Fenris Three was able to incapacitate some alien a week or two ago. I helped with the transfer...Wait? Is that thing the reason why this whole cluster fuck is going down?"

"Possibly...do you remember the cell number." He said with extreme anger, "Pulling out his radio again, Carnival Three this is Carnival Two we have an opposing force coming in for a HVT. The HVT and OPFor are to be terminated with extreme prejudice, over."

"Understood Carnival Two, do we have a location and Identification for the High Value Target."

"Yes..."

---

-snip-

-snip-

-snip-

Shihong Smith
Dashing through the claustrophobic hallways of the compound, Shi, with Jan and Kiris close by, ran through the empty and deserted halls with all pretense of stealth gone. Their net was quickly closing around them and neither of the three wanted to be the last one left within this literal prison at the end of it. A few loose criminals ran back and forth between them; Shi did her best to quick send a concussive blast their way and knock them down for now.

"Ash is secure. We are moving towards your position currently." Cassandra finally answered as the trio made another left towards Processing, the whole group having communicated that they were in that general vicinity.

"And where exactly is your location? Never-mind, if you can head towards the Processing Unit, the team is there." Shi said with a slight excitement, worry, and panting within her voice; while the idea of her failing at her objective was something she loathed, this moment to moment decision making gave her the push to keep going forward. Another threat, another enemy might be at any corner, and that's exactly how she liked it.

Light steps gave way to a whole herd of boots marching to the right of them on the other side of the intersection. "This way, this is where the HVT was housed." One of the voices uttered as they turned the corner. A group of twelve odd men wearing specialized exo suits, gas canisters, ARs, and shotguns were heading in their direction. They were highly trained and very effective as an unit, a cohesive entity that was able to handle any type of meta human threat.

Hearing the group approach, Shi acted quick on her feet released a gust of flames acting a visible barrier for the the other two to get behind cover; one of the advantages of the condensed hallways was that it allowed Shi's flames to quickly engulf it. Pushing the other two behind the walls of the intersecting hallway, Shi followed with some more concussive blasts.

The WW Riot Team immediately followed that with, "CONTACT! CONTACT!" Automatic gunfire pierced through the smoke, followed by tear gas lobbed towards their general direction. "Carnival Two, we are engaging the enemy now!"

Mentally and verbally communicating the same message so that both Alexis and Cassandra received the same message, "WarWolf is pitching us, we are going to need some help ASAP." In between the sporadic volleys, Shi fired off blasts and some bolts of electricity; she didn't have enough time to properly create one true lightening strand. Looking over at Jan and his fishbowl, Shi grabbed his shoulder, "Can you create some cover for us to use?"

[Finland SSR]

Viviana Couture July 29

Mizuma Ishiwara, the Lunarian Illusionist!

July 29th

---

The payoff of the buildup was better than Mizu could have ever imagined. Casimir made all the mistakes which the operation needed to succeed - he did not question anything when Vivi asked him to take a shower, he didn't notice the inconspicuous chair standing a dozen or so meters away from his door, he didn't catch wind of any possible clues of Carter and Mizu's infiltration a minute earlier, and he went straight for the shower as soon as he entered his room. Mizu popped out of her chair form as soon as Casimir went inside, joining Viviana on the other side of the door and waited.

And the result was a barrel of laughs and a half. Usually, Mizu would let herself go in laughing as soon as her pranks succeeded, but as Viv chose to hold back her laugh and instead plan to tell Casimir that he had been pranked, so did the purple-haired girl. It was far from easy, however - Mizu had to clench over her mouth and breathe heavily to not let the built up emotions burst.

She didn't know what Vivi meant by 'that one show' as soon as she checked what her gummy friend had messaged her, probably to not unnecessarily alarm Casimir while he was still panicking and screaming, but Mizu could work with it.

"Strike team alpha, move out," the purple-haired girl whispered, slam-opening the door like she was a military operative and bursting inside. Alright, the shower should be right there, just need to swipe open the curtain and...

"You've just been- AAAHHHHHH!!!"

The realization of having just opened the curtain separating the three of them from a Casimir in the middle of a bloody shower instantly dawned on her, and upon the immediate sight, burst straight out of the room.

---

Shihong Smith

Jan Sorok, the Hero of Poland!

August 1st

---

The three of them couldn't manage to escape unharassed, apparently. While dashing through one of the many corridors in the prison complex, Jan's senses caught the presence of several conscious minds inching closer towards them - before he could even mutter a single word, however, the first of the Warwolf soldiers emerged, twelve of them in total, all heavily armed and seemingly ready to attack them at a moment's notice.

Shi struck first, summoning a burst of fire to give the three of them a window of opportunity to find cover, the heroine pushing Jan and Kiris behind an intersecting hallway. Just in case, Jan generated a knight's shield on his left arm to compliment the weapon in his right. Immediately after, a firefight broke out - the soldiers on the other side fired bullets and tear gas, to which Jan responded by shutting down his fish bowl and staying behind cover, while Shi retaliated with concussive and lightning blasts.

The one thing Jan could do to help their rescuer out was trail his vision across the ground, his eyes picking up a used and empty tear gas canister and his telekinetic powers lifting it up from the ground before tossing it straight back towards their opponents at massive speeds. A loud grunt from one of the soldiers getting hit by a can flying as fast as a speeding car indicated that he landed a solid hit. Any further help in the firefight, however, had to be put on hold, as Shi suddenly grabbed Jan by the shoulder and asked if he can create some cover for them.

Jan did not know what she meant by "cover", but his mind was clear enough to understand that the woman wanted help with the enemy barrage. The Polish vigilante gave a stern nod and suddenly leapt into the corridor, ducking and slamming his shield down on the ground.

The shield instantly began to expand, covering much of the corridor and taking a crescent form - the first of the bullets immediately started bouncing off it with a loud metallic thud afterwards, soliciting some confused reactions from the soldiers still shrouded by the smoke. Jan took an easier breath, moving back from the shield - only for his face to get overtaken by worry again once the first cracks appeared on the construct.

The bullets were coming one right after the other, giving the construct no time to rest with their pounding, and his powers had never been so strong as to endure automatic gunfire for a long time. Jan reacted frantically, waving his hand across the air and creating a second, identical shield construct right behind the first. Soon enough, the gunfire punched through the first shield completely, it collapsing into glass-like shards and promptly fading from existence, and the first bullets already started to pound and strike the second one.

"If you want to do something with this, do it quick," Jan exclaimed as he turned his head towards Shi and Kiris for a second, before returning his focus back towards the shield construct, already preparing to generate a third one.

[The Republic of Atria]

Aug 1, Jason

He was ready to jump back into action, with his eyes trained on Toothbrush Lord and Yogi The Werebear, only to find Alexis and the now free Duke had finished off one of the others. "Awwww. I wanted to take on Yogi. Maybe next time fuzzball." He mused as he made his way over to the group when he caught sight of a Warwolf rookie in quite bad shape. His first instinct was "who cares" forget him and move on, but when he heard the guy talk, he was clearly delirious and almost certainly in agony. His superhero gut told him to help, and he probably could. "Well don't just stand there and watch him die!" He shouted. "Hey, I know you probably don't want to, but you need to try to get in there and see if you can't fix some of the damage." He spoke, to him it was obviously Sludge he was speaking to, though the same couldn't be said for everyone else.

"I... Can try. You're mostly healed, but we really shouldn't bother with-" Sludge started.

"Look. We're SUPPOSED to be the good guys. And here we are committing B and E, aiding the escape of prisoners, and like, 50 charges of assault. The LEAST we can do is try to help this poor bastard. Or at least ease his passing. Come on. We're not monsters. We leave him like this, and we're everything Warwolf says we are, and FUCK ME I can't believe I'm saying this." He hissed, taking a deep breath as some of the ooze from his body crawled off the lower half of his body, leaving his head covered, revealing he wasn't wearing much but an old T shirt and khakis. Sludge kept himself connected to Jason as the ooze worked it's way into the dying soldier's wounds.

"He's got some serious internal injuries, broken bones, and probably a concussion. Give me a moment, I can try to halt some of the bleeding. Bones will take too long for me to heal with what little time we have, and I can at least make it so he won't be feeling as much pain for the next few days. He'll be fine so long as he gets medical attention."

"Sludge is kinda bonding to him like he does me." He did notice that his back was starting to throb a bit. The gunshot wounds were still a bit tender, but he could deal with that for a minute or two. "I don't know if you guys got anything that can heal, but I'm being told he should be fine so long as he gets to a hospital sometime tonight. If you do got healing something or other, I'd recommend doubling down. Sludge can fix him, but it'll take too long to get him to fully fix him."

Aug 1st, Wyatt

So far so good. The first major wave was on the run, but they were likely to return with backup. Hopefully they wouldn't catch on to them not actually killing the soldiers and most of what they were doing was the physical equivalent to hot air. Maybe they already did, and had something special in mind. His train of thought was interrupted when Amir motioned for him to follow him a little more out of sight. "I swear." He started as Amir took a drink from a water bottle he carried with him. "If they think I'm one of your summons or something, I'm gonna be a little upset." He snickered, taking Amir's offer and drinking a few swallows of water. How good the cool liquid tasted after running around for so long. "Thanks man." He nodded, giving the bottle back.

He knew that WarWolf was going to come back, presumably with at least a bunch of more men and a Juggernaut at minimum. Since the rest of the team has yet to get back to them, they still had a show to put on. "They'd better hurry the hell up. I know these guys absolutely do not like who I'm disguised as, and so they're probably going to send a lot of crap I'm probably not prepared for." Though since WarWolf was scattered all over the city, they likely wouldn't send literally everything they had at him. If they did, then running away would probably be the best bet.

The next few minutes were tense as he and Amir kept hidden from sight. The all too familiar sound of diesel powered military equipment and metal thudding indicated that they had at least one Juggernaut, maybe two, alongside a bunch of troopers. It was hard to tell from where they were. He could probably take one Juggernaut if he really tried. But he'd have to find a way to deal with the rest of the soldiers first.

"Amir, you wouldn't happen to have any more of those fire runes set up over there, would you? If not... I've got another really bad idea."

[Tomia]

Mike Mathews

Mars' reluctantly followed Mike's lead as they moved through the police precinct. He didn't like being bossed around by the guy he was currently pissed at, but he was injured and undeniably needed help. As Mike dragged him along from room to room, things were happening far too quickly for Mars to intervene. Instead he was simply relegated to watching Mike deal with the foes they encountered. Things got particularly dicey when they entered a room near the exit, and they were greeted unkindly by warwolf soldiers. Mike shouted for Mars to run but there wasn't time as shroud of bullets came there way and Mike used all his power to repel them. Instead Mars raised his arm as quickly could and projected his shield that shielded him from the blast and the bullets flying his way. The shield at point began to falter at the sheer impact of the blast but it held together as the attack subsided. Mars was impressed with Mike's resolve during this fight, he was badly outnumbered but appeared to be doing whatever it took to come out on top. As Mike seemingly came out on top of the fight, part of the still remaining ceiling began to fall on him, And Mars quickly raised his shield to block it.

"Watch out!" Mars shouted, using the energy shield to knock the debris away from his teammate. "We need to get out of here... quickly."

[Absolon-7]

Mizuma Ishiwara, the Lunarian Illusionist!

Viviana Couture July 29th
The moment of fortune had arrived as Casimir's yells bombarded out his room's door. Each breath was a long winded wheeze as she continued clamping her mouth shut in laughter. Viviana barely manged to move out of Mizu's way as the purple haired girl came running down the hallway for the grand reveal of their military strike. Viviana managed a semblance of self-control as she followed behind Mizu bursting to the room's innards and onto the bathroom. What made her stop in her tracks right outside the door was a sudden realization of the implications of what are going to happen. Mizu pulling open the curtain to reveal a naked Casimir drenched in faux-blood made her stand with her mouth agape like a deer in the headlights and frozen as Mizu ran screaming past her.

"EEEEEEP!," squealed Viviana bringing up her hands to cover her face and her face blushing to a shade that almost matched the faux blood itself. She turned her back to her boyfriend as he rolled the curtain back enough to cover everything but his face. "C..C...Cas you jerk!"

"I mean...yo..you guys pretty much had it coming," explained Casimir, "What did you think was gonna hap..pen?"

"Ahhhhh! Red alert red alert!," blurted out in what seemed to be a half laugh. Viviana rushed out of the room and bumped into the door frame. She bounced back for a few seconds before running out of the room after Mizu. This left Casimir alone in his shower grumbling under his breath about using one of the Tower's empty room's showers and hopefully no one cared too much about what was going to look like a murder scene. Meanwhile, Viviana couldn't make head or tails of her mind. She had just seen..just seen Casimir's....oh no! How could she face him the next time they saw each other? Does this mean they have to homerun now!? No no no, I'm overreacting. Right? Her rambling train of thoughts was interrupted by bumping into Mizu yet again around a hallway corner.

"Ooof, sorry Mizu," said stammering Viviana. She crossed one arm to grasp her elbow as she looked from side to side. "Mission was a SNAFU, eh? I think we should call it a day. It'll just be awkward to do anything else..."

Renata Martinez, the heroic Spectrum!

Viviana Couture August 1st
Viviana's eyes twinkled with anticipation as Renata contributed her own piece in the Star Wars discussion. Renata's position was respectable enough and just perfect enough to fall down the Star Wars fandom rabbithole. Considering the depths of that rabbithole it would be best to be scant in details for lore and stuff as all that background information could just be suffocating. The movie being described as a breath of fresh air wouldn't be her choice of her words but she had enjoyed it immensely when she went to go see it. An immense rumbling inside the base made her sharply turn her head and worry began to set it yet again. Renata's sudden shipping question made her swivel her head to face the pink haired girl.

"Girl, you might as well consider me the first mate in that ship," said Viviana with a wink,"Oh my gosh that hug sealed it for me. How could ya not support it after that. Now, the movie's not exactly my favorite Star Wars thing, that would be The Empire Strikes Back and the Clone War series, but it was good for what it was."

Viviana took another glance behind her at the building the vague sounds of chaos within almost being too distracting, "I really hope this stuff's done soon. Its killin me what might be happening inside."

Jill Colson/Peacekeeper

Casimir Herman August 2nd
A cold silent night shrouded San Diego in contrast to the burning southern Californian sun of the day. Just perfect for high stakes practice for webswinging and acrobatics. The thrill of the night was almost intoxicating, as if the nighttime mood was a clandestine drug as he prowled the city for scum to pulverize under his righteous might. Hell, he might even want to track down that cloth manipulator from the other day for some payback. He swung and twisted midair from building to building with his webbing like a dashing wraith in the air above the streets. His arms swung methodically as he practiced what Jason had taught him days ago.

He didn't want to admit but he still had ways to go until he caught up with Jason's skill in this ability as could be clearly seen when Kabuto almost hit a stop sign on a downward swing. Wait what am i doing out here again? it suddenly occurred to Kabuto but it was quelled once he tugged a sting upwards and catapulted himself onto the roof of a building. Blazing yellow headlight from cars below highlighted the red lenses of his helmet. His legs exploded into a run across the grimy rooftop of the anonymous building and as the next building came up he leaped upwards and stretched his foot out to land on the roof outcrop. Unfortunately, fate had other plans as that particular spot his boot landed was wet from some unknown source and he fell downwards perpendicular to the building. A free fall was his only task as he fell farther and farther down until his open hands grasped the railing of a fire escape.

"A fuck this," grunted Kabuto as he held onto the railing. His helmeted head tilted upwards and spotted a figure he had known about for sometime but had never managed to cross paths with. He let the silence hang for a few seconds until a sigh flew out his mouth, "Greetings, Peacekeeper my fellow upholder of justice. It is I Kabuto! Doubtless you must of heard of me....Any space up there for me? Hanging here doesn't seem fitting."

[Zarkenis Ultima]

July 26th

---

---

Icarus looked around the place with curiosity. While she had been far from the ideal companion - at least at first; she'd mellowed significantly once they were out on the streets again - Aleta was certainly resourceful, and the young man was left to wonder just how many little hideouts like that she might have spread out across the city.

Hearing the blonde girl's words, he did a double take. Not because he minded being relegated to the couch, but because, despite everything, he had not expected to have to spend the night there. Well, I guess it makes enough sense... better to stay around than go back out there and risk getting caught.

With a sigh, he resigned himself to staying in Aleta's hideout and patted his pocket, only to notice that his phone wasn't there. Momentarily confused, he glanced at Eliza, who was about to head into her assigned room to retire for the night. "Hey, wait up." He called out as he walked up to her. The woman turned around, raising an eyebrow, but she seemed to quickly catch on and fished a cell phone out of a pocket from her borrowed pants.

"For both of our sakes I hope the idiots assigned to San Diego aren't smart enough to track this." She said as she handed the phone back to him.

"I hope so too." He replied with a nod. "Have a good night."

"Guten nacht, madman." She said before retreating into her bedroom. Now alone, Icarus shrugged at the comment and walked to the expanding sofa, lying down on it.

Now, to think of a good excuse for why I'm not coming home tonight...

---

August 1st

---

---

"Well, I can't say it's good practice for being a superhero or infiltrating an evil military compound, but manual work is definitely relaxing." Douglas concurred after taking a brief pause from stuffing his face full of noodles - with the help of a plastic fork obviously, because who had the time to learn how chopsticks worked? He stopped taking to take a gulp of water before continuing. "Most days, when I'm not out on the streets I'm either tending to my store or doing some other work, so I've got my hands busy with something most of the time, but I don't mind. Pays well for what it is." He gave a light shrug, before promptly going back to devouring his meal.

For all of two seconds. As it turned out, he was in a chatty mood. "Of course, when I'm not doing that, I like practicing my archery a little. Stupid bow doesn't give me any aiming superpowers, so I have to keep my skills honed or I'm just a guy with an old fashioned armor and a funny bludgeon." He added, shooting a nasty glare at the bow that was idly lying on one of the tables before shrugging again and turning to look at Lana. "How about you, Warp? Do anything other than recovering purses and saving puppies?"

[Vanquaria]

---

___________________________________________

__________________________________

A Date With Shi
Balboa Park, San Diego
6 August
__________________________________

---

Days had passed yet there still remained scars that the demonic swordsman had left on him. As far as first missions go, Bu seriously doubted that the level of danger for newbies was meant to be so high. But the near-death experience had left him hungry, hungry for life. And so, having given his skin a whiff of deodorant for good measure, he had walked right up to Shi the moment he laid eyes on her and asked her out on a date. It would have been nerve-wracking for Bu, after all, he was still, in essence, as much a teenager like any other, but unlike other guys his age, he had been gifted with the almost divine ability to control himself and control himself he did, making sure he oozed that thing dating websites always talked about: confidence.

Fortunately for the teen fighter, she had said yes.

Bu had done recon the days leading up to the moment, ignoring his injuries completely as he roamed San Diego. From Downtown to Chinatown, he traversed the metropolis until he found it: Balboa Park. A classy area composed of museums, parks, restaurants, and even a zoo, it was nothing less than perfect for a day out at the cinemas with the pop beauty.

The movie he had wanted to watch was a horror flick. However, he had read somewhere that teen girls didn't like horror flicks. So he compromised...a comedy horror flick!

After finishing and whole-heartedly enjoying the masterpiece, he'd taken the heroine on a walk through the botanic gardens of Balboa Park. The scenic route that visitors to the garden were led through involved exotic plants and trees whose leaves had been cut so intricately that they resembled certain shapes. The gentle sound of water from the streams snaking around the garden was occasionally disturbed by an abrupt splash of water. To those whose curiosity was peaked by the disturbances in the streams, they would discover that the source was nothing more than schools of different species of fish, the aquatic creatures being gifts from San Diego's Chinatown.

At the center of the garden would be a circular clearing adorned by shops selling bouquets or refreshments. Children frolicked amongst the beds of flowers with butterflies, their parents occupied under the trees, the shade cool and relaxing.

"Let's chill here for a bit," Bu said, laying his back against the protruding curve of a green bench, the wood it was composed of shaved so cleanly that one could run a finger along the entire length of it and find not even the smallest of bumps.

Looking up at the bright, blue sky above them, Bu reminisced aloud, "Seeing those koi wander aimlessly around in the water...it really reminded me of home...of China."

---

---

___________________________________________

__________________________________

There Are No Rest Days
Wonder Island, San Diego
3 August
__________________________________

---

The windows were white, their visibility limited though they would soon clear when the sun rose up. It was roughly 4 am and not a soul stirred outside in the darkness. But inside the training rooms of the Young Bloods, the sound of exertion echoed loudly through the otherwise empty place.

Images of the fight still lingered in his mind, so vivid they were that his scars ached. He had expected to meet super-powered beings in America but certainly not monsters of the martial arts. The man named 'Floyd'...Bu was confident that he was the strongest swordsman he had ever encountered out of the multitude of armed masters he had met during his tenure as a fighter in Asia.

It shook the Chinese teen that the man knew who he was, who he had been. 'King of China', that was the first time someone had addressed him using that moniker in America. It had unnerved him, though only just slightly, after the fight, as he sat on the hospital bed with Mizu close by. He had faced Western martial artists before and through his encounters with them, he had realized just how...big the world beyond the arena was.

There resided monstrous masters in all corners of the world, most being dormant beasts and others actively seeking prey. And he had met one of them just yesterday. Bu refused to excuse himself for his inability to finish off Floyd when he had the chance. The 7 Plum Punch he had used had hurt the swordsman but it had not been enough to incapacitate him. And that mistake had been all his enemy needed to turn the tide against him and push him to the brink of death.

"ARGH!" Bu roared as he suddenly pounded the red punching bag in front of him. His punches were a blur of motion and within seconds, POOF!

There were multiple fist-sized holes through the bag. Exasperated by the fact that that had been the 9th punching bag he'd destroyed since he'd begun training an hour ago, he ripped the top chain off with brute strength and threw the 100-pound bag behind him.

Bu suddenly felt moisture growing on his hand. His knuckles were bleeding. Again.

"Fuck it!" he swore, angrily pulling apart the thick bandages he'd placed over them. He didn't want to put another layer of fresh bandages over them so he let the blood flow from his fists, oblivious to the immense pain that would make a grown man cry.

Walking over to the center of the training room, Bu bent down and picked up 2 100kg dumbbells and resumed the exercise that he'd been doing with the dumbbells earlier. Bobbing and weaving, he threw a variety of punches at an imaginary enemy, the dumbbells still gripped tightly in his fists as he punched. There was no room for complacency in Bu's mind. The next time he received the same opportunity he had against Floyd he would be prepared...he would end the fight in one punch.

[North America Inc]

Jan

Shihong Smith

Carnival Four Squad Leader fired pistol rounds into the hard light cover directly in front of him. He didn't have the time or the patience to make this a protracted gunfight, at any moment the other hostiles that he was informed about might show up and ruin his day. Some of his men were standing out in the open, slowly advancing as their comrades gave them suppressing fire; others took cover behind the open cells, the few concussive blasts that the enemy had been able to let out was more than enough to give them pause.

"Reloading!" One of the WarWolf grunts shouted as he inserted a new magazine into his rifle. Firing directly at the section where the three silhouettes were standing behind the construct visible cracks began to manifest.

"I'm advancing!" Corporal Grimes shouted from behind a cell room, inserting one more slug into his pump action before he ventured the closest than anyone towards the trio. "...Suppress them! Suppress them!" Three shots from his shotgun were more than enough to leave multiple indents onto the artificial cover, with even a few scraps of the wall blowing directly onto Kiris' mask before disintegrating.

Only five feet in front of Grimes and behind Jan's manifestation, the Trio were running low on options on how to continue from here. Lobbying multiple bursts over Jan's Wall was all Shi could do so far, but the hardened armor that the agents were utilizing was more than enough to take the blunt of the damage; as of now, all she could hope for was to knock multiple enemies off of their feet before they stood up and attacked again. This clearly wasn't working either. "I'm going to try something." Shi stated as she walked a few feet back from the rest of the group, "Hold the line for me."

Walking a good ten or so feet back, her fingers could now directly point at the portion of ceiling right above the Riot Team. While she had thought about just firing a lightening strand directly into the heart of the Riot Team, killing police officers wasn't something that the public took kindly. Shrugging her shoulders at the thought, her fingers and arms began their rhythmic circular movements; before long electricity began to visibly pulsate around her as she continued to move and create a significant amount of voltage. If she stopped moving for even less than a second, the lightening might ripple throughout her body and kill her. Can't have that. Outwardly extending her right arm, she fired one bolt directly at the ceiling. Instantly collapsing due to the force, debris rained down on all those in the hallway.

"What THE!" the Squad Leader muttered as they stopped shooting only to look in horror as the ceiling landed straight on them. More than a few guys fell to the floor and were pinned, while the kicked up dust that lingered in the air just blocked any line of sight behind just a few feet. While no one was incapacitated, this moment of confusion was more than enough to push the momentum towards the Young Bloods. Wiping dust off of his mask, the squad leader stood up only to hear the relative silence of the situation; and that was not a good thing. Resting on his knees he ordered, "What are you all doing! Return fire now! Suppress them now!"

Shi ran back to Jan and Kiris and pointed out, "Come on this is our chance!" Before jumping up and sending a swirl of flames towards the dazed men in the hallway knocking them back down to the ground. Following it up with a few kicks and jabs into the air, she was not going to give them a chance to breathe.

"Returning fire!" more than a few said in unison as they shouted from behind the cells. They weren't going down that easily.

---

-Jason-

Rookie Captain

Moments before falling back into unconsciousness, the Rookie was greeted by an unknown figure standing right before him. Standing directly in front of the ceiling light, as well as the Rookie's failing eyesight, made Jason appear like a mysterious entity rather than someone tangible. As the symbiote huddled over him, the being spoke presumably to the others around him; only able to make out a few words, the Rookie did not say much as the sludge began to engulf his wounds. While it was providing the necessary treatments into his injuries, it did begin to sting rather immensely. "Ahh..." he kicked his legs out impulsively and tried to claw Jason away before Sludge took over his pain receptors and that too went away.

"Oxide, this is Carnival Two, over." the Radio came back to life despite its cracked appearance.

"Go ahead."

"Carnival Three and Four are currently engaging three hostile meta humans near the HVT cell, over."

"Have they ID Kirisvala yet, over?"

A few moments went by before the Captain returned an answer, "They have not. Situation ongoing, over."

"Understood, over."

Becoming more docile and rational as time went on, the grunt rested his uninjured arm on top of Sludge's shoulder and asked, "Who are you..." Finally seeing the almost demonic face of Sludge up close was able to send shivers down his spine, "Why are you saving me?"

---

Bu

Shihong Smith
Dates were never exactly her forte. Of course she would never exactly admit that, but she always found them sort of a chore. Most guys turned out to be either vapid, self absorbed, or both; each date followed the same predictable pattern. The guy would go on and on about what they like or state at nauseam about how beautiful she is; not that she wasn't and that they shouldn't talk about how great she is, but it would be nice to talk about something else. Initially she expected Bu to be like that; she had previously thought he was kind of hot, but not enough to really pursue. When Bu asked her out, she didn't have anything better to do and agreed.

Now here they were a few days later at Balboa park after a rather pleasant, if bland, date. The movie was such an awful choice, she couldn't think of a single moment where she was scared or laughed; it tried to do balance both and failed to do either. Luckily the subsequent walk around the Park allowed for the pair to really enjoy the scenery, it was so tranquil. Bu perched himself on a bench and said aloud, "Seeing those koi wander aimlessly around in the water...it really reminded me of home...of China."

Shi nodded at that and responded, "Have you ever been to the Yu Garden in Shanghai? Anytime I see any Koi fish, I always jump back to the first moment I saw them there. It was actually kind of beautiful, very serene..." Shi sat right next to Bu and continued, "Kind of like this." Having worn her hair partially down, she played and looked down at the ends as they just enjoyed the moment.

No one said anything for a few minutes, just enjoying the environment was all they can ask for. Whether it was the children playing, the couples of all ages walking around, or the pristine nature around them it felt nice to take a break; even if both were taking a break for different reasons. Nothing could ruin the moment...

"Are you the Red Princess!" Two Asian preteens had been noticeably gawking at the corner of her eyes for the last few minutes, but Shi hadn't thought anything of it. Well until now, when they ran over and were now squealing, squeaking, and screaming right before the two Young Bloods. With starry eyed obsession they jumped up and down as they already knew the answer and Shi already knew what they were going to ask immediately after she said yes.

"Yes..." Shi said with a feigned pleasantry.

"Can we, please, please, get a selfie with you!" the one with large librarian styled glasses asked with her phone already on and in her hands.

"Yea I can do that." Standing up, Shi walked over and stood right next to them. Taking a quick succession of pictures, they scrolled through them before looking back at Shi.

"Oh thank you! Thank you!"

"It's no problem." Shi went back and sat down with a beleaguered sigh.

"We love you. We know all your songs!" Catching that their idol maybe didn't want to bothered at this very moment, they nodded and waved goodbye. Before going back on their phones and face-timing with someone apparently, "You won't believe who we just saw!"

[Vanquaria]

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A Date With Shi
Balboa Park, San Diego
6 August
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Bu was nothing short of intrigued as he watched the kids prance off into the distance, both visibly delighted. Apparently, a photo with the Red Princess was a very big deal for them. Western pop culture was a very complex concept to wrap your head around if you weren't familiar with it, that had been the case for the recently arrived Chinese teen, from hip hop to vloggers, he couldn't empathize with the idolatry that such figures received.

Of course, there were pop stars in China too but given his background, he wasn't exactly exposed to them in his adolescent years. Technically, Bu had also been an entertainer though for one to actually think that would be callous unless they were, of course, residents within the less respectable microcosms of society.

Watching Shi sit back down, he was surprised to hear an audible sigh escape her lips, the beleaguered tone an irregular chord in the calming choir of nature around them.

"Don't like the attention?" he asked, his voice that of curiosity rather than concern.

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The Super Suit
Wonder Island, San Diego
4 August
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It wasn't enough to just train harder. In fact, Bu doubted he could even train himself any harder. His sessions lasted hours with no rest in between. At the end of each one, he would either be vomiting or mending injuries incurred during the training. And that was on top of the damage he'd taken from Floyd 4 days ago. He forced himself to sleep, forced himself to go long periods of time without sustenance, forced himself to focus on nothing but martial arts, his martial arts.

Yet, the greatest unarmed martial artist in the world would still lose to an armed master, well, a true master of the armed arts. So, Bu needed something more, something he currently didn't possess; a weapon to level the playing field. That was why in the minute amounts of time he wasn't spending in the gym grinding the 500kg deadlift or punching through metal in the San Diego port junkyards, he was dedicating to devising his counter for the next time he would encounter the demon swordsman.

His commitment, fueled by a need to improve, produced fruit in the form of a blueprint depicting body armor, helmetless and plain in its aesthetics, the Chinese teen neglecting that fundamental aspect of design in his narrow-sighted pursuit of an anti-Floyd suit. Crude and obviously not drawn by the hand of an expert, it was nonetheless visually clear and succinct in detail, Bu having labeled every inch of the diagram though not in technical jargon but written instead in his preferred layman's terms, his English yet to branch out into specificity.

He had approached Naja first for advice. The scaly supervisor, helpful as always, had directed him to someone who could help. A dude dubbed 'Mars'.

Making his way to the guy's room, his body fresh from the shower for first impressions were important, Bu tapped thrice on the door, the blueprint held delicately in his other hand.