Welcome to Springfield (IC, Open)

[The Republic of Atria]

OOC

---

Springfield, March 13, 2024

Today was the date that Deus Machina had arranged for all the people he sent drones to to make their way over, and Wyatt couldn't be more nervous. The drones certainly looked like they were made by Deus, but there was always the slight chance that they weren't and the instant he went into that airspace that he'd got blown out of the sky. On the flip side, he was a bit surprised an old friend of his, Gregory, also got an invitation. So at the very least he wasn't the only one which did some to reassure him that he wasn't flying straight into Deus's air defenses. "You ready?" he called to his large ear'd friend.

"Just about. Packing some stuff just in case." He said. "I say that knowing the guy uses robots and most of this stuff won't be useful against anything he's got, still better safe than sorry." Greg replied and zipped up the large backpack. "Also, don't drop me, it will be a very unpleasant experience for the both of us."

"I've flown people before. Just hold on." Wyatt said, taking a running start after Greg jumped onto his back and held on for dear life. He jumped and took flight.

"I'm not opening my eyes until we're at cruising altitude!" Greg shouted.

"Give me a minute!" He replied and began to climb with a bit of turbulence, though he was still holding onto Greg's arm just in case. A few uncomfortable minutes later, he got into his preferred height and began to glide.

"Are there in flight snacks? And it was a rough take off. Definitely not five stars on Uber."

"Oh, I'm sorry, why don't you go ask one of the OTHER dragons to give you a free flight!" Wyatt said.

"I bet Fafnir has snacks." Greg replied and very briefly looked down. The pair were about a thousand feet in the air and it was actually a really nice view. Though still slightly terrifying. "...Please don't drop me."

"So about that not being a five star rating..." Wyatt said with a small laugh. "Funny. I kinda thought Deus would be offering some sort of transportation. I can fly, but you can't."

"Maybe it's a test, if you can't get thirty-ish miles outside of the city, then you're probably not worth the time. I don't know about you, but I do wanna be in the good books of the guy who keeps the AC running and is giving out orders when you-know-who makes his yearly appearance." Greg said.

"Yeah. I just hope I'm gonna get shot by an AA gun in the next few minutes. I mean, I'll probably live but."

"Less talking about me falling and being smushed under 350 pounds of dragon-man please. Like what do you think he want? Deus never struck me as the kind of guy to ask for help unless things are crazy. I didn't hear anything particularly outrageous that would require a lot of attention."

"Well, we can ask him when we land." Wyatt said as he began his descent. "Attention passengers, this is your captain speaking, we've got about two minutes left as we begin our final descent to the Hoover Dam." He said in his best "pilot over the intercom" voice. As he got lowered, he saw a single black figure, presumably one of Deus's many bodies, looking over the dam and then briefly back up and then moved to a more clear area to give him plenty of space to land. "Looks like he's expecting us. That's good."

"I can't tell if that's actually good or bad." Greg said as Wyatt swooped down and then immediately pulled up, landing on his feet and causing him to almost lose his grip, but managed to remain a little dignity as he let go and walked around his large friend and looked around. "That's a good dam right there."

"It isa good dam." The machine spoke with the slightly mechanical/synthesized voice one would expect. "You two are early, so I will wait to explain why I've recruited a fair number of you all. I require assistance with a matter that I do not feel I can accomplish myself, and I've selected a number of others to join us based on ability, discretion, reliability and general competence. There are other factors as well, but that will be explained when the others arrive."

[Zarkenis Ultima]

"Izzy, you promise this will work?" The black-haired young man asked, more than a little nervous about the fact that he was easing himself into the front end of a method of transport that was essentially no different from an artillery weapon. Not his first choice for a trip to the dam certainly.

"Relax, Dubdub. When has one of my babies ever not worked properly?" The blonde girl assured him with a carefree grin as she wrapped up some last minute arrangements. She was much younger-looking, but spoke with the confidence of an experienced professional.

And the indifference of a lunatic.

"That's true but their purpose is always to cause grievous harm. I'm not sure if I want this to work as intended or not..." He replied.

"Oh, quit your yapping and scoot over. We're doing this and it'll be fine." She stated as she slid into the same compartment he was in, carrying with her a sort of cannister that was about as large as she was. It was definitely a tight fit, but they made it work somehow.

The next ten seconds were dreadfully quiet, and then...

---

Whilst Wyatt, Gregory and Deus Machina himself discussed the generalities of their assignment, a black spot appeared in the firmament, growing steadily as it moved closer and closer. Not bound for the dam but instead angled so as to arc right above it, the projectile sailed on with little of note until it passed above the general area where the three men were standing. At that moment it seemed to split into two halves which continued onwards, while the cargo began its descent: two humanoid figures, one clinging to the other for dear life as they fell straight down.

Moments before an impact that would have rendered any non-titan into a shameful smear upon the ground, one of the figures pointed a weapon straight at it. Suddenly water began to gush out with such great pressure that their downward momentum was promptly cancelled, effectively cushioning their fall.

"See? I told you it'd work out just fine!" One of them said to the other. "Now get off me, we're already on the ground."

Now that they had landed, the others could take stock of the new arrivals: a small teenage girl with a pair of ceramic horns on her head and metallic gauntlets on her hands, and a spindly young man with messy black hair and what appeared to be permanently bloodshot eyes.

The pair had landed a short distance away from the others, within earshot and possibly also within splash distance though Isabelle had done her best to spare them. Turning to face them, the girl waved enthusiastically as she approached. "Firestorm and Disaster, reporting in!"

Trailing behind her, Wallace appeared to be far more subdued. "H-hello." He greeted those present with a half-hearted wave.

[New Rnclave]

Ozzie

"Thanks for the five dollars, dickhead!"

Shoving the rumpled bank note into his pocket, Ozzie continued his quick stride up these stupidly fucking long steps to Hoover Dam, and away from the lame security guard he'd been bothering for the last half hour. Truthfully, he wasn't sure why he'd bothered to come at all, it wasn't like he'd received some great service from Grand Master douche bag of Springfield. 'Congratulations for keeping the water on, that's so unlike every other place I've ever been ever' Ozzie thought dismissively, breaking into a lazy roll on his Heelys, 'And now you're calling on a bunch of randos for help on your great mission? Avengers wannabe.'

"Who even reads comic books anymore?" Ozzie asked aloud, slowly sliding to a stop in front of the railing facing over the dam, the sun obnoxiously hanging seemingly directly level with him.

Throwing his wings up to shield his poor eyes, Ozzie couldn't help but feel kind of like a cockroach that had scurried from beneath the fridge. Felt like he was being stabbed in the fucking eyes more like, the sun seeming to do everything it could to get in his fucking eyes. He wasn't usually out this early in the day, Ozzie was hardly a morning person, or he supposed, early afternoon person. In fact, he tended to do everything he could to avoid getting out of the house that early, his ex-wife still lived across the hall, and less time he spent interacting with her snobby ass, the better.

'Oh, you really need to find a job Ozzie. Oh, you should quit drinking,' Ozzie mocked in his head,'Who is she to say I need to go to AA? AA is for quitters.'

Blinking rapidly, he finally cleared the burning swirls out of his eyes, swinging his legs over the concrete to sit haphazardly on the railing. 'Entire place kinda smells like sewage and motor oil,' Ozzie thought, pulling the crushed and beaten soft pack of cigs he kept out of his jacket pocket, 'Couldn't have picked a nicer venue? I can name like five right now.'

Smoke filling his lungs, Ozzie let out a startled puff as he became immediately aware of a weird dragon looking dude swooping down towards the concrete a bit away from him, right next to the weird black robot looking thing he was also just now noticing. Reaching a hand up, he almost laughed out loud as he smushed the dragon dude between his thumb and forefinger, letting his half-smoked cig fall from between his lips as he swung his legs back around to face away from the Dam.

'See? Other people's wings are kinda gross,' He observed to himself, dusting off his pants, 'That's why you're the best, at least mine had the decency to manifest as bird wings, the obviously better aesthetic choice.'

"Hey bitches!" Ozzie shouted towards the trio, again breaking into a lazy roll," I've been standing here for like an hour now, where's this big mayoral shindig at?"

[Europa Undivided]

Nikephorus Fraser

Nikephorus may be a teleporter, but he still had to walk.

Nike walked along the deserted road towards the general direction of the Hoover Dam, remembering the exact time and date that Deus Machina had set for the meeting. He wondered what exactly the Drone Lord had in mind when he selected Nikephorus Fraser, the so-called “Warp Engine”, to gather at his headquarters. After all, Nike had only been in his third mission with the Hero Team Seven when they all proceeded to die at the hands of Madhouse in the first Battle of Springfield. A few of his teammates had said that he had proven himself well in his first and second, but his first was quite literally just bringing the Bus over to a patch of sand and prefab structures in the Gobi, where a villain was conducting experiments. He was told to simply observe, as it was “too dangerous.” Nike wanted to go down there and fight, but that was reserved for the second mission.

That one, which entailed stopping terrorists from blowing up a megachurch in Nigeria, did not go as planned. He was shot at, twice. Another team member had to heal him up, but given that he took the hit for someone else (a true mark of heroism), they decided that that mission was essentially his official entrance.

Now…

Nikephorus stopped as he felt that his Teleportation distance limit, a few kilometers, was well within range of the Hoover Dam. He could have just made several teleportation stops one after another, but that was exhausting, to say the least. Without Amp’s power amplification Artificer tech (may God bless his soul), Nike could never do the same intercontinental teleports that allowed HT7 to “rapidly” respond to threats that a UN committee brought to their attention. The same committee that would throw powered people under the bus after Madhouse attacked…

As the new arrivals discussed amongst themselves on the dam, a sphere of blue would appear a few feet away. The identity of the sphere's creator would be obvious to at least some, as HT7’s operations were publicized affairs… after they were completed, anyway.

Nike would appear within the sphere, and stood still as it dissipated. He had his hands in his pockets, a neutral expression written on his face.

Adjusting the red scarf around his neck, Nike stepped forward, taking notice of the avian man that had just appeared as well. “Hello… people,” Nikephorus began. “And no,” he said, turning to the one known as Ozzie, “I'm not a bitch.”

[Galnius]

Archie

Deus was an odd one. Always had been, since Archie had known of him. To say he was secretive was an understatement, and to excuse him of being paranoid even more so. That is why Archie was surprised when he was contacted by one of the mogul's many drones.

Now he found himself waiting on the road side about a quarter mile from the Hoover dam. His old car had sputtered at him for daring to bring it through the hot, unkempt roads. Now it sat it idle, waiting for it's drivers next move.

"Alright girls, I think we're gonna want to walk the rest", Archie said to his two passengers. "Water is in the back, shouldn't be more than a 5 minute walk. Besides, I think the others are starting to gather."

A screaming ball of insanity few past, releasing two more, and more so ported in one way or another. Weird group you're putting together Deus.

As they arrived, Archie gave a kurt nod to Nike and put down his water. "First time you've summoned me here Deus. To what does a poor diner owner owe this pleasure?" He made sure to position himself in between Deus' robot and the two girls he brought along. Wouldn't protect from any rear threats, if Deus had planned to be one, but Archie could at least block an opening shot.

---

Lucia

The Hoover dam was far too far. 30 miles from the edge of the city, plus some of the most treacherous landscapes not included in desert hellscape. Of course, such an issue didn't matter if you planned ahead, and Lucia was far from stupid. Her trip took 10 minutes, tops, with time allotted for her flies to fly to position or be reactivated from previous use.

Now, just a few hundred yards away and certainly under the watchful eye of their autocratic host, Lucia sat in comfortable air conditioning. A few of her bugs had been watching and listening and trying to strike up conversation with the robot guard, but she has quickly hidden them to when others started arriving.

Lucia let out a sigh as she saw the group start to gather. She hadn't figured out what this gathering was for, but she had thought it could be something to do with her drones. That Deus has taken an interest in her tech. Alas, no, she could comfortably rule that out with the arrival of a known bioartificer and one of her weirder customers. Still, seeing the canonball girl and the other teleporter was cool. Not too mention their arrival should mostly hide hers.

Lucia teleported in behind the wingspan of Ozzie, using the larger guy as a shield from view. And a body shield to escape if anything went south.

[Finland SSR]

March 13th

---

"God our Father, giver of life, we entrust this city to your loving care. Send your Spirit to touch the hearts of this city's people. Open their minds to the great worth of human life and the responsibilities that accompany human freedom. Remind them that true happiness is rooted in seeking and doing your will..."

It was difficult to find God in the haven of sin that was Springfield. Still, a small chapel, around the size of an apartment, stood tucked in between apartment buildings and persevered. It did not have much place to sit inside, so any visitors are required to go down on their knees for prayer. The furnishings and symbols were modest and carved out of the simplest materials, such as wood and cement - not necessarily because the one nun which maintained the chapel could not afford anything better, but so any passengers wandering around would have less interest to steal them. What are you going to do with a crude wood carving of Jesus when you could get much more cash grabbing a car?

Candace was on her knees, hands clasped, in front of the wooden cross on the table, but slowly opened her eyes when she heard a consistent faint buzz in front of her. A drone was floating above the cross, turned towards her. Any local could quickly recognize it as one of the contraptions of Deus Machina.

Yes... she was calling for God, and Deus decided to show up instead. "Very funny." Candace sighed and stood up. "Alright, what does he want?"

---

Thankfully, Candace was not the only one recruited to Deus's little project - even some of her acquaintances were - so she was ultimately able to find a ride that would take her to the Hoover Dam. A kind man - Archibald, as she was told - offered to take her and her friend to the dam's approaches. Apparently, he was recruited to this operation himself - which was a little surprising, and left Candace a little wondering to what exactly Deus was planning. She's met him a handful of times and he has kept tabs on her as a fellow Artificer, but a wayward citizen unaffiliated with anyone seemed out of his interest. Apparently not, however.

Since she was here outside of her religious duties, Candace was in a more casual dress, though with a veil covering the sides of her head and a cross pendant hanging off her neck. Her eyes were staring off outside the window, silent throughout the whole trip - at least, until they stopped.

"Thank you for your kindness, Archibald," Candace said, in her usual sweet voice, as she pulled up her backpack out of the car's back and then tossed it over her shoulder. There was no telling what she had just signed up for, but she made sure to bring the equipment for anything from field surgery to icing a rogue super. And food, drink, tinkering kits, a bible and camping gear. Understandably, quite a heavy load, but nothing insurmountable. She turned to Stephanie - or Fickle, as she's taken to calling herself since what had happened to her. "Would you be able to pick up the water? I can't carry much more myself."

It was "five minutes", but it was still a trip. Candace arrived to the spot right behind Archie, seeing a group already assembling around one of Deus's bodies. A gang of misfits, a few familiar, and others, like the dragon-form Altered, completely unfamiliar. She clasped her hands and nodded as a greeting, then said:

"Good day, everyone. I hope the journey wasn't difficult. If any of you are thirsty, we brought water and refreshments." She took off her bag, placed it on the ground, then pulled out two bottles and some stacked reusable glasses. They were filled to the brim with a fizzy reddish drink. "I made this myself. It is nutritious and really helps drive away thirst. If we're going to be tackling a big job today, then let's not do so craving for water, am I right?" She ended her offer with a warm smile.

[Bentus]

Charlie Gray
March 13

---

Charlie was torn awake by the blaring of her alarm, its siren searing its way into her mind enough to make her wince. For a few moments, she lay motionless. Silently, she hoped that her brain would, for once, filter out the torturous noise and allow her to happily drift off back to sleep. But her past self had been far too ruthless in her choice of alarm, and she knew that she couldn’t afford to lie in through the morning. Especially not today. With a dejected sigh, Charlie groggily reached for the eye mask covering her face, blinking away the stream of sunlight that crept past her curtains.

After crawling out of bed and silencing her alarm with a petty vindictiveness, Charlie set about her usual morning routine. She had never been an early riser, instead preferring to burn the midnight oil whenever she could. Unfortunately, the rest of the world didn’t always agree with her schedule, and she regularly forced herself to open her clinic at an hour that she could at least pass off as being reasonable. But she’d had to wake up especially early this morning, in order to make it to Hoover dam by the time that Deus had set. She tried not to allow her curiosity about her dad’s message intrude too much upon her routine, even though it had been nagging her for the past few days. He wasn’t one to reach out unnecessarily. Other people tended to introduce uncertain variables into his plans, which usually made them more of a detriment than an aid.

The blur of Charlie’s morning was punctuated by the jingle of the cafe’s door. She’d thrown on a light dress for the Summer weather, although her omni-present lab coat - the all-but-official uniform of a Doc - was worn over the top. She’d also put on a wide-brim hat and a pair of sunglasses to chase away the harsh Nevada sun, although the latter had the additional benefit of masking the dark bags hanging beneath her eyes.

“Hey, Charlie! Got your usual ready to go. A bit early today though, choom?” The barista’s call caused Charlie to wince, but she forced herself to offer him a smile.

“Yeah, I’ve got an appointment.”

Flashing her phone across the terminal to pay for her order, Charlie cocked an eyebrow. James had been working at the shop for a few months now, having started pretty much as soon as he’d arrived in Springfield. As far as Charlie knew, he was one of the surprising number of unpowered who chose to move to the dangerous and isolated city. He’d told her once that it paid better than what he’d get without a degree, and he seemed to have settled in fairly well.

“And what the hell is a choom? Isn’t that from some movie?”

James grinned, clasping his hands together in front of his green apron. “Nah, it’s from a tv show. Or a game, I guess.” I should have waited until I’d had my coffee. Charlie thought as he continued. “It’s a word of the future, Charlie. No need for it out there, but here in Springfield we’ve got to start using the proper lingo! It’s already catching on ever since the show blew up. Trust me, it’s only a matter of time until we’re all using it.”

“Alright, sure. What does it mean then?”

“You use it instead of ‘friend’. Just swap it out whenever you’d use it in a sentence. So like, when you walked in I could’ve said ‘Hey, choom’! Right?”

Charlie shook her head, a light smile betraying her amusement as she grabbed her coffee. “Seems a bit redundant to me, but I guess there’s no harm in it. Just maybe don’t go using it randomly on the street. Someone might think that you’re trying to pick a fight.”

Having turned around to leave, she didn’t see the barista’s smile waver, nor the slight paling of his features. He hadn’t thought of that.

---

The drive to Hoover Dam was uneventful, and it was a route that Charlie had taken plenty of time before. Her car’s air conditioning had managed to keep her drink nice and chilled, but even the brief walk towards the dam’s entrance had coated the plastic cup in condensation. She idly drank from the straw, enjoying the abominable amounts of sugar that she insisted on adding to the creamy, syrup-filled excuse for an iced coffee.

It always felt a little strange coming back. She’d all but grown up at the dam, but had rarely visited since moving out. Things were better between her and her dad since that falling out, but there never seemed to be a worthwhile occasion for her to swing by to visit. She wasn’t even sure Deus would know what to do if she ever did. Entertaining visitors had never made it onto the long list of things that he was good at.

As Charlie arrived at the meeting point, she saw that she wasn’t the first one to arrive. Not all of them were strangers, and she offered the group a friendly smile as she approached. She didn’t see a need to repeat the flurry of questions asking Deus for more information, knowing full well that he’d fill them in on the details when he felt ready. Until then, she was content to stand to the side and finish her coffee.

“I’m good thanks.” Charlie said in response to Candace’s offer of a drink, shaking the ice in her plastic cup to indicate that she had her own beverage.

Her smile wavered as she considered the bright red liquid in the woman’s bottle. The nun had been around Springfield long enough, and was enough of a notable character, that she had heard stories about her powers. She appreciated the work that the woman had done for the less fortunate and underprivileged in the city, but Charlie couldn’t think of anything else that would’ve given her less of an appetite.

[Mortasheen]

Fickle had had a good week so far. The hosts (unpowered or otherwise) at the facility had continued to provide her with nutrition and shelter, and so she continued to return. It was not entirely clear to her what they were getting out of it— she could infer easily enough that the biochemical secretions of their brains’ reward pathways had been triggered, but that couldn’t be enough. Was it really?

Hosts were strange. More data was required.

Nevertheless, the host she knew as Ricardo had passed along a message to her from Deus Machina’s drones. She listened, intaking data, processing variables, weighing outcomes. Eventually, Fickle agreed to the gathering, and began to consider the route she would take to reach the dam in the minimal amount of time. As luck would have it, she didn’t need to; while speaking with Candace later that day, she found out they had received and accepted the same offer, and she eagerly went about arranging transport for the both of them.

Candace Aberdeen was among the exceptionally few hosts whom which Fickle would call a friend. She was the one who had introduced her to the friend-concept to begin with— she was eager to assist, and equally eager to harm. An exemplary host to be sure. She also helped Fickle a lot, and asked for small things in return. Fickle liked that. She could understand that.

Transport was provided by the motor vehicle of Archibald Guerra. For the whole ride, Fickle had done nothing but vacantly stare forward, mouth pursed and hands calmly on her lap. She immediately returned all inquiries made her way with this strange, half-robotic cadence. As they arrived, Candace asked her to help her transport an amount of water up the steps.

“Of course, Candace-friend. This request is amenable.”

Shifting her arms into Stateshift so that she could wrap the containers in a few silty tendrils, Fickle made her way up the stairs. Her every movement was uncanny, moving with an eerie grace; like a machine of flesh and bone, she never misstepped or faltered in her movement. As she reached the top of the stairs, she set the containers down next to Candace, and began to look over the assembled group with a slow, cold, and analytical gaze.

She also accepted Candace’s offer of the fizzy orange drink.

[Thai Sweet Billy]

ETHAN RIKERS aka "AMP"
Outskirts of Springfield | March 13th
__________________________________

65%

March 13th. Clear skies, low wind, no rain, no Madhouse.

Perfect day to race.

The air today was thick and muggy, filled with the stench of motor oil, sweat, and gasoline mixing together. The Bank Rollers had once again set up shop outside of the city; a caravan of all sorts of horrendous Frankensteined vehicles had gathered by the ruins of an old warehouse building to hang out, shoot the shit, and work on their vehicles. Most of them were sitting around, killing time, waiting for something to happen.

Ethan Rikers was that 'something'.

He wasn't here to chat at all. His strides were long, confident, and he paid no mind to the "Yo, 'sup, Amp!" and "Hey, Amp!" being tossed his way. The top half of the jumpsuit he wore was tied around his waist, caked in sweat, dust, and oil, and the sun's glare against the goggles he wore gave off an ominous white glow. Every so often, residual energy crackled off his body in golden sparks, and he rolled around a set of glowing ball bearings in his hands, charging it with whatever excess energy he was generating as he waited for the residual energy to decay.

He needed the equilibrium—a place to put all of that extra energy so he could stay sane. Go too overboard and he'd blow up like a powder keg, go too low and he'd pass out...

...but that anger was fueling him. He needed his comeuppance, now.

His eyes locked on to a flashy-looking Artificer-modified muscle car—more specifically, the scrawny-looking Altered Bank Roller sitting atop it. Ethan came to a halt, extending his finger out towards his nemesis as he drummed his foot up and down to the beat of the thumping bass from someone's subwoofers off in the distance. The aptly-named "Junkyard Dog" flinched at the gesture (for good reason), then relaxed, letting out a calm sigh as he tapped clawed fingers against the top of a decorated Vietnam War-era helicopter helmet.

"Amp, Aaaamp, my chum," Junkyard Dog smiled. "Back again so soon, bud? Thought you wiped out on our last rodeo."

Ethan lowered his finger, craning his neck from side to side. "You, me. Nevada Test Range Gauntlet. Now." Emphasis on the 'now'. "I'm here for round two."

The canid sneered, narrowing his eyes. "You sure, bud? 'Cause last time you ran the gauntlet, I recall leaving you in the dust. Plus, now we gotta deal with Militia patrols, U-X-Oh..."

70%

The ball bearings in his hands gave off a muffled clap as they popped like water balloons. Ethan balled his fist to catch the misfire in his hands, twitching slightly as a surge of unused energy tingled his spine. "I neeeeed this. You're either in or you're out. Non-negotiable."

A crowd had formed, surrounding the duo. Pressure had begun to up. Junk Dog's brow furrowed, and he let out a sniff, before suddenly sitting upright and slipping the helmet on. His ears protruded from holes in the side and he lowered the visor over his face.

"Out front in five in your ride," Junk Dog began, before stopping. " 'Cept, you don't gotta new one, do you?"

"Got it handled." Rikers turned away, pulling the jumpsuit back on as he marched back to his workstation. In the back of the meetup, what used to be a neon blue Subaru WRX STI now-turn war machine was still being worked on by some artificer chick he had pulled from last night's gig. Sleek black racing stripes and flashy patterns accentuated its sides, but what really stole the show was a complex set of integrated weaponry. Machine gun ports, active protection system nabbed from some military tank, mine resistant armor plating...

It had been stripped away of most of its glamor and weight, and armor plating had been placed upon it at strategic angles to reduce drag. The doors were a charcoal color, contrasting with the rest of the vehicle's body. The artificer gal had definitely put a lot of work into this one.

The whole exchange he had made with her was a favor for a favor—he worked her venue, playing his music and busting skulls as needed, and she tuned up his ride for no charge. He didn't recall much of the details, only that she paid well and was high up somewhere in Sin City. However, once she saw him approach, she tensed up, biting her lower lip as she lowered her tools. Ethan stopped and shifted, expecting bad news.

"It's not ready yet, Amp," She whined. There was the bad news. "You push it too hard and you might blow the engine again, baby..."

"I've got it under control." He shooed her aside, clambering into his vehicle window first, but not before slamming the hood shut. The engine came to life, roaring and snarling like a caged beast... but once his hands where on the steering wheel, it flared with more power, the growl going up an octave into a steady hum. Bluish flames flickered from the exhaust as the "vr-tut-tut-tut-tut-tut-tut" of the engine drowned out the thumping of bass and amen breaks on the car's own speakers.

"I'll be back before you know it," He strapped himself in, rolling his neck as he slipped his own helmet on.

"About that..." The Artificer chick mumbled. "Drone came by earlier, one of Deus Machina's. Said he needed you in particular at the Hoover Dam, ASAP."

Ethan's eyes rolled. His knuckles whitened as he tightly gripped the wheel, growling. More errands. Less time for himself. Less time to think. Things were moving too quickly. He shifted the car into gear and pressed his other leg onto the clutch without a second to hesitate. "I'll hit him up after this. See you in a bit."

The car skidded out onto a flat road made from the sand, throwing a miniature sandstorm out behind it beneath its off-road wheels. The engine flared up again as it caught up to a muscle car holding short of a nearby mesa, a drone hovering overhead to keep pace with the two racers.

The Artificer woman pursed her lips, pouting. He hadn't even asked her for his name...

---

76%

Lap two, heart beating, music thumping, still on beat.

The Militia attack choppers on their tail and the unexploded ordnance that peppered the desert were the least of their concern. The Subaru was cutting ahead of the Mustang, an equally armored and speedy monstrosity producing an almost constant set of flames from ports on his side. He felt like he was toasting from the heat, but it didn't matter. If Junk Dog was trying to tire him out with heatstroke, it wasn't going to work.

They pulled into a bend in the hills and mountains at almost 120 mph, weaving through the narrow passes in the rocks, guided only by beacons placed by the Bank Rollers prior to their duel. The heavenly golden glow of one of the beacons indicated a hard right turn up ahead, else death by rock wall was imminent. Ethan downshifted and cut the wheel to the right, drifting narrowly ahead of Junk Dog's whip, before shifting back into gear.

Pedal to the metal, the Subaru cut from 120 to 180 in a seconds. He felt himself getting pushed backwards into his seat as he saw Junk Dog's Mustang disappear in a cloud of dust... only for him to see a flash in that same cloud in his rearview mirror.

High beams on, the Mustang blasted through a nearby rock formation, one of its integrated missile launchers folding back into itself as another popped up to fire a shot at the Subaru.

Ethan swore, cutting to a hard left turn as the APS swatted another missile out of the sky... but it had finally run dry. A low whining tone buzzed out from a device above the dashboard, indicating yet another lock.

This mother fucker!

88%

His heart skipped a beat—he felt it drop, then focused that energy outwards with a gasp. A golden light immediately enveloped the vehicle as his energy shield surrounded it. The missile detonated against the barrier, rattling the vehicle. Ethan almost lost focus and control as he rapidly spun the wheel to correct his course. Past him, the Mustang had pulled ahead by two car lengths. It was going to be three if he didn't make a move soon.

68%

Lap three. Junk was playing dirty, drying out his APS right before the end. Both cars hopped off a small hill before landing in the desert, speeding down an open stretch to their top speeds. Ethan shifted into last gear, but the Mustang was still too far ahead. "You son of a..."

Fuck it. His fingers danced along the dashboard. New playlist, new song, volume cranked max. Industrial guitar riffs had replaced amen breaks, and Ethan's hands were on the stick and wheel respectively.

The lights flickered—the car ran free for a moment, then the engine kicked back into life, full power. The Mustang took a burst from the Subaru's integrated machine guns, sparks flowering off its rear armor plating. It took a ram, then another... and then both cars were practically touching tips as they drifted down the dips and turns in the rocks.

!!! 93% !!!

Another hard turn to the right, then it was the last stretch. Ethan stuck the vehicle into cruise control and lowered the driver side window, planting a hand on the driver side door before rolling to the roof. The wind beat against his skin, blasting his hair backwards, but he clung to the top of the vehicle with a vice grip.

Behind him, he willed as much energy as he could into his free hand. Light had begun to gather in the form of a miniature sun in his right hand. He knew the Mustang was too quick to track, too tanky to just blast outright...

...but what if there was an alternative to take it out...?

His eyes snapped upwards to a nearby mesa. Flinging his wrist forward, he threw the energy orb in a ghetto form of a pitcher's fastball. "Fuck you!"

The orb cut right over the Mustang, tearing up a small gash in the dirt as it did so, but true to its path, it slammed into the mesa ahead of them.

Junk Dog let out an arrogant howl over their shared radio. "<<You missed!>>"

Amp didn't respond. A golden explosion severed the rock formation, causing it to slide on its side. He prayed gravity would carry it towards the road—then was rewarded as he upper half of the rock formation tilted towards the road. The Mustang's brake lights cut on as Ethan swerved the Subaru around it. His hand made a downwards fanning motion, and he felt a lurching motion in his stomach as the car suddenly went airborne.

The car sailed over the obstacle in the road. Beneath him, he swore he could hear the grinding and crunching of metal from a particularly nasty crash. He then braced as the vehicle came down at an angle, rattling horrifically as it spun to the side for a bit, then straightened out before blasting down the finish line.

43%

Like a balloon being deflated, all of that excess energy had passed out of him as the car slid to a halt right beneath the skyline of Springfield, wedged between the mountains and the blue sky. Ethan stumbled out of the vehicle and fell to his knees. The recoil of his high rushed back into his body in an invisible kick to the gut, and he let out a long retch, dry heaving for a few seconds as the withrawals from the adrenaline high kicked in.

The world snapped back into focus from the panicked tunnel vision of colors and blurs that he had become used to for the past half hour. His body was numb from an almost nonstop barrage of racing, bass, and off-roading. He wasn't sure if the smell on him was motor oil, or sweat, or wet dog, or everything few and far between, but he needed to clean up.

He wanted to go home—to hop in the shower and catch a quick power nap, but he had places to be. Appointments to catch. If it was Deus Machina calling, he didn't want to be late. It sounded important.

But this better be worth my time.

He wobbled onto his feet and popped the trunk, changing right then and there into his usual outfit, topped off with a spray of deodorant and a swig from a fresh energy drink can. In seconds, he was back in the car, punching in the coordinates to the Hoover Dam, 30 miles southeast of Fabulous Springfield. Normal cars would've made the trip in about an hour. He was slated to make it in a quarter of that time.

Another second passed, and the engine roared to life. The blue Subaru blasted back onto I-515 and gunned it down the empty road, beginning the 30 mile sprint towards Lake Mead.

---

Ethan knew he was late once he saw a group of people gathered up at the meeting point at the dam, likely probably saying a few things from the choice of his music and the loud thumping emanating from the dusty, battle-scarred Subaru. There were a few Altered here and there, but mostly everyone seemed pretty innocuous...and he recognized no one. He assumed the dragon was some sort of heavy-hitter, but other than that, he had been lacking on his homework. Not that he cared to look into these people, that is.

Introductions weren't really his strong suit, anyways, nor did he really feel like asking questions, except towards Deus.

Speaking of...

"Yo, bot," the mercenary musician spoke up out of the blue, stepping out the vehicle with that same energy drink can he had been nursing since the drive here, now empty. He slammed the car door shut and crushed the silver can between his fingers and his palm, lobbing it towards a nearby trash can. "Never told me why I needed to come all the way out here to your pad. What's going on?"

He gave an upwards nod to the others in the gaggle. Maybe they knew him, maybe they didn't, but being nice wouldn't hurt.

[Tomia]

Jack "Solo" Alvarez
Springfield, March 13th, 2024

---

Jack had told Dues this whole recruitment drive was a waste of time. Well, he had told one of his robots at least. It's not like Jack had ever met the real Dues, if there really was a man behind the robotic curtain. But he had told him that even with his so called evaluations he was going to produce a makeshift team of crazies. The fact that as Jack's helicopter approached the dam he saw a giant flying reptile and what looked like something being shot out of a cannon only reaffirmed that belief in his mind. Jack opened the helicopter door as they found themselves hovering over the damn about 20 feet. The pilot had began his descent.

"Don't bother man, I'll take it from here." Jack called out to the pilot in the front of the vehicle. The pilot worked for Deus just like Jack did, and the helicopter was one of the perks that Jack got for being the robot mayor's gun. Not that he wouldn't easily trade it away for his freedom.

"Uh, are you sure sir?"

Jack smiled at that, "So long" He said, giving a playful salute as he jumped backwards out of the helicopter. He picked up significant speed as he plummeted to the ground, the concrete beneath him shaking breaking apart ever so slightly as he landed on one knee. He was wearing his typical yellow jacket that was essentially a modified fireman's jacket, underneath he had a ripped black t-shirt, and a small gold ring on a golden chain swung across his neck. He shook himself off before approaching the group that had gathered. He didn't recognize most of the people that had gathered, though that wasn't very surprising to him. He worked alone as his name suggested and he didn't tend to be the mingle with other mercs type.

"This better be worth my time Deus. There's a bounty on some tweaked out titan who tore up a grocery that looks mighty tempting right now." He said casually to the robot that had gathered them. A strange cross wearing woman was offering people refreshments. Certainly not the weirdest thing this group would have to offer he was sure.

"I'm good... thanks" He told her, he wasn't super comfortable around bible types, which frankly were a pretty strange sight themselves in this city he had no choice but to call home.

[The Republic of Atria]

The Hoover Dam, March 13

One after the other, the many people he invited began to show up. Part of Deus was curious as to just how they would make the journey. Those with the ability to fly did just that, most of them took their own personal vehicles, or rode on someone who could fly. That and the one who arrived in what looked to be a makeshift cannon. "I certainly hope your skills match the eccentricity of your arrivals." Deus said. Most everyone he sent the invitations to had arrived except... He looked at the bird-man. Asmodeus. He wasn't on the list of people he invited, and pinged the drone just to check, only for the vast majority of it's data to have been corrupted. Something to look into later.

One of the last to arrive, Jack, one of his subordinate's soldiers mentioned that this had better be worth it. "I can assure you, this will very much be worth your time. It will be worth all of your time, but before we discuss payment, let us discuss the job. Ordinarily, I try to handle my affairs on my own, but I feel this is something I cannot. At least not without catastrophic damaged to myself and the Dam. I have a VIP, Her name is Elane Bailey. She is a defector from the government, yes, the one you're thinking of, a powerful precognitive, who has promised me, and by extension, you all, a wealth of information in exchange for protection. Normally I'd have little issue doing that myself, but someone else, likely someone within the government, found out about our plan and notified the Ascendants about her." He started.

"I've been keeping tabs on the Ascendants for many reasons. Their powers operate at a scale significantly above average which presents issues that we will get into later." As he spoke, the lens to the "head" of the robot produced to scale holograms of the three Ascendants. "You probably recognize the largest one: Boorish. You wanted to fight a titan Jack? It doesn't get much more titan than her." The hologram itself stood about eleven and a half feet tall. Boorish looked as her name implied, covered head to toe in dark gray hair, had a face that very much resembled that of wild boars and a musculature that made her about as wide as most people were tall.

"Next is Godray." There stood a more normal looking man, though his eyes glowed a bright gold and his arms were also a glossy, pure gold color. Slicked back, black hair and a smug expression adorned his face. "A blaster/speeder. Extremely powerful and precise energy beams on top of a flight speed that could easily break the speed of sound."

"Lastly, Sandstorm." The final hologram was a man with red/orange skin and his facial hair having been replaced with what looked like stones of a similar color. Almost statuesque. "Quaker/titan with a bit of shifter. Broad and potent control of sand and stone. Often creates his namesake to disorientate his foes." He said. "I've got it on good authority that these three will be attempting to retrieve her from me. I've taken the liberty of having numerous decoys to divert their attention so we can divide and conquer, but before we discuss strategy, we will discuss payment." He said and turned the holograms off.

"Those who meaningfully participate will be receiving thirty thousand dollars in your choice of cash or credit. As well as the promise of far more lucrative work in the near future. You have 48 hours to decide, and your are welcome to use the Hoover Dam as a base of operations, as well as a workshop for those who need such, until the job is complete. If you have questions, ask them now."

"I've got a bunch of stuff growing back in my apartment, could you arrange some transportation so I can move them over here for a bit?" Greg asked. The Ascendants? He knew that they were the new big kids on the block, what did they want with some government precog?

"It will be done." Deus confirmed

"I guess that's enough time for us to get to know each other." Wyatt said. He couldn't get goosebumps anymore, but there was a small shudder at the thought of going up against Boorish. She couldn't fly and he could, but getting within arm's reach was absolutely a death sentence. The tiniest bit of doubt crawled into his mind since he really didn't need the money very much, but Greg seemed completely unfazed about the prospect of going up against them.

"I understand any trepidation, but there is some good news. From my understanding, they do not work together well, and not only that, they want Elane alive, so we can expect them to be pulling their punches to avoid unnecessary collateral damage. I imagine they will also be trying to avoid damage to the Dam itself, since it supplies most of the city's electricity, their reputation would take a considerable hit if we were to lose power for an extended period of time, so getting her here as quick as possible is the goal."

[Zei-Aeiytenia]

Verity Celeste
March 13th - Hoover Dam


Had anyone but Deus even noticed, she wondered? Verity could not claim to bare any surprise at all that not a single pair of eyes had even so much as scanned the landscape curiously, let alone spotted her on the way in. She'd seen the statistics, the rates for death and injury of people in this city, especially new comers. It seemed unlikely any of this lot been around long. With the observed carelessness, only luck itself could've preserved their lives for so many years.

She'd spent every day since receiving the message preparing, weapons checks, new parts, dry cleaning; touring the town casually as she'd never done before, almost like a tourist. Conversations oh so fleeting and seemingly meaningless. With the typical mindset and behavior of most people in Springfield, few were the number who would have had the sense to realize she was gathering information.

Afterall, it was a bit strange for a new, relative nobody, to be summoned by the unofficial mayor. Budget constraints were of no concern for such a man, and that only made his selection choices more curious. She had gathered little, just rumors of Deus's drones all across the city, occasionally even a name or alias along with it. None of them proved interesting or noteworthy either, assuming they were even the people summoned.

Picking nobodies specifically meant he needed things quiet. Nothing too strange there, on the surface. Looking deeper, however, would lead one to ask whose eyes precisely he is trying to avoid. It's Deus. The list of people who could put that man and his ability to see, hear, and know damn near anything and everything he wants in this city, is a short one. But she couldn't hear a word about what he needed them for, or who he was trying to evade the knowledge of, and so instead she left early. Very early.

Sun not yet risen early. She didn't fly there, either. Whoever it was Deus was concerned about ought be taken as seriously as he is, it was likely they were doing their own homework, and just because he picked nobodies, doesn't mean they hadn't found their names. She flew only in short bursts of distance, taking a very long route around, walking for at least half the time though a fraction the traveled distance, and then stopped short of the Dam at all. Just under four miles to the South, atop the highest spot on the hills there she could find, and with a pair of powerful binoculars and clear field of view all around, sat amongst the shrubbery and dirt as the sun rose overhead, the wind gently blew.

Two Altered came in, a fox riding atop a dragon. A peculiar cannon fired over the dam and spat out two passengers, a bird man, multiple vehicles - one arriving barely in time and flooring it at a speed she could've run pace with. Some seemed to just... appear out of frankly nowhere. Best guess was teleportation, but she couldn't reason out why he'd require so many of them. Though, notably, one of them she'd actually spotted walking in, who then teleported a few miles out. Someone got unlucky with range limitations.

Finally, as the time ticked due, a helicopter made appearance as the final arrival on its last approaches. Verity sent off a quick prayer as she packed the binoculars away, more than a little pleased with the luck of not only getting to check who she'd be standing around before they showed up (or if they were ambushed on the way), but that one of them even had the kindness to take something as loud and attention grabbing as a helicopter!

The Lord works in mysterious ways, but keep your faith true, and when he's sending a sign, you'll know. Once again, proving itself to be the best advice she'd ever received. Between the helicopters noise and spectacle, the question asked of the mechanical man who stepped off, and Deus starting his explanation right after, there wasn't any attention left to spare as she silently touched down behind the group. She observed the assemble cast before her as she took in Deus' words.

Only one of the two from the cannon from as an Artificer, she was sure of that now. Plainly obvious, really. Brushing over the mild concern at what appeared to be a child here, body language and expression differences between the two informed Verity that said child had designed the contraption in question, and the other had begrudgingly been convinced into it. The obvious Cyborg and the Dragon amongst them were Titans, the Fox and Bird were Altered but beyond that was unclear.

Well, except that in regards to the latter, she really needed to tip the hat she hadn't worn to Deus. Man knows how to throw people off his trail and absolutely confound any intelligence gathering on his operation, hiring nobodies is one thing, but homeless ones? A living is so easy to come by, folks like that in this city are useless by definition, regardless of the reasoning that put them there.

One of the obvious teleporters hid behind him. Presumably she had little in the way of direct combat ability. Her choice of shield indicated she was looking for an easily disposable damage sponge so she could escape. Another woman, with short auburn hair, stood out for other reasons. She looked almost normal, shockingly so. At a glance. Spare a second more with any thought, and it immediately became obvious that she was not, infact, human.

The mimicry, in terms of physical shape and appearance, was damn near perfect. Enough to get past the eye of most people without trouble. Everything beneath the surface, everything more subtle, facial expression and body language especially, screamed of the uncanny valley.

Deus was nearly done explaining, confirming her expectations for opponents to the operation, when she reached two familiar faces. Charlie, seen about in the similar circles of work and skills as Verity herself operates. In Springfield, there's a mish mash of everything. You can't always find someone with the professional background you need. Like, say, a coroner. Instead, you would find Charlie.

Second was Archie, owned a nice Diner. The kind with private, sound proof rooms, that didn't ask questions or give answers to them, and served some of the finest home cooked lunch or breakfast in the city. He'd arrived here with a woman who wore a veil, and the idea of a nun in this city was almost laughable. Almost. More horrifying than anything, that one fully pledged to the Lord would find themselves riding in hell.

With stock now taken of everyone here, and some ease put to mind that at least three of them deserved something other than an immediate bullet to the head, Verity reflected on what Deus had told them. A Precognitive defector from the government, with the Ascendants of all people hot on their tails. Deus had done his best to split them up, and they weren't attuned to working well with each other either. What little consolation that was, for a group of mostly random strangers who'd never met.

They still had time to prepare too, though she didn't need it, she suspected many of the shortsighted here would. Both berretta's were hidden easily in her suit jacket, and beneath the low flowing tied back crimson locks on her head was a small holster across her upper back, and lower a bag of similar size. Crossbows. An odd thing to see these days, especially in the world of superpowers, but hers couldn't be fully utilized with conventional firearms. Not without destroying them. With it, however, her bolts could hit as hard as anything less than a small cannon, with far cheaper maintenance and ammunition to boot.

Despite that though, she had concerns. Not enough to turn down the offer, even if primarily for her own curiosity. Would she even be capable of particularly harming such foes? She'd not be surprised if Boorish could simply shrug off her shots. Godray was an entirely different problem, she could hurt him in theory, but not before he could end her life. Sandstorm would likely be the best match, vision is only part of the equation. He could inhibit the higher ends of her precision, but to guide them to the target at all only required being able to sense and connect to a physical presence, and he was likely of lesser durability than Boorish.

Assuming... most of the others here had at least some comparable level of ability in their own specialties, it's certainly doable. Difficult, but doable. There was nothing much left to consider; mystery alone enough to pique any detective's interest, the pay was almost nothing more than a bonus. With all that done, she made her presence obvious to anyone who had somehow still not noticed with an audible sigh.

"Well, about what i'd expected and prepared for. You've got my aim, Deus."

[Zarkenis Ultima]

As he waited for the machine overlord to divulge the details of this job or even acknowledge their existence, Wallace observed with a distant sort of curiosity as more and more people arrived, undoubtedly drawn by the same sort of cryptic message he and Isabelle had received from one of Deus Machina's drones. The tall bird man he did not know, nor the girl who hid behind him. Not the man who had teleported there either, or the one who walked from places unknown. Not the flesh-puppet, nor the racer, nor the watcher on high. It made plenty of sense to him, really. Most of the people he knew to any significant degree were either too weak to be considered for some sort of clandestine job, too well-known, or as in Isabelle's case, already here.

He did, however, recognize the nun, and the doctor as well. They were nice. Good people. Not as judgmental and Machiavellian as most were in Springfield. He found himself drawn in their general direction, even before the offer of refreshments was on the table, though that did provide a nice excuse. More importantly, it made him reflect for a moment on his own needs. In his first year in Springfield he got so used to not having much to put on the table that he'd often forget to eat and drink, a habit that had proven itself difficult to excise though times had since changed for the better.

That is to say, he was thirsty.

"Look at you running off like a puppy. They're going to think I don't feed you." Isabelle remarked, though he made no indication of hearing. That usually only made her upset, but he assumed - correctly - that she was much too focused on other matters at the moment to care.

He walked over to where the old healer was trying to stand in front of two women, his queer amble matching his lanky figure. Grabbed a plastic cup, got his fill of reddish-orange liquid. He paid no mind to the healer or to the thing that was pretending to be human, though for that last one a part of him did feel a sliver of empathy. Sometimes, especially at night, he felt like he himself was something other, merely pretending to be human.

"Thank you, sister." He mumbled, averting his eyes. He always did like to see people smile, but he tried not to stare. It was bad manners. Made the smiles go away. He drank contentedly afterwards, clearly lacking all the reservations that others had about the drink. Not, certainly, out of ignorance, but instead out of indifference. Blood, water, brine, they were all the same in the end. Not that he was stupid enough to drink brine.

"Doctor." He nodded respectfully in the direction of the labcoat lover. That was it. He didn't often have much that he wanted to say to other people, but he knew to be polite. More or less. And company never went amiss, really. Certainly not amidst so many strangers.

Eventually, Deus Machina began his explanation of what the job would entail. The politics of it weren't of his interest, and the practical details were easy for Wallace to keep up with. Someone was coming in, dangerous people were after her, they had to get her here safe and sound. It boiled down to the exact same as every other job in this forsaken city: exert violence against the right people to get money. The rationale behind this one, at least, was something he could get behind - it wasn't so much a murder or shakedown as an escort mission, or perhaps a rescue of sorts. Protecting someone.

"I'm in."

"Woah there, bit eager to jump into the frying pan are we?" Isabelle spoke up, walking over to her companion. "You know, Marvin here said the bad guys don't wanna hurt the VIP, but there was nothing about us. What do you think's gonna happen if Boorish gets a hold of you, huh?"

"Now you care about my well-being." He responded in a deadpan, narrowing his eyes ever so slightly. There was a little green notebook somewhere in the artificer's weapon caches where Disaster's many subtle expressions were detailed. This one was something akin to a middle finger. And a loogie.

"Hey, we got here safe and sound, and in time." She stated, crossing her arms defensively. Then, for good measure... "Fuck you."

The blonde girl turned to face Deus Machina. "Anyway, thirty grand does sound like a juicy reward, but - I hate to point this out - don't you have people here who can, you know, teleport and stuff? I can't imagine there's a much better way to get your girlfriend to the safety of your mancave here than by directly teleporting her over." She remarked. Maybe she could negotiate a cut of the pay for pointing out the obvious solution.

[Europa Undivided]

Nikephorus Fraser

Nike would be quick as lightning when Candace offered a drink to everyone. He would pop right beside her in a flurry of purple mist, slightly nodding at her as he took a plastic cup. “Amen to that, sister,” Nike said, watching as Candace poured the red drink into the cup. “Teleporting six times over thirty miles is quite tiring too… even with breaks. Thanks for this.”

With that, he looked at the cup’s contents for a second before taking a sip. He had experimented with cocktails in his own free time, but he was no barista or bartender, whatever the proper term was. Still, this drink tasted good and slightly sweet; Nike deduced that it was mostly some sort of fruit mix. Something like Four Seasons, maybe, but with six seasons instead? It was difficult to tell.

Nikephorus then nodded along as Deus began to brief the group on their mission. Apparently, a precognitive, a person that could see the future, had renounced the United States government and fled to Springfield. He felt a tinge of remembrance as Deus proceeded to mention that some government official had probably paid the Ascendants to bag the woman. There was once a time when he would do the government's bidding for cash, too. After that, that was half of the reason why he even joined a United Nations sponsored team. It paid very well.

“Lady that could see the future… where the hell was she back then? Might have been of help.” Nikephorus said, grumbling, only to quickly realize that she was probably just a girl or teenager at the time. He looked down and kept his hands in his pockets, eyeing Deus’ drone as he kept speaking through it.

As the briefing continued, Nike found himself slightly shivering as Boorish’s hologram appeared. She was utterly gigantic, and, should he get to her bad side, probably would try to turn him into two pieces of a once greater whole. There was just something about Titans that unsettled Nike. But again, he was tiny at a mere 4’11”, and always had to look up to others. It seemed to him that his parents must have invested all his points into luck and little to everything else.

That would explain so much.

The blonde girl turned to face Deus Machina. "Anyway, thirty grand does sound like a juicy reward, but - I hate to point this out - don't you have people here who can, you know, teleport and stuff? I can't imagine there's a much better way to get your girlfriend to the safety of your mancave here than by directly teleporting her over.”

“I don't know about the others, but I have a… range limit,” Nike said as a certain blonde girl mentioned teleporters, which included himself. “I certainly won't be able to get her straight here on the Dam if she's more than a few kilometers away.”

There was that power amplification Artificer tech that one of my late friends made, but it's useless without its creator, Nike then thought.

[New Rnclave]

Ozzie

Listening to the bible study nerd speak, along with the rapidly expanding gaggle of weirdos gathering to listen to Dick Machinima speak, really drove home for Ozzie the growing notion that maybe he shouldn't have gotten out of bed for this clusterfuck.'No creativity here, just a bunch of nerds who can teleport, must be why they needed a kickass bird-guy like me,' Ozzie mused, choosing to ignore the little goober in the red scarf who seemed upset he called them bitches, instead turning his attention back to the nun offering them drinks.

'Oh Hell yeah, Virgin Mary," he nearly shouted in her face, flashing a smile of golden fangs at her as he double fisted two glasses of the maybe(?) soda, "You make pop sound lame, but I've been fucking around here for an hour now."

It was only after hopping back with both glasses, and spilling some on his already ratty jeans, that Ozzie became acutely aware of someone breathing on the back of his wings, the hairs standing up on the back of his neck as he peered over his shoulder at another one of these weirdos who seemed to be sheltering herself from the rest of the gaggle behind his fucking awesome and stunning wings. "Good fucking lord, woman" Ozzie gaped, tucking his wings in as he maneuvered himself behind her, effectively swapping their spots, "I'm not your bullet sponge, go hide behind someone else if you're that spooked."

Turning his attention back to the main event, the birdman nearly rolled his eyes as he tuned into the big dick in charge rambling on about his cool little secret mission he'd recruited them all to be apart of, not missing the weird moment where they locked eyes and he kind of cocked his head at him?

'Fuck you too,' Ozzie thought, sticking his middle finger out on the less full glass he was holding, although, his ears perked up at the mention of Godray, feeling an opportunity to interrupt the lame conversation and brag about himself, both of his favorite things. “Yeah I know about Godray," Ozzie interjected, “Hardly gotta worry about someone like him when you've got me here."

"Besides, he can't be that cool with a lame ass name like that, sounds like he's compensating," he finished, spreading his arms out as confident smirk grew across his face. This was obviously a whole lot of nothing, wrapped in the same melodramatic BS the government here in Springfield always used to get people riled up, and looking around, he could definitely see that it was working on these nerds.

'They always cry and whine about Mad-Dog or whatever too, and I can't think of a single time I've had to get outta bed for that loser,Ozzie thought casually, shrugging as he did, letting the blonde chick finish her, admittedly really good point.

"I have to agree with the blonde babe," Ozzie interjected again, spilling more of the red pop all over as he gestured with it," I still would expect to get paid, but seems like a whole lot of work for us, when you've got a bunch of peeps who can teleport. Work smarter, not harder y'know, Mayor Machinima?"

[Cybernetic Socialist Republics]

Christina Jarrett, Redemptress

March 13, 2024
Outside Springfield

Christina was levitating, full speed towards the Hoover dam in the distance. That Deus Machina invite landed on her birthday was a mixed blessing for Christina. One, it meant at least someone was technically doing something that unvolved her on birthday, but it probably also mean' that something was work. But if nothing else, the work that she was doing would probably be different then what she was used to.

Since she arrivied in Springfield and been taken in by the Heavyweights, she'd managed to mostly keep her head low and out of danger. At first she received training, but not long after that she began helping train other new comers. Another source of income been arena fights against other people in her power range, which was low enough for people without combat related powers to qualify. So far, she'd managed to go undefeated in those bouts, but as her second year in Springfield was about to end, she'd find herself in a lot more dangerous matches if she wanted to keep fighting, so she figured she needed another way of making money & bounties were an optio. But, she always felt weird about taking bounties. More often the not there was no way to be certain that the target really deswrved to be hunted down. Really it just came down to if the person iregistering the bounty had the money to do so & having a lot of money in springfield pretty closely aligned with not being the most moral of people.


Bounties were also highly competitive, it wasn't uncommon to findself in a fight with someone else go after the same bounty, twice she'd cossed paths with a young woman after the same target. First time she attacked her, second time Christina tried to prempt her by hitting first. The target got away both times. Another day they happened to randomly cross paths again, without a word, they fought. Christina hadn't been in the city for two years and she had a nemisis, whose name she didn't know & for little good reason as well.

She hated that sort of mercenary, meaningless violence, precisely because she enjoyed it. She'd spent all of her childhood paralyzed &, there was no greater & more ironic expression of her new superpowered physicality than the fact that she could, if she wanted to, paraylze others. Yet at the same time she knew it was wrong, that if she was going to use her gifts in violent ways, thay it be for positive cause for others. Except whenever she got to her hands on her nemisis, she'd have to ask god forgivness for that.

The trip to the hoover dam was not all that difficult. Once she got out of the busiest areas of the city limits, it was full speed levitation the rest of the way. Her levitation was useful, sure, but it was at around head height, which made it somewhat cumbersome to use at full speed amongst any signifcant amount of foot traffic. She didn't stop for breakfest, she didn't feel particuarly hungry, she really only felt like eating after excercise or fights.

Christina arrivied somewhat late, but soon enough to be there for Deus Machina to address the group. What he told them here was also a mixed blessing. Thirty thousand cash was great pay, who they were up against was frightning. Boorish was clearly strong enough to easily kill her & Godray hit fast enough to easily kill her as well. Sandstorm was the closest Christina could see herself doing much of anything about, if his sand powers didn't cut her to pieces first. The beat thing was the group that was around her seemed confident enough to assure her they could do most of the heavy lifting while she helpt as she could. All she had to do appear unphased and helpful.

[Finland SSR]

March 13th

---

A whole selection of misfits of various stripes were gathering on the Hoover Dam, to the point where it was even starting to get a little concerning. What does Deus expect to make of this gang? Some of the people here did not seem like they were fit for action at all, not even considering how well they would work with one another. Which is, to say, not at all. Still, Candace opted to maintain some optimism. And perhaps she could help these poor souls, too? The kind smile on her face did not waver, even when faced with the oddest first impression.

"Ehehe, I'm not the Virgin Mary at all - claiming to be her would be unbecoming of a lowly sister like myself," she answered Asmodeus's yell at her face as calmly and politely as she could and then handed his glass of drink to him. "Hope you enjoy!" At least her drink was capturing the attention of the crowd - alongside the brash and impolite bird Altered, she was visited by a taciturn dark haired man, tagging along with Firestorm, and filled him up a cup and offered him with a nod, then a teleporter. Fickle, or Stephanie as she'd still hope to call her, had a cup as well - but that was to be expected.

"If anyone is hesitating, don't worry. I can always make more, it's really easy," Candace explained. A single pill dropped to a filled bottle of blood quickly disintegrates its cells and proteins to build it into a drink - and she had a handful with them alongside all her other equipment. Whether or not anyone else was still itching for a drink, however, that had to come later. Alongside everyone else, Candace turned to Deus, listening as the machine overlord explained his reason for calling all of them. An important person, with information he needed to get hands on, was to be safeguarded and brought to the Dam, in exchange for fairly solid payment for everyone involved. What complicated this was the involvement of the Ascendants. A trio of them were after them, each of them fairly intimidating in their own right. They apparently don't work well, if Deus is to be believed, but this gang is hardly any better in that regard. Granted, I doubt Deus expects all of us to survive this.

"Oh, dear... I don't really see myself as a mercenary," the nun said, her voice a little concerned. "But, if it involves saving a human soul, I suppose I can help to the best of my capacity." That being said, the money certainly wouldn't hurt. She always needed more to repair her chapel and to purchase food for the city's destitute and orphaned. Her doctor's wage and manufacturing essentials with her artificery helped make up the gap, but she could help a little bit more people with some money in the bank.

"I can't say I would be much help in the battle itself, if that's what you all are planning. I have a few gadgets, but I'm more comfortable keeping all of you up and healthy..."

An on-site experiment on how well a high level super can resist lethal blood manipulation would certainly be exciting if possible, though.

[Tomia]

Jack "Solo" Alvarez
Springfield, March 13th, 2024

---

Jack listened to Deus' description of their targets, he had in fact heard of all of them. The ascendants sending three of their heavy hitters meant they wanted this government defector badly. Frankly, this wasn't worth the money as far as Jack was concerned, but he wasn't really there by choice. Besides, maybe this group would turn out to have someone who could fix his problem... He was deep in thoughts as the teenage girl amongst them asked a valid question about teleportation, a few others voiced their support of the question. It was a reasonable one, but Jack had a different thought.

"30K is great and all, and thanks for offering up your drones to distract them but, who is in charge here exactly then? The ascendants may not work well together but what make us better? This little group seems like a cluster fuck frankly, and I'm not dying because some asshole decides to go rogue. We need someone to make a real plan, and to do that we need to know what people are capable of. For my part, I'm strong, durable, and right now I can fire a high powered mid range energy cannon. Godray is probably my easiest mark, but I'll deal with any of them if I have to." He paused for a moment, and considered asking about artificers among them but decided against it. He neither wanted to talk to this whole crowd about what he really was nor tip his hand around his involuntary employer.

[Mortasheen]

Fickle took a sip from the beverage. Power Sense activated as it entered her body.

[SANGUINE_ARMORY] = <<A HIGH-EFFICIENCY NUTRIENT AND VITAMIN SUPPLEMENT DERIVED FROM BLOOD>>

As she had ingested the fluid, interacted with Candace’s power, she gained an imprintation to spend. A ‘charge’, if you will. She chose to spend it on consumption: her arms and shoulders in Stateshift transformed into a set of bionic limbs made of glass tubing, the fingers of which were tipped with wicked-looking needles.

Fickle took another sip of the beverage. It was acceptable. As she did, she noticed one of the attending hosts eying her in a particular way— the kind of look the hosts gave when they saw something more in her, and caught a glimpse of what lay beneath her presentation. Verity, she overheard. She registered them as an -undecided, with a mental note to escalate her to a -threat should circumstances conspire. She didn’t exactly like the look in her eyes.

Speaking of things she didn’t like, Fickle narrowed her eyes as the host featuring avian mutations— Asmodeus, he called himself— put his belligerent personality on full-force display. It would’ve been a fascinating case study in host psychology if he weren’t so irritating. Especially with how he spoke to Candace; his little stint with her in particular prompted her to assume a subtly more hostile posture, like an animal gearing up for a threat display. It was only after Candace responded with her usual calm patience that Fickle stopped staring so intently at Asmodeus and relaxed her frame. She logged him mentally as a -belligerent.

Some of the other hosts briefly cast strange looks her way, but neither were as notable to her as those two. She listened to Deus as she explained the situation— the mention of the Ascendants immediately grabbed her attention, as did the mention of Boorish. Hated, hated Boorish. A part of Fickle wondered why exactly she despised that particular host so much… only for that thought to get swallowed up in the sea of hatred. It wasn’t entirely her own, in a puzzling way. Her face spasmed a little. She listened further: Elane Bailey, a precognitive who had defected from the host government, was offering data in exchange for protection from those who would harm her. Namely, the Ascendants.

She thought on this proposition. Calculated. It was a fair exchange, and the monetary compensation of host wealth Deus was offering made the deal all the better.

“I have found the terms you have proposed to be highly acceptable, Deus-undecided. You have my assistance in the matter.”

[The Republic of Atria]

March 13, The Hoover Dam

The meeting was going more or less as he expected. Though at least Candace had brought some refreshments to help ease everyone. Gregory also brought a pack, but it seemed it was more filled with his artifice as a precautionary measure. Understandable. The first major concern was about using the teleporters to simply get Elane, his "girlfriend" as Isabella put it to retrieve her. "Precisely why there are several of them. I wasn't aware of the true scope of everyone's ability to teleport, nor was I certain all of them would actually commit to such a dangerous mission so I made sure to hedge my bets. As for retrieval, well there's more than one thing happening." Deus started.

"Lets say you all combine your talents when the transport vessel is within range, and she is immediately brought to the Dam. While we will all know she's safe and secure, there's still 3 very powerful attackers that need to be repelled. This isn't just about rescuing her, it's as much about appearances. You all know just as well as I do that the moment this damned city smells weakness, it pounces. While I could likely repel them on my own, it would be very costly to myself and hamstring my ability to maintain both the dam and the city. And the timer for Madhouse is likely to run out before I can completely recover. If the people of Springfield suddenly feel like I am wronging them, in my weakened state it would not be hard for a new group to remove me from my theoretical position of power and place themselves in charge. This is as much about keeping my appearance up as it is ensuring the future of Springfield as a whole. Call it selfish if you wish, but if I don't have the control of the city that I do, then someone else will take it, and there's a very strong likelihood that they will not be as fair."

Greg listened intently between opening his pack and grabbing a strange purple and blue fruit and then took a bite out of it. Slightly sour, but quickly became sweet with the consistency of a soft orange. His large ears flicked slightly as he enjoyed his homegrown snack and nodded along. "Politics. Guess there's no escaping those no matter what." He said and looked around at the group.

"Precisely. It's a ridiculous game I admit, but worry not. I will be taking full command of this operation and do everything I can to provide support and logistics." Deus said, hoping that was sufficient for Jack.

Wyatt veered off as he saw a small group gathering around the nun. The loudmouthed bird man, who briefly made Wyatt reconsider Deus's ability to pick people who knew what they were doing, but at the very least he didn't seem dissuaded. Or maybe he just wasn't listening. What interested him was when the silver-woman drank Candace's juice, she appeared to undergo some sort of transformation with a noticeable tension brought on by Ozzie's inability to at least pretend to be civil. Her speech was also very strange. Borderline robotic, was she possibly some sort of nanotech altered? He knew Candace, kind of. Not directly, but was very much aware of her refuge and medical skills. "So... I'm sorry, silver lady? I don't know what you want to be called, but are you some sort of power copier?"

Greg's ears shifted like radar, he was hearing pretty much everything, and decided to see the large Hispanic man as not to crowd the space around Candace too much, Jack, if he heard Deus right. "I guess it's only a matter of time before every artificer jumps the shark into self-augmentation, and it looks like you went ham with it." He said looking him up and down. "How'd you do it? Pay a doc to help, or was it all done on your own? Sorry if this gets too deep, I'm also an artificer and I love talking tech. Even if I do more wet stuff."

[Zarkenis Ultima]

God, I really hope he meant it as in 'infant'.

Isabella did her best to pay no mind to the annoying bird-person as she listened to any replies to the point she made about teleporters. First was the odd man, the one almost as short as she was, stating that he had a pesky range limit on his ability that might not let him be of much help with getting their charge to safety. That was about what she expected - nothing that couldn't be offset with a little careful planning, really. Next - after a brief interruption by a rather loudmouthed and aloof cyborg mercenary - was the mayor himself responding to her query. Apparently, the whole thing was as much meant to be a big circus to keep things under control politically as it was an escort mission for his girlfriend. That complicated things, certainly.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. Gotta make a big show of... well, delaying those assholes, I guess? I really can't imagine we're going to stop or defeat Big Ugly, to be honest, so it's not like we'll be throwing a victory parade." The blonde girl reasoned, before shrugging. Ah, well. Whatever. It'll work out.

"What else... Right. Mega Man over there asked what we can do. I'm an artificer. I'll spare everyone the full catalogue for now, suffice to say I'm pretty good at making weapons." She stated. As if to demonstrate her point, she raised her gauntlet-clad hand, palm facing skyward, and snapped her fingers. Right on cue, a pillar of white-hot flames shot forth from her palm, rising several meters into the air, hot enough to melt through most mundane materials with ease. It only lasted a few seconds, until she closed her fist and the stream of fire ceased at once. Her gauntlet was entirely unaffected. "I'm better at prep work and helping from the sidelines, obviously, but I can always grab something from my arsenal if we happen to need more hands on deck." She concluded.

After speaking her part, she glanced at Wallace, nodding at him to go ahead. The young man nodded and took a few steps forward.

"I..." He trailed off after but a single word. This wasn't the first time he had tried to explain his power to someone, a power that was as strange as it was nebulous. A power he understood more through instinct and intuition than logic and reason. Accordingly, none of the previous occasions had gone too well.

"It's... hard to explain." He admitted. He glanced over at Firestorm for help, and she nodded in the direction of their landing spot. The puddle of water left there by her high-pressure cannon earlier was yet to dry off, even under the harsh Nevada sun. It was not much, but more than enough.

The young man known as Disaster extended his hand in that direction, index finger raised. His eyes began to glow a bright azure, as did the pool of water lying there upon the ground. From it, suddenly there appeared several flighty barbed tendrils, muscular appendages armored with thick bone plates, and sharp spines the size of grown men. It was but a taste, the first few things that came to mind really, but hopefully they'd do for an introduction.

It didn't last long. After a few moments, the glow around his eyes faded, and that infinitesimal shard of an alien organism retreated into the surface of the water, which then ceased to glow altogether. One would have easily missed it, if one had not been paying due attention.

"...That. I can do that."

[Segral]

JUSTIN MORENO
March 13th, 2024 | U.S. Route 93

---

- See, I been on my supplements -
- Fish oils, chlorophyll, multis -
- My hair growin' out, and hoes lovin' it...

"You said this the scenic route, bro?"

The surly beanpole in the driver's seat whipped around to stare at Justin in the back, eyes bugging out underneath a curtain of messy, jet-black curls. He looked like a Wiccan, and the pentagram rings gripping the wheel only made it worse. "You got a problem with where I drive you, foo?"

"Nah, just...man, it was just a question!" Justin groaned in response, deciding midway through his response that in fact, he wouldn't apologize for attempting to make civil conversation. "Just fuckin' drive me bro, shit!"

"What do you want at Hoover anyways?" the goth kid sneered, not even bothering to look at the road as he swung across two lanes of freeway and slid into the nearest exit. The already-sparse traffic thinned out considerly up ahead, the exit splitting off into two interior roads bare of any signs of life aside from a rundown gas station and some shrubs. Picturesque as you could get.

"None of your business." Justin replied curtly, twisting over to stare wistfully out of the back window. With the sun blinding his eyes and the drab desert lining either side of the road, it was hardly better to look at than the Fake-Wiccan. He should've just driven himself. If this whole Deus contract turned out to be a scam, or worse, a set-up, he had been hoping to prevent his car from becoming collateral damage. The problem was that it forced him to charter a ride with the cheapest Bank Roller he could find, which was also the Bank Roller most desperate to get high. "Sniper", the driver he had eventually hired, was not only smacked high off of at least three different prescription drugs, but had also decided that he had little use for basic safety measures such as "seatbelts"; when Justin had gone to strap himself in, the polyester band was stitched to the backseat.

Sniper kept probing further, popping open the fingerprint-activated glove box compartment of his kitted-out whip and rummaging around on the inside as he spoke. "You got a big bounty or something? Secret mission?" Looking in the rearview mirror, the fake-Wiccan's teeth looked yellow and nasty. It was impossible to take your eyes off of, couldn't even tell you what direction the car was going in. That just made Justin more pissed.

"Not talking. Keep driving." he said, a steely edge springing out in his voice. "And drive faster, there's no traffic. What you slowing down f--oh."

The car was at a dead standstill now, half-pulled over at the side of the empty interior road. The gas station was on the other side of the intersection; there was nobody around here for a good kilometre aside from two people, both less than six-feet apart. Justin, and Sniper, having found what he was looking for in his glove box.

"Chains off, rings off, earrings off, and turn the pockets out." Sniper barked with a growing leer, the gun in his hand clicking once as he popped the safety. "Straight dumbass."

Justin partially complied, letting out a deep, exasperated sigh through his lungs as he began to pull three silver rings off his fingers. It was the same sigh his dad would make watching him eat the field on a tackle in sixth grade. A sigh that was equal parts angry at someone else for nuisancing him and angry at himself for getting nuisanced. It ended with him carefully spilling all three rings onto the seat beside him, capped off with a vicious crack of his knuckles. "You shouldn't have clipped the seatbelts." he offered pointedly, before immediately lunging towards Sniper in the front seat.

Seconds later, the back window started to shatter.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Somehow, he had made it before Deus started the briefing. It was customary to apologize for your tardiness, but Justin didn't exactly scope out a good opportunity to approach the Almighty for a private 1-to-1. Kind of hard to summarize why his tank and jeans were soaked with blood. And why his new modified Dodge Demon (parked a safe distance away) was riddled with bullet holes. Hopefully, the hired bird-brain was enough distraction on his own to take some heat off Justin's back.

He needed to get out more; not only was he new to bird-brain, but he only recognized a handful of faces clustered around the meeting point. Solo was here; he was a Heavyweight way before Justin's time, but he knew the whole story. Poor guy. Couldn't even go out with some dignity. Justin pitied him, but no way was he gonna say that to the guy's face. Blood Sister was cool; he had showed his face at her charity a couple times a month for free lunch when he was first sleeping in that bus shelter. Very kind-hearted girl. That bottle wasn't coming anywhere near him though. Maybe that geezer in the corner ran a cafe or something? Diner? Yeah, that was about it. Not much to take in, which was good.

Good, because he fully intended on taking that 30K offer. Oddly enough, he didn't even know what he wanted for. It wasn't like he had anything to spend on. Rent, utilities, gas, food. He didn't need Artificer recovery tech, considering his powers handled most of that work. He didn't pay to hit the gym; Heavyweight premium access and weekly arena fights kept him in perfect shape. It would be cool to own his apartment instead of renting it, but 30K wasn't enough for that. Yeah, he didn't have anything to spend on. But in Springfield's economy, you'd be a fucking idiot to pass up on that big of a job. And maybe now he could work on his "getting-out more" resolution.

"Damn, Sticks, not bad. Not bad at all." Justin said, grinning at Wallace with a mixture of approval and slight outwards condescension. He was skinny enough, Sticks was a good name for now. "It's more creative than what I got going on, at least. Every Titan's cut from the same cloth. Strong, fast, can take a hit, you know the drill. I guess I could show off..." he trailed off with a look of thought, holding up his right hand so that the back of his hand faced the cluster of assembled mercs and the palm faced him. A fresh, bloody gunshot wound had pierced through, burying into his shoulder on the way out. A deep cut on his forearm and a second one on his thigh showed off some additional battle scars. With a little overtime work put into blood vessel construction and tissue growth, they were battle scars of the far past. The cuts on his arm and leg rapidly hardened into keloids, which would deflate and fall away in seconds, while the wound on his hand immediately dried and began to grow smaller in circumference. "It'll take a little while, but, yeah...I can patch myself up. Wouldn't mind some help though."

[New Rnclave]

Ozzie

'Only took about fifteen minutes of negging to get a rise outta someone,'

If there was one thing Ozzie was really good at, barring, of course, being awesome, sexy and a fucking awesome juggler, something he would never admit, it was getting under peoples skin. Maybe it was from the odd predator sense he'd grown into after his wings finished growing. Objectively speaking, it was what had allowed him to allowed him to argue with Lily for so long, being able to "sense" when she was just trying to get him to snap.'Bitch could get under people's skin like nobody's business,' Ozzie grumbled internally, his mood souring for a moment thinking of his ex-wife, before he shook his head, metaphorically shaking off the memory of that headache.

Letting his lips quirk upwards, maybe a little fakely he'd admit, he felt like a shark smelling blood in the water, taking a lazy stride forward, closer to the woman(?) who had very obviously adopted some threat display after he'd snatched two glasses from the nun.

Honestly speaking, Ozzie didn't even think he'd been that mean to Virgin Mary, she had been pretty chill all around, and he would feel bad for picking on someone like her.

This woman(?) on the other hand? Free game. She was no nun. Ozzie was like 80% sure of that.

Fickle had turned her attention back towards Dick Machinima, which obviously gave him the perfect opportunity to rile her up even more. Sliding into position next to her, Ozzie dropped his hand down on her shoulder as he did, leaning down into her space.

"I noticed that little puff up you did, babe" Ozzie began mockingly good natured, his smirk growing wider as he did,"There's no need for all the negativity, I'd never hurt a nun. Pretty sure I'd go to Hell for that."

‘Hook, line and-’’

“Wait a second.”

Firstly, Ozzie had made one very glaring mistake, and he hardly ever did that. His mistake, of course, being that his talons were now 2-3 inches inside of the things shoulder, floating inside of some kind of slime fluid shit.

Secondly, and vastly more importantly, this was not fucking muscle, or skin, or anything remotely like what he imagined a shoulder was. He had never been more sure of something in his entire life, and Ozzie was pretty fucking sure of a lot of things.

“OH MY FUCKING GOD! WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK?” Ozzie borderline shrieked, whipping his hand back from the not-woman so fast he swore he heard the sound barrier crack. Perhaps not the most manly reaction, but when these fucks were knuckle deep in the slime princess, they could weigh in on it.

[The Republic of Atria]

Things seemed to be dying down as everyone arrived. Deus was relatively confident in the groups capacity to defend the dam. Though one of the new arrivals, Justin, seemed to arrive a little injured.

"Hold on robo-guy." Greg said to Jack, "Duty calls." and opened his backpack pulling out what looked like the leaves to an aloe plant and approached the much larger man. "I heard you mention you're a titan, but wouldn't mind a bit of help. Just take these, snap'em, and rub the ooze on the wounds. Should have you patched up pretty quick." Greg said and offered them to Justin. It also made him realize that they had... Three titans? The girl who floated over and just kinda stood in the back didn't say anything, but she looked like the archetypical titan, this guy, and Wyatt, but everyone was talking about their powers. "Well, if we're doing power talk, I grow plant based stuff. artificer and all that. If it grows I can make it. Speaking which, if anyone is willing to donate some saliva to the plants because I can make some extra cool stuff with it, please let me know after I've moved some stuff over."

While Greg was talking to the others, Wyatt turned his attention to the other group around Candace. "I'm also a titan, and he's pretty much right. All cut from the same cloth, I just have a more lizardy exterior. Got your typical titan package of strong and tough. Wings let me fly, but my special thing the breath weapons. Don't use them much because of collateral, but if we're gonna be fighting some real tough customers in the desert then I don't have to worry about that. I can help with either Sandstorm or Godray, I don't like my odds of dealing with 'Big Ugly' as she put it." He motioned to Isabella.

"I can! Maybe, probably. Well, not stop her, but at the very least keep her busy." Greg interjected. "Gonna have to do some testing, but I think I can do it."

Deus watched all of them demonstrate their abilities. The small girl being an artificer. Wonderful, he loved working with fellow artificers, but it was the man she arrived with that interested him. "I've questions about your ability. Does it matter if it's fresh or salt water? And how large can the creature become? Do you have any sway over what it does, or is it independent of you? We are at a dam, water is plentiful. While I believe that Godray and Sandstorm can be dealt with by this group, I believe that as a last resort, you would be very helpful in dissuading Boorish from pushing her luck." As he spoke, there was a brief period of quiet because Ozzie freaked out about something.

Wyatt snapped as soon as he heard and saw what looked like Ozzie sticking her talons through Fickle's shoulder. She didn't seem too bothered, but apparently there was some sort of silvery substance below her skin and Ozzie didn't expect that. One part of him was amused, another part horrified, and the last part was confounded by the fact that Deus thought this quarter-wit would be helpful in dealing with the Ascendants.

"Is there going to be a problem?" Deus spoke to the pair, though he was more directed at Ozzie than Stephanie.

[Europa Undivided]

Nikephorus Fraiser

. "Well, if we're doing power talk, I grow plant based stuff. artificer and all that. If it grows I can make it. Speaking which, if anyone is willing to donate some saliva to the plants because I can make some extra cool stuff with it, please let me know after I've moved some stuff over."

"Saliva...?" Nike's eyebrows furrowed, wondering just on Earth spit would do to improve a plant. Maybe a super's DNA could be used to enhance one of Gregory's plants? If that was the case, though, he'd prefer to give something else to the plantman. "I would prefer just giving a strand of my hair. I could give three, just to be like Galadriel. You... do know... eh, anyway. As for me, I've mentioned that I'm a teleporter with an annoying range limit, but I also shoot hot bolts of plasma out of my fingers. Hot enough to sear and start melting things on impact, that is-"

“OH MY FUCKING GOD! WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK?” Ozzie borderline shrieked, whipping his hand back from the not-woman so fast he swore he heard the sound barrier crack. Perhaps not the most manly reaction, but when these fucks were knuckle deep in the slime princess, they could weigh in on it.

"Interesting," Nike turned towards Fickle as Ozzie had apparently put his talons in her slime interior, leaning forward and inspecting the silver semi-liquid that comprised the woman(?)'s shoulder beneath her skin. She was probably completely made out of it, and her normal-ish appearance before Ozzie decided to lay a hand on her shoulder was merely a facade. If Nike had glasses, he would have put them on, but he had none, so he just squinted as he proverbially held a microscope over Fickle. "What are you made of...? Nanomachines, like the Asurans in Stargate?"

He didn't seem to be disturbed in the slightest. Being one of the older members of this group, he had probably seen quite a few ruckuses and strange abilities during both his team with the HT7 and here in Springfield. "Or is this... something else, not nanites? I've heard of an Artificier that can make nanites, but I have no idea where she'd be right now. I knew her back in a meeting in the UN... are you made liquid mercury? That would be very bad if someone touched you, unless they had toxicity resistance."