Gods Among Us (IC|Superhero|Open)

[Dyelli Beybi]

William Brookes
...
Paying the driver and heading inside, Brookes took a seat near Imogen, the mage he knew from the alley as he scanned the room and tried to blend in alongside the very exquisite figures that populated it.

"Always a lovely time coming to these meetings..."

Imogen hadn't seemed to notice Brookes when he first sat down, though after the speech was over, she leaned across, nudging him with her elbow, "Any questions or queries, Mage Brookes?" she asked quietly, giving him a moment to confide anything he cared to confide in her before adding, "Actually I have one..."

She cleared her throat, raising her hand like a schoolgirl sitting at the back of the class, "You said the DA decided not to press charges against this James Washington bloke?" she queried, "Do we have him under surveillance, because I imagine that would be our best chance to get a lead to the identities of your unknown subjects."

"Also," she continued, "Do we have any idea what they want? Did Washington say anything while in custody that might speak to motive?" Imohen paused for a brief moment, seeming to be considering what she had to say, "There might be a chance for a junior TIAMA member to infiltrate the group, if the motive is something political."

She trailed off momentarily, seeming like she was done, though that didn't last too long "Also, this 'excess collateral damage training', does everyone need to go on that? In the last two incidents I haven't caused any property damage you couldn't repair with an alcohol based cleaning solution." That had to be a reference to the unfinished portal spell she had drawn onto the floor of the bowling alley. Imogen hadn't caused any real damage. It was something she was quite proud of and being lumped in with the people who had been shooting up the joint was rather irritating.

[Segral]

Miguel Castro
The Bronx

Humans were beings of innate superiority, possessing an untamed desire to be the strongest, the purest, the bravest, the most loving, the best. Their competitive, fickle natures were unparalleled within the animal kingdom, unmatched by any other. The male dolphin may kill infants to establish their machismo-laced dominance, the marmoset monkey may kill for power and territory, but to find another animal that desires to systematically slaughter those that differ in face through genocide, that desires to commit atrocities upon a sex for the slightest of internal power and satisfaction, that desires to master the art of manipulation by twisting and bending the psyche of their evolutionary brothers and sisters to conform to their own sick desires? It was an impossible task, an El Dorado of naivety. Humans were intelligent beings, and prided themselves on their intelligence to the point where they considered themselves to be above all else, above living, above non-living, above heaven and earth and God himself, and would do anything to prove it to themselves. God responded by creating language, so that they could not build a tower to heaven. Humans invented translators and polyglots. God sent a flood down, and humans built boats. Perhaps it was the fault of God; after all, if God had not allowed himself to be bested by humans time after time, humanity's ego would have not overflowed its banks and sent the "lesser animals" on their arks, the birds and lizards and sheep, animals who were not fit to swim in the waters of humanity, stupid beings, mere cattle, fit only for the enrichment of humans, and for not a single thing else.

So then, if they were so much more intelligent than the sheep, why did they flock to danger in the same way?!

It was such a natural, deep-rooted instinct; flee from danger, flee from what could maim, cripple, kill. Yet, from the scents he caught on the wind, the murmurs, footfalls, and shouts his ears found, his mind could recognize that entire crowds had formed at the banks of his stream of carnage, likely brandishing their phones aloft, hoping to catch five seconds of Internet-based infamy for their dime-a-dozen footage of this little sojourn. Oh, how he wished to be able to see this collective act of stupidity with healthy eyes! Surely, it would be hilarious. Or perhaps maddening, maddening to see such egotistical children put their bodies and lives at risk for a mere spectacle. But even if it was maddening, perhaps the ability to see would've been useful in this circumstance. With so many scents, so many sounds around him, abiding by his rule of "no civilian injury or death" was challenging, forcing him to step carefully at a time where he should be running. If a stray wire struck a loose arm, if a brick flew too close to a swollen head, his rule would be broken in two, and there would be consequences. He alone could easily do away with the one, maybe two junior members of TIAMA dispatched to address a case of property damage in a low-income community, but the minute there was a death, even an injury, that one became five, and his perfect chemical balance would be destroyed, his smooth, sharp coffee would turn thick, frothy, and oversweet.

Perhaps he was acting paranoid. After all, despite the caution he had been forced to throw to the wind, the plan was progressing remarkably well. He had spent the past three days agonizing over the details, organizing his resources, preparing his route. Every piece, from the preparation of the drug-smuggling tunnel that he had used to reach the initial warehouse undetected, to the exact intervals of electric poles that he broke down, was planned, planned in an excruciating balance of just enough detail, enough to leave no stone unturned, but only enough to turn that stone once versus five times. Too much detail was just as deadly as too few. He would not know if he had done either until the day was done, but from his initial findings, despite the interference of the idiots swarming around him, the desired effect was blooming into a deadly flower. The correct walls had been torn down and smashed through, all chosen by a scout that would soon receive a small slice of Miguel's monetary pie. Abandoned stores, warehouses, and homes were almost as present as single mothers in this wretched hamlet, there was at least two on every street, no matter how small or large. Even if his sense of direction had somehow briefly failed, a quick listen and sniff of his nose would confirm that there was no one to be smelt or heard on the other side, and down the wall would go.

However, as he would soon discover, there were always a harpoon that was ready to sink a watertight strategy, even when said strategy was working swimmingly well. It was a realization that struck him as he was moving in a tight back-and-forth across the street, rolling from building to building in a graceful, jabbing dance that combined the brutality of Greco-Roman wrestling with the precision and honor of fencing. With his rolling gait, he flew headlong into the hollowed, husked shell of what was once a convenience store or local grocer, wincing as the aggressive sound of fracturing glass and cracking brick assaulted his ears. His fine ears and nose were sensitive, and although he had spent many years learning how to bring his senses under control so that they did not overwhelm him, render him vulnerable and weak as he had been in his childhood, the brief pains from activities such as these still continued to trouble him. Still, he did not hesitate even for a second, continuing to roll through the convenience store until he felt the rough texture of a side wall against his tail, a dry coat that roughly resembled drywall. The tail coiled up against the drywall for brief seconds, compressing in spring-like fashion before snapping back, sending him tumbling in the opposite direction towards the street. The sudden change in direction and angle disoriented him, left his head spinning with no vision to blur, but it was a temporary spell, soon lost as he poised himself to roll backwards into his next target; the nearest utility pole.

Unfortunately, the world stopped spinning a second too late, causing Miguel to miss the pole by the finest hair. He raked the wooden mast with his claws in a desperate, hopeless grab as he felt his shell slam into the adjacent wall, the material crumbling behind him. No harm done, the storefront was barer than Venus' teat, but it wounded his pride, forcing him to let out a groan of not pain, but anger and frustration. If only he had leaned just slightly to the left...agh, it pained him to think of it! The one saving grace of his dreadful error was that he was now upright and facing his nearest target, but even that was small compensation. Any casual sheep who had witnessed his mistake would no longer see him as a threat or a menace, they would see him as something to laugh at, the clumsy blind armadillo brute sitting on his arse in the middle of the street. The mere thought of it caused a wad of anger to well up in his throat, but he pushed it back down, instead electing to leap onto all fours as he began to furiously gallop back into the middle of the street, rebuilding his momentum at a rapid pace. Within less than a minute, his body had refolded back into its shell with his snout and ears poking out ever so slightly, barreling along down the road aggressively enough to tear the asphalt underneath him. He could feel more sensations and sounds rushing past his body as he moved, rushing into his brain in a mess of sound and color that he could barely pick apart, or whatever his mental image of color was. He could smell the civilians, the wood, the brick, the metal. He could hear the footsteps, the street crushing beneath him, the air gliding past his body. He could feel the warmth o-

Wait...warmth?!

It shouldn't be possible...and yet it was. He recognized the scent of the nearest pole, the ripe fruit he was intended to pluck, but there were two factors that were interfering with his goal, forcing him to mentally pause and ponder, and soon, physically pause, as he unfolded his shell, coming to a patient stop on all fours. There was a large crowd somewhere to his right, a mass of sounds and smells that caused his nose and ears to burn and shriek with pain. He would have no hope of picking out an individual body among the mass, but what could he pick out was the sheer heat that lay beyond the mass, the sharp smell of smoke that was beginning to arise, and the distant sounds of echoed shouts and screams that lay beyond it. A fire? It resembled such, and it explained the mass, the crowd of sheep-like moths attracted to any scrap of light in their dim, dark worlds. Usually, a residential or commercial fire was far from an oddity, but the timing of this particular blaze struck him as...curious. It was quite possibly an accident, but a building flame, within a drunkard's stumbling distance of his little "rampage", at this particular time? It was too peculiar. This was the work of another man...perhaps one who had been paid in the same way he had, another agent of chaos on this particular day. Miguel would have liked to believe that he was the only one that had been chosen to rampage and riot, but that was just hopeless dreaming. His employers clearly had ulterior motives, and placing their eggs into one proverbial basket would be reckless at best, and absolutely idiotic at worst. Property damage in a poverty and gang violence-stricken neighborhood that resembled the underside of New York's boot was far from enough. It was perfectly clear as to why others were hired, but what failed to be even remotely as clear was why this flame had been sparked so close to his planned route of attack. Why not spread the flame in Brooklyn, or Queens, place TIAMA in a tight prison of circumstance, where they would be forced to run across New York City's four corners. Granted, resources could only be spread so thin, given just how many heroes were gathered within the city, but TIAMA was a dusty organization full of slow-moving bureaucrats; they had called for an organization-wide briefing, and looked unfavorably upon pulling even the weakest away from said briefing.

His pondering had left him still in the middle of the street for several long seconds, but in those seconds, he could already feel the heat growing, multiplying by the moment. The shouts and brief call for "the Fire Department!" that rang in his ear all but confirmed that it was a growing fire, and with a growing crowd of spectators to both his and his mystery arsonist's acts of violence, it seemed as if this would be an opportune time to engage the second phase of his battle plan; patience. The crowds had interfered with the first phase, and they still maddened him to no end, but they were crucial to the second phase, essential even. He hated to act the goon, feed into his public persona as a lumbering brute, but it seemed as if he would have no choice. If the crowd dispersed, he would lose his bargaining chip, his collateral, his insurance. Some would most likely die, but if he was careful, it would TIAMA's hands soaked with their blood, not his own.

After all, look at what they had done to that bowling alley.

Miguel's hand flew sideways, grasping upon a nearby pole of cold, rough metal. It was thin, too thin to be a utility tower or traffic light pole. A streetlight, perfect for what he intended. With a grunt and careless tug of his hand, he tore the pole from its root in the concrete, brandishing it aloft in one hand as he marched towards a distinct smell he was picking up, a strong hint of metal and rubber on the wind. A car, as he could feel with his claws upon getting close, tracing the outline of the hood, the sunroof, the door handles that felt as frail as a butterfly's wings. The window was open, and he bent down to sniff it, sticking his snout through with a thick, loud snuffle through the window of the car in an attempt to smell a body, an innocent child playing hide-and-seek. There was no hide or hair of such person. Satisfied, he immediately leapt up on the car's roof, paying no mind to the structure groaning and buckling under his weight, nor the gasps and yelps of the mass of bystanders, sounds that came directly in front of him. He would have to placate them, or they would bolt, just like the sheep they were.

"Please, do not fear me!" he cried aloud, a deep rumble with a thick Hispanic accent penetrating the air for yards upon yards around, followed by the ringing sound of him gently driving the pole into the ground directly in front of him, as if creating a makeshift microphone. "I mean you no harm. You may see me as a criminal, a hooligan, a waste to society that simply feeds off of the terror, misery, and destruction of innocent lives. But I am no monster, and I treat each of those innocent lives with respect and honor. I care for all living beings, just as I care for my own body and soul." he said somberly, wincing as the odor of the crowd began to burn in his nose, a collective wave that threatened to drown all coherent thought. Still, he weakly grinned at the crowd with trembling lips, as if grateful for their presence. Truly, he was; if he could still smell them, it meant they hadn't moved away, likely still transfixed at the curious sight of his massive body poised atop a demolished car, speaking with the accent of a language spokn by romantics and poets, not vagabonds and terrorists. That was good. It meant the speech had its desired effect.

"But does TIAMA care?!" he shouted, gripping the pole in a display of false passion. "If TIAMA and its league of bigwig metahumans truly cared for you, truly cared for your safety, your businesses, your homes, your futures and your children's futures, would they have not responded to my actions by now? Would they not have sent a group, a duo, or even one, just one supposed superhero to aid you in your hour of need? Of course not, because to them, you are inconsequential to them, you are nothing but a low-income community that doesn't offer the publicity to make their jobs 'worthwhile'. Once Staten Island, Manhattan, and Queens have been saved, maybe it will be your turn. Are you not tired of this 'maybe', this 'perhaps'? For the love of God, there's a growing fire near us all, and TIAMA does nothing! NOTHING!" he cried, slamming his pole into the ground for extra emphasis on his words with the energy of a pastor in sermon. The fire was far outside of any emergency perimeter, so the only thing that could disperse his crowd of worshipers was their fear, their cowardice. He prayed to Jesus, Allah, Vishnu, to any God of past, present, or future that looked from above, that they would abandon their sheep-like instincts for the briefest moment, be caught in his words, and stay put within their flock. It was a flimsy hand to bet on, but it would just have to do.

[Anowa]

-snip-

The receptionist rather quietly slipped a trio of papers over the counter to Benjamin, nary a smile indicating she was even alive. "Feel free to take a seat and fill it out, don't worry about references, there are a lot of people in TIAMA who had a lack of them."

Outside of the receptionist, there wasn't much else in the room outside of the benches, a small cup with pens, and a singular red headed man sitting on the North side of the room, an absolute giant, he was preoccupied with reading the newspaper, the headline reading: "TIAMA damages Chinese Consulate!"

---

-snip-

Cross grimaced at the mechanical issues Tesla's suit had gone through, though he did speak up, "TIAMA's had a way of rooting out collaborators and corruption within it's ranks since it's founding. As for the government itself." a pregnant pause reigned, "It's quite possible that the US government has sympathizers. Unfortunately, we can't just roll up on congress with black helicopters like the Chileans. In short, the situation isn't pressing, a concern, yes, but not a reason for panic."

"I have a question. Or well, actually I have two questions. The first is, why does Stuttgart want this Herr or Frau Cyst alive? And why don't they tell us more about them if they so clearly know about them? I thought we are all TIAMA so surely TIAMA tells TIAMA what TIAMA knows, right? Atleast on some level? The second question is why are we being placed in teams of three when we know of a threat of six? Shouldn't we strive to have numerical equality at the minimum? Danke for hearing me out."

Herrman shrugged, 'Typically, HQ wants to make sure everyone with extensive physiological differences isn't killed, since it's entirely possible they aren't natural transformations, or they're simply forced into a corner. It wouldn't be the first time we've encountered someone who looks like an animal without exactly wanting to be."

Beowulf spoke up from the back row, "If you think racism based on skin color is bad, racism to beastfolk is inherently worse, typically more brutal. That individual, Cyst, might have been incenses by the group's goals."

"Too right." Herrman nodded, "Not every person you people face is going to be evil for no good reason. Some are psychopaths, sure, others, less so. As for how much we know, we don't. What we've told you is what we know, as info becomes available, we'll do rounding briefing to avoid such a high concentration we have now, but the information covered today needed to be disseminated ASAP. Teams are of the numbers they are, because we don't have enough full timers to have enough patrols around the clock with 6 person teams." a shrug, "It is what it is."

Shadowshock deadpanned, as it looked like no one was going to bring up the attack on the Bronx. "I also have a question.", Shadowshock finally said. "I was just sitting here with Blink, Ophiuchia, and Hydra Imps (this last bit earned him a glare from Hydra Imperator) here when Ophi came across footage of an attack currently ongoing in the Bronx on social media. It is trending in Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram, mind you. It is unmistakable that some armadillo human hybrid is rampaging through a low income neighborhood." A pause. "Does the council mind if we tested that team up thing... right now? It would be bad for our image if we dismissed this incident as of little importance."

She cleared her throat, raising her hand like a schoolgirl sitting at the back of the class, "You said the DA decided not to press charges against this James Washington bloke?" she queried, "Do we have him under surveillance, because I imagine that would be our best chance to get a lead to the identities of your unknown subjects."

"Also," she continued, "Do we have any idea what they want? Did Washington say anything while in custody that might speak to motive?" Imohen paused for a brief moment, seeming to be considering what she had to say, "There might be a chance for a junior TIAMA member to infiltrate the group, if the motive is something political."

The trio of administrators just gave Shadowshock a strange look, before Herrman's pager went off, he let out a sigh, as he stepped out of the room, Cross continued, answering Imogen's questions, "The NYPD is keeping an eye on him despite the wishes of the DA. Washington exercised his right to silence, he said absolutely nothing for the duration of his custody, not even with a lawyer." Turning to the projector, Cross pressed a few buttons on the side, "Washington didn't say anything about motives. However, we did get this video midnight last night, it was on Youtube for maybe half an hour before it got pulled, Facebook for three hours, so it wasn't exactly quiet."

The display switched to that of a rather elderly man seated behind a desk, US marine Corps uniform with a full metal plate, badges, and cap prim and pressed, with an American flag draped over a window looking back at the forest behind him. "Hello to whom it may concern, be it the world's citizens, US Congress, the Joint Chiefs of Staff, or TIAMA. My name is Alexander Carmichael, there is no doubt in my mind by now you've found out that I am connected to the incident at the Federal Reserve. You may have asked yourself in these last few days, exactly why it was I only took US gold. I did so for collateral, ransom with the hopes that the funds I possess and the actions I have committed without flaw will result in a bloodless resolution. You may also ask why Officer Ford has yet to be... resolved, of his current predicament. This was done to remind you that, if need be, I will hold hostages, indefinitely. With their only hope being a resolution to our cause. Finally, you may ask, why did I plant those bombs if I wanted a bloodless cause? Because they were back ups. Ultimately, I decided that to let them detonate would cause such damage to TIAMA that it would result in my cause's ultimate failure.

However, I know that those within the US government have a very difficult time willing themselves to do anything more than drone strike villages, and have a very hard time even thinking about negotiations. So there is absolutely no doubt in my mind that you will try to kill me and my fellows for nothing more than security that your way of life remains secure, because unlike the forever wars you have caused, I am an actual threat. I stole your money, and you want it back, not because I put lives at risk, or because I damaged a historical building, you want the money. The Oligarchic system the United States has decayed into once cared about lives, but The War on Terror, the War on Drugs, privatized prisons, improper tax reforms, the Buckley v Valeo, First National Bank of Boston v. Bellotti, Citizens United v. FEC, and McCutcheon v. FEC court cases from 1976 to 2014 have done nothing more than erode the freedom of political liberty in the United States. These examples, as well as others have resulted in a ruling elite in the United States playing puppet shows with supposedly elected officials."

The man in the video picked up a folder and opened it, "My goals, and the goals of those fighting alongside me, are for the deposement of the current Oligarchic system in the United States. We are hereby requesting the following: Troops withdrawals from the nations of Afghanistan, Iraq, and Syria; tax reformation in which prevents hoarding of wealth with previously mentioned financial elite, the overruling that declares that using one's wealth to effectively buy election wins is not free speech, but rather a form of bribery; the decriminalization of all Schedule I, II, III, IV, and V substances; the dissolution of the Drug Enforcement Administration; revisions to law enforcement training to prevent out nation's astronomical rate of police related fatalities. You have one week, from Midnight on this day March 22nd, Snno Domini 2020, to declare that you President Cook, and your cabinet, will be implementing these changes, or we will have no other choice than to implement them by force. Good day, and I hope you choose the right decisions." the video paused on the ending frame, burning the surprisingly fleshy face into the mind's of those present.

Anthony sighed, "So, that rather plainly paints the picture. And despite how agreeable it may or may not be, he did technically commit attempted murder by, firing a goddamned AT gun inside a building." he shrugged and looked to Chris, "It's honestly a miracle the overpressure didn't paste you, Digel."

At that moment, Herrman walked back in, "Teams." Anthony quickly switched the projector onto another screen, revealing a list of three person teams for every person present. "Team A, respond to the previously mentioned situation in Bronx." he looked to Shadowshock, Hydra Imperator, Blink, and Ophichiua, "For future reference, I'd avoid using social media as a dispatch. We have enough swatting and bot spam incidents as is. The rest of you, if you have anymore questions, now's the time. If any of you are looking for close quarters seminars, they'll be open for sign ups on the website. A mandatory presentation on the lawful escalation of force will be here on Wednesday and Thursday, you'll be Emailed regarding attendance later today. Patrol routes have been posted as well."

[Mandicoria]

-snip

The awkwardness of the situation couldn't be worse for Benjamin. As the seemingly young lad sat right across from the large individual, crossing his legs and looking over the application. Grabbing a pen as he began filling out the most basic information. Minutes flying as he filled it out, and it was horrid. The silence was godawful. It was just the sound of clocks ticking, random phone calls, or an occasionally awkward cough. It was... deafening to him. Sure he liked to live a quiet life at home, but it was nothing compared to this Office hellscape he got himself into.

More time flew as he filled out his information, contact info and the like mainly. Yet he looked like he was about to completely lose it, the silence was maddening. The fucking elevator music was less horrid for him to endure. The usage of his pen became much harder onto the paper, with unusually loud tapping coming from his writing. His face was beginning to turn red just from the stress alone. My god was the stress getting to him. He felt every blood vessel rushing in his body, all because of that FUCKING SILENCE. His breathing started to tighten up, and his movement more uncomfortable and erratic. He fucking knew his book was laughing at him, he could fucking hear it snickering with its silent pages. Hell, the fucking application was clearly mocking him. What kind of evil FUCK would have this be put onto someone just wanting to HELP!

He pulled his head back from the application, taking a deep gasp of air as he darted his head around. Looking outside to the seemingly endless expanse of New York City outside. His stress mounting yet again when the perspective clearly began to warp for him. Benjamin swallowed deeply as he shakily pulled his book from his pocket, reading into it. Desperate for it to at least comfort him. It didn't. As a matter of fact it made it worse. The Book's silent pages were just seemingly full of writing MOCKING him, and only telling him how stupid he was for even doing this all.

He slammed the book shut, putting it back in his pocket. Taking another deep gulp as he looked back down onto his application, only one field remaining. Listing his abilities. His face stopped being so significantly red, and a bead of sweat went down his forehead to at least cool him. His small moment of calm was interrupted when he remembered that he couldn't necessarily list everything he could do. After all, he wouldn't want people knowing of his book. After a few tense minutes, he breathed a sigh of relief as he finally figured out what to put in. "Sharp claws, seemingly immortal, and increased reflexes!" He wrote down, an awkward smile forming on his face as he finally managed to finish this horrid application. Surely this would only get him in either a cushy position, or something minor enough to take up days when he was bored.

Standing up he wiped a good bit of sweat from his forehead, and slowly making his way back to the receptionist. His smile turning less awkward as he handed in the papers. "I believe t-this should be it."

[Europa Undivided]

The Inventor
Zurich, Switzerland

The Inventor looked down at the petite woman that had just knocked on his apartment room, slightly irritated that she was crashing on his break. His wife and children have gone off to buy some food on the stores on the next street, and seems that this woman had chosen this moment to make noise. Of course, he was the hospital kind, and elected to let her in and have a cup of tea. "What is a random Russian scientist doing on my vacation?", he asked with no small amount of apparent patience in his voice. "Do I know you?"

"Nyet. But I know who you are, Nikolai Klementyy. It's been 30 years since..."

"Who are you?"

"Shatalina, Shatalina Sergeyevna... chief scientist of the Insurgency Protocol program, and the one that gave you a gift when you were yet to speak..."

"Gift?"

Shatalina nodded. "... yes. It is a gift-"

"Do. Not lie to me, Russian. It is a curse. It attracts terrible events to my life. My son was almost killed and my friend was a traitor. And now... I've gotten no thanks for spending three years of my life defending people from evil. I was instead deprived of my tools, and if not for the fact that I m directly responsible for leading the authorities towards destroying some criminal syndicates, I would have gotten a worse repercussion for that singular mistake I did..."

Nicholas towered over the old woman like a skyscraper, fists balled up in belching fury. But he did not move. "Can you cure me, Shatalina Sergeyvna?"

"... the... results are irreversible. But it is not a disease that one tries to cure, it is a-"

"She's right.", Elise suddenly butted in as she leaned on the door frame. "That one person held our son at knifepoint. I don't think it has as much to do with you than with the snake living next door."

"Elise..."

"I've been listening this whole time, Nick. I really think you should make your work official and do it alongside others..."

"I told you before. I don't want to be tied with any organization.."

"But you need to.", Elise responded.

The Inventor turned towards the old lady in the room, frowning. "You two have spoken, have you?"

Shatalina shrugged. "A few minutes ago."

He sighed. It was apparent that his wife will support his path of fighting evil no matter what, and the presence of the scientist that gave him the power to do so seemed to add in to the premonition that he should do heroics in conjunction with others. Just as his nephew invited him to do...

"Alright. You win. Once we get back, I'll sign up, In return, you will send them the amount of money that I cost them in that bowling alley. That's a deal, eh?"

---

Shadowshock and Hydra Imperator

"That's you.", Shadowshock said to Blink as the teams appeared on the screen. "So its Twin Titans and Lanky eh, hmmm."

He paused for a moment as he took the suitcase that he had brought with him into the meeting. It had a grey exterior, with a keypad and tiny screen on where the straps would usually be. "Every six months, I give a welcoming gift to the first new member I talk to. And this here will be quite useful I believe."

He tapped unto the keypad, eliciting a key tone from the case each time. Shadowshock then opened it, revealing a pair of gauntlets that were just like the ones he had, except that these ones were blue. "Glad that I always have a spare pair lying around. This makes your punches powerful enough to send a person flying across a room. To top that off, the claws can be fired like grappling hooks... and last but not the least, this can discharge an electric charge. Can either be as strong as a taser or a jumper cable... I hope this serves you well, new guy."

[Aserais]

-snip-

Skye Cross, AKA Synapse

Skye looked back at Shadowshock as he mentioned the attack going on in the bronx and pulled their own phone out of the pocket of their suit, checking the news alert app they had. Some kind of... Armadillo-man? Really? He was doing a good job tearing up some old buildings and knocking out some power lines, which in New York was always an issue. The grid was good, but it was old. There were probably going to be a few blackouts, and that always led to an increase in crime in those areas.

Even if their team didn't get assigned to the Armadillo, they were still gonna go out and patrol the area once the meeting let out.

Still, it didn't require their attention yet, from what they could see in the news reports. It looked like he was going out of his way to avoid any civilian casualties--only old buildings and power lines, no injuries yet. So they slipped their phone back in their pocket, resolving to do what they could, and turned their attention to the projector as their cousin turned it on.

Synapse frowned as the man in the video espoused his beliefs and the mission of the group that he led. If this was the same guy that they had fought in the federal reserve, they couldn't tell at all. He looked nothing like the gold-plated monstrosity that they had... well, liquefied was the term that came to mind. Good news was, if that was the kind of punishment that this guy could take and come back for more, it meant that Synapse didn't need to hold back when they fought him again.

Bad news was, they kind of agreed with him on most of what he was talking about.

Still, they couldn't reconcile the actions he'd taken with the philosophy he was espousing. Trapping that poor security guard in temporal stasis, endangering countless lives, holding the wealth of the nation hostage--none of these things were morally right. Not to even mention the blatant illegality of the acts. The man was a terrorist, plain and simple, and Skye knew as well as everyone else in the room the stance of the U.S. government when it came to negotiating with terrorists. Which meant that more than likely, they were going to end up fighting them again.

At least this time, they had updated their knowledge on the gun that he carried. It had taken some late night googling and a post on a message board that they were never going to visit again, but they had found it. A 7.5 cm Pak 40, a German Anti-Tank gun, one that used explosive shells, which were designed to puncture the thick armor of Russian tanks. Chris was immensely lucky that Synapse had acted when they did, as otherwise he probably would have ended up a stain on the floor.

Synapse looked over to their cousin when he assigned Team A to deal with the armadillo dude, giving him a grin.

"'Kay, doc. I'm goin' on patrol. The blackouts are gonna entice some of the petty crooks to get while the gettin's good," they said as they stood, stretching out to the left, then the right in a deep sideways lunge, before looking back at Gauss with a grin. "Don't let Miss American Dream outshine yas, 'kay? Hate to see my buddy play second fiddle to stars-and-stripes over there," they teased their friend before a yellow glow suffused the indicator lights on their suit and they were gone, out of the building and then the complex in less than a second with a heavy breeze as the only evidence that they had gone by.

They sped back towards their city, intent on keeping people as safe as they could.

[Lessoni]

"That's you.", Shadowshock said to Blink as the teams appeared on the screen. "So its Twin Titans and Lanky eh, hmmm."

He paused for a moment as he took the suitcase that he had brought with him into the meeting. It had a grey exterior, with a keypad and tiny screen on where the straps would usually be. "Every six months, I give a welcoming gift to the first new member I talk to. And this here will be quite useful I believe."

He tapped unto the keypad, eliciting a key tone from the case each time. Shadowshock then opened it, revealing a pair of gauntlets that were just like the ones he had, except that these ones were blue. "Glad that I always have a spare pair lying around. This makes your punches powerful enough to send a person flying across a room. To top that off, the claws can be fired like grappling hooks... and last but not the least, this can discharge an electric charge. Can either be as strong as a taser or a jumper cable... I hope this serves you well, new guy."

Jack Dredd

Jack took the gauntlets gently, like he was holding a pair of bombs. He wasn’t entirely certain he wasn’t, after all. On one hand, he was eager to ask more questions. After all, he’d hate to figure these things out on the fly. On the other, he didn’t want to look dumb. He made the perhaps hasty decision to slip them on, giving Shadowshock an appreciative grin.

“Dude these things are badass! Thanks! Also could you not call me lanky, it’s just Blink.”

With that he stood up, raring to go. He liked the feel of the gauntlets on his arms, even if he was uncertain how to use them. What made him more nervous than the new gear was his very first actual mission. Ophi he knew, Gauss he didn’t. He just hoped he’d be able to stack up, though he knew he was in a different league than a lot of his fellow heroes.

“I-I guess we’re heading out, huh A-Ophiuchia. This oughta be fun, r-right?”

[Cybernetic Socialist Republics]

The first part of the meeting all contained rather intrest information that Ophiuchia and Aethelind would have to go over and discuss later, as as instead of conversing about it between each other as it happened, Ophiuchia decided to let Aethelind focus on the situation regarding the human armadillo while she alone really took in the briefing.


The part however that did spur discussion with her A.I.through their neural connection, however, came after Kaleidoscope decided to ask for motive behind the group of villains they were tracking, it was a good question, one that Ophiuchia had obviously thought to ask, but there was not much benefit in doing it. Far better to gauge how her fellow heroes responded to information by keeping quiet and letting others ask questions..

As it turned out, those involved in the raid on the federal reserve did have a motive and it was one beyond simple theft, that became clear the moment the video posted by the apparent leader of the plot addressed the 'us congress' in his introduction.

The display switched to that of a rather elderly man seated behind a desk, US marine Corps uniform with a full metal plate, badges, and cap prim and pressed, with an American flag draped over a window looking back at the forest behind him. "Hello to whom it may concern, be it the world's citizens, US Congress, the Joint Chiefs of Staff, or TIAMA. My name is Alexander Carmichael, there is no doubt in my mind by now you've found out that I am connected to the incident at the Federal Reserve. You may have asked yourself in these last few days, exactly why it was I only took US gold. I did so for collateral, ransom with the hopes that the funds I possess and the actions I have committed without flaw will result in a bloodless resolution. You may also ask why Officer Ford has yet to be... resolved, of his current predicament. This was done to remind you that, if need be, I will hold hostages, indefinitely. With their only hope being a resolution to our cause. Finally, you may ask, why did I plant those bombs if I wanted a bloodless cause? Because they were back ups. Ultimately, I decided that to let them detonate would cause such damage to TIAMA that it would result in my cause's ultimate failure.

"A political motive, this will be fun, what do you think it is?"

"Likely something vaguely populist."

"So, he's holding about, I think it was around 550 million in stolen gold? I mean, that's a lot for his purposes, I imagine, but the bigger blow will be the confidence in America's ability to protect it's assets rather than the actual value of the gold."

"Correct, must be focused more on the optics of the situation would look like for cook, a team of metas vocally trying the impose their will on the government, no matter the size of the threat, is a thorn in the side."

"The guy also seems to have an aversion to civilian casualties and seeing as he thinks that bombs going off would hurt his cause, in a likelihood his agenda is to come extent, intended to appeal to the masses.

However, I know that those within the US government have a very difficult time willing themselves to do anything more than drone strike villages, and have a very hard time even thinking about negotiations. So there is absolutely no doubt in my mind that you will try to kill me and my fellows for nothing more than security that your way of life remains secure, because unlike the forever wars you have caused, I am an actual threat. I stole your money, and you want it back, not because I put lives at risk, or because I damaged a historical building, you want the money. The Oligarchic system the United States has decayed into once cared about lives, but The War on Terror, the War on Drugs, privatized prisons, improper tax reforms, the Buckley v Valeo, First National Bank of Boston v. Bellotti, Citizens United v. FEC, and McCutcheon v. FEC court cases from 1976 to 2014 have done nothing more than erode the freedom of political liberty in the United States. These examples, as well as others have resulted in a ruling elite in the United States playing puppet shows with supposedly elected officials."

"Well, now we’ve got an idea of his politics, vaguely left populist."

"Left populist? Center-left populist, more like, at best. See, I always find it telling when people such as himself use drones strikes to highlight the inhumanity of our foreign policy. The drone bombings and the like are the least of it when it comes to, our, uh short comings, to put it lightly. The sanctions regimes we put on countries kill far more civilians than all the bombings we do combined. Then there's the normal operation of a capitalist economy, forgetting sanctions, that kills far more than even that through neglect. To the extent there is anything meaningfully disgusting in the lives lost in a drone strike, it's in the fact that such strikes are used to uphold a far deadlier order. As far as I’m considered, there is nothing particularly immoral about the tactics of our nation, as there is in who’s ends these tactics end up serving."


"Then there's the fact that he thinks his 550 million in stolen gold presents a, greater threat than the war on terror. Perhaps in the sense that this represented a significant threat from group of meta villains working in tandem for some time, but other than that? Terrorism since 9/11 has done far more direct monetary damage than his heist, nevermind the ripple threats on the economy, not considering the anti terrorism expenditures that were worth making, or those that were made to enrich defense contractors, which I suppose he'd categorize as being by choice."


Ophiuchia was curious as to what his demands were, now that he'd listed off his grievances, reserving full judgement of how he saw the issues until she knew what he saw the solutions as.

The man in the video picked up a folder and opened it, "My goals, and the goals of those fighting alongside me, are for the deposement of the current Oligarchic system in the United States. We are hereby requesting the following: Troops withdrawals from the nations of Afghanistan, Iraq, and Syria; tax reformation in which prevents hoarding of wealth with previously mentioned financial elite, the overruling that declares that using one's wealth to effectively buy election wins is not free speech, but rather a form of bribery; the decriminalization of all Schedule I, II, III, IV, and V substances; the dissolution of the Drug Enforcement Administration; revisions to law enforcement training to prevent out nation's astronomical rate of police related fatalities. You have one week, from Midnight on this day March 22nd, Snno Domini 2020, to declare that you President Cook, and your cabinet, will be implementing these changes, or we will have no other choice than to implement them by force. Good day, and I hope you choose the right decisions." the video paused on the ending frame, burning the surprisingly fleshy face into the mind's of those present.

"His goals are allegedly an effort to depose the current oligarchical system. I guess that's strictly true, he'd replace the current system with another similar one, with these really minor reforms. What he's proposing sounds nice, but it'd do nothing to address the root of all these problems. This is terrorism for tax reform. He speaks of campaign finance reform as if it were a panacea, as if the pressures of the global marketplace is already doing enough to mold politicians towards the ends of the wealthiest interests. As for policing, the reason it's as violent as it is is primarily because it's suppressing the consequences of the obscene inequality inherent to a country at the center of global capitalism and with intentionally underfunded public services. You can't make cops better with just more and more guidelines, you need to tackle the root incentives behind the brutality."


"Same applies to his opposition to the drug war, decriminalization means little if people can't afford treatment, it might be worse than nothing, as access to drugs would increase and perhaps create the groundwork for corporate backed full legalization and commercialization."

"What he doesn't understand is that the greatest 'tax' on the wealthy does not come through taxes themselves, but through the direct decommodification of what would be opportunities for profit making, by expanding public services. It;d materially take pieces of the game board, so to speak, making them no longer subject to the whims of private profit, rather than finding new ways to make numbers move around, which while it can be helpful, is not the answer. The sphere of private property must be shrunken toward nothingness, period."


"Then there's him trying to carry out these reforms through terrorism and when he does that he sets out a false limit what the radical edge really is. A mild center-left platform treated to the means of propaganda of the deed."

"I suspect though, that he must be intelligent enough to know that Cook and the rest of the federal government won’t cave to this plan. While not being much, these reforms in raw terms would cost them more than the stolen gold, never-mind the political cost of submitting to terrorist demands. No, his goal must be to win the sympathy of the masses, which partially explains why his proposals are so milquetoast and agreeable. He expects the failure of this plot to be it's own success."

"So beating him might very we'll be giving him what he wants, that's clever."

"His plot still won't take us in correct direction, if anything, it'll further muddle it, we don't need to pander to vague 'non ideological' populist demands, we need a firm commitment to the recognition that there is a class conflict and efforts to build up class organization and that requires attacking problems at their roots. As long as we have freedom of assembly and speech, that needs to occur, within the bounds of the law. Don't fret over a little illegality here and there that come as a result of mobilization. They pale in comparison to the violence of the system, but centering illegality doesn't exactly make it easy to get people on board with a movement. Nothing but maintaining an environment in which that can happen is more important, at best, men like this only escalate class conflict into open violence before workers make up an organized force.


"Too few see things your way, Ophiuchia, that's why you needn't feel poorly about burning away impurities and raising your own profile, correct?"

"Correct and I needn't have much sympathy for his wrong headed cause. The violence I do, is legally sanctioned and strictly ‘apolitical’, obviously I know better than to actually believe any of my work can be truly apolitical, so the name of the game is taking action that seems overtly ‘apolitical’ but has political implications, until the day that being more overtly political becomes desirable."

At that moment, Herrman walked back in, "Teams." Anthony quickly switched the projector onto another screen, revealing a list of three person teams for every person present. "Team A, respond to the previously mentioned situation in Bronx." he looked to Shadowshock, Hydra Imperator, Blink, and Ophichiua, "For future reference, I'd avoid using social media as a dispatch. We have enough swatting and bot spam incidents as is. The rest of you, if you have anymore questions, now's the time. If any of you are looking for close quarters seminars, they'll be open for sign ups on the website. A mandatory presentation on the lawful escalation of force will be here on Wednesday and Thursday, you'll be Emailed regarding attendance later today. Patrol routes have been posted as well."

Ophiuchia was pretty confident in Aethelind's ablity to discern legitimate information from social media from elaborate hoaxes, but for the sake of protocol she'd be fine with not acting upon what they'd find on social media, though if nothing else it'd always serve as a good means to track track the general mood.

Ophiuchia was excited to be on team A, she’d be on a team with Blink, which she had already established a connection with and with Sophie, or rather Gauss. This was an excellent situation to be on, a team, one particularly competent teammate and the other being someone, if not experience, could be trust would listen to her. It also Mean’t that Ophiuchia would be closer to Gauss making learning about her that much easier. Already they’d be sent off to address the situation in the bronx with the human armadillo, Ophiuchia could fly there and Blink could teleport there, but based on Gauss arriving in a Marauder, it looked like she’d be arriving on the scene sometime after her and Blink.

"That's you.", Shadowshock said to Blink as the teams appeared on the screen. "So its Twin Titans and Lanky eh, hmmm."

He paused for a moment as he took the suitcase that he had brought with him into the meeting. It had a grey exterior, with a keypad and tiny screen on where the straps would usually be. "Every six months, I give a welcoming gift to the first new member I talk to. And this here will be quite useful I believe."

He tapped unto the keypad, eliciting a key tone from the case each time. Shadowshock then opened it, revealing a pair of gauntlets that were just like the ones he had, except that these ones were blue. "Glad that I always have a spare pair lying around. This makes your punches powerful enough to send a person flying across a room. To top that off, the claws can be fired like grappling hooks... and last but not the least, this can discharge an electric charge. Can either be as strong as a taser or a jumper cable... I hope this serves you well, new guy."

Jack took the gauntlets gently, like he was holding a pair of bombs. He wasn’t entirely certain he wasn’t, after all. On one hand, he was eager to ask more questions. After all, he’d hate to figure these things out on the fly. On the other, he didn’t want to look dumb. He made the perhaps hasty decision to slip them on, giving Shadowshock an appreciative grin.

“Dude these things are badass! Thanks! Also could you not call me lanky, it’s just Blink.”

With that he stood up, raring to go. He liked the feel of the gauntlets on his arms, even if he was uncertain how to use them. What made him more nervous than the new gear was his very first actual mission. Ophi he knew, Gauss he didn’t. He just hoped he’d be able to stack up, though he knew he was in a different league than a lot of his fellow heroes.

“I-I guess we’re heading out, huh A-Ophiuchia. This oughta be fun, r-right?”

It wasn’t exactly ideal that Blink would have to be entering battle with weapons he had never used before, but they’d definitely be better than whatever else he'd been intending on working with.

Ophiuchia decided to give Blink a reassuring smile as he stuttered speaking to her, a stutter she’d noticed hadn’t been there when he’d been talking to Shadowshock moments before, so this wasn’t pre-battle jitters. He was still being awkward around her. She’d been hoping that she’d demystified herself a bit in his view a few days back, but it was quite possible that she’d only made the situation more awkward for him. Plus simultaneously being both her and Gauss might very well compound the issue. It wasn’t that Ophiuchia was particularly concerned with his comfort, but if he was still acting like this, it’d likely make communication on the battlefield with someone already quite inexperienced that much more difficult, though it was possible that life and death circumstances might bring him a measure of clarity.


As for the content of his statement, Ophiuchia would likely find beating up on a rampaging meta villain fun, but there wasn’t much use in revealing that sentiment at the moment, she’d keep her response more professional.

“Yeah, Blink, but first we’ll have to get over to Gauss so we can discuss exactly how we’re going to approach this as a team, you know, get on the same page.”

Ophiuchia then, signalling for Blink to walk with her, began heading off to meet up with Gauss.

[Segral]

Emma Davis
Staten Island

Despite her best efforts, Emma couldn't hold herself back from giggling at Hans' unintentional punchline, squeezing his hand and using her own free hand to cover her mouth slightly as she did so. "Yeah, I suppose you're right," she admitted after some time, her cold, hard scowl having quickly morphed into a warm grin. A thin, slightly wan one, but a grin nonetheless. "Thank you Hans, really. But I don't know if I'll ever be knocking your behind flat, I can barely land a solid pu-" she said with a slight laugh, only to be cut off by the sound of a bulky projector at the center of the room humming to life, the lights dimming down, and a dry, somewhat droning voice echoing throughout the entire room.

It really was high school orientation, wasn't it?

The briefing opened up with an update on the past week's property-damage woes, an update that was much briefer, and much more...positive than she was expecting? Apparently, despite an international consulate being transformed into target practice, it was the best 45-day period on record, and any and all lawsuits, insurance payouts, and bureaucratic mustache-oiling were being covered by Dr. Cross and Epoch LLC. Good news for sure, and a sweetener for the main topic of discussion, the bad news, and bad news it was. A new syndicate of metahumans forming, hell-bent on breaking into research centers, the Federal Reserve, and any bowling alley in sight, especially any one that happened to carry a mass gathering of TIAMA's finest, in the loosest sense of the word possible. It wasn't pretty. Ol' Sergeant Harpoon-Arm was just the tip of the iceberg. Second in line was James, the Revenant who's scarred, mutilated face forced a chill down her spine and forced her hair to stand up and curl into goosebumps across her neck, her arms, and everything else, despite how familiar she already was with the sight. Hell, move that CCTV footage a bit to the right, and her blurred out body would be in it too. But this was different. This was enlarged, blown-up, and rendered in perfect detail, every pockmark, crease, and piece of swollen scar tissue visible, complete with two hollow, hooded eyes that stared out into some dark, vast void beyond. Not even the following image of Zombie Officer Greene, who had been missing from his Texan resting place for a frankly alarming period of 13 years, matched the level of creepiness.

The news only got better or worse from there, depending on how you looked at it. Within seconds, this Chrono woman was already on the "RUN AWAY AT ALL COSTS" list in Emma's mind. Being the one responsible for placing an innocent officer in a coma was bad enough. Being the one responsible for placing every atom of an innocent officer's body into a black hole-like state (or something like that) was far worse. Expressed permission to kill on sight? Kill on sight?! She'd be lucky to touch her with a fifty-foot pole. As for Frogger and Pikachu, well...maybe she could get within a ten-foot radius, but still, way out of her league. Someone was mentioning teams of three, and the room was brightening again, but Emma was still lost in thought, staring blankly at the back of a certain purple suit as her thoughts continued to churn and swirl in her mind. The floor was being opened, but the questions and answers flew in through one ear and right out the other, even when a gasp-and-mutter inducing video of Sergeant Harpoon disclosing his ultimate political motivations, goals, and wishes with the casual air of someone announcing a morning walk was fired up on the display. She didn't particularly care for this guy's politics; he wasn't the first to have a political motive, and he most definitely wouldn't be the last. She did care about his actions though, and more importantly, she cared about this entire gang of six's actions.

They had said that the last time something like this occurred had been in 2008. She had only been 14 at the time, and a little older when shit had hit the fan, but she remembered it like yesterday. How could she forget seeing the Statue of Liberty half-sunk in the ocean, left arm completely maimed? How could she forget seeing the post-battle news footage of Brooklyn Bridge, or whatever was left of it? The Cabal had been unstoppable, literal gods among men, and even they couldn't stop one of their members from dying. Sure, this was nothing like 2008, and there was no definitive proof that things would go as badly as they had back then, but considering TIAMA's latest strokes of luck, the future wasn't exactly looking bright. Emma knew what it was like to feel defeated. After all, she couldn't even count the amount of times she had been beaten down in life. Beaten down from her injuries, beaten down from her losses as a superhero, she had seen it all. But this was different. Nothing had even happened, no plan had been carried, no disaster had struck the country, and yet, despite of all of that, she still felt small, vulnerable, and way out of her depth. If there was a way to be preemptively struck down, she was going through it right now. All she could think about was the six holographic models that had been plastered all over the screen just seconds ago, the grainy security footage that showed off the shittiest of this shitty week. Osteo's fleshy, aged face, mouth slightly agape as the video paused on its last seconds. The drugged-out yellow blur busting the doors of the Federal Reserve open with a flick of the wrist. Officer Greene's eyes, staring vacantly out of the picture. Revenant's eyes.

Fuck, don't think about that, think about something else.

The mention of "teams" brought Emma out of her own troubled thoughts and back into reality, her eyes snapping upwards to a long, crowded list of rows, columns, names, and faces attached to them, all organized into neat three-man squads that she had to squint to read through. She was assigned to...Team F, with a certain Venom and Icarus, two people she was already very familiar with. Venom was a friendly enough, if a little...energetic with her offensives. Icarus would probably be more...difficult due to her celebrity schedule, but with careful planning, it would hopefully be nothing more than a small hiccup. Hopefully, because it seemed as if the squad system was already being put to test, with the A-Team being sent over to take care of some situation in the Bronx, something about a...human-armadillo hybrid. Weird, but somehow far from the weirdest thing she had seen that day. What else could top PIkachu the Coke Addict?

"So..." Emma started grimly, twisting around in her chair to face Hans, and, unfortunately, Maria. "I guess we have free license to leave, now that this -ugh- briefing is over and done with." she said, gagging slightly at the ever-present scent of gore wafting off of Maria soon worked its way into Emma's nose, causing her to nearly retch for a second time. Without her internal deliberations to distract her from the corpse-flower blooming at 9:00, the stench had only gotten worse, a weird, toxic combination of innards and blood and chemicals and things that should never leave the operating theater. She had to take a hard swallow before pressing on. "What are you two getting up to after this?"

[Europa Undivided]

Shadowshock | Hydra Imperator

Shadowshock smirked as Blink insisted that his alias be used instead of whatever strange nickname he just concocted for the taller teenager. Needless to say, it was a little awkward for Shadowshock to look up to someone in the literal sense, as he was used to the company of people smaller than himself, such as Jacques Lenard, with whom he had several operations and battles together before. But then, Hydra Imperator always strode above the heads of everyone else using his suit's mechanical appendages, so perhaps he did not count. Hydra had a certain insecurity when it came to his height, and often tried to even the scales on the others through the aforementioned method. Shadowshock could now relate somewhat to the Frenchman, as he was looking up to someone younger.

He was a little glad that it didn't take them long to finish their conversation, as he swore that he would develop a pain in the neck if he kept looking up that way. Shadowshock was a itty tiny bit worried that this teleporter could potentially get himself injured in the battle that will come ahead once Team A got to the Bronx, but at the same time, he was confident that the living powerplant and Lady Liberty would be more than enough to keep this rookie alive.

Still... it didn't look Hydra Imperator didn't have a team, though based on what the members of the council just said, it would seem that only full timers like himself would be on the patrols, while those on part time are free to maintain their otherwise normal lives. With that said, everyone currently present was now free to leave, either to go to patrol alongside their teams or to go wherever they wished.

Shadowshock sighed. His teammates were apparently Patriot and Tesla, the former whom he did not particularly like, mostly due to being overly obsessed with the glory of the United States of America, or so he thought. He thought of the Patriot as an overly patriotic... well, patriot. Perhaps this was because neither of his parents were from the States to begin with; his father had fled from northern Iraq along with his family when he was still a boy, while his mother... well, she came in from Ukraine when the USSR collapsed. Unlike most, he wasn't taught patriotism. And this, Shadowshock believed, could be one point of conflict between himself and the Patriot, but again, he had worse colleagues before.

As all of this went on, he went to the row where the Patriot and Tesla were sitting, and bowed slightly as their eyes met. "Shadowshock, at your service, Patriot, Tesla. Shall we go?"

---

At the meantime, Hydra Imperator didn't do anything as he was at a loss of what to do. After a few moments of contemplation, the four robotic appendages once again sprouted out of the suit's back, and he proceeded to walk in a long gait towards the exit... only for his noise to be assaulted by the foul barrage of rotten odors that seemed to come from a singular source: Maria. Of course it was her. She was literally covered in blood and gore, and had this organization cared a little more about PR, they would tell her to shower immediately. But of course, no one did, because no one will.

The Hydra itself seemed to be offended at the smell as well. "Only in this planet have I seen such keen disregard for the well being of oneself and to the surroundings."

"I know, Monsieur Hydra. This is the worst planet to live on.", Jacques answered as he strode towards the bloody German woman that was sitting alongside Hans and Emma Greenwood. These latter two he could tolerate; Hans he liked somewhat for being an adorable fool, while Emma wasn't a lunatic, unlike their other companion. He did not like the blood stained woman. At all.

Hydra Imperator leaned slightly towards them, even as he loomed over the three due to the support of his robotic appendages. He spoke with none of the softness or musicality of the French language, but rather, spoke in an English that sounded like it has been chopped up by a guillotine and burned in a revolution. "Perhaps you should learn to shower, Mademoiselle Maria?", he said to the gore stained woman. "You look absolutely and smell absolutely hideous."

Jacques immediately withdrew and walked out of the exit, his appendages retracting in order for him to fit into the door. The Hydra Imperator was out, and while he is out, he may seek out a battle to fight.

[Mandicoria]

-snip-

Patriot stared a little over to Shadowshock, a bit of malice being hinted in his gaze. Standing up and extending his hand over, breaking an uncomfortable air that was around them. "Wonderful to meet you. Please, call me Kurt." He responded, his hand forcibly grabbing shadowshock's in an forced handshake. "And this is Doctor Viktor Tesla."

"Wonderful to have you onboard." Tesla gave a kind sentiment, much more welcoming than Patriot's forced pleasantries.

"Now a few ground rules since you're in the team with us..." Patriot sighed as he popped his back, relieving a lot of stress from sitting down for such a period of time. "We're Government, and you're gonna have to tag along for Government meetings. You're also gonna have to play with Uncle Sam's rules, which while they're more or less the same as TIAMA's, they still have their differences. Since we're playing with Government rules, I'm in charge." Patriot towered over Shadowshock, an air of unrelenting authority washing over. "Relax bro, I'm just fucking with you. Well, except on the Government shit. While I'm by all means in command, I'm more than fine with different paths being taken. As long as you aren't being an outright hindrance of course."

"Forgive Kurt's abrasiveness, he's not so.... well, he's not as terrible as you expect." Tesla added in, stepping between them.

"Very funny, Sparky. Anyways we got some patrol shit we gotta get done. Plus we got some power outages a little ways from here, not anywhere close to where that... Err... Armadillo? Fuck I don't care, anyways all you need to know is that we're usually doing the boring shit. While HOPING for some action to happen." Patriot began walking out, gesturing for the others to follow his lead. "We got transport outside, and we're expecting to be out there for a few hours or so. Hope you're ready, newbie."

[Central Crew]

Matthew Octave

Well, that certainly had been a refreshing nap. Lucky no one had called him out on it. Besides, It wasn't like he didn't get all of the information trough Book. It was all fine and dandy. He was now both well rested and informed.'He thanked his luck for putting him in the same team as John and the unruly genius speedster. The one that just left as fast as the meeting had been over. Didn't even stick around to plan things with them.

Matthew knew already about the speedster backstory. Good thing that there had been no important secrets in place. Well they were, and that left him pretty bummed out, but it was noting heavy he hoped. Besides there were more pressing matters.

"Well what do know? We're on the same team again John! God must really like our hero-team-up. Unfortunately our third wheel went rolling out of this building very very fast, so our Terrific-Tri-Tricycle-Team-Trio will have to do with only the two of us for now."

"Unless you think we can catch up to that wheel and reassemble it... It couldn't have gone that far, right?"

[Anowa]

Hannah couldn't help but sigh as she looked at Team A, of course, it meant she was going out without getting any sort of understanding on who she was going out with. Well, personally at least. Blink was an unknown, Ophichiua... or whatever, was a bit more known, if not from her files, than from her rather blatant disregard for anonymity. That at least gave her some insight and, well. They were the same, at least in combatatives it seemed, the difference was that Hannah knew more about Ophi than Ophi knew about her. In an effort to conceal her parentage and prevent her from becoming a target, her whole file beyond a very limited amount of information was outright classified, almost more so than the Cabal itself. Up to and including her genetic heritage of vampirism, seeing as there weren't many public vampires, one could rather easily put the dots together.

She gave a nod to her departing friend, and chuckled a bit at Anthony's exasperated sigh, Gauss decided to speak up as everyone started milling about or preparing to leave, "Well, at least she didn't take any papers with her."

"Ha ha fuck you too." came the dry, almost sarcastic reply.

Gauss simply chuckled again, as she made her way through the throng of people and towards the duo she was teamed with, the vacuum seal of her helmet disengaged, as the external audio on her helmet cut as she spoke privately to the veritable Siri in her helmet, "Message, Opi. 'Mind if you come pick me up? Business in Bronx, traffic's a bit heavy.' Send." The jingle that notified her that the message sent rang in her ears as she reactivated the helmet's external audio.

“Yeah, Blink, but first we’ll have to get over to Gauss so we can discuss exactly how we’re going to approach this as a team, you know, get on the same page.”

It was a bit surprising to meet someone the same height as she was or as close in height as they were. Her armour added a few inches, so unless she got undressed and busted out a measuring tape, it didn't really matter. Ophi was a conflicting figure, sure, she was basically a gender bent Captain America. But Captain America ended up being Hydra, the amount of patriotism she exuded was too much to be natural. Blink was.... well he wasn't exactly short, the top of his head came up to her nose, but he sure as fuck was a twig, something about him smelled... off, as well. Not bad, or rotten, or even noticeable to anyone but maybe a dog or another vampire, but the odd, ozoneish smell that wafted off of herself and Skye. If it meant what Hannah thought it meant, he had more to him then could merely be seen. "You rang?"

[Europa Undivided]

-snip-

"Hope you're ready, newbie."

Shadowshock | Okay

Shadowshock simply nodded to the Patriot and frowned, slightly irritated at how this living incarnation of hyper-nationalistic hypocrisy looked down on him, both literally and figuratively. He always knew that the Patriot was one of the less savory members of the organization, but being in the same team as he is a rather different experience than simply hearing rumors from other people. "For the record, I'm not a newbie.", he silently muttered to himself as he removed the leather gloves that were covering his hands, revealing the Stormclaw Gauntlets for Tesla and Patriot to see. They had long, sharp claws that protruded from the fingers, while the hand was covered in a grey titanium alloy. The rest of the gauntlets were covered by the sleeves of Shadowshock's jacket.

It wouldn't take long for the three of them to get into their transport, but when they did, Shadowshock would simply phase through the door, opening it up to the other two once he was inside whatever vehicle that they had procured for their patrol.

[Remnants of Exilvania]

New York City
Staten Island Training Facility
Hans

Hans' questions were answered...somewhat. Though he still wondered why it was Stuttgart specifically that required for this toadman to live if these were general TIAMA rules. But his mind just skipped over that wonder in a heartbeat, practically forgetting it as a new revelation was brought before him. Someone from a backrow who he couldn't see was talking about racism, though he blended the racism part out in favour of a single word he had mentioned.

Beastfolk.

Hans' mind was immediately filled with a myriad of questions, questions about what kinds of beastfolk existed, why they existed, how they existed, if all the fairy tailes were real, if there was a difference between beastfolk and these furries he always heard about, etc. All these prospects made Hans all giddy in excitement, causing him to elbow Maria and whisper excitedly:

"Did you hear that? Beastfolk! Real beastfolk! My I wonder what they look like and how they work!"

Meanwhile the TIAMA chiefs, as he called them, had pulled something new onto the display, something about some elderly, uniformed man and talking into the camera. Hans had missed the first part of his speech due to his excitement about beastfolk so he had absolutely no idea of who this man was or of what concern he was to TIAMA. From the sound of his words he was just like one of those hundreds of other people on YT, vocalizing their political opinions there...though they usually didn't get to wear a uniform. Hans of course listened to the demands but...he had little context to go with them so each and every one of them sounded pretty much meaningless to him.

When the video stopped, one of the TIAMA chiefs sighed before talking, saying the one important thing. The man in uniform had attempted murder, to murder Chris to be precise and that was all Hans needed to know. Chris was a good friend, especcially after that night of which he only had hazy memories! And anyone who wanted to paste Chris would have to take it up with him!

Which made Hans all the happier when he discovered that in the new teams they were sorted into, he shared a team with Chris. He was sure that he and Chris and this Nimrod fellow could all become best friends forever in a very short amount of time and help save kittens from trees together! It'd become much easier with Hans finally having a team that would help him climb up into those trees.

Knowing where Chris sat, Hans was about to get up and just head over to him to chat a little and become even better friends than they surely already were but a "So..." coming from his right kept him on his seat. Right, he had almost completely forgotten that he was sitting between Emma and Maria. And that was bad, he got all red in embarassment over having forgotten his other friends right next to him over his friend Chris and his future friend Nimrod. That was not how one was supposed to treat friends!

Still red in his face and tumbling over his own words in his efforts to speak quickly and repair any damage done as quickly as possible, Hans said:

"Why, yes, ah, what, leave?"

He searched Emma's face, desperately hoping to not see any signs of annoyance or the like as he was afraid that she had perhaps noticed that he had forgotten all about her. Of course Hans didn't know that technically his thoughts weren't written that clearly onto his face so there had been no way for her to know he had temporarily forgotten about her. And so he took her slight signs of discomfort as directed at him. Besides, he was oblivious to Maria's stench, being very, very much used to the stench of blood and gore and half rotten corpses and of course thought it was the same for most people.

"I am so sorry for forgetting about you! I promise, it was just an accident! There were just so many things to think about like beastfolk and being in a team with my friend Chris, I just completely forgot about you and Maria, my two friends with me right now! I am really really sorry about it!"

Before Hans could continue or Emma answer though, someone talked behind them. "Perhaps you should learn to shower, Mademoiselle Maria? You look absolutely and smell absolutely hideous." Hans didn't bother looking behind him to see who or what had talked, his face instead falling slightly into itself as he realized that Emma had likely shown discomfort about Maria's stench and look rather than about him having forgotten her. And he had just straight up told her.

Now being rather meek, he said:

"I...I don't know yet. I thought this meeting would take longer and have more...substance. I sort of freed up my entire schedule for this and now it's already over. Perhaps I should talk with Chris...we are a team now afterall. I am quite sad that none of you two are in my team. I am sure we'd all get along swimmingly."

[Lessoni]

If it meant what Hannah thought it meant, he had more to him then could merely be seen. "You rang?"

Jack Dredd

As Jack and Ophi approached the woman, he felt slightly intimidated. To be frank, she looked like a badass. He also felt a slight relief at this, thinking that his... shortcomings, as he had taken to referring to his relatively weak powerset as, would be well compensated for. He also took a little humor from the situation. Before he’d never even met a woman who was taller than him, and now he was gonna be working with two. He only hoped he’d be able to keep his stutter under control.

“Uh, hello. I’m Blink- well, you already knew that, same as I know you’re Gauss, but that’s besides the point... anyway, I guess we’re all supposed to go take care of that guy who’s doing all the destruction together. But I was thinking, maybe before we go we should just give a little sparknotes on all our powers? I personally teleport, but like, only to where I can see. It’s more useful than it sounds, I promise. What about you?”

[Jerno]

John Farrow/Emma Greenwood

John was now well rested and well informed. He had practically dozed during the meeting. John was well aware of his condition and what form he was in to warn others that he took his small naps seriously. It looked like someone didn’t notice John in a snake form. It was Matthew the storyteller. John stretched that is if snakes could stretch and morphed back into his normal human form. He vaguely heard Matthew talking as he stretched some more, finally answering Matthew. “Well we are lucky to be in a team. That is amazing, as for synapse we’ll have to catch up with her somehow. She really is fast. Well why don’t we get going eh?” John asked Matthew. “Oí oí Emma, u okay there or do you want to join us?”

Emma sighed in relief when John morphed back into his human form. She was to focused on looking at the screen and didn’t realize that John was talking to her.huh looks like I’m with Jester and Icarus. She vaguely remembered who they were as she hadn’t been long to formally meet everyone. Internally She hoped that they could be a great in the future. She was once more taken of out her daze by John. “Yeah yeah I’m coming as well if you don’t mind?” John smiled “of course I don’t mind if Matthew doesn’t mind either then we can go?”

[Union Princes]

Holiday

Maria’s blue eyes scanned over to ingrain Emma when she spoke of the training lesson. The contempt on Emma’s face was not lost on the German. In fact, she may revel in knowing that someone like her is finally taking it seriously. Even with all blood and viscera staining her person, the blondie can only giggle like a gossiping high school student. “Don’t worry about injuries.” Maria replied with a wicked grin on her face, “That’s why I’m here: to make sure you keep fighting.”

Of course, what was most amusing to the bloodied girl was Hans’s causal interpretation of her appearance. Butterflies were in her stomach when he suggested the idea of her father owning a morgue. If it weren’t for her adoptive father’s sense of professionalism desperately ingrained into her conscious, Maria would’ve been reduced to a shaky, nervous wreck of a girl that has been confessed to.

“Silly Hans, my father doesn’t let me in the morgue anymore after stealing so many skeletons.” Maria chuckled before leaning in to whisper gently into his ear. “The mess I made is far more fresh and recent.“

Unfortunately, Maria couldn’t continue her sweet talk when the clock signaled the start of the meeting. Herr Herrman walked on the stage to give a holographic presentation of six dangerous individuals that needed to be detained or eliminated. Undeniably dangerous targets but the rewards for potential bodies to be used for experiments are apparent. She would keep a mind open when she gets the chance to encounter them.

The prospect of teams was appealing to Maria. As soon as she heard the words, her mind raced to imagine herself paired with Hans. Together in this fight against the enemies of the state. She dreamed of joyful slaughter with Hans in her imagination with her crimson filled-mind. Much to her disappointment, Maria was placed in Team D, separate from Hans, causing her face to contort in a look that could poison her own healing blood.

Nor it was her turn have contempt remain on her face when Emma wondered what Maria and Hans would do next now that the meeting is over. However, Hydra Imperator walked over with all of his mechanical monstrosity just to mock the beauty of the human language. His gurgling of English was appalling to hear, so much so Maria was ready to stick her scalpel knives into her ears. Leaving no room for a clever retort, the abomination swiftly left leaving the blondie with her blood boiling under her skin.

“I’m gonna go shower, Hans.” Her voice was as thin as a razor ready to slice as she got off her chair. “I’m bringing my supplies with me.”

Once inside the shower rooms, Maria stripped herself of her stained clothes and organized them into a neat bloody pile. Even though the water was warm, the blondie felt the bitter cold running through veins. She glanced at her oversized bone saw sitting in the corner of the shower getting rinsed of brain matter, blood, and bone bits leaving a trail of red getting sucked into the drain. Placing her knuckles at the tile wall in front of her, Maria retreated into her thoughts recollecting what happened just now.

CRACK.

In her fit of tranquil rage, the blondie smashed her fist into the wall. Her skin was immediately torn down to the bone with her healing blood immediately processing to heal the damage.

CRACK.

Maria struck the wall again, leaving a massive blood splatter on the wall. Her exposed knucklebones already breaking at the sudden impact. Her healing blood started overflowing to compensate for the new pressure on her injured hand.

CRACK. CRACK. CRACK.

She punched the wall again in an explosive of unrelenting fury causing further traumatic damage on her hand and wrist. Maria punched and punched until her entire arm broke under the force of impact. The blood splatter nearly covered the entire wall with the water from the showerhead slowly washing it away.

“It’s just a setback,” Maria whispered to herself with gritted teeth, “Hans is just on another team. Accidents can happen to anyone; I can be with him when he gets hurt. My human flesh and blood will not be humiliated by metal men. I’ll show it, that damn machine.”

[Mandicoria]

-snip-

Patriot and Tesla would enter the armored transport, seemingly unphased by a display of power. Patriot sitting right by Shadowshock, while Tesla took up the other back of the transport. Tesla shutting the doors as he entered behind Patriot. Patriot looked between the two, gesturing for their attention before pulling up a GPS device. "Now gentlemen, we got a few downed powerlines here and there. Some dumbasses wrecked or something, causing the entire area to have a blackout. This shit ain't gonna take long, but it's gonna be boring as shit."

"Don't you think we should support against that Armadillo individual that was mentioned back in the meeting?" Tesla pointed to where the attack was supposedly happening on Patriot's GPS.

"No point, they're already deploying a team. No, our objective is to make sure shit's running smoothly, keep an eye out for terrorist scum, and supporting other teams if need be. Armadillo boy's only a concern if we get called." Patriot looked over to Shadowshock. "Now, they tell us to prioritize non lethal force, but... If you have to resort to lethal on a criminal. Don't hesitate, don't cause any collateral damage."

"Uh huh, and you're such a good sport at avoiding collateral." Tesla interrupted with a good amount of snark.

"Shut the fuck up, Sparky." Patriot chuckled a bit, knowing Tesla was fucking with him.

[Segral]

Emma Davis
Staten Island

At some point, there would be a day when Emma and Hans would have a perfectly normal conversation, where there were no raised eyebrows or looks of extreme confusion on her end, and no crimson-red blushes and stuttering, frantic sentences from Hans'.

Today was most certainly not that day.

He was currently in the process of apologizing for forgetting her (???), mentioning something about Chris, and Maria, and beastfolk, and how he was sorry for neglecting his two friends, which she could only assume to be herself and the blood-soaked blonde two seats away. Which was flattering, but didn't take away from the fact that Hans seemed to be in the middle of an unexplained social breakdown, eyes darting to every corner of her face as if some eldritch abomination was sprouting out of it, Alien-style. It was enough to make her touch her own face out of pure reflex, eyes narrowing as she felt nothing but bare, perfectly smooth skin. Forget about her? It had literally been less than thirty seconds since school orientation had ended, how could have he forgotten about her?

"I-" Emma started, only to be cut off by a harsh, guttural voice rolling out behind her, the voice of a French immigrant who hadn't been able to let go of their memories of Paris quite yet, and smoked like a chimney while they waited for forgetfulness to take over. She turned around in her chair to face the new voice, only to be met by a vague approximation of a gas mask instead, cloaked in a weird robo-monk looking powersuit/cloak combination and sprouting four robotic limbs right out of his back, two of which he was using to tower above almost anybody in the (rapidly evacuating) gym. The getup made her do a double take, and then do a few more takes as he threw a barrage of insults in Maria's way, telling her in no uncertain terms to fuck off and take a shower. Emma couldn't exactly fault him; if she had a bit more nerve and a bit less of a social conscience, she would've said something similar, albeit with slightly...softer vocabulary. It was almost hilarious, especially with the way the Robo-Monk just disappeared, a French military plane dropping its payload on an unsuspecting target. So hilarious, that Emma had to fight back a slight snort, covering her mouth with her hand in an attempt to conceal the slight upturning of her lips.

That was, until she caught the look on both Hans' and Maria's face, two looks that were enough to force her lips back down. Hans seemed even more flustered, still muttering something about meeting up with Chris, while Maria looked absolutely broken, like a kid who's birthday cake just got eaten by the family dog. It was enough to make Emma feel like...like, well...maybe a bit of an asshole, but before she could even squeeze out one syllable of an apology, Bloody Mary was already in the process of practically scrambling away, with saw, portable cooler, and padded bag all in tow. The only people left behind? A still-shellshocked Hans, and herself, rubbing her own temples harder than she ever had before, letting out a long sigh as she did so.

"I need a drink before I can deal with all of this..."

"Yeah, we probably would." Emma said tiredly, finally managing to pull together a coherent response. "To be honest, I was kind of hoping that we would be on the same squad, I know you better than almost anybody else in this room. Though, I guess I didn't get stuck with the worst match-up in the world. Can't hurt to have an endless stream of style tips, I suppose." she said with a chuckle, her failed attempt at breaking the rapidly-growing ice soon becoming apparent as the two lapsed into a brief silence. "Do you think we should go, like...check on M-Maria or something? She seemed pretty upset and all, I hope she's alright..." she trailed off, a hint of genuineness in her proposition. Even if the girl was a little strange (to put it in the mildest terms possible), she was still human, and Emma didn't want to see her hurt. Plus, if she really was going to the showers, it wouldn't be the worst idea to pop a head in, juuuust in case some other poor soul taking a piss ended up on the receiving end of Maria's wrath. She didn't even want to imagine what that saw would look like.

[Europa Undivided]

"Shut the fuck up, Sparky." Patriot chuckled a bit, knowing Tesla was fucking with him.

Shadowshock sighed at the prospect of having these two as his teammates for the rest of the year. Tesla was far more tolerable, likable even. But the one he was sitting beside...? No. Not one bit. Still, he had to learn how to get along with the infamous Patriot, or else their team won't get anything done.

Right now, it seems that all they were going to do was going somewhere to fix some broken powerlines. Suspiciously enough, they were broken at the same time an Armadillo was rampaging through some low income neighborhood in the Bronx, and apparently, somewhere near the place had caught fire... for some reason. At this point, Shadowshock, being the obsessive theorist that he was, theorized inside his head that these things are happening at such a short time are all connected to each other. However, there was no way to prove that; there's only one way to find out. They will head to those downed powerlines, and Tesla will perhaps bring them online. Or, whatever. Maybe that raging Pokemon fan did it.

As he collected his thoughts, his phone rang. Picking it up, he heard the French Dr. Octopus on the other side, who at this point was sitting on top of a nine story building. "Jacques?"

"You in that armored transport? Look, I have no team and I'm just a part timer so I don't have an assigned route, so I'll keep a close distance from you three. Okay? Thank you. bye."

And just like that, he dropped the line. Maybe Patriot will ask who it was, and if he did, Shadowshock will say whatever the Frenchman said.

[Cybernetic Socialist Republics]

It was a bit surprising to meet someone the same height as she was or as close in height as they were. Her armour added a few inches, so unless she got undressed and busted out a measuring tape, it didn't really matter. Ophi was a conflicting figure, sure, she was basically a gender bent Captain America. But Captain America ended up being Hydra, the amount of patriotism she exuded was too much to be natural. Blink was.... well he wasn't exactly short, the top of his head came up to her nose, but he sure as fuck was a twig, something about him smelled... off, as well. Not bad, or rotten, or even noticeable to anyone but maybe a dog or another vampire, but the odd, ozoneish smell that wafted off of herself and Skye. If it meant what Hannah thought it meant, he had more to him then could merely be seen. "You rang?"

Seeing Gauss up close allowed, Ophiuchia to geta closer look at her, or more specifically, her power armor. While the alien hybrid's ice blue irises remained largely stationary, her contacts adjusted themselves to allow her to see every bit of the armor that was immediately visible. The temptation to use active scanning methods to peer into the suit was there, but Ophiuchia couldn’t know for sure if the suit had a way of detecting that, so her sensors would just be limited to passively absorbing whatever came from or was reflected off the armor.

What she did know, however, is that as she and Aethelind had suspected, after having combed over the images they had of Gauss’s suit, from the Lucky Strike, was that this was, infact, a Type 7K Support Frame, a failed project, make it interesting that Gauss would have access to it. This power armour had a set of electromagnets capable of redirecting everything but the largest and fastest projectiles, giving her a basic forcefield. It also wasn’t a suit that enhanced the wearer’s strength, it simply carried its own weight. So when Gauss broke out of her handcuffs with ease at the Lucky Strike, it was Gauss breaking out of those handcuffs with ease. So that immediately told Ophiuchia that Gauss wasn’t only skilled and strong, but absolutely had meta enhanced strength and the durability to match. Perhaps most interesting of all, was the fact power armour Gauss was wearing, shouldn’t be working.

The Type 7K was part of a power armor project that had failed due there not being a practical powersource to match it with. If Gauss was here walking around with power armour that even the military couldn’t properly outfit, it could be easily deduced that Gauss must have some connections in some really high places and a whole lot of trust in order to get access to a working powersource for the suit and be allowed to use it. Trying to get an edge over her would be even harder than Ophiuchia had expected.

On a far more basic level, the opportunity to see her up close made it even clearer how intimidating she and her exoskeleton would be to others, Ophiuchia could see it on Blink for one, though to be fair more less any woman intimidated him. Intimidation was not what Ophiuchia felt seeing Gauss. Instead, it triggered in Ophiuchia feelings of rivalry and mild contempt for her. Now while she had an issue with Gauss as an obstacle that she'd have to overcome, she had no reason to dislike her on a personal level and was even possible that she'd end up sincerely being friendly with her. Additionally based on what it appeared that Gauss' connections must be, it'd be best for her to be openly courteous to Gauss, at least foreseeable future, even as Ophiuchia tried to outshine her.

“Uh, hello. I’m Blink- well, you already knew that, same as I know you’re Gauss, but that’s besides the point... anyway, I guess we’re all supposed to go take care of that guy who’s doing all the destruction together. But I was thinking, maybe before we go we should just give a little sparknotes on all our powers? I personally teleport, but like, only to where I can see. It’s more useful than it sounds, I promise. What about you?”

Ophiuchia didn't exactly want to describe all of her powers in detail with Gauss, nore how they worked, if she needn't volunteer specifics. However at the same time, she didn't want to be seen as having anything to hide, so it'd be about striking a fine balance between not saying much, but sounding like she might have said too much. Part of that would come from speaking before Gauss could respond to Blink.


"I'll go next, actually. Quick summary. I can launch invisible until contact concussive blasts, I've got super strength, I can run really quickly, however since I can also fly and hover, that's usually unnecessary. I've got extremely quick reaction times, I've also got a forcefield and this sword." Ophiuchia finished, patting her sheathed sword by it.

Here, Ophiuchia partially carried out what was essentially her general philosophy in concealing information and her own plans from others. In the age of information, it had only become more difficult by the year to keep secrets and complete anonymity. Oftentimes even successfully keeping secrets leaves behind a shadow from which those secrets can be guessed.

As far she and her Alien designed A.I. was concerned, the best way to hide information in the age of information was through hiding it amongst an oversaturation of irrelevant information and the propagation of half truths which could be just as easily brought together to create entire falsehoods as they could uncover part of the truth. Indeed, Aethelind made it her duty to insert herself into fan conversations and gently and anonymously steer them towards making incorrect conclusions about the nature of her powers, but always being careful to avoid leaving a 'shadow' around the truth by allowing some things that were true to be learned.


It was fitting that Ophiuchia chose the greatest purveyor of half truths and irrelevant information, popular social media, to build a public face that alongside her own content creation generated her an income. The key was enthusiastically sharing what didn’t matter as if it did and guiding people down paths that lead to plausible but incorrect conclusions. Her own superhero identity was a product of that, surely she loved America's people, or more specifically what America could represent, but she wasn't delusional enough to believe that it was anywhere close to doing so. But it was an image that served her ends, with those ends themselves being building enough of a profile for herself that she could help shape America in that direction. Of course she was still a long way off, but so was 2032.

Ophiuchia considered just letting Gauss speak, but she felt it'd be a good idea to steer the conversation by indirectly informing Gauss that she wasn't some airhead blonde that managed to gain credentials with the sheer power of memory.

"So, I see that's a Type 7K Support Frame you're wearing, with a working practical power source. Whatever that is, it has got to be a highly experimental battery or generator. Meaning you've got some high level connections. From what I've seen, you're extremely competent, but you must be someone's project, or daughter, to be trusted with something so exclusive. Don't have to say it here, but perhaps you'll be comfortable saying it later." Ophiuchia said, with a smile.

[Anowa]

"So, I see that's a Type 7K Support Frame you're wearing, with a working practical power source. Whatever that is, it has got to be a highly experimental battery or generator. Meaning you've got some high level connections. From what I've seen, you're extremely competent, but you must be someone's project, or daughter, to be trusted with something so exclusive. Don't have to say it here, but perhaps you'll be comfortable saying it later." Ophiuchia said, with a smile.

Gauss raised an eyebrow,it was clear that Miss Smarty pants here was trying to play games. mental ones at least, trying to edge out a level of knowledge about the people around you that was a bit more abnormal than usual was both seen as rude in some circles, but also somewhat concerning. It meant that, for some reason, Hannah found herself under the microscope of someone who had a rather testy track record. While Ophiuchia found herself digging for details, Gauss didn't really need to, it was the age of information, and that meant that if you hadn't done it, someone else would've. Ophi did have a rather active social media presence... despite how one tracked it was, the woman didn't even bother to show anyone else she was connected to. Gauss, however, decided to check Ophi's bet. She started dumping a level of current into her surroundings.

"Hmm? Oh, yeah. It's a pretty advanced suit, well, for it's time at least. Heads up display, piezoelectric force conducting under-suit, Tati alloys consist of it's armor plating. Enigma tried to field it, failed. Then Epoch tried to field it, but whenever they got a power source into it, the Foucault's Current projected by the magnets in the plating made it next to impossible to functionally use it." at this point, the hair of everyone the the room would start lifting a bit, "Of course that left them at a dead end on power supply. There was a proposal to shove a kugelblitz in it, but they decided that was too volatile, even if it allowed them to stuff a jetpack on it. In the end it boiled down to putting a power supply in it that didn't end up getting mangled by the magnets."

By now, if everyone's hair wasn't actively standing on end, it would be notably poofier, a few people closer to her might find themselves having to breath heavier, as the ozone concentration became high enough to affect respiration and smell, "Eventually, in an unrelated circumstance, they ended up powering a number of things via dark energy condensation. That was proposed, but again, shot down due to instability and long term health risks. That kind of opened the door to another field for them, mainly much larger support frames, which left this suit to me really." the electrical field then promptly faded, rather rapidly.

Gauss shrugged, "As for me, I'm no one special, I *am* someone's daughter, that's to be expected since, you know, humans needs parents. Certainly not someone's pet project, much too emotionally connected for that. I'm quite literally just a theoretical physicist who bought to rights to an abandoned set of armor."

A pause, "So. Since you can fly" she nodded to Ophi, "And you can teleport." she nodded at Blink, "Guess I'm hailing a cab then, aren't I?"

[Lessoni]

By now, if everyone's hair wasn't actively standing on end, it would be notably poofier, a few people closer to her might find themselves having to breath heavier, as the ozone concentration became high enough to affect respiration and smell, "Eventually, in an unrelated circumstance, they ended up powering a number of things via dark energy condensation. That was proposed, but again, shot down due to instability and long term health risks. That kind of opened the door to another field for them, mainly much larger support frames, which left this suit to me really." the electrical field then promptly faded, rather rapidly.

Jack Dredd

Jack distinctly didn’t like the feeling in the air. Felt like a storm was kicking up, if the storm was on steroids and also inside his lungs. The hair on the back of his neck stood straight on end, and he felt vaguely like he was gonna be ill. He felt a stronger than vague sense of relief when whatever it was wore off. He vaguely heard the what was to him meaningless technological babble through his discomfort, but was a little confused that she didn’t have powers. It took him a moment to connect the dots; she had to power the suit somehow, she must have electric powers.

“Uh, hey, about the t-teleportation thing? I meant it when I said the ‘line of sight’ bit. It won’t exactly get me to the city. Could we, uh, share a cab? I only have hundreds on me, which is a long- it’s not, actually, Chris Digel gave me 4000 in hundreds to rent an apartment, which really surprised me, that he was carrying that much... sorry, rambling, can we share that cab?”

[Kingdom of Irhk]

The display switched to that of a rather elderly man seated behind a desk, US marine Corps uniform with a full metal plate, badges, and cap prim and pressed, with an American flag draped over a window looking back at the forest behind him. "Hello to whom it may concern, be it the world's citizens, US Congress, the Joint Chiefs of Staff, or TIAMA. My name is Alexander Carmichael, there is no doubt in my mind by now you've found out that I am connected to the incident at the Federal Reserve. You may have asked yourself in these last few days, exactly why it was I only took US gold. I did so for collateral, ransom with the hopes that the funds I possess and the actions I have committed without flaw will result in a bloodless resolution. You may also ask why Officer Ford has yet to be... resolved, of his current predicament. This was done to remind you that, if need be, I will hold hostages, indefinitely. With their only hope being a resolution to our cause. Finally, you may ask, why did I plant those bombs if I wanted a bloodless cause? Because they were back ups. Ultimately, I decided that to let them detonate would cause such damage to TIAMA that it would result in my cause's ultimate failure.

However, I know that those within the US government have a very difficult time willing themselves to do anything more than drone strike villages, and have a very hard time even thinking about negotiations. So there is absolutely no doubt in my mind that you will try to kill me and my fellows for nothing more than security that your way of life remains secure, because unlike the forever wars you have caused, I am an actual threat. I stole your money, and you want it back, not because I put lives at risk, or because I damaged a historical building, you want the money. The Oligarchic system the United States has decayed into once cared about lives, but The War on Terror, the War on Drugs, privatized prisons, improper tax reforms, the Buckley v Valeo, First National Bank of Boston v. Bellotti, Citizens United v. FEC, and McCutcheon v. FEC court cases from 1976 to 2014 have done nothing more than erode the freedom of political liberty in the United States. These examples, as well as others have resulted in a ruling elite in the United States playing puppet shows with supposedly elected officials."

The man in the video picked up a folder and opened it, "My goals, and the goals of those fighting alongside me, are for the deposement of the current Oligarchic system in the United States. We are hereby requesting the following: Troops withdrawals from the nations of Afghanistan, Iraq, and Syria; tax reformation in which prevents hoarding of wealth with previously mentioned financial elite, the overruling that declares that using one's wealth to effectively buy election wins is not free speech, but rather a form of bribery; the decriminalization of all Schedule I, II, III, IV, and V substances; the dissolution of the Drug Enforcement Administration; revisions to law enforcement training to prevent out nation's astronomical rate of police related fatalities. You have one week, from Midnight on this day March 22nd, Snno Domini 2020, to declare that you President Cook, and your cabinet, will be implementing these changes, or we will have no other choice than to implement them by force. Good day, and I hope you choose the right decisions." the video paused on the ending frame, burning the surprisingly fleshy face into the mind's of those present.

William Brookes

"Well... this man has my vote. Or would, if I was an American. Given that I am not and that you are the fine citizens paying me currently, I'd only like to follow the quote of my fellow magical friend here. I didn't even make a single spell in both incidents, so I'm with the lads that aren't trigger happy when they see a bad guy. One team was already dispatched to the Bronx to deal with one threat and my team seems promising.

So, where are we headed? Or better saying, who are hunting for the sake of good old democracy?"

It was clear that William recognized the legitimacy - at least, partly - of the claims of his arranged foes. Arranged, because William hardly would go against them if it wasn't for his arrangement with TIAMA. As the professional man he was, he looked at Wayland and Imogen (or Kaleidoscope, as she liked to go during her heroic runs), and with a cheery yet sarcastic smile, said:

"We're almost like a family already!"