New Cottington Sentinels (Superhero Char RP|IC, Open)

[Dyelli Beybi]

OOC| Discord

Welcome to New Cottington Sentinels, an RP where you will take on the role of one of the eponymous New Cottington Sentinels, a group of city endorsed superhuman vigilates in the imaginary city of New Cottington.

'New Cottington' is set in the fictional city of the same name that is more-or-less this universe's version of New York. Other than this one change you can assume that all technology etc. is more-or-less the same as it is today and other places still exist on the map. I have chosen to use a fictional city to allow a bit of creativity on my, and your part regarding places etc.

As for what kind of superhero you want to be, that is entirely over to you! Maybe you are an alien visitor from another galaxy, or perhaps from a hidden civilisation on our own earth? Maybe you received strange powers as some kind of government experiment or occult ritual? Maybe you are an old hand? Maybe you are a talented person, enhancing your natural skills with a bit of technology? Maybe you are a rookie learning the ropes? Maybe an old hand? Feel free to be as creative as you like!

If the RP has started, don't worry, this RP will stay open forever, just pop over to the OOC and make an app. If you join late I will work with you to get a logical introduction sorted!

---

CHAPTER ONE: Just Like the Movies
(naturally with theme music)

---

Life wasn't like the movies. But it could be.

When Dirk had first discovered his had a gift, he had used it to get the best out of his actors, without thought for the wider application. Dirk Vester had been hailed as a master of special effects and a director who could get the best out of his cast, even the most stubborn and talentless of them. It was almost like they were reacting to real events... which many of them thought they were.

Take the reporter he had caught snooping around, for instance. Yes, she was, in reality, standing on a simple concrete floor, but it looked like she was standing on a pillar surrounding by a lake of fire. She could feel the heat and sweat dripped down her brow. So long as nobody stepped into the fire, and she certainly wasn't going to from the sound of her mewling pleas, then the illusion would hold.

It had occurred to Dirk more recently though that he could also use his abilities to improve the lives of others. So many of his actors lived such meagre and unfulfilling lives once the camera stopped rolling. He could, with a few small tweaks and adjustments, give them a life like the one on the big screen. Bigger. Better. Full of adventure. He had begun to do that for some of the people around him. It had been a beautiful and rewarding experiment and many of his people had greatly benefited from the experience. Some had recognised Dirk as the architect who could bring them the experiences they craved and they had come to him like he was some kind of messianic figure, eager for him to bring fulfilment in their lives. He had accepted, of course.

There were others though, others who, no matter what you gave them, would always screw up their scene. Go off script, or just push against the walls of the illusion. Dirk wasn't a messianic figure. He was a director. The director of life, and Dirk knew from years working on film sets that sometimes an actor needed to be axed. Which brought him back to the reporter. She was one of those annoying 'investigative' types who insisted on invading other people's privacy for a 'scoop'. Quite a vile creature really, but not one that was without it's uses. Dirk approached the place where she was standing, leaning against one of the camera stands set up on the far side of the 'lake of fire', "I'm going to switch this on now and then the two of us are going to use it to bring the Sentinels here. I have come to realise that the gift I give to people needs to be shared more widely, but in order to do that, I need the Sentinels out of the way. So we're going to do a little presentation for the police. They will see what I am capable of and will notify the Sentinels of your predicament. This isn't a job for the regular police, after all. It will be like one of those classic 'damsel in distress' stories, except with a more... 'modern' ending."

The great thing about being the director of life was that you got to choose the way the script played out.

The reporter actually had the gall to laugh at him. Dirk's fingers twitched towards the pistol at his waist. How dare she? How dare anyone question his genius! ... but couldn't kill her.
Not just yet, "The sheer, bald, undiluted arrogance," she said, shaking her head in disbelief, "You realise this is going to blow up in your face? Sure you can throw down some flame, but you're just one guy. The odds aren't exactly stacked in your favour. You're as mad as a balloon," she took a moment to tug at her jacket, adjusting her hair, "But sure I'll play along with this."

At least she knew how to present herself on camera.

---

The Octagon
An hour later...

Geraint Akerman was just settling into a nice glass of Bordeaux, left by some previous Sentinel with a discerning palate and, apparently, a fat wallet, when the computer terminal sprung into life. It startled him, enough that he almost spilled his wine as he shot up from the slouched position he had been in. There was an incoming message from the NCPD, "I guess crime never rests," he said, in his hammiest impersonation on a TV superhero, shaking his head in exasperation.

He read through the file then gave a small groan, "Oh Vester, you dumb bastard." They had had an eye on the director for a while. He had illusionary powers and was an arrogant prick but he'd seemed harmless enough, happy just to sit around basking in the adoration of his cult-like followers. Apparently he wasn't. And he'd kidnapped Tara Jones... that just made things more complicated. The woman was a menace, seemingly dedicated to unmasking the Sentinels because, as she put it, 'the public have a right to know'. The public also had a right to be protected, and nobody was going to do that if people like Tara insisted on drawing a crosshair on your back. He watched the attached video, then read to the bottom of the page, which was where he saw they were getting a liaison from the police force. Great. Someone to take care of... though he supposed he'd been that once upon a time.

He took a sip from his wine, sighed again then set the glass aside, "You and I will continue this later," he addressed the bottle, before paging the rest of the group. It was a simple message:

We've got an urgent situation from the NCPD. Meet me in the wine cellar ASAP.

He could explain the rest when they arrived.

[Europa Undivided]

Luka Ranogajec - The Comet
Sentinel Headquarters, New Cottington City

"I love you... so much."

Luka gazed down towards his playful calico cat, his eyes just absolutely filled with wonder and adoration for the well groomed feline. He had named the cat Smaug, for this creature was greedy and jealous. A few days ago, Luka forgot to seal the lid of a jar of catnip, and so when he returned from the regular Sentinel patrols around the city, he found Smaug intoxicated with what would count as cat cannabis, or something like that. Either way, between all the responsibilities he had to the city paper, as well as the Sentinels, he couldn't possibly devote enough time to a spouse. Not that he has found anyone yet, anyway. That last lady said his accentt was just weird...

"What?" Luka asked as Smaug lept up the desk and meowed, sitting on the man's laptop, which prevented him from continuing his work. "Oh, typical. Good thing it's Google Docs so it autosaves-"

We've got an urgent situation from the NCPD. Meet me in the wine cellar ASAP.

"Wine cellar?" Luka shrugged at the missive from their leader, expecting it to be yet another villain of the week. Just like all the other weeks before. However, since it was quite urgent, he'd have to pay it some heed.

Luka quietly lifted Smaug from his laptop, enduring some scratches in the process; it was quite the common occurence, as could be seen by the miniscule scars on his hands. He then shoved the device into his desk drawer before turning towards the door.

The Comet was soon in the wine cellar, walking down the stairs like a normal person would rather than simply floating over them. "Let me guess, a girl got kidnapped," Luka snickered momentarily before putting on a slightly mor serious tone. "Alright, what just happened?"

[Zaambate Te Ahaa]

Eight..." Owen counted carefully as he dropped the marble (the eighth one, in fact) into his sleeve, and quickly turned his sleeve upside down and outwards to see if it would fall back out. It had become something like a game to him, and he called it 'How Many Marbles', because the simple object was to see how many marbles he could make disappear at a single time before he needed to retrieve them from the ether. To spoil the limit, as many marbles as Claire Beau-de-Main's ghost could hold in her ghostly hands and frocks before she started dropping them, so around 15 but more if she was careful. She could have held more if they'd buried her in a dress with pockets, she often lamented to Owen, who couldn't hear her. She didn't even want to be buried in a stupid dress, she explained. She was the less vain sister. She just wanted a casual funeral, with no fireworks for once, she said, and began to explain why her funeral had fireworks.

"Nine..." Owen said in response, cutting her off because he couldn't hear her and also wasn't talking to her. Claire sighed, and, bored and frustrated, she let the marbles all fall to the floor, appearing before Owen's shocked and confused eyes, and left him scrambling to pick them up again. It was nowhere near his record, and so he was confused why the power no longer worked, but was dragged from it by the notification on his phone. Praying to whomever would listen that this was about the wine bruncheon note he had placed up his sleeve and made reappear in the suggestion box.

He came down shortly behind The Comet, and quickly realized it was probably not. "Well, if a girl did get kidnapped, its a good thing I ain't settled in for my afternoon nap yet. Ah, we like to have fun here. Is this about the wine bruncheon idea? 'Cause that was me." He bounced his tone to distract himself from his more grim thoughts about the more likely reason they were here. "I'm a rosé kinda fella, myself."

[The United Federation of Terrans]

Liaison Jason Greene
Octagon Exterior, New Cottington

Jason Greene had spent the time driving up from Langley, Virginia trying to determine if this new assignment was a promotion or a punishment. He had gone from Eclipse-9, one of the CIA's premier paramilitary teams, to playing bureaucrat to a bunch of capes? Granted Eclipse hadn't had to deploy for a while and he and the team spent their days training, planning more training, or sitting around waiting for training. It hadn't been an exciting existence but he had the respect and prestige of having been part of Eclipse.

Now here he was, driving up to a rather dated looking mansion in a recently purchased Ford pickup, with all of his belongings with him. A well worn daypack occupied the seat behind him with his clothes and personal items. The covered bed hid his more sensitive luggage from view; a duffel with his armor, another duffel with his armor related kit as well as his computer and surveillance equipment, and a set of hardcases that held a variety of weapons and ammunition the agency had given him on his way out. That was the extent of his belongings for the near future. Until his bosses either decided to reassign him or wash their hands of him.

'Unless this is their way of getting rid of me?'

Jason had tried not to entertain that final thought for his journey; preferring to sing along to the local stations instead. So he returned to poorly mimicking "Kryptonite" as he followed a semi winding drive up to the mansion. The GPS mounted on the dashboard gave a cheerful chirp and confirmation that he had arrived. Jason ignored it as he killed the engine and slid his six foot form out of the Ford. Gravel crunched underneath hiking boots as Jason surveyed the area before tugging on his daypack and closing the door. The grounds looker well maintained and the building was in good repair despite its age. Though he didn't see any staff around at the moment. Jason lips might have pursed at their absence and he gave a reassuring check of the Glock holstered in his waistband.

Satisfied, he dug a hand into his jeans and clicked the fob. The pickup locked and Jason made his way to the mansion's entrance. Trusting that his gear and weapons should be safe enough in the back until he had a place to put them. Jason paused at the door and gave one final check of his surroundings. Once he confirmed the lack of cartel sicarios; he gave a once over of his appearance. A grey hoodie thrown over a dark green flannel button up, rugged blue jeans and sturdy brown hiking boots. A red baseball cap hid his crew cut from view and sunglasses covered his eyes. A non-descript but practical look perfect for hauling millions of dollars of equipment without suspicion.

He wondered how well it fit in with a super hero team.

Possibilities were floating through his head as he lifted his hand and gave a steady trio of raps on the door.

[Nachfolgia]

Carolyn von Scaufesser

It has been a couple weeks since Carolyn had escaped the AOHL facility and it has been hard to adjust. The hardships and suffering she had to endure at the hands of her father would be too much for most to handle. The torture, the injections, the loss of her eyesight, all to develope her powers. The nightmares from that place still persist in her mind, but at least she wasn't alone.

Carolyn had escaped with a man, an older gentleman by the name of Edward Collins. He was the only one from the group at AOHL that stayed by her side when they sought out the Sentinels. Carolyn suspected that it was an honor bound debt instead of the greater good that he stayed, but she did not complain. She was happy to have his company and it has made her weeks more comfortable.


Carolyn was enjoying a cup of tea in the grand foyer of the mansion as she did everyday. She found comfort in that tiny china tea cup, feeling its beauty without ever seeing it. There was still some getting used to her blindness and new abilities, mostly the strain and bleeding it causes. One of the reasons for the bandages on her eyes, the other to hide the scarring better. She was certain that no one would want to see how grotesque her face had become.

Carolyn was taking a sip of her tea when the call came out over the PA system. She lower her cup and listened to the message, staring straight ahead of her. The message wanted everyone to meet in the wine cellar. Why there was any guess to her. All she had to do now was get Edward Collins. If he was where she left him, he'd be in their room.

Carolyn set her cup gently on the table in front of her. She reached over for her cane and stood up. Using the cane, Carolyn made her way through the mansion.

After some minutes of wandering up the staircase and down some hallways, Carolyn made it to her room. She felt around for the door knob until she found it and entered.

" Herr Collins?" Carolyn said in a soft, German accent. When she didn't hear an answer, she listened for him. She could pick up the faint snoring coming from the direction of Edward's bed. Apparently he was still asleep, under the effects of his alcohol assumption the night before. Making her way to Edward's bed, Carolyn knelt down and felt around for him. Once her hands touched her his shoulder, Carolyn began to gently shake him.

" Herr Collins? Herr Collins! Wake up, bitte. They need us in the wine cellar."

[Voxija]

Ivy "Resemblance" Karin

In a small cafe in one of the more boho parts of New Cottington, Ivy Karin was having some tea with her friend, Olivia Parker. Olivia knew Ivy used to be Russian, but she didn't know she used to be Irina Karinova, Soviet spy and she certainly didn't know she was Resemblance, shapeshifting second-in-command of the New Cottington Sentinels.

Ivy's default appearance was a beautiful blonde, but Olivia saw her as a mousy brunette with plain facial features. Ivy was used to hiding things from her friends. After all, Ivy was actually way older than she seemed to be. She was from the Soviet Union after all, and knew it intimately. It was partly a "women lying about their age" thing, too.

Ivy's phone buzzed, and she looked down. She frowned.

"What's happening?" Olivia asked.

Ivy grunted and gave her standard response. "It's my boyfriend. I have to go." Ivy had purged all the Russian from her accent a long time ago.

Olivia giggled. "Man, your boyfriend's very needy. I kind of want to meet him."

Ivy had decided long ago that she would strong-arm one of her fellow Sentinels into pretending to be her boyfriend. Having a significant other would put a supreme dent into her superhero work, although she had loved... and lost... before.

The shapeshifting super got into her simple yet reliable Honda and drove to the Octagon. If she was still a Soviet, Irina would have bristled at any thought of a mansion, but as an American, Ivy loved mansions and cars—any car that wasn't a dinky Zaporozhets—and things like that. Even after many years as part of the Sentinels, the Octagon still amazed, and also confused her. It wasn't shaped like an Octagon! What the hell? It was probably a reference to the Pentagon, but still.

Ivy Karin turned into her default form, which looked like one of those blonde spy girls in movies. Ivy felt confident in this form, which reminded her about the good things about life in the old country. She walked down the stairs to the wine cellar, entered, and overheard some of the conversation taking place.

"A girl got kidnapped? Why is it always the girls getting kidnapped?"

[Demencia]

Sofia Gilmore
Gilmore Tower, New Cottington

Many of the Sentinels lived in their own homes. None of the the Sentinels lived in a home like Sofia Gilmore. Residing in the top floors of one of her family's many properties across the globe, her penthouse made the Octagon look working class. She'd been born into generations of money, sense and modesty long since bred out. She was presently enjoying a swim in her private pool when she heard a familiar throat clearing behind her.

"Ma'am. You've received a summons, I'm afraid it's urgent." came the voice. Sofia groaned.

"Alright, thank you Cecilia." she replied, and swam towards the edge of the pool. "I don't suppose there was anything else, make it easier to decide to skip it or not?"

"Afraid not, ma'am." replied the woman.

"Naturally. It'd be too easy to give details in a message. Big secret." Sofia climbed out of the pool reluctantly.

"Your towel, ma'am." Cecilia handed forward a towel for Sofia to put around her nude body. "Shall I prepare the car Miss Gilmore?"

"No, I'll drive. Have the Lamborghini ready in thirty minutes." Sophia replied, and her butler nodded before heading off.

Such a dutiful servant. came the voice in her head.

Shut up, I don't want to hear it from you. the young woman retorted.

What? There's nothing wrong with appreciating a loyal and discreet employee.

I had to double her salary after what you did last time.

An investment well spent, then.

Sofia chose not to engage further with the voice, and set about getting ready to meet the others.

---

Octagon House, New Cottington

In this—a room full of people that stood out—Sophia stood out the most, and she didn't care. It was always the case. Others would arrive by subway or cab or bicycle. She drove here in a Countach LPI 800-4. People wore casual jeans and hoodies, she had on a dress that cost more than a year's salary for many of the Sentinel's cover jobs. Sophia Gilmore didn't mind standing out in a crowd.

She hated this wine cellar. "Calling this a wine cellar is a disgrace, you know." she commented. "I bet there isn't a single Chateau Latour in this place." she pulled a random bottle from the wall. "Buccella Merlot? Napa? My god, it's worse than I thought." she shoved the bottle back in the slot. "I can have my personal sommelier stock this place properly, at least then it will have a chance of fooling somebody into thinking it's a wine cellar and not a garbage bin. No one's going to believe anyone is drinking this."

[West Bromwich Holme]

Victoria Lopamaua-Holmes

New Cottington

It had been 3 days since Victoria had died in her house from accidentally consuming poisonous Boletus mushrooms she'd collected in a wood. She'd had them with pasta and alcohol, and instead of hallucinating on psilocybin, had died instantly, it took her 56 hours, or 1 day and 8 hours to recover. For her, dying and recovering was as routine as doing a weekly shop, although not that routine.

This regeneration made her a little stronger, and she now knew to go and get a book from the library, not rely on Internet and websites for info.

No superheroism was going on for her, but then again it was quiet for her.

Victoria had an agreement with the police to be involved as a de facto officer and paid as such; it took some balls to convince them, but it worked. Technically, she wasn't a full-on vigilante, but not a full-on cop either.

The few who knew about her shapeshifting abilities had signed NDAs not to disclose Victoria's identity as Karolina Michalowska, Canadian-American cop who was blonde and 28 years old, and spoke with a Vancouver accent.

She also had another form she shapeshifted into, and it was as a superhero; she took on the role of Kitsune Nohi, a woman in a fire-red costume with fire-related powers, and who was Japanese-American, speaking in a Hawaiian accent.
As Kitsune Nohi (whose alternate identity was Rita Shimamura, a 24-year-old Hawaiian), she was involved with the New Cottington Sentinels on occasion using this identity.

They knew her real identity, but as ever, she forced them to sign an NDA, and even had an attorney recording them as proof.

Victoria was careful over this, and knew how to manage her abilities without getting split personality worry; this wasn't a case of Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID) as she created these identities.

All were separate with different abilities, but she had twenty set forms, but in reality, it was unlimited, she just had to learn which to use and when. Twenty was just a limitation of what was available in her body's memory, sort of like a hard-disk.

As it were, today, she was supposed to meet with Luka Ranogajec in Sentinel Headquarters, and sent an email about it, but hadn't heard back.

Where Victoria lived was quite different to other Sentinels; it was a curiously English-style housing estate with English-style houses and European-style streetlights, the only dead giveaways were Americanized cars such as the Ford F150 and leviathan SUVs like a Toyota Sequoia or Ford Expedition, rather than European vehicles like the Citroen C3 and Opel Astra.

Also, the accents of the locals, which sounded like a curious mix of Vermont and New Yorker.

Victoria was considering going to see the Sentinels in Headquarters, and show off her new car, a rare car that was now legal for import, a 1980 Mitsubishi Galant Sigma sedan, which wasn't that common in New Cottington; if you did see one, it was probably a very similar Galant of that era, but not a sporty one. This was an import from New Zealand.

[Arengin Union]

Edward Collins

Memories, memories and more tormenting memories. He could still recall every needle, every incision and electric shock on his windpipe at his refusal to obey. The time in that facility had not left his head and ever since arriving at the manor with the girl responsible for his freedom Edward had fallen into a routine of continuous treks for booze, didn't matter what kind as long as he could chug it all down. In reality he could control his alcohol levels from within his body but he didn't want that, he wanted to feel another pain that would make him forget what he'd been through.

He cared little for heroic antics and fancy suits and delusions about helping the world, all that Edward wanted at this point was to sleep it off so he could wake up at 11 pm, get a bite to eat and get drunk again. Whatever these people expected of him was not his concern. There was one lingering goal that he did have however, destroy it all, destroy AOHL at all costs and he would do it eventually just as long as he made sure Carolyn was at home here with the Sentinels. He had the power to do so if not the controls over said powers, that was really what made him hesitant to use them, the bottle helped him forget he even had them.

Carolyn von Scaufesser
Once her hands touched her his shoulder, Carolyn began to gently shake him.

" Herr Collins? Herr Collins! Wake up, bitte. They need us in the wine cellar."

It didn't take long to wake Ed from his slumber as he merely fumbled from within the covers of his bedsheets. Carolyn persisted in his shaking as he suddenly uncovered himself from the sheets and could feel the bright sun hitting at his face, he covered his eyes with one hand as he looked up to Carolyn who despite her lack of gaze he could tell she wanted something from him.

"What do you want?!" He asked annoyed. Carolyn once more repeated the reason for waking up her roommate, despite his lack of any desire to partake in such ridiculous meetings Edward knew he owed her that much to at least escort her down to the cellar.

"Fine, fine... Let me just, fuck... Let me just get some shoes on..." He was still wearing the messy grey shirt and blue Levi's from yesterday as he looked for a pair of military esque boots, he put them on slowly and rather clumsily all the while Carolyn waited on him patiently, humming a tune unknown to him. He chuckled under his breath as he ran his hand through his messy hair snd down to his stubble. Finally he had some shoes on and he stood up to bask in a new shit day inside the manor, at least it wasn't a cold white lab.

"Let's get going then..." He said as he took a hold of a small bottle of Jack Daniels and set it inside his pocket, opening the door for Carolyn he merely walked past her as the two exited the room, with each step he could feel her presence behind him. She guided herself with care and using her cane to detect her surroundings slowly.

There was something almost strikingly dissimilar from how the two carried themselves as Carolyn was obviously more formal and delicate while Edward was brunt and fast paced, his steps heavy and his demeanor uncaring for how others saw him. He looked back to Carolyn who was several meters behind him and it would seem she would take her time to get down to the cellar without his help, he sighed as he walked back and begrudgingly offered his arm to her.

"I'll take you there faster..." He powered to speak without a slurred voice as he didn't want her to notice his true attitude. She smiled faintly and accepted his arm. The two were then off down to the cellar, it didn't take them long to arrive together. There were several members of the Sentinels already present as the two entered the hidden situation room.

[West Bromwich Holme]

Victoria Lopamaua-Holmes
Sentinel Headquarters, New Cottington City

GUEST STARRING
MARISSA CUEVAS as Nadia Pareja

Victoria had driven a long distance to New Cottington City; she'd taken a 1991 Chrysler New Yorker 3.3 V6 Salon sedan which was somehow in good condition, despite its 223,964 miles / 360,000 km on the odometer. It was a favorite of hers because it looked anonymous in the city and like many of the other old cars.

Perhaps not so when it was new in the 1990s, but it was over 30 years later for this old-stager of a car.

Victoria got out of the car, locked it and kept the keys secure.

She was wearing a cream white blouse, jeans and ankle boots.

She entered the building, wearing a bag on her shoulders, with a lot of food and drink within the bag, and carrying a company-issued Mac laptop which she was returning to them after she'd done a lot of work sudo'ing and upgrading it to Monterey.

It was fairly quiet; at least the part she was in.

A woman called Nadia approached her. She was in her thirties and Latina-looking.

"Hello, can I help you?" she asked, in a fairly pleasant, if formal tone. "It's Victoria isn't it. Yes... I know you, good to see you, Tori! I'm with Luka today, or was, not doing much now, though."

[Dyelli Beybi]

JJ Triggs

Liaison Jason Greene
Octagon Exterior, New Cottington

...

Possibilities were floating through his head as he lifted his hand and gave a steady trio of raps on the door.

The door was opened by a young blonde; the one they called 'Cuttlefish' in her actual form. Some Sentinels wore masks. She turned into someone else when in the public eye. Today she was wearing leggings and a singlet; apparently she'd been working out before his arrival. Everything was happening in something of a rush, though didn't seem at all surprised to see Jason here, "Oh hey, you must be the new guy Jerry said to expect. Pleased to meet you," she extended a hand before adding, "You arrived just in time for Jerry's briefing. If you follow me I'll show you the way in. You want a cup of coffee or anything?"

Apparently she wasn't in too much of a hurry to get to the briefing, "So I'd give you a proper introduction," she said as she stepped back from the door, "But I'm guessing you've got a file on me and probably know more about me than I do!" It was an unusual and very casual way to do it, but Triggs was asking for evidence that Jason had clearance to be here.

---

Geraint Akerman

Ignoring the grotesque display of privilege from one of the group, Geraint turned his attention to the case at hand. Not everyone had made it here yet, but they could catch up.

Ivy "Resemblance" Karin
...
Ivy Karin turned into her default form, which looked like one of those blonde spy girls in movies. Ivy felt confident in this form, which reminded her about the good things about life in the old country. She walked down the stairs to the wine cellar, entered, and overheard some of the conversation taking place.

"A girl got kidnapped? Why is it always the girls getting kidnapped?"

"That is actually a very good question," he responded to Ivy. There was a display monitor near the computer. It had been left by previous Sentinels and was particularly useful in this kind of situation, "Some of you might know Dirk Vester's movies. He brought up an image of a slightly scruffy, paunchy individual with mousy coloured hair. He's directed a lot of kinda crappy movies, The Boatjacking of Supership '79 , Gladys the Groovy Mule, Leper in the Backfield... he came to the attention of the Police a couple of years back when people became aware he was a powered individual - he creates illusions. We've nicknamed him 'Mirage'. He's been putting together a weird little cult where he gives people the illusion of a storybook perfect life. At the time I did a bit of digging and he was a jerk, but not a dangerous jerk. Just wanted people to live 'perfect stories'."

The screen flicked to the image of a rather pretty and very recognisable brunette reporter, "You guys all know Tara Jones right?" She had interviewed the team on numerous occasions and was quite dogged about trying to reveal their identities, frequently declaring that 'the public has a right to know'. Whether she cared about the public or just the imagined accolades of breaking that story was open to debate. She was friendly enough, but someone you had to be aware of, "Not sure how, but Vester lured her down to his studio and has taken her hostage. Probably told her he had a plan to reveal who we were or something like that. He released a video to the police a few minutes ago where she asks for us to come and get her out. You can watch it if you like, but there's not much of use on there. It's clearly a trap," he shrugged, "But Vester doesn't know that what he conjures up is illusionary."

"As for why a girl," he said, finally turning back to Ivy's question, "Vester is obsessed with making perfect stories. He's particularly keen of the old movie tropes and, I suspect, in his mind, the hostage had to be a woman, filling a certain role you'd see in an old black and white film. Jones fits the part and is relatively high profile outside of his imaginary world."

"Vester is holed up in his studio. We don't know where he is in there or where he had Jones. We know there are a couple of dozen of his cult in there with him. Actors and people who work on set. We have been asked to go in there and get Jones out, without hurting his cultists... they're basically brainwashed kids, so non-lethal takedowns unless there is no other choice," he glanced about the room, Triggs wasn't there. He'd definitely need to repeat 'non-lethal' half a dozen times to her, "The cultists have guns, but they're actors, stage hands and so on. Don't expect most of them to know what they're doing. The other thing is, once Vester becomes aware of your presence, things become extremely dangerous for us. He creates illusions, which can't hurt you, but he can hide real things that will so preferably we send in stealth experts first. If we can get to Vester and knock him out first, then cleaning up the Cultists will be relatively simple. Oh... and don't do anything to let Jones find out your identity. We don't have a layout of the building so we will be winging this a bit. Does anyone have questions?"

[Zaambate Te Ahaa]

"You don't have a layout yet." Owen mewled confidently, but raised two fingers with a lack of, and cleared his throat. "Ah, did we get a physical tape? Er, did the P.D.? If we have something physical, I can have a sit down with it, and then I can maybe spend an hour or two in Vester's shoes to get an idea, at the least. See, ah, I figure if he's a director, and he's got this mad passion about him, yeah? That passion goes into the tape, I follow that straight back to him and all of a sudden we ain't blind no more." He leaned back confidently, arms open and looking about the room. He could almost start sweating, he felt, as he looked to Comet for reassurance, eyebrows raised and giving a full dazzling display of those eyes.

His witch-eyes, he called them affectionately, made it difficult to hide his peculiarities. Many accused him of using contact lenses around Halloween time, and at all other times of year everyone else just assumed they were fake. They were so blue and crystalline that some asked how he could afford fake eyes made of diamond and not glass. They were light blue, like robin's eggs that had been stuck in centuries of permafrost (was that where Claire had found them? Sometimes, I wonder.)

"Or," he cleared his throat again. "Even a copy of a script he wrote - I don't even gotta read it, thank G, - or maybe like... Ya know. Anything at all. The larger, more personal, the more accurate I can get us. I'm rambling, you know me, you know what I do. You read my file." Geirant, Owen was sure, was annoyed by his rambling, and despite his rare moments of calm collection Owen rambled often as a nervous habit. He developed that when he stopped chewing his finger nails, but, looking about the room, Owen began to wonder if the trade off had been worth it after all. "You know me, you know - whatever, whatever I can do to help." He tapered off at the end, and cleared his throat again. Claire sighed, but no one heard her, as was routine.

[Voxija]

Ivy "Resemblance" Karin

So, being cognizant of tropes was useful to Ivy for once. It was surprising that watching too many American (and Soviet) movies was going to help her. Real life was nothing like the movies, even despite that Ivy Karin had superpowers.

"I know Dirk Vester. His movies are good when you want a cheap laugh. But starting a Hollywood cult... I hate anything that sounds like a Hollywood cult."

Ivy Karin pondered this a bit. If this movie director believed in tropes, then he probably believed in the old, tired trope of "the seductive femme fatale Russian spy". Ugh. But if this movie director believed in tropes, perhaps...

"I think that perhaps Dirk Vester could be defeated by subverting the Hollywood cliches he's so fond of. Throw him a curveball, see."

[The United Federation of Terrans]

Jason Greene

Jason would never admit that he had half expected a butler to open the door; not a blonde fresh from the gym. Though she didn't appear bothered by her appearance and instead fixed a smile that looked half-predatory.

"Oh hey, you must be the new guy Jerry said to expect. Pleased to meet you," she extended a hand before adding, "You arrived just in time for Jerry's briefing. If you follow me I'll show you the way in. You want a cup of coffee or anything?"

Jason returned the handshake, a few perfunctory shakes before he dropped the grip.

"I'll be fine for now..... Thank ya kindly for the offer though." Jason didn't say that the offer sounded more like a routine then an actual attempt but who knew. Maybe she was just weird.

Apparently she wasn't in too much of a hurry to get to the briefing, "So I'd give you a proper introduction," she said as she stepped back from the door, "But I'm guessing you've got a file on me and probably know more about me than I do!" It was an unusual and very casual way to do it, but Triggs was asking for evidence that Jason had clearance to be here.

The blonde didn't appear disappointed by his refusal. Instead, simply stepping aside to allow him inside. Jason might have allowed his gaze to wander over the interior; taking in its decorations and furnishings before he realized her comment was a challenge. Jason turned fully and took note of the fact that she had challenged him inside the mansion; out of the open with reduced escape routes and an environment she knew.

'Clever girl'

Jason felt a pull of amusement tug at his lips as he loosened for a fight, just in case, while he mentally reviewed his dossiers. The Sentinels had quite a few shapeshifters in their ranks and even the dossiers were rather unsure on what was their true form; mainly from the paranoia that the most common face was a mask rather then genuine. Though there was a familiarity to this girl's features, combined with that sense of danger raising the hairs on his neck, that made Jason confident in who was in front of him.

"Jocelyn Triggs or Cuttlefish." Jason's grin might have turned into a minor smirk given that her face hadn't reacted in a major way. So he pressed on. " You got shanghaied into doing work for Wolfhound Global Security under the cover of their 'Academy'. Dirty work too. I know because my team was right behind you in Guatemala."

Jason tapped his thrice broken nose and traced the burn scar on his neck with his off hand. His other one hung easily within reach of his concealed Glock.

"Good enough or you want more?"

[Nova Catania]

Mark West

BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP! Good morning New Cottington! You're listening to 109.9 FM, all eighties, all morning!

Mark's radio alarm clock rudely awoke him. He had been out last night chasing down a car thief. He didn't get back until almost midnight, so he didn't get much sleep.

'Man, the hero thing is heck on my sleep schedule.' he thought, as a coincidentally appropriate 80's song played on the radio.

And I'm hungry like the wolf! blared the radio as someone knocked on his door.

"Come in!" said Mark.

His door squeaked open, revealing a familiar, beautiful face.

"Morning sleepyhead!" said Lana playfully. "Want breakfast?" asked his roommate.

"Sure, jus-" Mark was about to say yes, then he saw the clock. "9:45! Holy crap! I gotta go Lana, I'm gonna be late." he blurted out, rushing to get changed.

"Could you close the door?" he asked Lana.

Lana chuckled, giving Mark a look, then closed the door.

30 minutes later

Mark was in his Tesla Model X, on the way to the Octagon House. He had gotten the address on a business card, from when the Sentinels reached out to him.

It was out of the city, so he had time to settle in for the drive, he turned on the radio to his favorite oldies station.

I need a hero! I'm holding out for a hero til the morning light!

At the Octagon House

Mark got out of the car, sporting the Nightwolf suit, covering the VIN numbers, and licence plate of his car. Then he walked right up to the front door, and knocked.

[Demencia]

Sofia Gilmore
Octagon House, New Cottington

From the sound of the brief, it wasn't exactly a mission that she was suited for. In fact, it was the exact sort of thing to keep her away from. "Right, well, unfortunately I'm one of the most recognizable faces in the city so short of financing his next vanity project, I doubt I could get within ten blocks without everyone being immediately suspicious. And my lesser half isn't exactly what you could call subtle or anything close to less lethal. Fire's fire."

As if on cue, her train of thought was interrupted by the demon in question.
Have I ever told you about the time I had a cult? it spoke up.

No, and I really don't think I want to hear about it.

It was a lot better than whatever make believe nonsense these fools are buying into. At least I gave everyone something tangible for their service. There's your way of dealing with this lot, take away his manpower by getting all of his followers to worship me instead.

I am pretty sure the Sentinels would be against you using their organization to start a demonic sex cult in the city.

I don't see why, it'd accomplish all of their goals. None of the students would be hurt and it would leave what's his name, DIrk without an army. It's a win for everyone.

Let's table that idea for if no one else has any other suggestions.

Sofia shook her head a little, trying to push back the influence of her unholy alternate.

[Dyelli Beybi]

JJ Triggs

...

"Jocelyn Triggs or Cuttlefish." Jason's grin might have turned into a minor smirk given that her face hadn't reacted in a major way. So he pressed on. " You got shanghaied into doing work for Wolfhound Global Security under the cover of their 'Academy'. Dirty work too. I know because my team was right behind you in Guatemala."

Jason tapped his thrice broken nose and traced the burn scar on his neck with his off hand. His other one hung easily within reach of his concealed Glock.

"Good enough or you want more?"[/quote]

"No that's enough... and you can call me JJ, or Joss... or whatever else you like really," she waved a hand as if to say that her name wasn't that important. Perhaps for a shape-shifter it wasn't, "'Cannon Fodder' was probably a better name back in the Academy days. Geez that was an interesting time... when most girls my age were trying to sleep with the Quarterback, I was trying to reattach fingers in a stinking swamp," she gave a short laugh. She seemed amused rather than upset, traumatised or any of the normal range of human emotions someone who had been mutilated in a warzone might have been expected to show.

"Do you want to see anything from me?" she asked. She ran a hand through her hair, shaking it loose. Pulse was about the only word for what it did next, turning auburn at the roots, spreading down before going back to blonde then auburn again in waves of shifting colour... it was a bit like watching her eponymous animal putting on a display, though when there was another knock on the door it all snapped back to blonde. She pursed her lips, apparently she hadn't been expecting another knock so close behind Jason's arrival, "One moment."

Mark West
...

At the Octagon House

Mark got out of the car, sporting the Nightwolf suit, covering the VIN numbers, and licence plate of his car. Then he walked right up to the front door, and knocked.

JJ opened the door, keeping a completely deadpan expression on her face. Mark was suited up. She was straight out of a workout. She looked him up and down, "Whatever it is you're selling, I've already got two of them," she said and shut the door again.

A moment later she pulled it open, this time wearing the kind of grin that would give the Cheshire cat envy, "I was weighing up between that and 'Nice Nightwolf, but the fancy dress party is next door'... damn, actually that would have been funnier. Come in, Mark, this is Jason, he's some kind of liaison who's probably here in case I start randomly stabbing nice old ladies, but we won't hold that against him. Shall we go down to the cellar? we're probably through the boring bit of Jerry's presentation."

---

Geraint Akerman

...

"Or," he cleared his throat again. "Even a copy of a script he wrote - I don't even gotta read it, thank G, - or maybe like... Ya know. Anything at all. The larger, more personal, the more accurate I can get us. I'm rambling, you know me, you know what I do. You read my file." Geirant, Owen was sure, was annoyed by his rambling, and despite his rare moments of calm collection Owen rambled often as a nervous habit. He developed that when he stopped chewing his finger nails, but, looking about the room, Owen began to wonder if the trade off had been worth it after all. "You know me, you know - whatever, whatever I can do to help." He tapered off at the end, and cleared his throat again. Claire sighed, but no one heard her, as was routine.

"Unfortunately it was an email, but, now you say that, we could probably try to lure one of his followers out," he said, "Then you could get a decent read and, provided they're the right kind of person, we could get Triggs to take on their form. We aren't dealing with professional mercenaries, these are just actors and film crew who follow Vester because he can conjure illusions to make them feel larger than life. That being said, the weapons they carry are real so do show appropriate caution."

Ivy "Resemblance" Karin

...

"I think that perhaps Dirk Vester could be defeated by subverting the Hollywood cliches he's so fond of. Throw him a curveball, see."

"I like that idea," Geraint spun back to face ivy, "We understand a bit of what makes Vester tick, so we can use that to our advantage. Do you have something specific in mind? We might be able to use Jones to do something. She's a pain in the ass but people in her profession aren't usually lacking in courage. If she's given the opportunity to break free of the 'damsel in distress' role, I imagine she'd do that pretty quickly."

Geraint was brainstorming now, throwing ideas about with the team, but there was the beginning of a plan forming.

[Nova Catania]

Mark West/Nightwolf

JJ opened the door, keeping a completely deadpan expression on her face. Mark was suited up. She was straight out of a workout. She looked him up and down, "Whatever it is you're selling, I've already got two of them," she said and shut the door again.

A moment later she pulled it open, this time wearing the kind of grin that would give the Cheshire cat envy, "I was weighing up between that and 'Nice Nightwolf, but the fancy dress party is next door'... damn, actually that would have been funnier. Come in, Mark, this is Jason, he's some kind of liaison who's probably here in case I start randomly stabbing nice old ladies, but we won't hold that against him. Shall we go down to the cellar? we're probably through the boring bit of Jerry's presentation."

"Yeah, that would've been funnier." said Mark, about to introduce himself until she called him Mark. The amused tone in his voice immediately cut off.

"How do you know my secret identity?" said Mark in a tone of both alarm and caution, while disreetly clenching a fist at his side.

[The United Federation of Terrans]

Jason Greene

Jason felt his shoulders ease and he felt the tension drain from the room. He finally clocked.....JJ's odd personality. It was one he had encountered a decent amount of time. That of a young soldier coping the best it could; with a mix of humor, aggression and bluntness that was a unique mix in all who used it. Perhaps a bit of resentment too given the age comment.

His grin might have turned a bit more genuine. Then her began shifting. It changed in a sweeping wave; like an eraser scraping away a new layer to reveal the next. Then the pattern repeated so it looked like a series blonde and auburn waves that Jason would admit looked striking in its endless loop. Until the knock of the door ended the display.

What little mirth visible on JJ's features left and she fixed an annoyed look to her face before answering the door. The man who stopped through was clad from head to toe in armor.... and a wolf's head as a helm. Jason suppressed his widening grin with a cough and he wiped the amusement from his face; though his eyes were laughing behind his sunglasses. Partly in response to JJ's door joke; but mainly because of the wolf themed armor. He knew exactly who this man was; it wasn't a mystery like JJ's.

This man's dossier was lighter then the other Sentinels. Mainly due to the fact he hadn't done anything of note other then create a top tier suit. Someone worthy of an occasional check-up but otherwise left to his own devices. Jason remembered the dossier has coming across his nose only because the man had potentially been recruited.

So Jason remained quiet as the Wolf Man and JJ began bantering and the shapeshifter began introductions. Then the Wolf Man stiffened as JJ threw his name out.

"How do you know my secret identity?" said Mark in a tone of both alarm and caution, while discreetly clenching a fist at his side.

Jason stifled another grin and gave a tilt of his head. Catching JJ's eyes even behind his sunglasses; he didn't seem to find any discouragement there. So he took a swaggering, exaggerated step out as he pulled his encrypted, biometrically locked phone. He began speaking while he unlocked the phone.

"Mark West. Twenty eight years old. Child of a divorce. Scholarship student. Internet celebrity. Tesla Driver. Builder of an admittedly well done armor suit." Jason swaggered closer as he spoke until he was within arms reach of the Wolf Man; His Texan drawl thickening with a slight jovial tone. He finally succeeded in opening the last failsafe and scrolling through his pictures until he found the ones he wanted. He twisted to show them to Mark. " Here's you in that Tesla; nice car. Probably shouldn't drive the same model. Here's one of you leaving your apartment. Here's one of your roommate."

Jason felt the hairs stand up on the back of his neck and he knew he might have a crossed a line even with the man's hidden features. He stowed the phone and held up his hands in an apologetic gesture.

"Right, sorry bout that. Not my work personally. Just making a point here. This...." Jason motioned at the man's helmet. " ....works out there. Nobody else cares who you are. Especially the US of A."

A pause before Jason gave another scoff.

"Sorry bit too much, right? Here...." He stuck out a hand. "Agent Jason Greene, CIA liaison."

[Nachfolgia]

Carolyn vonScaufesser

"I'll take you there faster..." He powered to speak without a slurred voice as he didn't want her to notice his true attitude. She smiled faintly and accepted his arm. The two were then off down to the cellar, it didn't take them long to arrive together. There were several members of the Sentinels already present as the two entered the hidden situation room.

Carolyn smiled and took Edward's arm, holding onto him with both hands. Edward may have his moments of bad manners and drinking problems, but he always seemed to be a gentleman towards Carolyn. She took it as a breath of fresh air in contrast to his usual behavior. She could never fault him for what he did on a daily basis. All she could do was be by his side and help him through it.

With Edward taking the lead in leading the blind girl, Carolyn found her way into the wine cellar. While she couldn't see anyone, she knew that several people had gathered there already. She could hear the various conversations, but paid no attention to any one specifically.

Deeming it the polite thing to do, Carolyn decided to speak. " Guten Morgen." Carolyn said with a smile, looking to no one in particular. She continued to hold onto Edward until he took his place in the room.

[Nova Catania]

"Mark West. Twenty eight years old. Child of a divorce. Scholarship student. Internet celebrity. Tesla Driver. Builder of an admittedly well done armor suit." Jason swaggered closer as he spoke until he was within arms reach of the Wolf Man; His Texan drawl thickening with a slight jovial tone. He finally succeeded in opening the last failsafe and scrolling through his pictures until he found the ones he wanted. He twisted to show them to Mark. " Here's you in that Tesla; nice car. Probably shouldn't drive the same model. Here's one of you leaving your apartment. Here's one of your roommate."

Jason felt the hairs stand up on the back of his neck and he knew he might have a crossed a line even with the man's hidden features. He stowed the phone and held up his hands in an apologetic gesture.

Mark turned his head towards Jason as the latter began talking. He listened carefully until the man stopped talking.

"Right, sorry bout that. Not my work personally. Just making a point here. This...." Jason motioned at the man's helmet. " ....works out there. Nobody else cares who you are. Especially the US of A."

Mark kept his stoic expression on the outside, on the inside, he just hoped this guy would stop talking.

"Sorry bit too much, right? Here...." He stuck out a hand. "Agent Jason Greene, CIA liaison."

Mark weighed his next actions carefully, before deciding not to be offended by how much the government knew about him. He shook Jason's hand and said:

"Mark West, although apparently, you already knew that." He continued, "Guess there's no need for this thing in here." as he took off his helmet.

He turned to Jocelyn, and asked: "You said something about a presentation in the wine cellar?"

'Seems like an odd place for a meeting' thought Mark as he was led away to the wine cellar.

[Zaambate Te Ahaa]

Owen nodded along to everything being said like an affirmative bobblehead as he worked up the nerve to speak again. "Pulling back to logistics a moment," he gestured with his index finger to Ivy, still nodding in agreement to her part of the plan. "How about I and a buddy or two form a bit of a forward team and do a little bit of recon? You said it yourself, Vester is dangerous, but his cronies are undergrads. They won't pick up every cigarette butt after a smoke break, but just gimme someone to watch my back and I can pick up a lot more than that."

His hand turned flat, as if presenting this idea in the palm of his hand as he looked around once more to gauge the feeling. "Adults are sloppy, but kids are just plain careless. Even if it's not a cigarette butt, the outside of that building is bound to have some trace of their comings and goings, and I don't need anything particularly big. It would help, of course, to have something decent sized, and, of course, ah, optimally Vester's, but, ah, you know, I can make due with just about anything." Almost a whole plan without stuttering, he thought to himself and rested his chin between the crook of his middle and index finger as once again he fell silent to judge the mood.

Ironically, as more and more Sentinals began to file in, he felt more at ease, and he would greet each one with a little boy scout salute and a quet "'ey, 'owsitgoin'?" Being around the Sentinels had been a comfort to him in the field on many an occasion, and despite feeling constantly under powered and under dressed by them, at least they brought with them a sense of safety. Almost like a strange, rich, extended circuis family, but they'd be hanging out with a cop all the while. "Of course, I volunteer to go. Anybody else wanna come along, or suggest anything better, I'm very open to it, ya know."

[Europa Undivided]

Luka Ranogajec
The Wine Cellar

Luka simply nodded as the suggestions surged within the brainstorm brewing in the wine cellar, their collective methods beginning some sort of plan. Apparently what they had at hand was a less than reputable film director with illusionary powers, tricking the mind's eye into seeing what was not truly in the realm of existence, but rather whatever half baked ideas Vester's mind concocted. It was also apparent that he had a thing for Hollywood tropes, so he had kidnapped a woman, just as Luka had jokingly suspected.

As for their options, the team leader wished for nonviolence, as Vester had unfortunately created a cult made of actors and film workers that probably had crippling college loan debt along with other issues. He had conveniently conjured up fitting illusions for them, making them, as Luka would soon put it, 'blinded sheep'. They were pitiful really, puttin their trust in someone whose abilities were simple trickery of the mind, all so easy to fall into deceit.

But again, there was something he was forgetting...

"Of course, I volunteer to go. Anybody else wanna come along, or suggest anything better, I'm very open to it, ya know."

"I guess I'll do that too," Luka said in turn, shrugging. "I'll watch your back, get us in and out quickly. Just don't expect me to be able to hold anyone aloft while flying for long. I don't have superstrength, just eye lasers and flight."

As it were, today, she was supposed to meet with Luka Ranogajec in Sentinel Headquarters, and sent an email about it, but hadn't heard back.

As the discussions continued, Luka took an idle moment to check the emails on his phone. And lo and behold, due to him turning off notifcations as he was working, he had missed the email from Victoria.

I'm in the wine cellar, meeting with the other Sentinels. Come on down here.

P.S. Sorry, late reply. My cats kept me busy.

[West Bromwich Holme]

Victoria Lopamaua-Holmes
Sentinel Headquarters, New Cottington City

GUEST STARRING
MARISSA CUEVAS as Nadia Pareja

Victoria's email to Luka had read:

Dear Mr. Ranogajec,
A "supe" who is also a U.S. citizen has been captured in the town of Brynteg near Wrexham, Wales, United Kingdom.
By who, little is known about this. Appears to be some sort of lone wolf Welshman thingy.
Who he is, well, he's unknown to us here in the U.S. and in Britain, I'd only heard of him today from my anonymous source (well, technically not that anonymous as I know her identity but she won't disclose it to the rest of our team for security reasons).
The U.S. Government won't intervene, and the British Government, well HM Government won't help either. Looks like a PR disaster for both sides.

Perhaps we need to intervene, especially since she has superpowers like us and could be an asset to the Sentinels?
Is Wrexham even an area you'd consider going to?

It would be a small mission, not anything earth-shaking.

Note, I'm away until Friday so will not be able to reply until then.

Thanks,
Victoria Lopamaua-Holmes

Nadia and Victoria were enjoying talking to one another, as Nadia offered Victoria a candy bar, which she took with some excitement. A bit mundane, but after hours of traffic, and a Chrysler that could break down, it seemed good to have some nice food. Even if it were a small coconutty candy bar.

"¡Hay alguien para paralizar a los superhumanos, o al menos a un grupo de dos hombres fuertes, por lo que escuché!" There's someone out to paralyse the superhumans, or at least a group of two strong men, so I heard!" Nadia said to Victoria.

"Primero yo, o más bien nosotros, los Sentinels habíamos oído. Pero ¿quién y por qué? ¡Es nuevo para mí! First I, or rather we, the Sentinels had heard. But who and why? Is new for me!" Victoria said in a shocked tone to Nadia.

Victoria had two challenges to face; a possible new team member kidnapped in Wales and a mysterious enemy seeking on paralysing supes.

[The United Federation of Terrans]

Jason Greene

"Mark West, although apparently, you already knew that." He continued, "Guess there's no need for this thing in here." as he took off his helmet.

He turned to Jocelyn, and asked: "You said something about a presentation in the wine cellar?"

'Seems like an odd place for a meeting' thought Mark as he was led away to the wine cellar.

Jason noted the odd texture on Mark's gloves during their brief handshake. It was an odd sensation and one Jason would have to figure out the meaning behind. It was obviously a special application, given that the material didn't appear anywhere else on the man's armor. Jason made a note to figure out its purpose at a later date; though he didn't note how direct he would be in those methods.

The agent noted though, that the latest surveillance pictures were slightly off. West's now revealed face was slightly older. Not enough to throw things off, but still enough difference to merit a touch up. He added it to his to-do list and-

The door opened without a knock; the new arrival clearly familiar with the house. The new arrival was a lean female; perhaps a few inches shorter then Jason. She was pulling off a dark motorcycle helmet that hid her face. It's dark pattern matching the zipped up leather jacket, jeans and boots that were all clearly well worn.

"Hey JJ." Jason rocked back on his heels and his jaw dropped.

'It couldn't-'

Incredulity was the best description Jason had. It couldn't be her. She wasn't on any of the dossiers. Perhaps her voice was being distorted by the helmet? Turning a similar voice into a match. Then she pulled off the helmet fully and Jason heard his breath suck in.

Her hair was longer now; collected into a short ponytail. Her face had a few wrinkles but was otherwise the same features that were burned into his memory. He was aware of the blood pounding in his ears as she talked to JJ before casting a glance at Mark and Jason. The agent knew when she saw him.

Her eyes widened for a split second before narrowing. The shocked "o" on her face morphing into a panicked scowl and Jason felt himself brace a split-second before the tendril of telekinesis struck his chest. In his brief amount of air time Jason felt a mix of emotions; fear, anger, relief and confusion. But his mind only had one thought on prominent display.

' Hello again Ev.'

Then he hit the wall.


Evelyn "Kraken" Briggs.

Evelyn had been having a rough day.

The bar was undergoing renovations on inventory day while Evelyn had to train the newest pair of bartenders. The manager was out sick, leaving Evelyn the de-facto leader. Then Grison had sent out the call; assembling the Sentinels at the Octagon. So she had had to weasel her way out of work; leaving one of the college kids in charge of everything while she raced her way out of the city. Traffic had been bad (worse then usual for New Cottington) and her motorcycle had almost been run off the road by a semi. Narrowly avoided thanks to the carefully applied power of panicked telekinesis.

So she was in a poor mood when she applied her kickstand and climbed off her bike in the Octagon's secondary driveway. The usual collection of vehicles were there; carefully tucked away from sight of the enterprising snoop. Though a pair of vehicles sat on the main driveway. A Tesla and a pickup that Evelyn didn't recognize. She gave an internal shrug of her shoulder's at that. She was sure Grison would let her know if their drivers were important to the team. She sensed them ahead; the familiar shields of JJ, in the company of two unfamiliar sources. Their walls were well done but Evelyn didn't sense any of the usual hostility that always leaked through such shields.

So she showed no concern as her combat booted feet took the steps two at a time. She strode through the door with a brisk air while undoing her helmet. Noticing JJ talking to the two new arrivals. She ignored them for the moment, their signatures still neutral , tugging off her helmet while she spoke.

"Hey JJ. " The helmet popped free and Evelyn shook her head; continuing on. "Know what's going on? Had to bully a kid into taking my shift over. Want to know that I'm going to get fire for a good reason at least."

Evelyn's grin was small and sarcastic as she glanced at the two others in the room. An armored man with his helmet tucked into his arm; the suit made him look bulky though his exposed face looked lean. She glanced at-

The second man's features were hidden behind a ballcap and sunglasses. A common practice in today's age but one Evelyn recognized instantly. The same look was burned in her memory. The exposed stubbled jaw, the dark Oakley's, the ballcap shading the face and the litany of scars; familiar ones with a few fresh ones she didn't recognize. The only difference from her memory was that there wasn't a rifle lined up with those damn glasses.

There was also the fact that she could see and feel the shock that reverberated off the man. His jaw was slack and his walls had collapsed and let a familiar feeling of confusion and shock along with the signature she had once known well. Evelyn mirrored his shock.....for a split-second.

Then anger took over. She barely registered the tendril of force that sent him flying. It was weak by her standards. But still more then enough to cause him to hit the opposite wall. She regained her senses with the jolt of him impacting the wall; stopping the second tendril she had prepared subconsciously. Evelyn took a fortifying breath and tried to stamp down the dangerous mix of emotions that were welling up in her chest; stopping the array of responses, questions and insults she wanted to say all at once.

He didn't appear to have that problem. He clutched his sides and gave a wheezing, laughing cough that appeared to hurt him with each breath.

"Howdy Ev." He hissed it through teeth curled into a painful smirk. His glasses were askew now; so she could see his gray eyes were watching her with intent. His hands stayed at his side; not venturing towards the handgun she knew he kept tucked into the back of his waistband.

"Agent Greene" She spat the title with contempt even as she sighed internally.

'Hello again Jason.'