Gods Among Us (IC|Superhero|Open)

[Dyelli Beybi]

Imogen Vaughan

William Brookes

As his cup finally reached the table and William was pouring whisky in it, a man in a top hat approached him with a weirdly happy tone even if William just asked him about a priceless artifact. As he took one large gulp and listened to the man's excited introduction, a wicked yet lighthearted smile appeared across William's face, as he looked back at the man, extending a hand. The second arrival, however, seemed younger than both of the men, yet she gave off a distinct magical aura herself.

"Well, you know where I am from, so at least one of the things about this Book of yours is truthful. Well, Imogen, pleasure to meet you. Can't say about work as I actually didn't work with you yet, but given you lack the knowledge our dear colleague in a top hat here has, my name is William Brookes and this just became a tea party, I see.

"A tea party? I can't see any tea being served," Imogen managed to put on an expression of confusion for a moment before adding, "Though I suspect this is some oblique reference to having more than one British person in a room, though not a particularly apt one; I'm pretty certain we weren't invited to that one in Boston." It seemed she had been joking... though her tone had remained dry throughout.

"I'd imagined you were one of the people at that rather messy bank job," she continued, with a slight shrug, "It's so hard to recognise people when they take off the colourful spandex and masks. Though as for whether we've worked together or not," she gave a wry smile, before adding somewhat cryptically, "It's all a matter of perspective."

The Book. A thousand legends about this, and no one can guarantee its sources. I heard the most ludicrous legends about it... written by nameless mages, by entities above our possible comprehension. I've seen collectors hunt it around the world, you know... One in Jakarta, another one in Moscow, a group of Mexican mages, a Brazilian sorceress... all of them offered me the job, but you don't get things that are shrouded in legends and guarded by one person only. Cults? Trick them, make an illusion, whatever needed but when it is constantly with one guy and you don't know where it came from, refuse it. It is said to give wisdom beyond all the libraries in the world, so you can guess why it is a wild chase. Glad to know you are keeping it safe, Sir Top Hat.

Oh, where are my manners? Any of you fancy some whisky?"

She inclined her head politely at the offer of whiskey, "Thank you for the offer, but I don't think it would go with my wine," she said, swirling the blood-red contents of her glass for emphasis, which made her think of the vial in her pocket. Definitely going in a bin.

She took a sip of her wine, before concluding, succinctly, "So it's a book of knowledge. I understand items like that can be quite useful; much more reliable than Tinder."

[Remnants of Exilvania]

New York City
Lucky Strike Manhattan
Hans


The previous exchange was all but forgotten when Zinnia told him just what the doctor was handing out behind him. Sweat trickled down his forehead as he slowly cranked his head around to throw a single glance behind him...snapping immediately back with a nervous smile the moment he saw a syringe. He tried to put up a more apologetic expression before Zinnia but failed quite miserably, still looking rather miserable as he said:

"Ehm...okay...I...uh...I am sorry but I think I will need to visit the lavatory for a moment. See you later."

And then he hurried past her, dropping his still half full Pepsi bottle into a trashbin on his way as he tried to put distance between himself and Maria. The lavatory would be far enough and on the mens' toilets, he probably wouldn't be running into the doc.

He almost broke down the door, so much did he hurry to get in there before smashing it close again and leaning against it, breathing out slowly. Safe for now. With a sigh he stood straight again and went over to the sinks. He let the water run and splashed it into his face, trying to freshen himself up when suddenly a voice told him:

"I never would have thought that you would be so afraid of a few syringes. I always liked them."

Startled Hans splashed more water than intended onto himself, wetting his clothes. Alas, he had no eyes for those as he quickly looked up, blinking rapidly to get the water away from his eye as he spun around. And yet there was nobody there.

"Not there you bloody Dummkopf! Here!"

Something ran coldly down his spine as Hans realized where the voice coming from. But it was impossible, there was a wall there. And yet, as he slowly turned around, he was greeted with the familiar face of the nazi in the mirror instead of his own.

"Well, atleast you catch on when told what to do. Still, that you'd dislike the good hearted Doktor so much is really rude. I loved my Doktors."

, the nazi said, shrugging as though he could make neither rhyme nor reason out of it. Hans, breathing heavily, said sarcastically:

"I can only guess why that could be. Surely it had nothing to do with the fact that I ended up on the wrong end of their tools while you were just watching them. No, it couldn't have been that, absolutely not."

The nazi playfully put a hand onto his heart, acting as though he was deeply hurt as he replied:

"Oh my, such hatred for me. But alas, like father, like son, right? Hatred's in your blood."

Roaring in anger at that, Hans punched the goddamned mirror, cracking it:

"I AM NOT! LIKE! YOU!"

When he retrieved his fist from where it had hit the mirror, he noticed that the nazi image was gone. All that stared back at him was himself, broken apart by all the cracks that had formed on the mirror. Well, and slightly covered by some blood. Hans looked down at his fist, only now noticing that several pieces of mirror were lodged into it and immediately brought it up and started blowing air onto it, yelping in pain:

"Auaaaa! Au! Au! Au! Aua! Au! Mist! I should've thought about thaaaaat!"

He spent the next minutes trying to pick the shards out of his fist and letting cool water wash over it all.

[Cybernetic Socialist Republics]

Amalure looked around at the collection of heroes at the party, and it was just a collection, they hadn't begun developing any team dynamics, nore even knew each other's strengths all that well. They were, at this point, strangers that only held the fact they were exceptional at one thing or another in common. If this party was truly about bring them together as a team, they needed things to be a little more organized, even if they'd still have fun and small talk.

Amalure decided that if no one else was going to try and organize things, it was incumbent on her to at least attempt to do so. But she couldn't just shout that they should start planning out the night, even if some listened to her, it'd probably only serve to immediately split the group between those that did and those that didn't. If she was going to organize this group, as a whole, it needed to happen more gradually and organically, which mean't it needed to happen more or one person at a time.

So the first thing she did, was find and approach the first person that out of their way to talk to her and that'd be Jack Dredd.

"Hey, Jack." she began, addressing him, but allowing her voice to be just loud enough that a passerbyer vould hear her.

"It's a pretty nice party we got so far, plenty of food, drink, heroes, but it's missing something. I think that something is enkugh structure so we can really get to know each other beyond small talk. If we're going to fight together and depend on eachother for our lives, we kind of need to know each other, don't you think?" She continued, looking around at the room in general, but particularly in case anyone overheard what they were talking about and joined the conversation.

[Lessoni]

"It's a pretty nice party we got so far, plenty of food, drink, heroes, but it's missing something. I think that something is enkugh structure so we can really get to know each other beyond small talk. If we're going to fight together and depend on eachother for our lives, we kind of need to know each other, don't you think?" She continued, looking around at the room in general, but particularly in case anyone overheard what they were talking about and joined the conversation.

Jack Dredd

Jack started, nearly dropping the vial of blood still in his hand, as Amalure approached him. An unexpected twist, to be sure. He looked up at her, something he wasn't used to doing, most definitely.

"Uh, yeah, that's a good idea. Like, a planning conversation or- yeah, what else could you mean? I mean, I'm not really sure how much help I can be with the whole 'getting everyone together' but yeah, it'd be nice to know what everyone can do," said Jack. "So, how should we do this, just like, call everyone together?"

[Transoxthraxia]

Rachel had begun to doubt why she even came to the party. Sure, it was a celebration with her "co-workers" as she jokingly liked to refer to them as. But the introverted metahuman couldn't remember the last time that she actually had wanted to go to a celebration - not that she was depressed, of course, but more that she simply wasn't interested in them. And so, she sat, drinking an increasingly-flat Coors Banquet, in a darker corner, trying not to be seen. She had held some conversation with some, but mostly had become increasingly bored while observing the celebrations - she didn't even have a phone to check.

Her mind wandered to the matter of TIAMA - and of something that she had been increasingly worried about for quite some time.

The truth was that she felt that TIAMA was a bit of a mess. There were people who were and weren't affiliated with it, and even those within it, entirely dedicated to the cause, had vastly different opinions on rules of engagement and, more worrying, differing opinions on how to treat hostiles and civilians in combat situations. Sitting in a corner with one leg crossed over the other, it bobbing gently up and down, thoughts coalesced in her head - and worst-case scenarios abounded. That's the problem with organized crime fighting, she thought, exasperated and confounded, curious at what she could do.

Not too far from her were a pair of heroes - Amalure, she was pretty sure, and the young Jack Dredd. The pair were discussing something intriguing; something that Rachel hadn't even considered: a conversation with all of the heroes. To get to know one another, ostensibly, but also, perhaps, Rachel thought, a way to broach the topic of strongly and clearly codifying the way in which the organization would potentially work. Leaning her head over, she intruded into the pair's conversation. "Are we talking about a group meeting? I had some ideas about that," she said, tentatively, "I've had a lot on my mind about the organization recently, it'd be great to bring that up with everyone that needs to hear it."

[Cybernetic Socialist Republics]

"It's a pretty nice party we got so far, plenty of food, drink, heroes, but it's missing something. I think that something is enkugh structure so we can really get to know each other beyond small talk. If we're going to fight together and depend on eachother for our lives, we kind of need to know each other, don't you think?" She continued, looking around at the room in general, but particularly in case anyone overheard what they were talking about and joined the conversation.

Jack Dredd

Jack started, nearly dropping the vial of blood still in his hand, as Amalure approached him. An unexpected twist, to be sure. He looked up at her, something he wasn't used to doing, most definitely.

"Uh, yeah, that's a good idea. Like, a planning conversation or- yeah, what else could you mean? I mean, I'm not really sure how much help I can be with the whole 'getting everyone together' but yeah, it'd be nice to know what everyone can do," said Jack. "So, how should we do this, just like, call everyone together?"

Amalure was happy to see that Jack was supportive of her intentions. A planning conversation was something like what they needed. No that they needed to really plan for anything specific, as they hadn't gotten any word for TIAMA regarding any significant threats since the Federal Reserve, but they did needed to do was essentially plan how they'd go planning.

Not too far from her were a pair of heroes - Amalure, she was pretty sure, and the young Jack Dredd. The pair were discussing something intriguing; something that Rachel hadn't even considered: a conversation with all of the heroes. To get to know one another, ostensibly, but also, perhaps, Rachel thought, a way to broach the topic of strongly and clearly codifying the way in which the organization would potentially work. Leaning her head over, she intruded into the pair's conversation. "Are we talking about a group meeting? I had some ideas about that," she said, tentatively, "I've had a lot on my mind about the organization recently, it'd be great to bring that up with everyone that needs to hear it."

As Amalure hoped, an additional hero overheard their conversation (Rachel, the Silver Shepard, if she remembered correctly) and said that she had some ideas about what could be discussed at a group meeting. So did Amalure, but letting third person enter the conversation would only increase the likelihood that others would know that they could and should join in.


"Yes, we were talking about having a group meeting to get to know each other properly. I don't believe I've spoken to yet, I'm Amalure Davis, also know as Ophiuchia, so what is it that you had on your mind about TIAMA and our fellow heroes?" said Amalure.

[Central Crew]

Matthew Octave

The Book. A thousand legends about this, and no one can guarantee its sources. I heard the most ludicrous legends about it... written by nameless mages, by entities above our possible comprehension. I've seen collectors hunt it around the world, you know... One in Jakarta, another one in Moscow, a group of Mexican mages, a Brazilian sorceress... all of them offered me the job, but you don't get things that are shrouded in legends and guarded by one person only. Cults? Trick them, make an illusion, whatever needed but when it is constantly with one guy and you don't know where it came from, refuse it. It is said to give wisdom beyond all the libraries in the world, so you can guess why it is a wild chase. Glad to know you are keeping it safe, Sir Top Hat.

Oh, where are my manners? Any of you fancy some whisky?"

"More like she's keeping me safe." Matthew said still holding The Book, just that now he was caressing it with his other hand. "That's quite a reputation we've garnered huh? And I'm sorry to disappoint you, but most of those stories would be false." Matthew then proceeded to take out a porcelain cup. "And no, thank you. I only drink tea."

"Still, It's quite refreshing to see today's youth so interested in things like these." He turned to Imogen "And I believe that I still had this setup when I was at the bank fiasco." He pointed to his top hat. "It's quite hard to miss this you see. Unfortunately it also makes people believe I'm old, but I don't look that old to you, do I?" Matthew asked but already knew the answer. Thanks to The Book, his body probably looked to be in his twenty-some's.

Imogen Vaughan

She inclined her head politely at the offer of whiskey, "Thank you for the offer, but I don't think it would go with my wine," she said, swirling the blood-red contents of her glass for emphasis, which made her think of the vial in her pocket. Definitely going in a bin.

She took a sip of her wine, before concluding, succinctly, "So it's a book of knowledge. I understand items like that can be quite useful; much more reliable than Tinder."

"Oh you wouldn't believe how much reliable it is. More than any of those silly apps you people need to keep connected." It has been sometime since he'd gotten into romantic stuff for himself instead of others. But meh, it didn't matter that much...

Matthew once again checked their surroundings taking everybody present into account. "And It's also nice to be here with so many magical user here- Actually you know what? I just realized that that basically all of the magic user's here are fellow British citizens." He said pointing to Charles. "I see a patern that I like a lot. We should all, get to know each other more deeply..."

[Endem]

Chris Digel

The sound of a bowling bowl hitting some pins that subsequently have fallen was heard, than another one, overall, Chris managed to register himself into the game, and get a good enough score in the first round, overall, only one pin on the far left was left, "Alright, it's someone's else's turn now" Chris exclaimed to get the next person on the list of names to take their shot at this.

Chris then walked over to the crate of beers he had previously brought in, and setting a now empty bottle next to it, he took another one, and a slice of pizza from a nearby box, with bacon, he eaten the pizza before taking a sip of the newly opened Heineken before overhearing a conversation between some people he did not know ( Jack and Amalure ), deciding he'll join in on the conversation he went over to them and asked "What are you talking about?"

[Aserais]

Skye Cross, AKA Synapse, Cross Residence

"Front door's unlocked, and as always the autocannons won't target you."

Skye rolled their eyes at the insinuation that Anthony hadn't already programmed the autoturrets to avoid targeting them--or that, if they wanted to, they couldn't be in his house before he could activate the mansion's defenses. Their cousin had the weirdest sense of humor--to the point that, often, they couldn't tell whether what he was saying was intended to be humorous, considering that his delivery was drier than the Sahara at noon.

They jogged up the walk at what, for them, was a languid pace, until they reached the frankly lavish front door and opened up the entrance to the mansion. They opened it up and proceeded through the main foyer, making their way to the kitchen with unerring accuracy. They had been over enough times to know exactly where the food was located. It was one of the things that Skye made sure to make note of if they were going to be anywhere for any lengthy period of time.

They didn't even bother announcing themselves as they walked in and hopped up on one of the stools at his little bar/island thing that seemed to be present in every expensive kitchen.

"Sup, Doc?" they asked with a grin as their cousin slid a plate of bacon and eggs over to them, which they immediately began attacking. One of the downsides to their power was the upped caloric needs--something that they took every possible opportunity to satisfy, knowing what could happen if they didn't. They had woken up in the hospital after their powers had manifested nearly atrophied--the drip bags simply couldn't provide enough nutrition to keep up with their new dietary needs.

They had proceeded to eat no less than 14 hospital meals and about 12 Big Macs from the nearby McDonalds. Say what you would about crappy fast foods, they could supply a whole lot of calories for very little actual mass.

"So, I had a thought about that teleporter the other day. I think our main problem--the uncertainty principle? I think that can be overcome if we were to incorporate quantum entanglement to anchor either end of the nth dimensional tunnel. I've got some math worked out on my whiteboard at home," they said as they scarfed down the bacon and eggs in under a minute, wiping their mouth off with some paper towels from the holder that was located nearby.

"If we could somehow tie the subject's atomic structure to a quantum entangled particle that had its counterpart at the other end of the tunnel, I think it could overcome the uncertainty principle that caused the initial destabilization."

Of course, they were deflecting away from the real reason that they were there--that they couldn't stand to be alone at the moment, or else they would slip back into the memory of all of that blood and gore. But that was one of the good things about visiting Anthony. He had a way of making all their other worries slip away and allowing them to just stay in the realm of theoretical physics, where every question had an answer and every problem a solution, if you worked hard enough at it.

Not nearly so messy as real life.

[Mandicoria]

Rural New York, Near Massachusetts Border
Police Officer Davidson, and an Apprehended Criminal
A dark and foggy night....

It was quite an eventful night for Officer Richard Davidson. State goes on alert following the news of what happened down in NYC, and he caught some lunatic trying to break into someone's house. Then, of course, his car just had to break down as sundown happened. Sure he requested help, but the Department couldn't really get anyone out for roughly an hour. To make things even more frustrating, the lunatic he caught keeps babbling in the back. Their semi-hushed rambling occasionally breaking out into loud screaming.

Goodness knows how much time passed, but sundown clearly came and went. With a dense fog rolling in as the darkness of the night enveloped the police cruiser. Extremely spooky out there, he thought to himself. Not much better with some weirdo babbling about some "monsters" tormenting them. God, not the best way to spend the night. Another good few minutes would pass until the babbling of his "acquaintance" would cease. Finally some time to at least relax a little. At least it would've been until he looked back. Seeing the loonie was not just gone, but the door was wide open.

"FUCK." Davidson yelled in anger, thinking he must've fucked up on shutting the door. Immediately emerging from his seat and stepping outside, pulling his flashlight and gun to look around. He would've began chasing until he looked inside the car once more, seeing the perp still in. Fearfully scattering to the back of the car. "What the fuck..." He said to himself before quickly shutting the door once more with a loud slam, hurrying back into his seat.

This suspicious event was obviously enough for him to grab his radio and call for backup once more. "Hey guys, where the fuck is that tow truck and cruiser. I got some freaky shit going down in-"

His radio immediately gave a response, and it was not something he was expecting. A distorted, garbled mess was coming from its speakers. He rolled his eyes in annoyance, whacking the radio to get it to at least work. He succeeded a little, getting something coming through. Although the distortion was still bad he could still make out what was coming through. It was music. He looked confused at the seemingly faulty machine, being utterly shocked that something intended for communication was... Playing some old music? Let alone playing that old music extremely poorly.

The radio continued to distort to disturbing heights as he tried to tamper with it further. Then a loud THUD shook the car from the front, forcing Officer Davidson to jump from surprise. To see the shocking visage of the criminal that was once in the back screaming and clawing on top of the hood. Blood being left in streaks by the panicked hand movements.

"HELP ME PLEASE GOD FUCK HELP!" The lunatic screamed, before being dragged off underneath the car in an unnatural speed.

The volume on the radio increased without Davidson's input. Immediately causing his reaction to turn from shock, to a mixture of fear and survival instinct. With him immediately grabbing his sidearm in one hand, and turning the keys multiple times in panic. He knew that criminal was dead, and he had to get the fuck out to get help. Unfortunately for his plans, his cruiser wouldn't start. So he turned to the radio, trying to speak 9iin it.

"Guys I swear to fuck please get that tow truck and cruiser here ASAP. There's some utterly-" He was interrupted by loud banging on the sides of his cruiser, and loud gut-wrenching screams.

As he turned to the window he saw roughly five figures pushing and banging on his car. Blood and tar covered hand prints being left all over, with only red eyes and the silhouettes being visible to him. He didn't take any chances, opening fire through his window right at the figures assaulting the cruiser. All except one disappearing, with the last figure immediately rushing at the broken window. As it bashed its own head through his window, he finally saw its face. A skeleton in some sort of gear, and reaching rabidly at him. Another gunshot instantly dispelled this fiend, leaving the poor Officer in a state of shock. Yet it was calmer, as his radio ceased to play that garbled music. He could actually hear a response from it!

"I say again. We're on our way right now, 10 minutes. Are you-" The radio immediately broke up once more, static overtaking it.

Davidson stared at his radio, a mix of hopelessness and anger overtaking him as he readied his gun once more. As he reached down to try fixing his damned radio once more, a figure arose near his window. The light screeching of metal on metal slowly overtaking the noise of the static. With Davidson looking back and noticing barbed wire wrapping around and twisting into his vehicle. His firearm didn't go off, but his screams echoed in the fog covered woods.

Minutes Later

Backup arrived to the scene, two cruisers and a tow truck. Their lights blaring over the dented up and contaminated vehicle of Officer Davidson. With multiple Officers surrounding with flashlights to look inside for the once stranded Officer. They found nothing besides a trail of blood leading to the woods, and a mangled corpse underneath the vehicle itself. The radio of the cruiser finally having clear reception, and playing a multitude of police messages in a frenzied chatter.

They didn't find Davidson. Even later into the night they couldn't find anything besides tattered clothing and the occasional pool of blood. A manhunt that would last even longer, not bringing up anything in the entire woods. A nightmare had occurred and ended in the time span of minutes.

Saratoga Springs, New York. Days After the Incident.
The Nightmare
A calm residence...

A small, homey little abode was lit up. Various war medals, photos, and letters decorated the walls. With an old timey radio playing "Oh It's a Lovely War", its eerie yet charming music filling the almost vacant halls. With a figure entering the humble abode, clad in old gear as they sat down in a small cushioned chair. A deep sigh coming from them as they picked up one of a few letters from a table nearby.

A small cough broke through the music "To Sergeant Benjamin Montgomery, from... Ohoho, the Federal Government of the United States. Oh lovely, another pension check." They chuckled upon seeing their quite lovely check slip from the envelope. "Ah, this calls for some... Hrm... Perhaps some bourbon? No no, scotch? Hm. Ah it doesn't matter."

Benjamin removed his helmet, with a small cling coming from it as he let it drop lightly on the table. With him standing up and approaching a quaint little liquor cabinet, pulling out a small bottle of bourbon. With the familiar sounds of the liquid filling a small glass, with a couple clinks of ice cubes being introduced. Benjamin rose his glass, giving a silent toast to more or less the check he received from the Government. Before filling up his glass one more and raising it again for another.

"And a lovely toast for..." He pulled a bloodied badge and nametag from his pocket. Revealing to be Officer Davidson's. "My, hard to believe it's been so long. A toast to Officer Richard Davidson! For protecting and serving his community."

Benjamin finished his drink with the last toast, staring at himself in a mirror situated above his liquor cabinet. A dead, yet uncaring look coming from him as he swapped his attention between himself and the badge. Before ultimately discarding the badge in a small bin, filled with other bloodied trinkets.

[Anowa]

-snip-

Well, at least Patriot wasn't the type to immediately fly into a steroidal rage from simple banter. Tesla, was, much friendlier than gauss expected, all things considered... Until she remembered, Tesla didn't actually know who her parents were, and likely wouldn't until she took her helmet off... which would likely be soon.

Gauss chuckled and continued in a playful tone, "Oh, Trust me Patriot, I could go on for days on your armor alone. Looks like a mix between a Tiger II and a washing machine." She shrugged, "But, if there's festivities, why not? Could help with the whole, you know, prove to the public and our own co-workers we aren't here to shatter kneecaps and push old men around."

She paused, "You guys have a car... right? Because I can imagine the damage a multi-ton suit does to pavement."

---

-snip-

Anthony hummed. Quantum Entanglement could help, mathematically speaking, it made sense to at least broach the subject. However, there was a notable snag, namely that they had to A: Not measure/observe/interact at all with the particles entangled, and B: Actually formulate the entanglement of something that is already formed at the other side of the, well, hole.

Anthony spoke up, cooking up another few eggs, "Well. Albeit trying to do that is on the list, it's a little far down the list. Besides the obvious 'May not work well' bit, Shannon, er, Doctor Carmichael is brainstorming a lot of different ways to avoid a repeat. Her biggest concern is that, by adding more 'Schrodinger's Bullshit', her words, to the equation, it could end up making another accident but colossally worse... Like..." a pause as he twirled the spatula around looking for a word, eventually giving up, "Well, let's just say there's a reason I never showed you the CCTV footage... Or why I had to throw out those clothes."

Anthony slid another plate over, of all the people who had interacted with Skye, the only two people who had any idea of her caloric requirements were her parents (His father was brothers with hers). They had to fund her food for a small while, "In a twisted sense of God's humor, the safest route she proposed in her most recent report is exploring whether or not to combine the blackhole information paradox and explore the possibility of creating white holes, and inverting it with a black hole on command." The man chuckled, "If that test screws the pooch up I'm pretty sure New Hampshire will just fucking disappear... And I'll need to hire a few more lawyers." Elsewhere in the house, the sound of floating ice clinking together echoed. Anthony neglected to mention concerns of potentially ripping a hole into another dimension with hostile life, for as far as science currently knew, such a thing was impossible, technically speaking they weren't even ripping into an alternate dimension with their current model.

The man suddenly looked a bit more upbeat, finally setting up his own plate and taking a seat, "Speaking of lawyers, I have someone you should meet." a pause as he took a bite of eggs. "And no, it's not in regards to the surprising decent outing at the Federal Reserve. It was certainly better than the time Ha-" he cut himself off, realizing he was about to say 'Hannah's Parents' rather than 'One and Jager' "The Cabal let Mighty Marine put a hole in Brooklyn Bridge."

From upstairs, heavy footfalls moved towards the stairs leading to the actual kitchen.

---

Director Herrman was having a sub-par day. Sure, he had finally dealt with the paperwork involving the Reserve mess, and he no longer had any duties to directly attend to, he still had to read crime reports. namely unsolved crimes, or crimes where there were no active leads. It was his job to provide assistance to the PDs of the corridor of states from Washington DC to Quebec City. Most of the crimes had already been taken by smaller offices in the expected cities, but there were always a few that required a more official look. Things beyond the typical looter or gunman, or even arson.

A recent event at a police precinct in White Plains had caused... problems. Further exacerbated by the suspected death of a police officer in the sticks in a rather brutal fashion during an arrest. The Arson had no apparent cause and a startlingly equal amount of damage to the whole building. Placement of corpses recovered indicated that the building, as a whole, had gone up within a minute of the fire starting. A brick building. Meta-human involvement had been all but confirmed as a result. The missing officer was rather softly connected to a vast string of murders, damages to the vehicle in this case, also resulted in meta-human suspicions. In combination with the Reserve mess, and ongoing small crime committed by Metas. The NY Senate was to have a meeting in Albany tomorrow to see what would happen, if anything.

---

-snip-

Outside of the general activity within the bowling alley, namely the small party, and the now departing normals. All that could be heard were the sounds of magazine pages flipping from the staff member at the front counter, a trio of flies trying to get at the pizza, and the slight tap tapping of a phone, from a man at the far end of the alley, notably not actually bowling.

The sudden change of one of said pizza loving flies was also notable, as it approached the resident left wing patrio and settle on her should. Rubbing it's hands in the evil looking way all flies did, scheming. That fact it was albino hopefully wasn't a bad omen.

[Transoxthraxia]

Not too far from her were a pair of heroes - Amalure, she was pretty sure, and the young Jack Dredd. The pair were discussing something intriguing; something that Rachel hadn't even considered: a conversation with all of the heroes. To get to know one another, ostensibly, but also, perhaps, Rachel thought, a way to broach the topic of strongly and clearly codifying the way in which the organization would potentially work. Leaning her head over, she intruded into the pair's conversation. "Are we talking about a group meeting? I had some ideas about that," she said, tentatively, "I've had a lot on my mind about the organization recently, it'd be great to bring that up with everyone that needs to hear it."

As Amalure hoped, an additional hero overheard their conversation (Rachel, the Silver Shepard, if she remembered correctly) and said that she had some ideas about what could be discussed at a group meeting. So did Amalure, but letting third person enter the conversation would only increase the likelihood that others would know that they could and should join in.


"Yes, we were talking about having a group meeting to get to know each other properly. I don't believe I've spoken to yet, I'm Amalure Davis, also know as Ophiuchia, so what is it that you had on your mind about TIAMA and our fellow heroes?" said Amalure.

"I'm... The Silver Shepherd." Rachel introduced herself, but avoided using her real name. Since her identity was still secret despite her being in TIAMA, she wasn't exactly comfortable even letting people in the organization know her name. "I wasn't at the heist, but I heard it was... complicated. At least we won, right?" She asked, almost rhetorically, before she continued.

Shifting in the bar chair that she sat on, she turned fully towards her two co-workers. "Well, it's sort of complicated..." Rachel began, trying to find the most diplomatic way of admitting her concerns. As she thought hard about her wording, her French accent began to return. Before continuing, she gave a cursory glance to another hero - Chris Digel if she could remember correctly - and gestured for him to come closer and listen, since he had asked what the group was talking about."The way I see it, we're looking at a whole bunch of metahumans who are gifted with a lot of powers, but aren't necessarily, well, unified in goal or code of conduct. It's pretty awesome that our organization's this large, and it's nice to see that there's this many people devoted to the cause, but it's also important that the cohesion of this team stays, well, strong, and that everyone understands the rules of engagement that we set up. And I think it's good that we sit as many people down as possible and discuss those things, to make sure that everyone's on a similar page." She thought for a beat, before speaking, "We're a team after all, but right now we feel more like components of Frankenstein's Monster. Does that make sense?"

[Lessoni]

Shifting in the bar chair that she sat on, she turned fully towards her two co-workers. "Well, it's sort of complicated..." Rachel began, trying to find the most diplomatic way of admitting her concerns. As she thought hard about her wording, her French accent began to return. Before continuing, she gave a cursory glance to another hero - Chris Digel if she could remember correctly - and gestured for him to come closer and listen, since he had asked what the group was talking about."The way I see it, we're looking at a whole bunch of metahumans who are gifted with a lot of powers, but aren't necessarily, well, unified in goal or code of conduct. It's pretty awesome that our organization's this large, and it's nice to see that there's this many people devoted to the cause, but it's also important that the cohesion of this team stays, well, strong, and that everyone understands the rules of engagement that we set up. And I think it's good that we sit as many people down as possible and discuss those things, to make sure that everyone's on a similar page." She thought for a beat, before speaking, "We're a team after all, but right now we feel more like components of Frankenstein's Monster. Does that make sense?"

Jack Dredd

"Frankenstein's monster... I'm uh, I'm kind of new here, but I guess that makes sense. In regards to the whole "rules of engagement" thing, is that like, a problem? Isn't it kind of simple, get the bad guys, keep the civilians out of it? I don't see how hard that is to follow," said Jack.

"Except maybe if you like, blow up buildings with your powers or something. Does anyone do that, actually? Or, something, I dunno, similar?"

[Mandicoria]

-snip-

"Armored truck. Only thing we had to support Tesla's weight. Should be fine to carry all of us." Patriot responded, a strong tone of annoyance coming from him. "You'd be shocked on how much our missions are just publicity and infrastructure handling shit. Rather than actual fucking action."

Tesla nodded to acknowledge this, looking over to Gauss. "Most of the time they deploy me to help with downed powerlines and the like. You'd be shocked at how hours of work get dwindled down to minutes just because how useful this suit is. Pun not intended of course. The good doctor chuckled at his words for a moment.

The group eventually made their way out of the City Hall, the armored truck they use all the time very visible from where they were. The Driver waving to them all from the distance. The walk was more or less quiet and uneventful through the various pathways in front of the Hall. Not much to look at that wasn't already seen. Luckily an awkward silence was prevented when a loud beeping came from the trio's suits, notices being given to all of them.

"This was what I was talking about earlier." Patriot grumbled, adjusting his suit's systems. "Downed power line. Typical."

"Oh cheer up Kurt, we'll just stop by and fix it. It'll at most be a good ten or twenty minutes." Tesla gave a light, teasing smack to Patriot's back. "Even then, whole thing's gonna last well until later tonight anyways. TIAMA's given us plenty of time."

"Yeah yeah keep fuckin' pushing my buttons, sparky." Patriot mumbled in response.

[Dyelli Beybi]

Imogen Vaughan

"Oh you wouldn't believe how much reliable it is. More than any of those silly apps you people need to keep connected." It has been sometime since he'd gotten into romantic stuff for himself instead of others. But meh, it didn't matter that much...

Matthew once again checked their surroundings taking everybody present into account. "And It's also nice to be here with so many magical user here- Actually you know what? I just realized that that basically all of the magic user's here are fellow British citizens." He said pointing to Charles. "I see a patern that I like a lot. We should all, get to know each other more deeply..."

"Keep connected?" Imogen raised a cool eyebrow, "Well I guess you could call it that," she said with a slight smirk.

"Yes, there do seem to be quite a few Brits here," she agreed, arching her eyebrow in the direction of Charles, "And all English as well, from the sounds of it. Fancy that. No disagreements on which rugby team to support."

She gave Charles a welcoming smile, encouraging him to come and join their group, "Actually, quite aside from the matter of nationality, I couldn't help but feel that the team was a bit cumbersome during the bank job.
I wouldn't be opposed to trying to form our own mini-team of magic users that is built around how we operate. Obviously, you might decide that you'd prefer to work more directly with the Blood Dispensary and Sir Shoots-a-lot, but since there are a number of us it might be worth exploring as a possibility."

[Cybernetic Socialist Republics]

"I'm... The Silver Shepherd." Rachel introduced herself, but avoided using her real name. Since her identity was still secret despite her being in TIAMA, she wasn't exactly comfortable even letting people in the organization know her name. "I wasn't at the heist, but I heard it was... complicated. At least we won, right?" She asked, almost rhetorically, before she continued.

Shifting in the bar chair that she sat on, she turned fully towards her two co-workers. "Well, it's sort of complicated..." Rachel began, trying to find the most diplomatic way of admitting her concerns. As she thought hard about her wording, her French accent began to return.

Complicated was the polite way of putting it, insofar as Ophiuchia heard, regarding the bank heist. She had shown up after the action concluded, but she was there for the tension between a Synapse and Holiday over the presumed ‘dead’ Osteo. That particular scenario was one big reason it was important that the heroes discussed their powers, so at the very least they didn’t misunderstand the actions of their comrades, even when they disapproved of them. Amalure observed that the small woman was rather timid in her willingness to get her point across, likely worried about offending anyone.

Chris Digel Chris then walked over to the crate of beers he had previously brought in, and setting a now empty bottle next to it, he took another one, and a slice of pizza from a nearby box, with bacon, he eaten the pizza before taking a sip of the newly opened Heineken before overhearing a conversation between some people he did not know ( Jack and Amalure ), deciding he'll join in on the conversation he went over to them and asked "What are you talking about?"

As the Silver Shepard searched for the words to make her point, Chris Digel made his way over the the group of three, inquiring about the nature of their conversation. The steadily increasing size of their discussion group was promising to Amalure’s original aims, though the majority of the heroes at the party were still preoccupied otherwise, when these four did finally did come to a conclusion as to how to address the rest of the group (assuming no one else joined them between now and then) It was highly likely they’d be listened to.

Before continuing, she gave a cursory glance to another hero - Chris Digel if she could remember correctly - and gestured for him to come closer and listen, since he had asked what the group was talking about."The way I see it, we're looking at a whole bunch of metahumans who are gifted with a lot of powers, but aren't necessarily, well, unified in goal or code of conduct. It's pretty awesome that our organization's this large, and it's nice to see that there's this many people devoted to the cause, but it's also important that the cohesion of this team stays, well, strong, and that everyone understands the rules of engagement that we set up. And I think it's good that we sit as many people down as possible and discuss those things, to make sure that everyone's on a similar page." She thought for a beat, before speaking, "We're a team after all, but right now we feel more like components of Frankenstein's Monster. Does that make sense?"

Amalure more or less agreed with silver shepherd's input. That which was most important to Amalure was that the group had a recognition and understanding of each other’s powers and how to fight as a unit, but agreeing on rules of engagement was very important to, if for no other reason than managing the public perception of their activities.

Jack Dredd

"Frankenstein's monster... I'm uh, I'm kind of new here, but I guess that makes sense. In regards to the whole "rules of engagement" thing, is that like, a problem? Isn't it kind of simple, get the bad guys, keep the civilians out of it? I don't see how hard that is to follow," said Jack.

"Except maybe if you like, blow up buildings with your powers or something. Does anyone do that, actually? Or, something, I dunno, similar?"

Jack now spoke up, at first his understanding of what constituted fair rules of engagement was rather simplistic, but soon enough he got the gist of it. This issue was something that required deep discussions and tough decision making in the field, decision making that could be made easier by previous discussions.

Amalure had been listening to the conversation and observing her three comrades for some time now, and felt that responding to Jack would be the best time to speak up.

“Jack, the issue is, there is a very wide spectrum of actions that fall within the ‘get the bad guys, keep the civilians out of it’ . At the very least we have to consider the question of how much force we should be willing to use on a bad guy, or what degree of sacrificing the safety of civilians would acceptable in the name of holding to a given model of ‘getting the bad guys’ All that make up topics that we need to discuss.” Said Amalure.

As for Amalure’s own view? In short, she was willing to admit to herself that she enjoyed being excessively violent to metas, particularly when up close and personal, though she both knew better than to be too open about that tendency (sarcasm was a friend here) and also not allow that desire to tarnish her effectiveness in helping people. Or her image.

Amalure turned to look at Silver Shepard before she kept on talking.

“Then of course, as you had said, silver shepard, we have consider what our goals are. There wll always the question of what we consider a victory in a given scenario. A code of conduct inevitably biases itself to one view or another of what ‘success’ looks like.” Amalure continued.

“Then of course, we have to figure out fights best alongside who and in what situations. We can’t simply choose to fight alongside people we like in ways we want, we have to fight alongside those that make us most effective, doing what we are most effective as. Talking about that beforehand can mean less disgruntlement when you find yourself not fighting alongside your best friend in a given mission. Of course relationships need to be considered for morale reasons, but, I don’t want to sound cold, but, it’d be preferable we learn to have good relationships with those who compliment us better than try to figure out how to make those we have good relationships compliment us.” Amalure concluded, looking around at the full group.

[Lessoni]

“Then of course, we have to figure out fights best alongside who and in what situations. We can’t simply choose to fight alongside people we like in ways we want, we have to fight alongside those that make us most effective, doing what we are most effective as. Talking about that beforehand can mean less disgruntlement when you find yourself not fighting alongside your best friend in a given mission. Of course relationships need to be considered for morale reasons, but, I don’t want to sound cold, but, it’d be preferable we learn to have good relationships with those who compliment us better than try to figure out how to make those we have good relationships compliment us.” Amalure concluded, looking around at the full group.

Jack Dredd

Jack pondered for a moment. He wasn't exactly unaware of how heroes operated, and he'd done his fair share of teamups when it was convenient, but he'd never really considered how powers worked together. Weren't heroes mostly solo acts, power wise? And didn't friends just work better together?

"Hey, what do you mean compliment? Forgive me for inexperience, but I don't really think who's with who matters too much, so as long as they get the job done, yeah? Seems a little... I dunno, weird, telling each other who to fight with."

[Sudbrazil]

Imogen Vaughan
"Yes, there do seem to be quite a few Brits here," she agreed,
She gave Charles a welcoming smile, encouraging him to come and join their group, "Actually, quite aside from the matter of nationality, I couldn't help but feel that the team was a bit cumbersome during the bank job.
I wouldn't be opposed to trying to form our own mini-team of magic users that is built around how we operate. Obviously, you might decide that you'd prefer to work more directly with the Blood Dispensary and Sir Shoots-a-lot, but since there are a number of us it might be worth exploring as a possibility."

Charles had now managed to detach himself from any conversation, planting himself next to the pool table, where he arranged a game of Russian pyramid. With a cue in hand, he scanned the place for groups of potential players and considered his situation. It struck him as a cruder fraternisation party, like the one officers had before bonds were forged by service. In some ways, it was more sincere, though it was also somewhat awkward. There had been the winged girl flaunting her feathers and fortune, as well as that Maria lass and her blood cooler, which had dissuaded Charles by the simple fact that she had brought more blood than he had seen since the war. As if to interrupt these rude thoughts, his ears were called by his nation’s name lingering in the air and his vision fell upon Ms. Vaughan, who wore a beckoning smile. She was accompanied by the well-dressed gentleman, and so he naturally approached.

“I would wager that the lack of a cultural gap will ease communication, though I myself seem to be rather out of touch with everyone. At least I hope it will be easier to foster an esprit de corps.”

[Europa Undivided]

New York City
Classified Location
The Insurgent

The soft hum of a pair of drones' rotors reverberated through the parking lot, their sound betraying the presence of a man whose name has become one of infamy in the New York Times: the technopath known only by the people of the city as the Insurgent. The halls that he had walked in a while ago were stained with blood; the slain lay scattered like dust, their mouths erupting into a silent scream. Their throats have been cut with brutal force.

The Insurgent has been hunting a certain metahuman for days now. Reports said that it was a serial killer with the ability to grow sharp claws out of its hands at will; that appeared to be true given the state of the hallways of the rundown apartment that he just visited. It appeared that whoever this is, it was out of control, and it needed to be taken down with whatever means necessary.

The Insurgent knew where his target was coming, of course. He had hacked into the CCTV cameras a while ago, and he found that a closed figure with a hood was crawling towards the parking lot.

Of course it was crawling on its knees. The Insurgent had shot it a few good times earlier today, when he found the murderer prowling near a run down district.

It didn't take long. The metahuman serial killer was hiding behind a pick up truck. His eyes in the sky, a pair of quadcopter drones with paint jobs as black as the night itself, have found his target. It… he was bleeding. However, Nicholas Clement Kravchuk could still tell that the blood in his claws were fresh.

Without warning, a white Toyota Corolla slammed into the pickup truck. Dented metal and pieces of glass scattered as the prized car backed up and rammed the truck again and again before a pair of drones swept towards the impact zone. The drones were indeed quadcopters, armed with fully automatic military grade assault rifles. They opened fire, unloading their whole clips into the body of the Insurgent's target.

Their master was quick to approach to investigate the body himself. This one is a rogue, no doubt; perhaps he had escaped from detention somewhere. The impact of a car crash and two whole magazines of bullets have proved to be sufficient to end his miserable life, it seems. The Insurgent smirked inside his mask. The car probably had insurance, anyway, and a murderer eliminated in cold blood was equal to a hundred lives saved. Right?

New York City
Daniels Residence, Manhattan
The Insurgent

"Duuuuuude. You made these?!"

Marcus Daniels looked up to his taller friend Nicholas Clement as he held up a drone of some kind. "This is soooo based."

Nicholas nodded and smiled at his best friend. "Of course they are. I designed these personally for my, uh, vacation trips. Can't hurt to have the best views, after all."

"Well, it looks like you always have them with you.", Marcus noted as he set the drone down. "So, how was the pizza?"

"You should order another box.", Nicholas gleefully replied as he downed another slice of three cheese pizza. "These are really great."

Marcus lit up. "Oh hohohoho, I wish I had a bit more budget-"

At that moment, the door of Marcus' house cracked and fell with a resounding roar. Five men, all armed with pistols and shotguns, rushed inside with a wild look in their eyes. "Give us your money you little monkey!"

The Insurgent… errr, Nicholas was quick to act. He forcibly grabbed Marcus by the sleeve towards the nearest cover: the sofa. It was fortunate that he did so at that moment, as Marcus was nearly hit with pistol shots.

"Of all things that could happen in our night in.", Marcus cursed as the men shouted and began smashing things. "It had to be a damn break in!"

Nicholas hushed him. "Hey, stay calm. I got this."

"Uhh, how?", the diminutive Marcus asked. "You don't even have a gun!"

"I know I don't.", Nicholas answered with a wink. "But they do."

Quickly, chains of pure energy emerged from his hands that he had outstretched sidewards, quickly connected with the two quadcopter drones that were lying innocently on a table. They were roused to life by their Master, and their lights turned red as their lord commanded them.

The burglars had been busy ransacking the wealthy Marcus' residence; so busy in fact that they did not even notice the two drones behind them. Apparently, they figured that the homeowner was going to stay behind the sofa for the rest of the break-in, and didn't bother bothering him anymore. However, they will realize the consequences of their actions soon enough; the two drones opened fire as soon as the weapons they carried were brought to bare from their compartments, shredding the intruders in very quick order.

"You- you're a metahuman…", Marcus said, shaking. "I…"

Worried, Nicholas grabbed his friend's shoulders. "Hey, look, I'm still me.", he answered reassuringly. "And I'll always protect you whenever I can."

"So, so you're the one they call the Insurgent…", Marcus whimpered. "Oh, my…"

Nicholas frowned. Was he going to lose a friend because he was different?

"... That's so cool.", Marcus said with unpredictable excitement, shaking Nicholas to the core. "You just save my life and all my money. I… love you, man. No homo!"

Nicholas snickered. "Hah… I know." He then stood up, looking at all the expensive things that the burglars didn't quite manage to get. "So, how about we have a bowling game after this, ey?"

"That would be nice. I know just the place… Lucky Strike!"

"Yeah, that's a good one. Oh, would you mind if I… keep my identity secret by hacking the footage you just recorded through your security cameras?"

"Just the footage?"

"Scouts Honor. I promise. Just that one clip."

New York City
Lucky Strike, Manhattan
The Insurgent

People knew what the Insurgent looked like. At least, they knew what he usually wore. A black trench coat, a cap with flaps… black, well, everything, except for the mask used to hide his true identity. Of course, he was always trailed by a pair of seemingly innocent drones. This time, however, he had a friend, who also had a mask, but he dressed differently.

He was also definitely shorter.

"Ins,", Marcus whispered at his friend. "Why are they… uh, wearing spandex and armor in a bowling alley?"

Nicholas looked at the peculiar sight of people wearing weird clothing, tilting his head as he did so. "They're TIAMA members, probably. The cape thing was never my thing honestly."

"You do have two drones following you around all the time, right?"

Nicholas nodded. "I guess that's my trademark. Why has no one asked for a selfie, by the way?"

[Jerno]

John Farrow/Emma Greenwood

John smiled he was happy to see Matthew again. John helped himself to more drinks and food. While eating he couldn’t help but overhear a conversation which was something about teaming up and getting to know other members of TIAMA. This conversation got him interested so he pulled up a chair and got a bit closer to the conversation. “Hey, Sorry for interrupting, but may i join? I’m John. John Farrow. I’m also known as the Zookeeper courtesy of Matthew coming up with the alias. Nice to meet you all.” Emma in the meantime has excused herself to the restroom. As she walked she slowly secreted a green liquid that she tossed around in her hand. She came back several minutes later and helped herself to more food and drinks.

She sat down and relaxed. It was her night of and was going to make the most of it. Just sitting down on a seat made her contempt. She didn’t bother bowling again. After playing a game of it she realized....that wasn’t her strongest point and she wasn’t the best at it either. So she sat there happily eating her food.

[Central Crew]

Matthew Octave

Imogen Vaughan

She gave Charles a welcoming smile, encouraging him to come and join their group, "Actually, quite aside from the matter of nationality, I couldn't help but feel that the team was a bit cumbersome during the bank job.
I wouldn't be opposed to trying to form our own mini-team of magic users that is built around how we operate. Obviously, you might decide that you'd prefer to work more directly with the Blood Dispensary and Sir Shoots-a-lot, but since there are a number of us it might be worth exploring as a possibility."

“I would wager that the lack of a cultural gap will ease communication, though I myself seem to be rather out of touch with everyone. At least I hope it will be easier to foster an esprit de corps.”

"Ah, welcome to our humble group Charles. Glad you decided to join us." As a technical time traveler, Matthew had been a lad born in the Victorian era first and foremost. And while he sure had to adapt to the many situations across time, he still managed to conserve most of this spirit intact. Hopefully he would be able to get along with Charles thanks to this fact.

"And I agree dear. Having our own magical group would be quite helpful in all those missions to come. But also..." He signaled to the rest of the heroes. "My friend John is not magical sadly, but falls close. And well I am-how to put it?- quite interested in Miss Blood Dispensary as you called her."

"But that's not the problem..."

Matthew turned to William, his face darkening slightly. "... Last time we met, we didn't leave in the best of terms. I really wished for you to teach me your magic, but I couldn't compromise The Book." He looked at him straight in the eyes. "If you are willing to put that aside, we could definitely work together. "

"But I still wish to learn your magic." He looked at the others. "And I would appreciate if all of you would do so as well."

[Transoxthraxia]

Amalure turned to look at Silver Shepard before she kept on talking.

“Then of course, as you had said, silver shepard, we have consider what our goals are. There wll always the question of what we consider a victory in a given scenario. A code of conduct inevitably biases itself to one view or another of what ‘success’ looks like.” Amalure continued.

“Then of course, we have to figure out fights best alongside who and in what situations. We can’t simply choose to fight alongside people we like in ways we want, we have to fight alongside those that make us most effective, doing what we are most effective as. Talking about that beforehand can mean less disgruntlement when you find yourself not fighting alongside your best friend in a given mission. Of course relationships need to be considered for morale reasons, but, I don’t want to sound cold, but, it’d be preferable we learn to have good relationships with those who compliment us better than try to figure out how to make those we have good relationships "compliment us.” Amalure concluded, looking around at the full group.

"Well... yes," Rachel began, trying to find the words that she wanted to say. "I'd tentatively agree with that... however, we should acknowledge that there's some here who are in disagreement in regards to the way in which people go about being a hero. And I think that's one of the more dangerous things, if we can't agree on methodology, we won't be very coherent, like Amalure said." Rachel took a breath, before going on. "Right now, TIAMA has little infrastructure in place in terms of rules of engagement or codes of conduct. I don't think I can even recall anyone ever getting disciplined or talked to. That'd be fine if we were all agreed on how to go about things, but we don't. Some are fine with killing villains, and some are even fine with civilian casualties. I even know that TIAMA has a number of vigilante associates... and trust me, having come from that life, things can get a lot messier there than with a team of metahumans."

“Then of course, we have to figure out fights best alongside who and in what situations. We can’t simply choose to fight alongside people we like in ways we want, we have to fight alongside those that make us most effective, doing what we are most effective as. Talking about that beforehand can mean less disgruntlement when you find yourself not fighting alongside your best friend in a given mission. Of course relationships need to be considered for morale reasons, but, I don’t want to sound cold, but, it’d be preferable we learn to have good relationships with those who compliment us better than try to figure out how to make those we have good relationships compliment us.” Amalure concluded, looking around at the full group.

Jack Dredd

Jack pondered for a moment. He wasn't exactly unaware of how heroes operated, and he'd done his fair share of teamups when it was convenient, but he'd never really considered how powers worked together. Weren't heroes mostly solo acts, power wise? And didn't friends just work better together?

"Hey, what do you mean compliment? Forgive me for inexperience, but I don't really think who's with who matters too much, so as long as they get the job done, yeah? Seems a little... I dunno, weird, telling each other who to fight with."

"What Amalure's suggesting is that we find smaller teams to work in, which might be something we could do. But I don't think that we have to resort to that quite yet - I feel as if that could be ultimately reserved for if we ultimately can't find a way to have all of us work together in the same capacities and codes of conduct. Jack, what I'm most concerned about is the gap between everybody's ideas in terms of fighting villains, and the extents that people are willing to go to in order to ensure victory."

Rachel swallowed, adjusting herself in the chair slightly, leaning closer to the trio of heroes who were in the conversation. "Honestly, a good example would be the Patriot. He sort of creeps me out, to be honest. I'd be willing to wager good money on the fact that he would be more than willing to kill civilians, let alone a villain, if they got in the way of his mission. That's the exact sort of thing that I'd find reprehensible and to be avoided at all costs - if he starts to do something like that on a mission, well, it's possible that someone from TIAMA would try and stop him, and even if that doesn't devolve into a hero-on-hero fight right there, it'd make us look bad to the public and give the villain the potential to get away. I don't want that and I don't think anyone else would, right?"

[Lessoni]

Rachel swallowed, adjusting herself in the chair slightly, leaning closer to the trio of heroes who were in the conversation. "Honestly, a good example would be the Patriot. He sort of creeps me out, to be honest. I'd be willing to wager good money on the fact that he would be more than willing to kill civilians, let alone a villain, if they got in the way of his mission. That's the exact sort of thing that I'd find reprehensible and to be avoided at all costs - if he starts to do something like that on a mission, well, it's possible that someone from TIAMA would try and stop him, and even if that doesn't devolve into a hero-on-hero fight right there, it'd make us look bad to the public and give the villain the potential to get away. I don't want that and I don't think anyone else would, right?"

Jack Dredd

Patriot... the name didn't click with him, but he wasn't exactly a scholar of heroes. If he was willing to kill civilians, probably not the nicest dude, but then, heroes weren't always nice. Probably.

"Oh, yeah, maybe keep normal people out of the line of fire, if we can. Yeah, we should probably set some, like, boundaries, of some sort. I mean, if we can get everyone to listen. If their willing to kill, I doubt there's much we can say to stop them."

[Kingdom of Irhk]

Matthew Octave

Imogen Vaughan

She gave Charles a welcoming smile, encouraging him to come and join their group, "Actually, quite aside from the matter of nationality, I couldn't help but feel that the team was a bit cumbersome during the bank job.
I wouldn't be opposed to trying to form our own mini-team of magic users that is built around how we operate. Obviously, you might decide that you'd prefer to work more directly with the Blood Dispensary and Sir Shoots-a-lot, but since there are a number of us it might be worth exploring as a possibility."

“I would wager that the lack of a cultural gap will ease communication, though I myself seem to be rather out of touch with everyone. At least I hope it will be easier to foster an esprit de corps.”

"Ah, welcome to our humble group Charles. Glad you decided to join us." As a technical time traveler, Matthew had been a lad born in the Victorian era first and foremost. And while he sure had to adapt to the many situations across time, he still managed to conserve most of this spirit intact. Hopefully he would be able to get along with Charles thanks to this fact.

"And I agree dear. Having our own magical group would be quite helpful in all those missions to come. But also..." He signaled to the rest of the heroes. "My friend John is not magical sadly, but falls close. And well I am-how to put it?- quite interested in Miss Blood Dispensary as you called her."

"But that's not the problem..."

Matthew turned to William, his face darkening slightly. "... Last time we met, we didn't leave in the best of terms. I really wished for you to teach me your magic, but I couldn't compromise The Book." He looked at him straight in the eyes. "If you are willing to put that aside, we could definitely work together. "

"But I still wish to learn your magic." He looked at the others. "And I would appreciate if all of you would do so as well."

William Brookes

Noticing that no one seemed interested in his whisky, William refilled his cup but took its time savoring it, slowly drinking it as he examined the group that gathered around his table. Imogen was definitely the most normal out of them, even if her magic was clearly particular to her, something that got his interest. Very few times he met someone with a particularity like that, and most of the times, it was a huge sign of trouble.

"Nothing special about my magic. But... I do appreciate not having to explain every thing I do or every spell I cast to the ones around me. And I am very curious by your perspective, Imogen. Next thing you'll say is that somewhere in another universe we formed a magical wonder team? Won't say it is impossible, but... well, let us all focus in what is around us now.

So, how did you gents and lady joined TIAMA?"

[Sudbrazil]

Matthew Octave




"Ah, welcome to our humble group Charles. Glad you decided to join us." As a technical time traveler, Matthew had been a lad born in the Victorian era first and foremost. And while he sure had to adapt to the many situations across time, he still managed to conserve most of this spirit intact. Hopefully he would be able to get along with Charles thanks to this fact.

"And I agree dear. Having our own magical group would be quite helpful in all those missions to come. But also..." He signaled to the rest of the heroes. "My friend John is not magical sadly, but falls close. And well I am-how to put it?- quite interested in Miss Blood Dispensary as you called her."

"But that's not the problem..."

Matthew turned to William, his face darkening slightly. "... Last time we met, we didn't leave in the best of terms. I really wished for you to teach me your magic, but I couldn't compromise The Book." He looked at him straight in the eyes. "If you are willing to put that aside, we could definitely work together. "

"But I still wish to learn your magic." He looked at the others. "And I would appreciate if all of you would do so as well."

William Brookes

Noticing that no one seemed interested in his whisky, William refilled his cup but took its time savoring it, slowly drinking it as he examined the group that gathered around his table. Imogen was definitely the most normal out of them, even if her magic was clearly particular to her, something that got his interest. Very few times he met someone with a particularity like that, and most of the times, it was a huge sign of trouble.

"Nothing special about my magic. But... I do appreciate not having to explain every thing I do or every spell I cast to the ones around me. And I am very curious by your perspective, Imogen. Next thing you'll say is that somewhere in another universe we formed a magical wonder team? Won't say it is impossible, but... well, let us all focus in what is around us now.

So, how did you gents and lady joined TIAMA?"

“Well, after an accident whose details I canoot disclose I found myself one sea away and seventy-five years later. Apparently it is illegal to carry a pistol without a license, and so the police arrested me during my first ramble through the city. The trial resulted in a diplomatic affair and quite some fuss during which TIAMA helped quite a lot. The charges were lifted and I was off to England.”

As he spoke, Charles poured himself a glass of whiskey, at which point he paused and sighed. Perhaps he was aware that his initial musings would not be so welcome, or mayhaps he truly felt pained by them.

“I originally wanted to remain there, but suffice to say that the Army and my grandchildren and were nasty and bureaucratic as a whole. I had a few quarrels before heading back and deciding to stick around with the local branch to repay the favor.”