Young Bloods(IC, Reboot Open)

[Finland SSR]

Mikaela Mynd, Mid December

Jan Sorok, the champion of Heaven!

---

"I didn't mean... a pushover, though," Jan tried to defend himself. Sure, he did not mean a rough type of girl who would shower him with expletives, but there was a long way from that to a "pushover". He sighed and glanced away afterwards, even when Mika playfully jabbed him at the side and proceeded to answer er own question. E-Sports. Jan had heard a little bit about those - video games being treated as competitive sport struck him as a little odd, but he never paid much mind to it.

Either way, it made sense for Mika to be inclined that way - and, surprisingly, even be involved in professional e-sports personally. That's a bit beyond the average fan.

"...so." Jan blurbed after Mika's blurb, noticing that the room had gotten silent as well. The conversation pretty much died down on either side, and for Jan, it was already time to go. The Virgil rose back to his feet and already reached for the window, ready to open it and give his goodbyes to the girl - only for her to suddenly ask him a question.

Why did he rescue her? When she's not important, or special, or even anyone who would be missed if she really did perish down in Hell and never returned? Jan stopped reaching for the window, glanced towards Mika in silence, then suddenly walked up to her. He grabbed a hold of her chin, gently lifted it up and stared her in the eyes.

"Don't say that!" he called out. "It was not a question of who's special or who isn't, who's worthy to save or who is not, and who's a good person or not. That should never be the question."

After lifting up Mika's chin, Jan placed his hands on her shoulders. "I did not have to rescue you, if that's what you thought, I did not have an order to. But what I found down there was a person in need, who would die if I had not given her a hand, and who was there against her own accord. At that moment, you were the most important person in my world." He then struck a smile to reassure her. "And it has worked out, hasn't it? You're safe, and you're... doing better than you did before I offered you a hand."

[New Finnish Republic]

Meeting With Aislinn

---

Red did his best to not react to Aislinn's teasing laughter and comments in regards to his name, allowing only a small roll of his eyes to display his slight annoyance. He knew that it was an odd name, but to hear this reaction was a bit overboard. But still, he couldn't bring himself to get angry at her, so he simply waited until Aislinn got the giggles out of her system. However, her follow up question was enough to elicit a response from him as he bit the lower corner of his lip before answering.

"I mean..."

It took a few moments for him to respond, as he thought hard about how to respond. Of course, there was someone who immediately crossed his mind. It had been weeks since they had parted ways, but Red couldn't help but feel his head begin to spin as he thought of what her opinions on the matter would be. He knew it shouldn't matter, but he had already had several nights already spent staring at his ceiling thinking over it.

But he knew that it didn't matter. This was probably their best shot at taking down Marionette once and for all, and even if it meant burning down a few bridges in the process, he was willing to do whatever it took. Saying that Red held a grudge was a understatement, and he was all too eager to finish things once and for all. Whatever his personal feelings were for someone who no longer seemed to care about him could not, and would not, become a factor in this.

"...no," he finally said, giving Aislinn a small nod of his head with a steadfast look in his eyes. "The team will probably be pissed, but as long as we get Marionette put away, I could care less what they think in the immediate fallout. However, there is one part of the plan I want to alter, if you're fine with it." Taking a moment to gauge her reaction, he continued.

"I think we should have one person on the team that knows what's going on. If we want to stay ahead of the rest of them, we need to have someone who we can trust to give us warnings so that this whole plan doesn't go up in smoke. I already have someone in mind I think I can trust, but I wanted to ask your opinion on it first."

[Segral]

Whitney Alvord
December 1st - The Evening

Whitney stared at the fire with a slightly dazed, bored expression from her position on Angie's other side, cheek sinking into her fist as more strands of hair carelessly blew into her face. She had accepted the fact that she had been demoted to Friend #2 for the day over Icarus, as Angie had finally found someone who knew just as much about books as she did. Whitney didn't mind it though. It let her hang around in her own thoughts for a bit, wandering off mentally as she absentmindedly swatted flies away with her free hand. It was cold out, cold enough to sting her bare hand with breeze, but the fire staved away most of it, casting everyone and everything with a warm glow. She hadn't done much that day aside from argue with Red, catch fish with him, and later clean said fish, but there was a certain exhaustion beginning to settle in her bones, a tired feeling, but a good tired feeling, one that felt satisfied instead of wheels-in-the-mud useless. Free Wi-Fi courtesy of Makeshift didn't hurt either, even if it did kind of feel like sacrilege in the middle of a forest campsite.

Alexis had been working double-time to make their camping spot as nice as possible, and Whitney appreciated the effort. Even if the context of learning her first real friend on the team was a robot made it make a bit more sense, she was still wowed by the energy Alexis held inside her, her ability to run around and do a thousand things before doing a thousand more. Maybe the android didn't have to take the time to eat or drink. Hell, maybe she never even got tired. But at some point, everyone wanted time to themselves, and if nothing else, that still made her incredibly selfless. She really was the backbone of the team. Whitney had a so many questions she wanted to ask the tiny girl, questions about what being a robot was like, questions about what had changed in her perception of herself, everything in between. There had been so many questions that she had considered writing down a list, but that would be creepy, and kind of embarrassing too. Asking those questions was just as creepy. Alexis probably wouldn't even mind, she knew that, but how were you supposed to just casually ask what robots felt when they ate and drank? It wasn't something you could just slip into conversation. So, she settled for admiring Alexis from afar, and passing her the marshmallow bag when requested. She was happy to do it, for more reasons than one.

Another thing she admired about Alexis? Her bravery, or recklessness, depending on the situation. Not just the 'I'm walking straight into a warzone with hair down and guns blazing' kind of bravery, bravery over the little things. Whitney got freaked out at everything, even Icarus' suggestion of fireside board games...or Spin the Bottle. Angie practically set her hems on fire at the proposition, and Whitney couldn't help but feel the same, considering that she felt (and probably looked) like she was about to puke at the thought of sucking face with Wyatt. Alexis would never feel like that, though. She would suck face with Wyatt openly and gladly. Well, maybe not gladly. The point was, Whitney was flooded with relief when Andrew steered the group away from the most awkward game of Spin the Bottle ever conceived and towards sharing...embarrassing stories. Which still freaked her out, but to a slightly lower degree. She had a lot of embarrassing stories, stories that she never wanted anyone to hear, regardless of who they were and how much they probed her to talk about her most embarrassing stories. She didn't know if she would tell those stories to a single soul alive, even if they were some of her closest friends. And even if she stumbled upon a few she would share, how did she pick? She had messed herself up a lot for stupid reasons, messed up her sinuses, her face, her relationships, her hair...her hair.

"I nearly blew up my old high school's chem lab." she blurted out in the brief period of silence following Andrew's story, instinctively touching her hair as she said it. Well, no taking it back now. With a deep breath, she stood up, keeping her shirt firmly down as she did so. She didn't exactly have a massive stomach scar to show off, and either way, that also made her want to puke. "A...a lot of p-people ask me why I wear my hair like I do, with the ponytail hanging off to the side instead of, um, at the back." she said cautiously, beginning to gain more confidence as she went on. "The truth is, I used to have a lot more hair. When I was 14 or 15, I would wear it in two pigtails, with pink highlights. I also used to wear longer fingernails, usually four inches. My favorites were tiger stripes, I would apply them myself and everything. I was also 15 when I first started to discover my talent for chemical stuff, and I would sneak into the lab after hours to work on little projects I had been cooking at the time. This wasn't at Thomsen High, it was in NYC, before I even moved to Cali. I dunno what caused the fire in Thomsen Lab B last year, you have no idea how sick I am of people asking me about that one."

"Anyways, one day, I was hiding in the back room of the lab again, trying to mix together tarnish repellant. My best friend's favorite silver rings had lost their shine, and she had tried washing them with vinegar, bubble baths, the usual stuff they recommend, but they were only temporary fixes. I wanted to create a wax or gel that could stop, or at least slow down tarnishing, without removing the ring's sheen." she explained, taking off her own ring and holding it up to the fire to show off the piece of jewelry. The fire caught the metal, casting a soft, glossy glow across the token. She knelt down before the fire as she worked the ring back onto her finger, using her arms to outline the imaginary proportions of the back of Lab 2-B. "I had a huge metal vat, or drum, in the center of the room, just bubbling and brewing with weird silver shit right next to people's desks and chairs. I stood right here, on a chair instead of getting a stool like a normal person, so I was kind of wobbly on my feet. The line of people on the other side from the fire from me, that was where the nearest lab counter was. I had like twelve or thirteen different bottles or flasks of liquids and powders and all sorts of it, and a few more cooling off in the freezer, so I was constantly running back and forth, my powers flashing on and off so I could re-adjust the composition. I was rushing through it, partially because I wanted to get home before it got dark, and partially because I was careless and thought I was a genius, untouchable chemist, a fuckin' child prodigy." she said with a smirk, standing up and brushing herself off. "Eventually, I got tired of running back and forth, so I started putting my flasks on the edge of the vat and grabbing them when I needed them. My palms and face were sweaty from the heat, and with the nails, I could barely grab the glassware. Couldn't even really see because my glasses kept fogging up. I used to wear those too, thin ones, with wire on the rims. It's a contact lens lifestyle now."

She suddenly grimaced, preparing to relive the memory of (one of) her most embarrassing stories. "At one point, I decided I wanted to separate some of my flasks, and I grabbed one full of powder to drop on the opposite side of the vat. Then...I heard someone open the door behind me. My chemistry teacher, Mr. Jenkins, usually left school right at the bell because he was sick of teaching and just wanted a pension, but he had a staff meeting and did his final checks of the labs and classrooms later that day. I got so freaked when he burst in with his key that I lost my grip on the powder and dropped it in the vat."

"The entire thing lit on fire, it was the hottest thing I've ever felt. It practically spit all the way to the ceiling." she said, pointing a finger to the very top of the campfire's roaring flames. "The force threw me off my chair and sent me sprawling on the ground, I don't even remember screaming. Luckily, I was wearing a thick sweatshirt, so it didn't hit my bare skin, and I put it all out by rolling, but it hit my hair. It singed off my entire right pigtail, plus some of the hair on the side and the back. Left this in my arm too." she said, rolling back the sleeve of her jacket to reveal several small, ropy, pink patches of skin dotting her arm. "It stung like crazy, but it could've been worse. Could've hit my face. Jenkins dragged me out of the way, pulled the alarm, grabbed a fire extinguisher, and started melting that sucker, the old man looked like Captain Quake in action. I could tell he was freaking out too though, because some of the materials in that lab were explosive, and if the fire hit it, the whole room would've been torched. When I eventually pulled it together and ran towards the nearest exit, he was grabbing another extinguisher and still going at it. There was only a few people in the building, maybe twenty-five kids and teachers, and all of them got to bear witness to my char-broiled ass bursting out of the nearest double doors, followed by a whole fire brigade going right back in."

"It ended up okay. The fire got put out safely, nobody got hurt except for me, and I only spent a night in the hospital. My teacher covered for me too, told the staff and fire people that I had been working on an enrichment project with his permission, and that the only rules I broke were lab protocol. They thought I was an idiot for doing science experiments with four-inch nails, but they didn't even suspend me. It kinda helped that I was still a snotty mess missing half of her hair. I took the weekend off, cut my hair into the side ponytail, soaked my nails off, and went back to class on Monday. The worst thing that happened was rumors, a few kids started rumors that I was cooking meth after hours. They called me 'Pinkman', which was even more embarrassing. The highlights didn't exactly help." she said with a frown, scratching the back of her neck. The nickname was a lot more accurate than most people probably thought, but she would never tell them that. The conversations she had after that event were even worse, but she didn't tell them that either. There was no reason for them to know it. Let it be a funny story without the drama.

"Still, like I said, could've been worse." she said with a small smile and a shrug, making her way back to where she had been previously perched. "I even liked the new haircut so much that I kept wearing it once my hair grew back. And I got a story for the ages. Andrew might've endangered one life, but I got 25. Can anyone top that?" she challenged, her smile growing even wider and more mischievous. It was just a stupid story, but she felt proud of herself for having the pair to share it. It felt like what Alexis would've done, and she couldn't help but glance over at the shorter girl for approval as she sat down. She wasn't nervous anymore, she was confident, and slightly reckless too. She might even suck face with Wyatt on a dare!

Ew, bile in her mouth. Maybe not that one yet.

[Zarkenis Ultima]

December 21st

---

Richie Lopez was one of the police officers lucky enough to survive Hugo Boss’ initial salvo, having rolled out of the way just as an anti-tank round tore through the cruiser he had been seated in just minutes ago. Thankfully, neither that nor any of the bullets that followed hit the vehicle’s fuel tank, which allowed him to retrieve the shotgun and its ammunition from the trunk. Spotting several hellhounds fast approaching, Richie frantically tried to load the shotgun, and succeeded just in time to whirl around and defend himself from an incoming creature. The snarling fiend leaped at him, only to take several pellets to the maw, flying back from the impact.

After that close call, the man had attempted to move towards the large crystal barricade that one of the Young Bloods had erected for their safety, but a scream from behind caused him to turn around, the sight leaving him frozen for a moment: it was his partner, Nora, struggling as two hellhounds pinned her to the ground and tore into her flesh. Thinking quickly, Richie reloaded his shotgun and then used his sidearm to get the hounds’ attention, firing at them despite having seen that pistol rounds invariably bounced off their hide.

This worked as intended, and the two fiends now began running towards him, leaving him precious little time to react. Holstering the pistol, the police officer instead grabbed the Remington, shooting one of the hellhounds in the face to deadly effect. The second, however, was too quick and pounced on him before he could pull the trigger, biting into his leg and then his side. Grimacing, he nonetheless didn’t give up the fight, hitting the creature with the butt of the shotgun several times until it let go. Then, as it tried to bite him again, he shoved the Remington’s barrel into the creature’s mouth and pulled the trigger.

Trying to stand up, the man found that he couldn’t do so, the fight having taken quite a bit out of him. With little choice left, he simply reloaded the shotgun once more and waited for help to come.

Fortunately for him, the Young Bloods were already on the scene, and it wasn’t long until someone came to his aid: a young heroine clad in red with flowing pink hair, Crystal Heart.

“Don’t worry, you’re goin’ to be fine. I’m here to help now.” She said in her already familiar Australian accent, before reaching down. However, while Richie knew that he’d be able to hold on a little longer, he didn’t know if Nora would, and with that in mind, he raised his hand, gesturing at the alien teenager to stop. She backed off slightly with a confused expression, but he was quick to elaborate.

“My partner… She’s over there…” Richie said, pointing at where the hellhounds had left the now unconscious Nora for dead. The heroine looked in her direction, then turned back to him and nodded.

“Okay, I’ll go get her and then get ya both some help.” The pink-haired girl said before taking off. The officer watched her as she reached Nora’s location in but a moment, with a burst of speed that would put Olympic sprinters to shame, and carefully picked her up before returning to his side. What followed was quite the surreal experience, Crystal Heart singing a strange but mesmerizing song that made reality around him seem to melt away as it reached a crescendo, only for him to realize a moment afterwards that he was finally behind the crystal wall.

“Got two more!” The heroine that had saved his life and Nora’s called out to her teammates before rushing back into the open, clearly willing to do whatever it took just to save another life. Grateful for her intervention, he nonetheless couldn’t say anything before she left him behind.

It wasn’t long until another Young Blood approached, this time a delicate-looking blonde girl dressed in white and red: Phoenix.

“Just stay calm and you’ll start feeling better in a minute.” She said softly as she reached out to him, bluish and orange flames dancing across her fingertips. But once more Richie raised the hand that wasn’t clutching his side, before pointing at the unconscious policewoman next to him.

“She needs this… right now… I’ll be fine…” He said through his heavy breathing. The heroine frowned at this - it was clear that he wouldn’t be fine if left untreated - but a quick glance at Nora was enough to ascertain that she’d likely die without immediate aid.

Fortunately, the girl nodded, and he saw her quickly crouch by the officer’s side and enveloped her in healing flames - flesh and bone swiftly mended, closing any open wounds inside and outside of Nora’s body. She was still unconscious and had obviously lost a lot of blood, but now she at least had a fighting chance.

As Richie witnessed this happening, he noticed that there was another Young Blood nearby similarly healing wounded officers, albeit this one with a different method: ice. Her powers and the purple outfit that she wore indicated that this was Frostbite, the girl that had been outed as Captain Quake’s daughter a few months prior. The cop had never been one to pay much attention to superhuman affairs, but right now he could only be grateful that her, Phoenix, and Crystal Heart had all continued on their path of heroism.

Suddenly, he was brought out of his thoughts by a small tremor that shook the ground nearby, and then another. Noticing the shadow that had been cast over him, the officer looked up, only to see the lumbering form of a winged stone creature looming over the crystal wall - it was missing one arm, but it was clearly still an enormous threat, and as it pounded on the barricade, causing it to crack and sending shards flying everywhere with every impact, he could only hope that the young heroes would be able to stop it before it was too late.

---

”Hostile incoming, and it’s a big one! Someone needs to come deal with this now! Makeshift spoke through the team’s comms. From her seat back at Wonder Tower, she witnessed the battle through the eyes of her fairies, and though she was trying to help the team coordinate and strategize, the truth was that she was a little overwhelmed by the sheer chaos of the situation.

However, that didn’t mean she was about to give up.

Let’s see… Bael, Crystal Heart and Jackrabbit are all preoccupied, Intrepid and Princess aren’t close, Phoenix likely can’t beat that thing on her own and- what?!

Through her drone’s eyes, the blonde girl saw as an unseen force tore through the middle of the wall, opening up a line of fire across that area as well as weakening the structural integrity of the halves that remained of it - which meant that things had just become a lot more dangerous for the injured officers huddled against it. No time left to think, gotta act!

”Frostbite! I need you to reinforce the area of the wall that’s being targeted by the big rock thing right this instant! Can you do that?” The blonde girl’s voice could be heard on the communication lines once again.

“I-I’ll continue tending to the wounded!” Phoenix assured her fellow blonde - her voice gave away the fact that she was very nervous about all these new developments, but she was more than willing to continue healing all the injured police officers by herself if it meant freeing up Frostbite to protect them.

“On it!” Frostbite responded, placing her hands against the nearby wall spawning a thick layer of ice against the wall to prevent it from crumbling.

The white crystal wall, now reinforced with as much ice as the teenage heroine could produce, seemed to hold fast against the stone beast’s assault as it continued pounding on it with its sole remaining arm, but it was clear that this was only a temporary solution, as cracks continued to appear everywhere with every new attack.

”Rocket, we really need you here! Where are you?” Alexis spoke.

“Was keeping some hellhounds off the civilians, what’s up?”

”You’ve got a rocket launcher on that thing, right? Because we could really use some aerial support against that giant gargoyle that wants to kill everyone behind the wall!

“On it!” Mars said, activating his boosters and jetting towards the large monster. Once he was in range he activated the rocket launcher on his right shoulder and fired his ballistic rounds at the monster.

One after another, the rockets fired from the mech armor’s launcher impacted the stone fiend, causing a great deal of damage as its grey skin cracked and shattered, dust and shards falling to the ground in large quantities - and yet, it seemed, the beast itself would not fall apart despite the damage it had incurred. Worse still, it was clearly enraged, beating on the faltering ice-reinforced crystal wall with renewed fury.

“Makeshift, this isn't working.” Rocket said as he continued to fire his missiles. “New plan, I’m gonna divert power to my thrusters. I’ll run right through this thing.”

”Wait, what?!” Makeshift blurted out in surprise. ”Rocket, that’s too dangerous. I don’t have any reason to think it won’t work, but it’ll put you right on their line of fire!”

“There’s no time to argue, I’m doing it!” Mars called out, turning off his comms and closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He then looked forward with resolve and diverted power to his thrusters as the machine grew quiet for a moment before roaring to life and flying towards the monster at extremely high speed. Rocket shook like mad and Mars could barely see anything and only knew he made contact with the gargoyle by the thundering thud that threw him around. After a few moments he was on the other side, a massive hole in the gargoyle behind him. His thrusters were damaged but his armor was still mostly intact.

“I’m alright, but I’m going to need a minute to get things back online.” He told Makeshift as he turned his comms back on. There was silence on the other side for a few moments, but after a moment, he could hear a sigh.

”...Alright, good job Rocket. I hate to admit it but that paid off. Makeshift joked before her tone turned serious. ”Someone, bring him back here so my fairies can do some maintenance work.”

The only response came in the form of muffled noises as a red and pink shape suddenly shot out from behind a stone pillar near the broken crystal wall, quickly sprinting over to where Rocket stood. Crystal Heart’s armor looked worse for wear, having taken a few shots from Hugo Boss’ oversized weapon, and there was still the issue of the gauntlet preventing her from using her spellsongs, but she didn’t seem injured thus far. Pulling out a viridian crystal, she crushed it in her palm and in an instant, the two teenagers teleported back to the safety of the wall.

“Thanks for the save.” Mars told her before seeing and understanding what was preventing her from speaking. “Hold still,” He told her as he used a precise laser to cut through the gauntlet.

“Better?”

As soon as the stone construct came off, Kirisvala let out a sigh of relief, nodding at Mars. “Better. Thanks, darlin’.” She told him, quickly leaning over and giving the armored boy a hug.

”Alright alright, not the time or place. Crystal Heart, be on the lookout for Intrepid, he’s right past enemy lines and might need your assistance. Rocket, I’ll help you get back into the fight real quick.” Makeshift’s voice informed them through the comms as various robotic fairies descended to work on Mars’ damaged thrusters.

“Will do!” Kiris replied before moving to a better vantage point. The hellhounds and the fallen had been vanquished, but the fight was still on.

[Galnius]

Mikaela Mynd, Mid December

Jan Sorok, the champion of Heaven!

---

"I didn't mean... a pushover, though," Jan tried to defend himself. Sure, he did not mean a rough type of girl who would shower him with expletives, but there was a long way from that to a "pushover". He sighed and glanced away afterwards, even when Mika playfully jabbed him at the side and proceeded to answer er own question. E-Sports. Jan had heard a little bit about those - video games being treated as competitive sport struck him as a little odd, but he never paid much mind to it.

Either way, it made sense for Mika to be inclined that way - and, surprisingly, even be involved in professional e-sports personally. That's a bit beyond the average fan.

"...so." Jan blurbed after Mika's blurb, noticing that the room had gotten silent as well. The conversation pretty much died down on either side, and for Jan, it was already time to go. The Virgil rose back to his feet and already reached for the window, ready to open it and give his goodbyes to the girl - only for her to suddenly ask him a question.

Why did he rescue her? When she's not important, or special, or even anyone who would be missed if she really did perish down in Hell and never returned? Jan stopped reaching for the window, glanced towards Mika in silence, then suddenly walked up to her. He grabbed a hold of her chin, gently lifted it up and stared her in the eyes.

"Don't say that!" he called out. "It was not a question of who's special or who isn't, who's worthy to save or who is not, and who's a good person or not. That should never be the question."

After lifting up Mika's chin, Jan placed his hands on her shoulders. "I did not have to rescue you, if that's what you thought, I did not have an order to. But what I found down there was a person in need, who would die if I had not given her a hand, and who was there against her own accord. At that moment, you were the most important person in my world." He then struck a smile to reassure her. "And it has worked out, hasn't it? You're safe, and you're... doing better than you did before I offered you a hand."

Mika flinched and froze up at the sudden contact and inhaled sharply through her nose. It wasn't aggressive, but it also was fast from expected. The chin thing was particularly unsettling. What was that, even? It took her by surprise to such a degree that she didn't even realize Jan was answering her.

"I mean, I guess I'm doing better", she finally said, pulling back out of his grip and brushing Jan's hands to the side. "So, yeah, thank again. For that, I mean." Mika wasn't sure if she would have died if she hadn't run into him. Floyd seemed prepared to let her go, at first. In fact, if Mika remembered correctly, Floyd was pulled down there with her because of someone Floyd needed to kill there. Jan, in fact. However, considering she then held a knife to him and he still rescued her, and considering that he was in fact her first friend, she felt that such a thing probably should be left unsaid.

"Well, thanks for answering my questions Jan. Um, I'll see you Christmas Eve. Florence. I might get there a day or so early. So yeah...." Mika needed to get out of this awkward situation as fast as possible. Anything to get passed her spilling out some stupid question and the sudden shoulder grab. " Bye. "

Meeting With Aislinn

---

Red did his best to not react to Aislinn's teasing laughter and comments in regards to his name, allowing only a small roll of his eyes to display his slight annoyance. He knew that it was an odd name, but to hear this reaction was a bit overboard. But still, he couldn't bring himself to get angry at her, so he simply waited until Aislinn got the giggles out of her system. However, her follow up question was enough to elicit a response from him as he bit the lower corner of his lip before answering.

"I mean..."

It took a few moments for him to respond, as he thought hard about how to respond. Of course, there was someone who immediately crossed his mind. It had been weeks since they had parted ways, but Red couldn't help but feel his head begin to spin as he thought of what her opinions on the matter would be. He knew it shouldn't matter, but he had already had several nights already spent staring at his ceiling thinking over it.

But he knew that it didn't matter. This was probably their best shot at taking down Marionette once and for all, and even if it meant burning down a few bridges in the process, he was willing to do whatever it took. Saying that Red held a grudge was an understatement, and he was all too eager to finish things once and for all. Whatever his personal feelings were for someone who no longer seemed to care about him could not, and would not, become a factor in this.

"...no," he finally said, giving Aislinn a small nod of his head with a steadfast look in his eyes. "The team will probably be pissed, but as long as we get Marionette put away, I could care less what they think in the immediate fallout. However, there is one part of the plan I want to alter, if you're fine with it." Taking a moment to gauge her reaction, he continued.

"I think we should have one person on the team that knows what's going on. If we want to stay ahead of the rest of them, we need to have someone who we can trust to give us warnings so that this whole plan doesn't go up in smoke. I already have someone in mind I think I can trust, but I wanted to ask your opinion on it first."

Aislinn raised an eyebrow as Red paused for a moment. Eventually he answered. A simple no, but a no that spoke volumes. The lengthy pause, the inflection, his body language... Aislinn wondered if he knew how much everything he said with that small no. It was interesting, how much can be said with one word. While it did indeed answer her it also gave way to so many new questions. Questions that, at least for now, Aislinn had no right to ask. Instead, it was best to move on. She could come back to that one day like she planned to do for his name.

"Tell whoever you think you need to. Just make sure they can keep a secret. The plan doesn't really work if Lisette knows we are coming, and the bluff immediately fails if she can see the cards we really hold. I will say that Naja should know at the very least. She was kind enough to let me help with the team as well as let you play bodyguard for me that first time. We wouldn't be able to do this if it wasn't for her, so do make sure you tell her."

With that, Aislinn rose from the bed. " Now that we've gotten that out of the way, we can move to phase two of the planning. Our uniforms should be arriving sometime in the next few weeks, and we can start just after Christmas. I have a few ideas of which stores to hit first. Might set up something with a reporter, though then the question is whether I do that as Aislinn or the persona. All that's left is how to convince the world that you and I, that is, the hero Mask and the heiress Aislinn McHarris, are an item. We can't really announce it outright. Gossip works far better for spreading information. We can't really do it without meeting while you're in uniform either, which means restaurants are out. What do you think? Any ideas?
We should probably start on that sooner than later."

[New Finnish Republic]

Camping Trip

---

As the day went on, Red did his best to enjoy his day. A better part of the afternoon was spent on preparing the fish he and Whitney had caught, and it had taken only the mouthwatering aroma of freshly seasoned coked meal to convince several members of the team to join the two for a lunch. A small amount of bickering back and forth had occurred between Whitney and himself over what was the best way to prepare the fish, but based on the content expressions and full bellies everyone had afterwards, it seemed that the compromise the two had made had worked perfectly.

As the sun began to sink lower and lower into the sky, the various outdoor activities the team had entertained themselves with began to wind down as everyone started to gather around the campfire. Starting up the fire had taken very little effort on their part, with the combination of powers and abilities making the collection of firewood and actually lighting the logs a trivial task. Red felt a bit cheated out of the whole process, as well as think of how envious his younger self would've been to be able to start a fire so easily.

Sitting around the campfire, Andrew was the one to start up the topic of recalling tales of unfortunate events. Red did his best to listen in, but as he did his mind began to wander. I'd certainly have a few stories to tell, he thought quietly to himself, his gaze briefly hovering over towards the direction of Yoshiro who was sitting across the fire. Her attention was elsewhere, and he quickly returned his gaze back towards the flames in front of him before she noticed. This did little though to quell his own thoughts, as his mind began to mull over the plans he had with a certain Irish woman back in San Diego. He thought of the details they had hashed out so far, and the millions of ways in which what they planned could go wrong and the outcomes that would come of after them.

Eventually, the thoughts became too much for him to bare, and as Andrew finished his story, Red took the momentary lull in conversation to make his escape. "I'm going to go get something to drink," he quietly announced while getting up from his seat, doing his best not to disrupt the conversation.

Waving his hand in farewell, he wasted little time in making his way over to his tent. It wasn't a far journey, but it was enough distance from the group that he was able to get the private moment of silence he needed. Going inside, he began to rummage through his bag and took out a small canteen from within, taking several deep gulps of the liquid inside it before letting out a deep breath. Steady as she goes, Red, he thought to himself as he felt his nerves begin to calm down ever so slightly.

Taking a few steps out of his tent with his canteen still in hand, Red took a few moments to stare up at the sky above. Absent of the bright city lights he was accustomed to, the stars shone brightly against the pitch black background. Briefly, his mind wandered back to similar sights he had seen in other areas of the world. Although the situations that had put him there had been anything but pleasant, he always had appreciated being able to see such beautiful views of the world. If it hadn't been for what came afterwards, Red could almost consider himself lucky for having been able to experience what he had.

Standing there, lost in thought, Red's attention was suddenly brought back as a noise caught his ears. At first, he thought he had either misheard or mistaken the sound for something coming back from the group at the campfire. However, as the second ticked by in silence, the sound reached him again, this time unmistakable. Placing his canteen in his jacket pocket, Red slowly began to make his way over to the source of the noise, taking care as to not make any sound as he crept away from the campsite further into the tree line.

Eventually, he found what was making the noise. Far from any source of light, Red's eyes took a few moments to discern the outline of Ash sitting on a fallen log. Every few moments, her body would shudder as a soft cry would escape from her, followed by a series of louder sniffles. Her hands gripped tightly around both sides of her torso, almost as if she were embracing herself, only leaving their place to quickly wipe away at her face before quickly returning.

Red froze in place, unsure of what to do. He didn't know what had upset Ash enough to be out here alone, and based on the fact that she was this far away from the group it was likely she wasn't very keen on being around anyone at the moment. Given that her sobs hadn't altered in their frequency since he had gotten closer, it appeared she hadn't noticed his presence yet. He could very easily slip back towards the rest of the group and simply allow the girl to get whatever it was out of her system and avoid causing any embarrassment for her. He knew that in situations like this, he would rather be alone and not have anyone witness him at a point like this. Besides, I'll probably make it worse, he thought to himself as he slowly began to turn away from where she was back in the direction of the campsite.

However, just as he was about to take a step, another sob rang out, this one much louder than the rest. Immediately a sense of guilt washed over Red, and he realized that he couldn't simply walk away from the situation. Cursing silently to himself, he took a deep breath as turned back towards Ash and gently walked up behind where Ash was. Even though he didn't try and hide his presence, the moth girl seemed to caught up in whatever was bothering her to notice him.

As he got closer and closer, he witnessed an additional shiver run up and down the girls body, this time seemingly not caused by her bouts of sobs. Stopping for a moment, Red realized that now that night had finally came about, the temperatures had dropped considerably. With his jacket he had hardly noticed the change, but for someone like Ash, the change was probably drastic for her. Mulling over what to do, he eventually began to take his jacket off, taking care to place his canteen in his back pocket before gently placing his jacket over the shoulder of Ash.

It was only then did she realize she was not alone, as her head snapped back to look at him. As he looked down to see tears streaming down from her face, a sensation like a knife twisting into his gut washed over Red as he saw the pitiful expression on her face. Not saying a word, Red sat down on the log next to Ash and turned his attention up towards the skies, his gaze fixed on the display of bright stars that shone above.

"You know, it's pretty hard to get a good view of all of this when you've got all those tears in the way," he said, his gaze shifting back towards the moth girl next to him. "Why don't you tell me what's up so that we can get a better look?"

[Tomia]

Mars, YB Camping Trip
Mars sat comfortably at the fire with Kiris snuggled in his arms as everyone began gathering and talking amongst themselves. Soon they started telling embarrassing stories, but Mars didn't find himself too interested in that and so he tried to find a different way to pass the time for the moment. As he looked at a nearby pile of snacks an idea came to mind. He excused himself from his girlfriend's embrace for a moment and headed over to where the S'mores ingredients were. He pulled another item from his pocket that looked a bit like one of those extendable pointers a professor might use, but it was instead one of Mars' silly creations for this weekend. This one was relatively old school however, as it was a simple wooden smore stick that could be expanded when needed. And so he lengthened the stick and placed a marshmallow on the stick and made sure to grab some chocolate and graham crackers for when he would need them.

With that done he took a seat near the fire and began toasting the marshmallow. He didn't have a great deal of experience with this, but he understood the basic principles. Don't burn it and try not setting it on fire, simple enough.

The first try went pretty poorly as the fire was hotter than expected and the mallow was soon ablaze and by the time it was put out by an amused Frostbite looking to show off it was nothing more than a smoldering heap. With a better grasp on the situation the boy genius resolved to try again. This time the result was a much more pleasant golden brown. Satisfied with this, Mars carefully placed the cooked snack onto a piece of chocolate which was itself sitting on a graham cracker. Once a second graham cracker was added to the top the S'more was complete. Mars put it carefully on a paper plate before walking over to Kiris.

"Hey, figured you might want this." He told his girlfriend with a smile.

Frostbite and the Stars
Just before Dante's hand reached Icarus, a wall of ice drove between them, freezing the hand that had gripped the young hero as well.

"Get away from him!" Frostbite shouted as she used this moment to freeze Dante's legs as well. The ice on the villain's arms were already melting and so it was clear this wouldn't work forever. "What are you doing here anyway?" Frostbite asked, trying to see if she could buy time.

"My motives are beyond your understanding child." Dante replied as her arm broke free and swung a punch at the frost hero. Angelica nimbly ducked, striking at Dante with one of her ice covered batons.

"Where did you get these thugs, don't you work alone?"

"I have new allies hero, ones who will see you eliminated."

New Allies? Angelica thought to herself, but there wasn't much time to analyze that. She was too busy trying not to die.

Just then, the nearby door to lab was blown open by a blast of energy, and Star Queen emerged. "Dante, we meet again."

"You aren't important enough to remember hero." Dante replied, sending a blast of toxic gas towards the temporary team leader which was suddenly blocked as the floor was torn up and a wall appeared in front of her, courtesy of Mudslide. Star Queen then sped past it as Red and Blue appeared. They slapped hands and Red flew through the air and slammed into Dante who was then grappled by Blue. However Dante still had a free hand, which was obviously dangerous.

"Surge, take care of her!" Red shouted at his teammate.

[Zarkenis Ultima]

December 2nd

---

Sitting on a ledge overlooking the lake, Alexis hugged her knees, staring down at the starry skies that reflected on the water’s clear surface. It was some time past midnight, and most of the other teenagers had already retired for the night or were otherwise caught up in their own business, which meant that for the tireless android of the Young Bloods, it was time to be alone again, as it was every night. Not that this was a bad thing, by any means - in normal circumstances, it meant she could simply devote herself to her work with single-minded focus until the sun rose and it was time to act like a normal person again, and in circumstances like this, it allowed her some time to gather her thoughts and reflect on past events.

The camping trip had been a success so far, and the blonde girl was more than happy to have suggested it and negotiated the details with the team’s serpentine caretaker… but as she found herself staring at the lake with only the sounds of nature to break the silence encompassing her, she couldn’t help thinking back to everything that had happened since the mall incident. She was extremely grateful for the support she had received from her parents, whom she loved dearly, and from most of the team, but even so the past few weeks of her brief life had been a lot rougher than the smooth sailing she was used to.

Shuddering as a gust of cold air flew past her, the girl pulled her knees closer and sighed.

Ah, well, I’m sure things will get better from here on out.

As Alexis sat on the grass, soft footsteps approached from behind her. It was Angelica, wearing a light sweatshirt as the cold did not bother her, looking very nervous as she approached. She was glad the shorter blonde was looking away as it made her approach slightly easier. Her steps were slow but eventually she arrived at the ledge, standing a few feet from Alexis.

“Is it okay if I sit down?” The frost heroine asked. She tried to sound as casual as possible, but she couldn’t remember ever being more nervous than she was at that moment. As mortifying as this was, not talking to her would be even worse.

Hearing the footsteps, Alexis at first didn’t think much of it - the lake had been quite popular the previous day so it didn’t surprise her that someone might want to visit it at night. However, as they got closer and closer, she couldn’t help but wonder who it was and if they might want something from her. Finally as the figure arrived next to her, Alexis turned to look and was shocked to see Angelica standing there, asking if she could sit down.

For a few moments, the young genius was at a loss on what to say. It had been well over a month at that point, but the memory of their fight was still fresh in her mind and a part of her wanted to just lash out in vengeance and tell the taller girl off, but fortunately cooler heads prevailed - despite her complicated feelings, a part of her still yearned for what she and Angelica had before, and she didn’t want to be needlessly rude. Besides, if she wanted to ever move past this, she knew that they would have to talk sooner or later.

After what was perhaps an uncomfortably long pause, Alexis nodded. Alright, I guess this is happening now.

“Yeah… go ahead and sit down, Frostbite.”

The use of her hero name made Angelica flinch a bit. It was far from a warm greeting but it wouldn’t be reasonable for her to expect any better. I am lucky she is talking to me at all. The girl thought to herself as she sat down next to Alexis along the cliff.

They sat in silence for a little while, Angelica feeling nearly paralyzed by fear. She had thought about what to say for weeks now, but at the moment none of her words felt appropriate. What do you say to get someone not to hate you anymore?

“I know I am probably the last person you want to talk to right now, and I don’t want to invade your privacy, but I couldn’t stand the idea of us just never talking about this. So I am going to talk, and then if you want me to leave you alone after that, I’ll never bother you again.” The promise was sincere even if the thought made her feel like her chest was going to split open. The last thing Angelica wanted was to be a further source of pain for the girl she cared about.

“When I first joined the team, I wasn't there willingly. I wasn’t there to make friends, and I would have happily gone the whole time without speaking to anyone at all. Everyone else seemed okay with that, but you were so determined to be my friend. Even after I gave you no reason to keep trying, you never stopped being nice to me. And then, with Warwolf… you were everything I never even dared hope for.” She was doing her best not to tear up at this point but it was losing battle. “If you can’t forgive me, I understand. What I said was… I wish everyday I could take it back. But I just needed you to know how much I appreciate the person you helped me become. So if I screwed everything up, I just want to say thank you… and I’m sorry.”

As she listened to the other girl speaking out from the bottom of her heart, Alexis could only pull her knees even closer. She had mixed feelings about her girlfriend’s romantic speech - on the one hand, her words made her remember the good times, her precious relationship with the other blonde and all the events that led up to it. And she appreciated all the positive things Angelica had to say about her. But then… then why were they in that situation in the first place?

“You know Angie, that was a really nice speech, but you still said all those things back then. If everything you said about me just now is true then why would you say that?” The shorter girl spoke, her voice shaky as she turned to look at Angelica, tears welling up in the corners of her eyes.

The taller girl clenched her fists. She hated seeing Alexis like this and knowing she was the cause. She also hated that she didn’t have a good answer to her question. “I don’t know.” She said honestly, tears starting to stream down her cheeks now. “I wish I had an excuse, I haven’t stopped thinking about it. I tried telling myself that I didn’t know the truth, or how mean it actually was or that I was just mad… but none of that changes how horrible, mean, and just cruel what I said was. Sometimes I think… Maybe I’m just not a good person. But I’m sorry Alexis, I just don’t know why I said it. All I know is I wish I didn’t.”

Alexis pursed her lips as Angelica replied to her question. The admission that she hadn’t been in the wrong - at least not solely - gave her some satisfaction in the form of vindication, but she couldn’t avoid flaring up internally at the notion that Angelica ‘didn’t know’ why she had told her all those things. How was that supposed to make things any better?

Her lips quivered as she opened her mouth to speak with a broken voice. “You know, we both went into this relationship knowing that I was different. I told you that I didn’t know what I was doing. I told you that I didn’t have any experience with this. And I told you that I didn’t… feel things the same way other people do. But you still… you still called me out for it… you still screamed at me…” By now her tears were flowing freely and her voice raised into a scream as she continued. “You told me I was being unfair but how was any of that fair to me?!”

She had so much more to say, but she couldn’t. Not because she couldn’t bring herself to speak - she physically couldn’t. Sob after sob began rocking her body, and she paused to wipe the tears from her eyes and calm herself down enough to continue.

“And you know… there was a reason for all of that because I’m not even human! I found out I’m a machine and you have no idea how I’ve felt trying to process that and how it felt that I couldn’t even rely on my girlfriend because every time I thought about you all I could think of was how you told me to have fun with my machines and then stormed out in a rage and left me there all alone!”

At this point the blonde girl couldn’t seem to be able to control her emotions anymore, turning into a sobbing mess as she tried to cover her face with her hands.

Angelica could barely stand to look at Alexis at this point. She didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t refute anything the other girl had said, and she didn’t know what she could possibly do to comfort her. Worse, she didn’t even know if she deserved to do so. She couldn’t just go back to being a shoulder to cry on, not after everything that happened. So instead she just decided to sit patiently. Alexis clearly needed to get emotions out, and as painful as it was to sit there while her girlfriend screamed at her, that was probably poetic justice in some way.

After a few minutes, Alexis began to calm down. The tears didn’t stop, of course, but the sobbing slowed down and her emotions cooled off to the point that she could think again. However, as soon as this happened, regret began to set in. It was one thing to be angry about everything that had happened, and she believed she had every right to be… but now that she was lashing out and screaming and blaming Angelica like that, wasn’t she just as cruel as the other girl had been?

In between sobs, Alexis began to speak again. “I’m sorry…” She mumbled weakly. “It’s just… it hurts so much… I’m sorry…”

“You don’t have to be.” Angelica replied softly, her own voice cracking. “I get it, I deserve every mean thing you can think to say. If that’s what it takes to make you feel better, I’ll sit here as long as you need me to.” she told the other girl sincerely. “I’m sorry Alexis… I never meant for this to happen.” She told her, tears forming in her eyes again as she slowly moved to pull Alexis into a soft hug. “Whatever you need, whether it's just to sit here in silence or for me to go away, I’ll do it.”

The shorter girl simply nodded weakly at Angelica as she was pulled into her embrace, no longer so upset that she’d reject the frosty heroine’s touch, her fists clenching around Angelica’s sweatshirt. Now she just felt… sadness. Sadness, regret, and nostalgia.

Why did it have to turn out like this?

The two girls sat in silence for a few minutes more. Eventually, Alexis managed to stop crying altogether and slowly pulled herself away from Angelica’s arms, sitting with her hands in her lap, clenching her denim skirt. “I’m… I’m sorry, Angie. I know you said you deserve all that but you don’t. And screaming… solves nothing.” She said softly. It was true - while it helped her vent the anger welling up inside of her, she only ended up feeling worse afterwards, not better. “And I’m sorry for cutting you out like I did too. I didn’t mean to, but… well… I was going through a lot.”

“I know,” Angelica replied sadly. It had hurt a lot for Alexis to just disappear on her, but knowing what she knew now it was clear why she did. “I get that you needed time. And I don’t know, maybe you still do. I just know I was going crazy not being able to talk to you, to know if things were…” She couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence so she just moved on. “Alexis, I can’t change what I did, but more than anything I want to try to make up for it. If you want me too…”

Alexis nodded weakly. “I… I don’t want things between us to end like this.” She said softly. “I never did. You have no idea how many times I wished I could call you and pretend everything was right again… or how many times today I wanted to just kiss you and forget about that fight, but I couldn’t.” She sighed, her voice full of sadness. “And… I still do, but I don’t know Angie. This past month has been messy. I’m going through so much… and if something like that happened again, I don’t know if…”

The blonde stopped for a moment, blinking away the tears that threatened to form on her eyes once again. “I don’t know if I could take it.”

Those words hurt more than Angelica could have imagined they would, but they weren’t harsh or unfair. She understood exactly what Alexis meant, and maybe that was why it hurt so badly. “I know.” She replied softly, her voice barely holding together as she wiped away tears from her eyes. “I probably wouldn’t be able to trust me either. Maybe… Maybe it's just better if we try just being friends again.” Those words didn’t feel true at all as they came out of her mouth. Being friends sounded so far from better Angelica could barely think about it if she wanted to not break down to pieces. But that didn’t matter right now, she just wanted whatever made Alexis feel better.

“Just… friends?” Alexis repeated softly. “Angie, I don’t want to be friends.”

Angelica stiffened at this, not liking where it seemed to be heading.

“I… I love you Angie. At least… I think I do.” She continued before the other girl could reply. “I don’t think I’m ready to… go back to the way things were, but…” The girl shook her head. “I meant it when I said I don’t want this to end.” She said sincerely.

After a moment, she realized just what she had said and her hands quickly shot up to cover her face again, not in grief but in embarrassment. If she were not a machine, her face would’ve been the most vibrant shade of red in existence. “Oh my god, did I just…”

“I love you too…” Angelica replied, having just recovered from the shock of what Alexis had said. It was true, and she had no intention of letting Alexis be alone in her embarrassment. “And it’s okay. I understand. We can take things as slow as you need.” She assured the smaller girl. “I want to earn your trust back, and I know that won’t happen immediately.”

Still embarrassed over what she’d said, and moreover stunned by Angelica’s heartfelt response, Alexis didn’t know what to say. As mixed feelings built up inside of her once again, she could only nod. “Okay… thanks.” She said. It was the first thing she could think of, but she realized it was hardly appropriate for the situation, so after taking a deep breath, she continued. “I um… I appreciate that you’re so understanding about this Angie. And I’m really sorry about everything I said to you earlier today…” She said, apologizing again. She really wasn’t able to hold her anger, and it showed. “I’m sorry for avoiding you today too… I’m really glad you came to talk things out.”

As she finished, Alexis finally managed a soft smile.

When she saw Alexis smile, Angelica smiled in return. It was relaxed, as if a massive weight was lifted off her shoulders.

“I am too.”

Alexis took a deep breath and then slowly exhaled, nodding. “Okay.” She said. After a few moments of silence, she let out a soft chuckle. “Wow… I feel better already. I guess I really needed to get all of that off my chest.” She admitted, before looking up at the taller girl. “I-I know it seems like I’m in a real mood whiplash right now but I’m kind of an emotional mess right now because of everything that was going on and I was trying to put on a brave face because I feel like the team needs me and this whole fight thing was really eating at me and I-” Alexis stopped herself, feeling that she was rambling again, and took a moment to figure out what exactly she wanted to say.

“I love you, Angie. I love you.” She repeated once and again for good measure. She was embarrassed to say it so much out of the blue and yet the words felt right as they left her. Before the other girl could respond, Alexis suddenly reached out and pulled her closer as she got up on her knees. Wrapping her arms around Angelica’s neck, Alexis kissed her softly.

“I love you.” She said a third time after leaning back. “I think I need to take it slow for a bit but… maybe… we can pretend things are okay? Just for this weekend?”

Angelica smiled as Alexis kissed her. Their relationship wasn’t out of the woods but it was a lot better than it was before they had talked. The idea of pretending was a little weird, but any chance at going back to the way things were was one Angelica would take.

“That sounds great to me…Girlfriend.”

Alexis giggled. “You’re so awkward, strawberry pie.” She said before kissing her again.

[Tomia]

Roy vs Skysword

Nightshade stared down his robotic opponent, wielding his staff as Skysword wielded his blade. Roy had been hoping to make a clean exit now that he had gotten what he wanted, but a fight was now inevitable. The hero needed to end this quickly but Skysword was a dangerous foe, he also needed to make sure to be careful.

"Do not resist. Your death is inevitable." Skysword told Roy, neither making much ground toward each other. That caused Roy to laugh.

"Not planning on dying today R.O.B., but I appreciate the advice." With that he disappeared into the darkness and reappeared right in front of the robot swordsman. Their weapons clashed at lightning speed, Skysword was as fast and as strong as any swordsman Roy had fought besides Ares himself. After several strikes back and forth, Nightshade saw an opening. Sky had launched a horizontal strike a bit higher than intended and it granted the shadow bender an opportunity. Roy ducked the blade by a few inches and sent his staff up at an angle directly towards the machine's chest. He was knocked into the air, and Roy slammed him back to the ground as hard as he could. Satisfied that he had defeated the robotic swordsman, Roy relaxed himself, but his opponent suddenly stirred on the ground and grabbed his leg.

Nightshade was thrown onto the ground with incredible speed. He landed hard, and nearly lost control of his staff. Oh shit He thought to himself. He rolled to the right without even thinking and just barely avoided his enemy's blade that sunk into the ground next to him. He continued rolling, desperate to get onto his feet but any time he took to do that would certainly result in his death. Every roll he made the stabbing blade got closer and closer, until Roy out of desperation waved his staff as hard as he could, hoping to deflect the blade to give him some breathing room. A clunking noise proved he was successful, and with all his effort he flung himself onto his feet.

With that dangerous situation avoided, Roy refocused on his target, cursing himself for being foolish. They struck each other once more and again a stalemate commenced. Roy hammered blow after blow against the machine, but couldn't break through its guard. Frustration was building now.

"You want death! Take it!" Roy shouted at Skysword, his staff now radiating shadows as he slammed it down against the robot. He hit the machine hard, and Skysword spun around from the force of the attack, falling onto ground once more. This time Roy was more cautious, making sure the robot wasn't moving again until he started to walk away. Then an idea struck him....

Shit, this is crazy.

Roy thought to himself but none the less he grabbed Skysword and started dragging him away from the complex.

About an hour later Roy arrived at Young Bloods tower. It was weird being back but this wasn't a friendly visit. Roy realized he was filthy, and bleeding lightly from his chest, he wouldn’t make for the greatest house guest but he didn’t have time to tidy up. What he had in mind was very time sensitive. After using his codes to deactivate the security measures, he made his way towards the island’s laboratory, with Skysword dragging behind him. Normally he would go to Wendy for someone like this, but given that it was the dead of night and he needed this done quickly there was only one option.

As he entered the laboratory building, he knocked on Alexis’ door. He wasn’t sure she was there, but the odds were usually good that she was.

“Come in.” Alexis called out from within the laboratory, causing the elevator doors to slide open. She had been overseeing some work on upgrades for her fairies, but all of that quickly became a low priority as she turned around and saw the team’s former leader standing right there. “Roy!” The blonde girl shouted in surprise, shooting up from her chair and walking up to him. There was something off, though - he was clearly worse for wear, and he had… something else with him.

“Why are you here? What’s going on? Are you coming back to the team?” She asked in her usual rapid fire manner, before nodding in the direction of the metallic husk he was dragging behind him. “And what’s that?”

Roy couldn't help but chuckle. “Glad to see things haven’t changed too much. Your mind still runs a mile a minute.” He told her, placing Skysword onto the ground and finding a nearby seat. He realized he was absolutely exhausted, but he had a job to do.

“I’m here because I need your help. This-” He gestured to the robot. “Is Skysword. He was with the Warhounds until I… well I acquired him we can leave it at that. But I had an idea, one I think could turn the tide if we have to face them again. Can you reprogram Skysword to make him a sleeper unit we can activate when we need him?”

He asked her, unsure really if this was a reasonable request. “I need it quick, like the next few hours. If they notice he is gone, the plan falls apart. I know this is unreasonable Alexis, but I could use your help, and I trust you with this.”

Alexis found herself conflicted as she listened to Roy’s request. On one hand, he was a former Young Blood, and moreover, he was her friend - he had always been a good teammate, and he helped her feel better after her fight with Angelica. However, in light of what she had recently learned about herself… she couldn’t avoid hesitating.

“I think I could get it done if you really need it, but…” The blonde girl trailed off, feeling guilty that she was wasting Roy’s time when he was clearly in the middle of something dangerous. She wanted to help him, but she had to ask. “Does this thing… think?”
Roy knew where this question was coming from of course, and figured he should just lay his cards on the table. “I know about your… discovery Alexis. Wendy told me.” He admitted it didn’t feel right to lie when asking for her help. “I’m sorry… I can’t imagine what that was like. And if you want to talk about it, I’m here like always. But to answer your question, it thinks but it's not like you. Skysword isn’t a well adjusted person with free will. He is a programmed killing machine, I have first hand experience there. If this is too much to ask… I get it, but you know me. I wouldn’t take away a person’s free will, but Skysword isn’t like you.”

Alexis pursed her lips as she heard that Wendy had informed him of… her discovery about her own nature. She didn’t have an issue with Roy knowing, of course - but this was something that affected her profoundly, it wasn’t unreasonable to expect to be able to let people know on her own terms. Still, that wasn’t what was important right now, and after listening to Roy’s answer to her question, she let out a small sigh and nodded.

“Okay Roy. I trust you, and of course I’ll help you.”

Roy smiled at that. “Thanks Alexis, you’re the best.”

With that, the blonde girl used her telekinetic gauntlets to lift Skysword and then lower him onto a worktable, where her fairies swarmed around it, analyzing its composition and the way its circuitry worked. It was a very advanced work of engineering, despite lacking true sentience, and it would be difficult to rewrite its directives, but she’d find a way.

While all of that happened, Alexis approached her former teammate, raising a gauntlet to his chest. It glowed softly with a green light that quickly numbed the pain from his injuries and caused them to begin healing faster. “So what have you been up to anyway? You don’t look too hot right now.” She asked him.

Roy chuckled softly at that. “Thanks.” He said sarcastically before his tone turned a bit darker. “You have a lot going on Alexis. You don’t need my baggage dragging you down too. It’s enough to say that I’m going after the Warhounds. It’s been messy, but I’m making progress.” Roy had no intention of telling Alexis what his ultimate goal was, she would just try to talk him out of it.

Alexis was sure that Roy told her that with only the best intentions in mind, but those words only caused a scowl to form on her face as she looked him in the eye. “Roy, don’t come here looking for my help and then give me that crap.” She snapped at him. “I’ve got a lot going on, and guess what? One of those things is our leader just… giving up on us at our lowest moment.” She told him. Leaning away, she rubbed her temples.

“...Sorry.” She said after a brief pause. “I’m just worried about you is all, but… I get it if you don’t trust me enough to tell me what you’re doing.”

“I didn’t give up on you.” Roy replied softly. “Any of you. I was mad that night I left… but I don’t think the team should disband. I’m just… I can’t lead you right now.” He told her sincerely. The exhaustion and probably mild concussion he was experiencing made him less inclined to be reserved. “I’m in a dark place right now Alexis. I need to be, to protect the people I care about. I can’t bring that to the team, I can’t let the rest of you learn that from me. I do trust you Alexis… with my life. I’m keeping this from you because I don’t want you involved in what I’m doing. I’m too broken to be a real hero, I won’t let that happen to the rest of you.”

The young genius frowned as she hear her friend explain himself, hinting at the dark thoughts running through his mind, at how he felt that he had his back against the wall. Alexis realized that she didn’t know much about Roy at all - she knew about his escapades with the Justice Queens and that he had something to do with Ares, but she didn’t quite know just how deep that particular rabbit hole went. It was clear there was much more to it than what she knew, though, and it was even clearer that what she needed to do right now wasn’t to call him out on his actions.

Instead, she quickly approached him and gave him a tender hug, taking care not to disturb his open wounds. “Roy, you'll never be too broken to be a hero. I don’t know what happened in your past, but the you that I see here in front of me, that’s willing to do anything to protect others… he’s a hero. You’ll never be too far gone to come back.” She told him softly.

“...And I mean, we did take Red back after he went to jail…”

Roy laughed audibly at that. “Ya I suppose we did.” It felt strange to be hugged, and to be in a safe environment for once. But it felt nice. “You’re a good friend Alexis. Probably the nicest one I’ve ever had.” He paused for a moment, taking in the calm environment. “I’m sorry I left Alexis. I know all you must feel like I abandoned you, and maybe I did. But, I’ll always care about this team, and each of you. You’re my friends, and that won’t change.”

“And we’ll always care about you, each and every one of us. So when you’re done with whatever it is you’re doing, make sure to come back to us, alright?” The blonde girl replied.

Roy didn’t want to broach the subject of him coming back, he didn’t want to get their hopes up when he had no idea what the future held.

“Alright, enough about me anyway. It seems like I’m here until your fairies finish the job. Anything you want to talk about? I’ve been out of the loop a bit as you can imagine.”

Alexis chuckled at this, but she realized she didn’t actually have a lot to say. “Um, to tell you the truth I haven’t been with the team a lot recently. After… you know, the mall incident, I stayed at my parents’ house for about a month while we sorted things out and figured what to do from here on out.” She explained. “I’ve only been back for four days at this point. Although, not counting the fact that most of the guys helped stop a coup in Ecuador and that Renata stayed back there, everything’s more or less the same as far as I can tell.” She added.

“Still getting into trouble it seems.” Roy chuckled. “Well I’m glad you’re back with the team Alexis, they can definitely use you.” He then stood up, realizing he was a bit light headed and stumbled to find his balance.

“Woah… I should really eat something.” It had probably been a whole day since he had eaten anything more than a granola bar. “I’m gonna go raid the kitchen and maybe grab a shower. I’ll be back in a little while.”

“Yeah, you should definitely shower.” Alexis quipped, pinching her nose as if to protect herself from the stench, a playful smile on her face. “I’ll get everything done here and let you know when I’m finished.”

Roy chuckled, “Thanks Alexis, I owe you one.”

[Segral]

Carter Graystone
The Cockroach Litter: Part 3

Part 1
Part 2

12:22 AM

The van suddenly jostled to a stop, nearly sending Carter pitching over the front and down to the windshield. Not even a stop, a skid, the sensation of the surface underneath him sliding away under mud quickly throwing his limp form backwards. With as much strength as he could muster, he grabbed the edges of the van's roof with his fingertips, locking his arms in and preventing his tiny frame from getting bucked off the side of the van. At one point, the rushing wind threatened to throw the tarp away with a flutter and reveal a scrawny, filthy-haired blonde American boy clinging on for dear life, but before it could fully peel away, the van finally shuddered and stuck in place, the tarp finally clamping down and re-trapping him back in his original place with a thump that pushed a sigh of relief out of his ribs. Not that he got time to rest though. The second the air slipped from his lips, the sudden sound of the van's horn began to blare, slamming once, twice, and three times, the third the longest of them all. As if on cue, the sound of the van's door rolling open with an ominous click blasted behind him, followed with shouts, what he could only assume were curses in languages he had no hope at deciphering, and the sounds of feet hitting the ground running, a mixture of metallic clangs and soft, squelching thumps. Now was the time to check out his surroundings. Waiting too late could beat his ass down just as quickly as going too quickly.

With the smallest amount of effort possible, he partially lifted the tarp on his right, allowing him to peer through a small crack at his surroundings. It was a wall of pitch-black outside, lit by what looked like a cracked streetlamp and a few portable lanterns that gave off a horrible, nose-crunching oily smell. Kerosene, or something like that. His chem teacher had said something about that once, for the one dude and their grandma left in California that still used a fuckin' kerosene lamp. The ground was brown, and rutted, probably muddy by the sound of the footsteps. If he strained his eyes a bit, he could almost make out a few scraggly patches of grass and weeds in the mud, along with small, dark lumps and a tumbling plastic bag that came dangerously close to catching on fire. Figures and shadows continued to rush by his field of vision, human ones, with long cords and rods at their belts, along with hands extending backwards from the dangling lanterns. Guards. Maybe? Yes? No? Let's see. He let the tarp down and swiveled his head to the other side, lifting up the left at the same level. Same sight. A few less bodies charging past, but a clear view at a guard, a thick, burly man with a long beard and what looked like a chain ending in a small point. If he tried to drop down now, he would get cucked. He would have to wait until any backup had cleared out of the area.

With his face to the metal, he counted the seconds as they slipped by, ears piqued for the sound of retreating footsteps. He could hear a few loud clatters and bangs, along with more shouts, but nothing close to him, nothing in his radius. Another teacher rant that had become oddly applicable in the middle of India. The more and more he waited, the more and more the voices and sounds receded, until they were mostly dim echoes in a wash. He peeked out from both sides in response. Not a figure in sight except for the lantern-holders, probably guarding the van as they swayed and yawned back and forth. Dropping the tarp, he pressed his nose against the metal roof again, counted ten, tortuous, excruciatingly slow seconds, and lifted his head back up, beginning to shimmy backwards underneath the tarp as silently as possible after a short pause. Could they hear the rustling up above? Guess he would find out soon enough. Spooky.

His feet quickly found the edge of the van, the toes of his now grimy, shit-laced Nikes dipping over the rim. He would have to move quick now. With one final push of his hands, he let the rest of his body slide down, legs falling out from under the tarp and beginning to sting under the slightly-icy breeze. Eventually, his waist fell down, followed by his torso, and then his neck, leaving just his chin and arms keeping the top of his body under the tarp while the rest dangled out in front of the open back of the van. Open, because when he kicked his foot out, all he was met with was empty space. With barely a ruffle, he pumped his legs back once and swung the rest of his body into the dark interior of the van, letting a bit of air catch his feet just before he touched down on the hammered metal floor and hold him in place. The resulting two-inch drop was as silent as possible, allowing him to focus less on whatever religious fanatic with a big stick was coming to clobber him and more on his surroundings, a thin tunnel with metal benches running down on either side and discarded packs of gum littering the floor. The familiar flag with its stars and guns lay draped over one wall, pinned into the side of the van with what looked like magnets. At the end of the van's cabin, a small porthole into the driver's and passenger's seat was carved about chest-high, revealing some dude draped over the steering wheel on the right lazily punching a small doll hanging from the rearview mirror like a fucking freak. Immediately, Carter ducked down onto his hands and knees, beginning to crawl towards the porthole. The man didn't notice the sudden movement, and neither did anyone outside, everyone content to continue either punching away at their dolls or swinging their lanterns back and forth.

He never really noticed it, to be honest. One minute, he was punching the dolls. The next, he was feeling a small, yet strong, toned, and calloused pair of hands gripping him around the throat, followed by a coil of arms and elbows. The poor sucker in the driver's seat couldn't even scream for mama before his head was jerked backwards once, twice, and three times into the metal wall of his cabin, snapping forward after the last strike and rolling over to slump towards the left. Unconscious, totally. Even if he didn't have his powers' full-strength, Carter was still strong, strong enough to yank a limp form not bound by a seatbelt up and out through the porthole and in a huge thump onto the metal floor. The noise was louder than Carter had expected, and, because it was the clear and logical thing to do when he was stressing out about too much noise, he swore in what felt like the loudest he had ever shouted. Maybe he was too strong. The foot soldiers arranged around the van seemed to think so. In barely a second, Carter was facing down on a quickly-obscured back entrance to the van, two menacing, six-foot-plus men, who looked like they wanted nothing more than to turn him into a knuckle sandwich with blonde filling.

For a second, the two parties stared at each other with mouth-half-open looks, both surprised at each other's presence, before time unfroze. The man on the right suddenly lashed out, a cord strapped to his waist releasing from its catch and whipping back and forth so that the end quickly zipped towards the side of Carter's head. He quickly knelt down in the nick of time, the rope tearing away a small chunk of his hair as it flew out and buried head-first into the nearest bunch with a metallic tap. A rope dart. Or, a chain dart, in this instance. Something he probably would've been fanboying over if it wasn't trying to drive him between the eyes and if the man on the left wasn't charging straight towards him with a one-handed sword in his grip. A big fucking sword too.

Carter reached out and grabbed the taut chain with both hands, quickly shaking it back and forth to cause it to swing rapidly. The chain hit the swordsman's knees as he ran forward, causing him to lose his footing and falter as he approached the small blonde boy. The aerokinetic took advantage of the opportunity, leaping to his feet to skip up the metal bench and onto the side wall of the van, using his air to flip horizontal as he bounced sideways and twisted his body into a vicious roundhouse kick. The man was dropped in an instant, his sword clattering out of his hand as he hit the floor. Carter wasted no time in repurposing the weapon for himself, awkwardly grabbing the sword's grip and swinging the blade up to slice the chain in half. The man, taken aback by the sudden tension being released into his arm, was unable to defend himself against the quickly advancing Carter, who dropped the sword in favor of leaping up and launching a solid kick square into the middle of the rope-darters' chest. He attempted to backpedal to keep his balance, but met the back of the van too quickly, slipping off the edge and falling back-first into the mud.

The vacuum left over from the two foot soldiers' absence was quickly filled by six more bodies, all of them pausing as they clapped eyes upon Carter's grimy, exhausted-looking figure. Two slim, tall men with what looked like long knives at their waist, with two huge, beefy dudes with muscles like Mammoth behind them, a slight woman with spiky hair and a grappling hook in her hands in the middle, and a total monster behind her, basketball-pole tall and shirtless with the biggest biceps Carter had ever seen. Every single one in the same brown uniform, aside from the shirtless guy. That was all he could take in before he reflexively threw the sword hilt-first towards the group of six, the end beaning the grappling woman between the eyes and knocking her to the ground. The two slim men quickly reached for their blades, but before they could fire, Carter swung his arms forward, setting off a wave of air that knocked the pairs of slim and beefy men in all directions, sprawling on their asses or faces or kissing their own asses in the mud. The only one who was unperturbed was the basketball pole, who simply pulled a fat fingerful of tablets from a large bottle strapped to his belt, shoved them in his mouth, and gave an aggressively yellow grin.

Carter attempted to dive between the man's legs as he stepped up onto the floor of the van, but the basketball pole's reach was too long, a powerful cable that hooked Carter from around the stomach and swung him into the wall in a single motion. The hit sucked the wind out of him, sending him falling sideways onto the bench and rolling back down to the ground. He couldn't even move before he was being grabbed and lifted by the back of his shirt, writhing to break free from the grip of the man that was now leering at him, a mixture of hot breath and spit slapping him straight across the face in an odor that hadn't seen mouthwash for the last thirteen years. It was a scent so bad, so foul, so horrendous, that it caused him to betray all instinct and foray in a village no man had ever forayed before.

Extending his left foot as far as possible to tip-toe on the bench, he swung back with his right foot and slammed it straight into basketball pole's groin, a prayer to whatever god of masculinity he had just committed sins against going out from his mind just seconds later. The kick stunned the massive man, causing him to whimper with pain and lock in place. So, Carter did it a second time (with its own second prayer), then slammed his hand into the man's neck, and used both heels to shove the man away from him with his wind, ripping the bottle of tablets from his rival's belt in the process. The slight woman with the hook had attempted to climb back into the van, but was immediately met with the sight of a seven-foot tall behemoth staggering towards her with quickly-folding leg muscles, tipping over to one side as his dizziness got the best of him and collapsing sideways on top of the tiny girl. She might've had a fighting chance if his head hadn't hit the edge of the loading dock on the way down, leaving her trapped under a rock that simply wouldn't budge.

Letting a deep sigh of relief out, Carter held the bottle up, letting the label shine underneath the high beams of the van. It was white with red writing, written in three different languages for each block of text. One he didn't recognize, a weird scrawl he recognized as Punjabi, and English. "POWER PILL - ENERGY-STIMULANTS FOR EXHAUSTIVE SITUATIONS. 50 TABLETS. TAKE NO MORE THAN THREE AT A TIME". And then, he dropped the bottle, as a flash of pain and red ripped across his arm and sent both the tablets and a warm trickle down to the floor. The men with the knives had returned; the two slim men and the rope-darter, who was now armed with a dagger. Panicking, he dropped low, scooping the container up with his uninjured arm and quickly dashing back to the driver's cabin as the men prepared another volley of blades. He dived headlong, struggling through the porthole and rolling from the seats to the floor just split seconds before a long knife struck the edge of the open window and bounced back into the main body of the van. Every bone, muscle, and nerve ending felt like it was on fire, everything in his body was begging him to give up. But he couldn't give up. He would claw himself out of this fucking cockroach litter, no matter how much he had to give up or hurt to get there.

Barely peeling open the cap with deadened fingers, Carter poured at least half a dozen tablets into his fist, shoveling them into his mouth like a kid shoveled jelly beans. Immediately, he felt a huge jolt rip through his spine, a charge that suddenly made the pain in his back and neck and legs disappear and lifted the huge weights that had been pressing down his eyelids. He was nearly shaking, struggling to avoid getting too excited and slamming his head as he got on his knees and peered up at the hole in which he had leapt through. As if on cue, a man with a bushy beard and thin brown wraps around his head shoved his noggin through, peering all around the cabin for signs of his target. Not even pausing to think, the target grabbed the man by his shawl and threw his head down, banging his forehead against the edge of the porthole hard enough to send him collapsing backwards with his eyes rolling up into his head. A second man shoved his knife through, but Carter smacked his hand, causing him to drop the blade onto the worn seat, and grabbed the wielder's other hand, kicking his legs out and pulling back with all of his weight. The bigger man tried to fight back, but was quickly overpowered and dragged into the cabin with flailing limbs. With his body draped across the seat and dash and Carter underneath him, he was completely helpless as the boy curled up, charged up yet another blast of air, and kicked out into his stomach, sending the man tilting and flying back-first through the windshield of the van.

The lasting cloud of air kept broken glass from slashing up Carter's face as he leapt out of the van, stumbling several steps as he touched down to see his now-broken bottle, its contents spilled in all directions and quickly becoming stained with dripping blood from the knife wound on his arm. Gross. But also helpful, because it reminded him of how quickly approaching his remaining three Brothers were. The dagger-wielder/rope-darter, plus two beefy, bulky guys who looked like they had axes strapped to their waists. Screaming and shouting as they sprinted towards him, already drawing their weapons.

Yup, it was time to run.

---

Pumping his legs as fast as he could, Carter whipped around the nearest corner, ducking through a narrow side street that ran between houses. Except "side street" was a nice way to describe a nasty, gritty patch of dirt planked up with meager pieces of rotting wood that ran between two ugly green houses with roofs that were best described as "makeshift", the walls decorated with graffiti, shirts hanging from windows, plastic barrels, and mattresses and rugs that needed a good beating. The path was surprisingly clean, as if somebody had swept the path just recently, but it didn't exactly ease Carter's mind. There were still two huge members of the beef squad still charging him with axes out (where the hell did rope-darter go???), and if he strained hard enough, he swore he could hear the axes crackling. The pills made him feel faster and more refreshed than he had in WEEKS, but these guys were surprisingly fast too, and as he slipped and tripped over the ruts in the road, he could feel them gaining and gaining on his ass. Time to make a move.

He pulled a left, emerging onto what looked like a carbon copy of the first street, except wider, with slightly higher-reaching houses. A few spindly trees struggled to grow at one end, the tops reaching up to dusty, streaked roofs where a few shadows up above gawked at the sight that was unfolding underneath them. The biggest and cleanest building was a small outdoor restaurant with an illegible sign pinned at the top, a small cluster of tables shaded by a rusty metal awning and fenced off with a few loose chains. A young man slept under one of the tables, wearing a dark uniform that almost gave off visible clouds of dust as he was shocked awake by the sound of a teenage boy jumping on his canopy. Having leapt over the chain, Carter bounced from table to table, his feet touching down on the plastic and glass with the slightest taps as he used one-footed and two-footed hops interchangeably. One of the bulky men attempted to charge after him into the outdoor shop, but found himself slowed by having to constantly zig-zag between tables and tripping hazard chairs. The other was smart enough to dodge the shop entirely, keeping pace with and sight of Carter outside of the loose chains as he bounced through the patio. When he emerged out on the other side, only one man was on his tail, the other doing his best to start catching up.

The third street quickly came into his radar, and Carter took the nearest right, still pursued by one of the axe-wielders. It was another short, wide street, the patios disappearing in favor of grainy, rocky walkways on either side of the road, pools of dirty water streaming and collecting between them and the main path. The road ahead split in two directions like a massive filthy "T", a house in the middle marking the separation between the two walks. The boy's legs were still moving, but he could hear the man stop behind him, his boots skidding in the ground as he grunted and let out a massive shout of effort. Once the air started whistling, he didn't even need to extend his field to know what was coming. He let out a huge leap straight up, using the air to dodge the spinning, blue-crackling blade that ripped out from underneath his feet and buried into the wall of the house at the end of the junction. The axe immediately deactivated upon hitting the wall, but stuck fast, revealing a gray metal two-headed blade and a black rubber hilt that presented itself as the perfect stepping stone. He controlled his descent to land just in front of the hilt with barely a stumble, stepping up onto the surprisingly springy shaft and using the bounce to run up the wall and kick his body off to arc backwards like an Olympic high jumper. He nearly snagged himself in a low-hanging power wire on the way down, but he cleared it with a few inches to spare, immediately flipping around his body and using the wind to begin rapidly spinning as he did so. In seconds, he was a human torpedo, a cyclone brewing around his body as he spun like a human top and rocketed down feet-first towards the unarmed axe-wielder. There was nowhere to hide. He could feel the other man's face breaking underneath his wraps, unable to even scream as he was thrown on his back and sent unconsciously skidding back towards the street's corner. Pretty deadly shit, but it needed a finishing move. So, before he could touch down, Carter used the wind to flip again, gathering the cyclone's wind into his hands and release it in a wave that rippled across the ground as he touched down on all fours. The other axe-wielder had caught up to his downed colleague, but was immediately tripped up by the wave that tore up the loose dirt, mud, and water caked underneath his feet. His right leg slipped, quickly sinking into an open storm drain that swallowed the entire limb up to the hip and sent a spray of filthy brown water into his face and chest.

There couldn't be much more to go. This looked like a slum, but it wasn't a maze. He was already on Street #4, even if his chest was beginning to hurt. He could get out of here, right? Right?! Nope, because more of these dickwads had to be everywhere. When he whipped the corner, he saw another narrow, filthy street crowded with garbage bins, and a sight that made his blood run cold. Two of the Brotherhood, both armed with what looked like batons, beating down on a frail figure draped in white, while a woman covered with a dark, floor-length piece of cloth screamed and sobbed. You could barely see it in the dim lights emanating from a storefront with shattered windows, but you could hear the cracks and screams. And it was enough for him. Pointing two fingers forward, he set off a blast of air in the middle of the throng that separated the two brown-clad figures, giving Carter the space to run up and leap into the middle. Like the junction of the last street, he made a T, only with his legs, jumping up and kicking out in both directions to strike both foot soldiers. The one on the left got a kick in the chest, sending him falling back into a trash bin, but the one on the right got the shorter straw, Carter's foot hitting him in the hand and sending his baton rolling away. He didn't even get a chance to recover, as the boy touched down and quickly swiveled around to strike his face with a kick that sent him through the broken window of what he presumed was the beaten man and draped woman's building. It was a convenience store, and the soldier was sent straight into a tall rack full of bottles labelled "Thumbs-Up" that looked eerily like Coca-Cola. Yet, he couldn't even watch the unfolding carnage, because he had gotten sloppy. The other man he had kicked grabbed his shirt, a powerful grip that threw him backwards into the side of the plastic bin. His arm moved, and Carter doubled over, a sharp, searing pain slicing through his chest. His arm moved again, and he felt another one. He was thrown to the floor, eyes to the sky, and he felt another one in his chest, and a blunt, soft blow in his stomach. When his vision and ears finally caught up, he could hear the woman screaming again, ripping his ears in half, and he could see the wrapped man, whipping his wrist in a motion that caused small barbs to erupt out of the baton.

Instinctively, Carter swept out with his leg, striking the other man and knocking him to the ground. Coughing, he rolled away and up onto his feet, facing the woman, who was currently struggling to drag the exhausted, broken-looking man in white back into the storefront. She was looking back at him for some sort of command, fear leaking into her eyes and seemingly freezing her in place. It was like stage fright, but life and death. "GO!" he shouted, his voice quavering with the pressure not to cough again, lifting a finger that pointed into the store. She nodded and fussed about, muttering and whimpering as she yanked the groaning, mumbling man with two limp legs even further up the front steps. He wished he could've seen her get inside safely, but he had to act quickly, because the Brotherhood member had finally found his baton again. Fight a weapon with a weapon. Or, in this case, a bottle. Some of the Thumbs-Up had rolled away from the carnage inside, drifting down the front steps and onto the ground. The wind currents bent under his hands, pushing the bottles faster, letting them speed up into his hand without breaking. The Brotherhood member growled and attempted to swing at his head with the spiked bat, but Carter ducked, grabbing the bottle by the neck as he went down and smashing it across the growler's face as he went back up. The force was hard enough to get him to drop the baton a second time, a weapon that Carter scooped up and chucked as hard as he could over the nearest roof before running away, panting and grimacing from the continuing pains cracking across his chest.

The next street was silent as he turned onto it, another alley like the first. More cracked streetlights with quiet hums, dirty windows, and clotheslines than anything, hanging with crappy Western-style T-shirts and colorful Indian dresses. A stray dog scavenged through a nearby patch of garbage, a leftover chain rattling and clinking as it pawed and pawed, but it left him alone as he slowed down to a walk and peered back and forth from wall to wall for foes. The shouts and footfalls were still present, he could hear them, along with the occasional scream, but they were quiet, in the distance. He touched his face to wipe a thick wash of sweat away from his brow, and it came back all muddy. Smelled like shit too. The animal shit was still on his face. Nasty as fuck. And then, footsteps around the corner. Lo and behold, lit up in the streetlight, it was another Brotherhood member. With a dagger in his palm, and a severed chain hanging at his belt...rope-darter?! Why the hell was this asshole still dogging his ass? He could just see his eyes crinkling up and his face turning, he was smiling. Carter had been tired before, but he was mad now. He was sick of this, sick of all of this, sick of all of these deadly idiots chasing his ass. He was pissed, and he wanted this dude who couldn't figure out what his weapon was to get out of his goddamn sight.

He threw both arms forward, willing a massive wall of air to blow towards the dagger-man. The man attempted to sprint as he saw Carter's move, but was ensnared in the wind, an oppressive force that caught his struggling form like an invisible hand and threw it into a nearby clothesline. He fell into the wire back-first, but didn't bounce out, the wind pressing down at him and keeping him locked inside the buckling trap. It pushed down farther and farther, to the point where the man's limbs were coming close to scraping the ground on the way down. And then, when it looked like it couldn't bend any further, the wind released, allowing the line to spring forward and throw the now-thoroughly screaming rope-darter into a nearby house. For a moment, it looked like he was gonna clear the roof, but he dipped down too quickly, slamming face-first into the side of the house and falling neatly into an open trash can with a satisfying fwoooosh. The bin didn't move after that. The dog, startled at the noise, growled and barked out of fear, but Carter ignored the sound, trudging onwards onto a new street.

What was the point of this? People in his life had showed him that violence was the answer. Alexis, before she disappeared off the face of the earth. Garuda. They found happiness in their beatdowns, found happiness in destroying the dirt that infected the sidewalk cracks in society. He finally felt strong enough to beat people down without risking his life with every mook, he had unlocked skills through practice that he had only dreamed about, and he still felt...empty. If it wasn't for those pills, he would've ground to a halt minutes ago, he knew that. He would have been dead without those pills. But even with the pills, there wasn't anything he got out of punching down goon after goon. Maybe he had felt something when he had taken down that driver punching the doll, but ten others later, and he could barely remember the details of each one. All of it was blur, a long, endless barrage of the same punches and kicks until he finally walked free with what he could swear were broken ribs. He didn't feel happy, or proud, or remotely excited about anything that had happened. All he felt was tired, angry, sad, scared...and alone. He could feel himself trying to blink back tears of frustration, which only made him more angry, because crying was for pussies, so now on top of being tired, super angry, sad, scared, and alone, he was a pussy.

And evil. Because as he looked around, he realized that the people who lived in these streets had nothing. The walls weren't made of wood, or stone, or good-quality anything. It was mud, bricks, maybe what looked like rusted metal if you were lucky. They were low, barely taller than him, and if he stood tall or on top of a rock, he could see the roofs. Patched up, homemade panels stitched together with cloth and fabric. He probably could've seen more in the day, but the night was a blanket, crushing any streetlights or rooms that happened to hold light in them to tiny glows. Did the power even work half the time? What about the water? Was the dark, muddy stream he had seen near Street #2 a lifeline? What happened if it dried out? What happened when axe-wielder's leg plugged through the road, sending water everywhere? He could already see pools of mud and water decorating the road in front of him, the spikes of rusted pipes, animal shit, and the occasional piece of plastic piling in heaps. The scent was horrible, an awful mixture that tore his nose apart and made him gag out of his mouth, which somehow made it feel bad there too. Could they smell it through the rugs and tattered pieces of cloth dotted with insects that made up the front walls of the houses? You couldn't even see the stars, smog and pollution covered that up. Another science lesson for you. Most of it would be obscured anyways by a tangle of power lines and clotheslines, spiderwebs that brushed the top of his head at their lowest and sent an unnerving ruffle through his hair, like the world's most gentle noogie. Dog, chittering rat, what looked like a really scrawny goat on one side, and human shared the same road as tangles of parked bikes, scooters, and what looked like a motorcycle leaning against some of the more complete walls. Everything around him felt fragile, made of cards that would fall apart with a single gust of wind from his fingertips. Maybe it already had. The images of the convenience store, the old woman and injured man, the Brother flying into the rack of knock-off cola, flashed before his eyes rapidly, sending a pang of guilt through his stomach. Maybe that was just cheap discount cola to him, but to them, it was sales. Money, which they probably didn't have much of. Wasted money now that it was gone, and money they would never get back. How much would it cost to replace it? Could they afford it while affording medical bills. He hadn't even thought about it during the throw, but now, he couldn't stop thinking about it.

Sighing, he looked up at the sky, whatever he could see of it in between the wires. The roofs didn't get high, but the birds still circled near them, lazily fluttering across the alley. A boy or young man sat on the roof, his scrawny legs dangling over as he stared down at Carter. Maybe it was a girl with short hair. He couldn't really tell. Either way, the two never broke eye contact, just staring at each other, not in the way that the Brotherhood stared at him like a piece of meat, but out of mutual curiosity. And then, a loud bang, followed by a scream, and several murky shouts that made Carter jump with each one. The boy/girl quickly scampered away from his/her position on the roof, crawling on their hands and knees to see where the noise was coming from. A few seconds later, they crawled back to the edge, peering down at their new Cali friend. They said nothing, only pointed to the right and slightly up.

"Gotcha." Carter muttered to himself, nodding to the boy/girl and immediately high-tailing it around the nearest right corner to follow the source of the shouts. They only grew more pronounced as he ran, as did the fire in his chest. Yup, his ribs were definitely cracked. In more than one place, too. It didn't stop him though, it couldn't stop him. He couldn't just sit by while terrorists made these people's lives hell, took away what little they had. If violence didn't lift him up, than saving people had to. It had to change something. And he could see exactly what he had to change. Two, barely lit brown jackets, almost shapes, slipping into a small house down the lane. Well, not any smaller than anything else he had seen that night, but small. He wanted to charge straight at them, and maybe he would've back in San Diego, but his pussiness got the best of him, convincing him to quickly duck behind a nearby heap of garbage bags to avoid getting spotted. Not long enough to let the flies and stink to set in, just long enough to hide for a few seconds, before leaping over the trash bags and hiding behind a hanging rug. This little back-and-forth lasted a few more stops until he was right next to the house, his head of dirty (and dirty was literal) blonde hair hanging out just below a windowsill draped with a thin white curtain. Time to test out the air field.

As soon as the vibrations in the air began to amplify, the voices inside got crystal clear, loud, like someone had shoved headphones on him and turned the volume up to 80. It was a lot of muttering and irritating insect chirps at first, but before long, a bark echoed between his eardrums;

"Don't speak to me in this manner!" shouted a gruff voice in accented English, the sound of metal scraping another surface becoming audible. "Back talk again, and I break your face, do you understand, dog?! Sisterfucker?!"

"Please." whimpered a small voice, a girl's voice, backed up with more muttering in another language. "We are saving money. We'll have it...very soon, three weeks."

"...Three week?" replied the gruff voice, followed by an audible scoff. "We give you three weeks, over and over. Time is long past for three weeks."

"Two weeks!" begged the small voice, her voice cracking at its highest point in a sound that made Carter wince and made a group of men laugh.

"Two weeks! Two weeks she says, how funny!" cackled the man, metal scraping the floor yet again as him and his goonies laughed it up. "Sister, your...offers are amusing, but this is too little. Bhaichara has been very forgiving, but we cannot allow this any further. It is hudud."

Another voice, a smoother, higher male voice, shouted something in another language Carter didn't understand. Clearly, it wasn't something pleasant, because a resounding CRACK ripped across the room halfway through, followed by a tangle of screams and the clatter of something falling to the ground.

"SILENCE!" the gruff voice roared, his voice somehow rising above a second CRACK and more screams, filling Carter's ears so badly he had to bite down on his fist to keep from yelping. There was warm liquid on his hand and metal on his tongue, blood that was drying away. He could barely feel the limb. "How dare you insult my faith, sisterfucker! I know every verse of Prophet, peace be upon him. How are you true if you steal from the purses of your brothers and sisters, steal time from our brave men!"

"We wouldn't need the men without your violence!" the small voice cried, before another CRACK and yelp resounded, one that made Carter's blood boil with rage. He hadn't noticed it before, but he could hear a toddler's whimper in the mix, one slowly devolving into a thick wail.

"But you needed them, you needed us, and now you must pay. If not, we will cut your father's hands for his hudud and take away. Take him." the man instructed, probably pointing towards a sobbing man on the ground. Carter wouldn't know, because he was already on the move. Dropping his air field, Carter knelt down even closer to the ground, feeling across the ground for the biggest thing he could grab. He settled on a small brick, lifting the heavy rock in his hand silently creeping back out from his hiding place, circling back out to the front of the house. It was a sorry sight, a sagging roof on top of sagging walls and a sagging porch, with a roughly carved rectangle with a hanging sheet for a door. The sheet rustled, and out came a tall, thin figure, dressed in the same brown vest, head wraps, and garb as everyone else, but with a long, shining hook extending to the ground where his right hand should've been. Not that it helped him. The man's head was bowed as he came out, meaning that by the time he finally saw the chucked brick hurtling towards his face, it was too late.

The brick sent him crumpling to the ground in a second, the crack and resulting thuds echoing not just in the house, but in the street and what felt like the entire city of Chandigarh and beyond. In moments, three other men piled out of the front door, two holding pistols at their waists, the other with a grappling hook, just like the slight woman from earlier. The two stared at each for a second, the two gunmen drawing their pistols into their hands, while Carter dropped into a combat stance that probably made him look like the world's biggest idiots. The grappler did nothing, only pointed a solitary finger forward and roared "GET HIM!". The two other men complied, rushing forward with their guns aloft in an attempt to pistol-whip him. The man on the right was more slow-footed and awkward, running with a wide stance. Carter sprinted towards him and dropped into a slide, feeling his legs tear up as he skidded in between the man's leg and rolled over onto his feet, shoving his palm forward and sending a blast of air that threw him face-first into a nearby pole. The other man clumsily tried to change direction, but Carter was quicker, charging forward as his foe attempted to turn around and kicking him in the chest.

The grappler tried to stop the blond boy as he changed direction and ran up the front steps, but the shorter one was too quick, sidestepping the man's attempts to grab him and leaping through the sheet covering the house's entrance. His eyes, already adjusted to the darkness of the outside, spotted a small family huddled next to a bed, a kerosene lamp lighting their faces up. Two small children, one in his mother's arms, an older girl, maybe a year or two younger than him, a mother dressed in another one of those floor-length dresses, and a man with red welts quickly blooming over his face, his glasses shattered. They were paralyzed with fright, staring at the midget man that had just burst into their house with no warning.

"Run! Hide!" Carter croaked, gesturing his arms to the left, where he could see a small doorway. The family immediately began to get to their feet, the toddler bouncing in his mother's arms as he was lifted up, but before he could see them out, he felt a pair of hands close around his throat. The grappler had come back, lifting him up by the neck and slamming him against the edge of the door frame, feet scrabbling uselessly in an attempt to the find the floor. Punches began to flash by his vision, striking him in the nose, the bridge of it, than the cheek, a shift that made him shout with pain coming with the 4th. After the shout, he was dumped, his body being thrown to the ground and rolling down the steps with enough force to make him cough from his rib fracture. Surprisingly, he wasn't kicked while he was down, allowing him to weakly pull himself off of the ground and stand up on two trembling legs. He was forced to look up at the man, who towered over him with surprising height, and clearly held a sneering leer behind his face mask.

"I thought you were just a stupid boy with no sense, but you're a superhuman boy with no sense. Air powers, like Aeolus, from America. You wear your hair like that boy too." he said, gesturing behind his ear. Carter's mouth quivered at the name drop, brow furrowing with a mixture of anger and confusion. "I AM AEOLUS, DUMBASS!" he wanted to scream, touching his hair out of instinct and pushing it behind his ears. How could he not see it?! But then, he pulled his hands away, and saw dirt on his fingers. His hair was filthy, and streaked with brown. Maybe even covered in brown. So was his face. They didn't recognize his hair or skin. They thought he was some weirdo brown-haired kid with vitiligo! It was like a weight had been lifted off his back. He didn't have to worry about them coming for him after this, didn't have to worry about seeing them again. He just had to stop them now. Be-all, end-all.

"I'm gonna stop you." Carter said, clenching his fists. It sounded silly by itself, even a little naive, but he had something left in him. He had to protect this family. Even if he had to give up his life for it. This was his last stand, for better or worse.

The man laughed, a deep, harrowing laugh that made the no-longer blonde boy's skin crawl. "You fight well, I give you that. Let's see how you dance." he challenged, whipping his arm back to coil the grappling hook and throwing his hip forward, letting the hook spin in peculiar circles closer and closer towards Carter's feet. He would have to keep moving to avoid getting caught.

---

12:35 AM

The china cabinet flew sideways through the air, a claptrap of death headed straight for the heads and torsos of two poor pistol-toting motherfuckers. They deserved it, but still, poor them. For a split second, Carter didn't know if the wooden block would fit through the doorway, but it skimmed right through, silently striking both pistol-whippers and tearing them straight off of the sagging porch. And then, the smash. No, let's be more accurate. The SMASSSSSSHHHH. Everything inside, from the glass to the actual plates and cups, cracked and split and exploded at once, sending a literal cloud of glass shards that flew past the open window in Carter's line of sight. If he strained hard (and he was with the air field), he could hear the sound of breaking wood and bone underneath, a horrible sound that came laced with one final shriek of masculine pain. And then, it all echoed, echoed up and down the street for what could've been miles for all he knew. And then, after seconds of long, painful echoing...silence. Pure, total silence. If the cabinet had landed on their heads and necks, he would've moved it, but when he peered out the front sheet, he saw a wooden coffin crushing their torsos and legs, the two gunmen sprawled out with crooked limbs, maybe broken. He had done it. He had saved them. The realization took over his entire body in an electric wave, shocking him and wringing him out and leaving his limbs feeling like jelly. He collapsed against the bed's footboard in a slump, panting in and out as the family suddenly burst out from the other room and ran to his side.

"You saved us!" the girl cried, throwing her skinny arms around Carter's sweaty, filthy neck. "You just...you saved us, all of us! W-who are you?"

"That's...cough, not important." Carter groaned, pushing a few sticking strands away from his forehead. "What's important is that you guys are s-safe. You...you and that man have cuts on your face. Your dad, I guess? Did they hurt you?"

"...Yes." the girl admitted, touching the wound on her cheek with a grimace. "It is okay, though. You were hurt badly. He b...broke your nose." she said, pointing towards the middle of the face. Carter moved his finger underneath to wipe the snot dribbling out, only to pull it back and see red.

The woman in the cloth said something, again in that language he didn't understand. "I am the only one in my family that knows English. I learned in school." the girl said, putting a hand under Carter's back and helping him sit up fully. "My parents only...only Arabic, y'know?"

Arabic! That was the language. "It was good stuff." Carter said with a grin, trying to put the girl and the rest of her family at ease. "Why...cough, why were they at your house?" he said, looking all around at the two rooms. They were the only ones he could see in his vision, not even a bathroom door in sight. The first one, from what he could see, was spare, but still more full than the second. A dresser at one corner, next to the bed, with a thick and bound book sitting on a small table in front of the dresser. Bags of rice and flour were stacked in heaps, next to a straw mat with an upturned teapot and mugs, brown liquid spilt everywhere. That must've been what clattered. A stack of what looked like books sat next to the sacks, thick volumes that looked like textbooks. In the other room, a plush red rug lined up underneath the window, what looked like a small, dinky clock on the wall, and a few kitchen appliances, from what he could see. That was all. Everything they owned in those six-ish walls.

"My father, he...owes money." the girl said, looking down at her hands with a sigh. "Many in the colony were tired of conditions, so they attempted to protest. My father believed they would become mobs, so he hired a private security guard with powers from the Brotherhood to protect our home. He believed the debt would be payable, but the guard did not do his job. Our house was damaged, our roof. Between the interest and the roof, my father could not pay. They terrorize us, they terrorize others too, who couldn't pay. They come every week asking for money." she said, her eyes getting wetter and wider with each word.

"That's...awful." Carter gasped, his fists clenching in response. "W-what do they do to you guys?"

"Cut the hands off. Or loot stores." she replied, clasping her hands together. Carter would've said something about the irony, but he didn't know if right now was the best time. Another thing Garuda had instilled in him. Timing. "They've looted Kumar's Convenience store three times."

"I saw. I mean, I don't know if it's Mr. Kumar's, but they were attacking a storefront." Carter said, looking down in his lap. "Attacking a man and his wife, too. I stopped them. Helped them get back inside."

"Good. Nobody ever helps us." the girl said, burying her fist into her chin. "The police can't do anything, because many of them are Brotherhood, or they receive bribes. They are scoundrels. We cannot afford protection from Guild, or Laxmi's Palm, or other money organizations."

"What about the Nagas?" Carter said, a glint of hopefulness rising in his voice. However, it quickly fizzled out thanks to a spray of dark muttering from the girl's parents, the mother scoffing slightly from underneath her veil.

"Useless. They don't care about us. They rely on sponsors, so when there's trouble, they pick places with lots of cameras. Garuda hasn't visited our colony for two years. Naga for a year. We need people like you, people who do it out of goodness, no money. Are you coming back?" the girl asked, grabbing his arm out of his excitement. Carter studied her eyes carefully, trying to hide a mixture of shame and guilt behind his pupils. How was he supposed to tell her he was Garuda's student, that he joined the Young Bloods for the fame and excitement, and did the exact same thing to boost the profile of the team? He couldn't tell her that, it would destroy her heart, rob her of all the hope in the world. He had felt hopeless before, and he wanted nobody, not even his worst enemy in the whole goddamn Milky Way, to feel the same way. Another shot of guilt weighed in his stomach. Maybe Alexis was onto something with her whole adventure into the Condemned.

"I-" Carter started, but was cut off by the veiled woman gasping by the window. He immediately stood up and rushed to her side, peering out of the open frame. It was the van he had used to follow the gang, windshield still blown out and doors hanging open, with its headlights trained on the front wall of the house. A man stood outside of the van in his brown garb, a swirl of menacingly sharp knives and blades orbiting his head and body as he stood stock-still in front of the house. It was a sight enough to make your heart sink, and make the girl's heart sink as Carter trained his eyes on her.

"What is it?" she asked, standing up to face him. She was tall, surprisingly tall, just a few inches shorter than him. Made him feel slightly intimidated, ego blow aside.

"...They're here." he said, causing the girl to clap her hands to her mouth. "Stay inside. I'll fight them. Hide, find a safe place."

"But you're hurt. Your chest, and your face too. How can you fight? They will kill you!" the girl pleaded, rushing forward and grabbing Carter's arm in the process. Her grip was cold, and it shocked him out of his thoughts for a second.

"They'll kill you too. After I just beat up their own? They'll have no sympathy. You have to run away. If I fail, you have to make sure they don't find you."

"B-but they know our house! They'll come back and find u--"

"Then leave! Run away, hide at someone else's house. You can't stay here." he said firmly, eyes hardening with determination. "I can't always be here, and I can't always protect you. I don't know when I'll come back. But I can protect you now, and I can tell you what I know. Please, just trust me. For your family. For your brothers." Carter said, gesturing with his head towards the shuddering family, already being overtaken with fear. The toddler would probably start to wail again soon.

The girl nodded solemnly, pulling a necklace up from her head as she did so. "Okay. I'll tell them. Don't let them kill you. Take this necklace, the charm. For protection." she said, dropping a tiny metal trinket in Carter's palm. It was one like he had seen in souvenir shops in San Diego, probably painted with gold. It had that "Om" symbol in the middle, it kinda looked like a 30 with an arrow on top. But it wasn't decked out with fake jewels and all massive like in Cali. It was small, bare, unfussy. It was probably real, and it meant something. He knew it. He thought about sliding it into his pocket, but he decided against it, quickly stringing it over his neck.

"Thank you. If I live, I'll come back. I'll give it back to you, I promise." he said with a nod. With those parting words, he brushed his hair back, straightened his shoulders, turned on his heel, and stepped out of the white sheet into one hell of a lot of uncertainty.

[Zarkenis Ultima]

November 25th

---

---

Icarus felt dazed from how the tide of the battle had turned once and then back again just as quickly - he felt he had Dante on the ropes at first, but in an instant, she flipped that notion on its head as she caught him and threatened to dispatch him with poison gas, or perhaps deadly acid. Frostbite managed to buy him some time, but it was the arrival of the rest of Stars that finally spared them from having to fight a losing battle.

Red's call to action snapped the young hero out of his temporary daze. "Throw her here!" He shouted back, gathering all of his power in his fist.

Red and Blue nodded to each other and did another high-five. Suddenly finding herself with all of their shared strength and speed, Blue spun in place like a whirlwind before throwing Dante towards Surge with all of her strength. Creating a heavy, powerful gauntlet around his fist, Surge intercepted the speeding android with a devastating punch to the chest, which sent her flying right back in the direction she had come from - fortunately, Red and Blue had already cleared out, and the villainess slammed into the wall with such force that she remained stuck there.

"You will be eliminated." Dante spoke as the vents on her palms opened, showing no sign of pain or discomfort of any sort. However, the impact had broken through her chest's plating, exposing some of the wiring and circuitry underneath. Before she was able to release any of her deadly agents or toxins, Surge quickly closed the gap that separated him from her and pressed his palm against her shattered chest.

"Not today. Time to sleep, Dante." He said as the electricity flowing through her was suddenly drained and transformed into a small blue orb in his palm. The android's body immediately went limp, the villainess no longer responsive. Finally, they were safe from her attacks.

"Hey, good job with that buddy!" Red said as he and Blue approached it, giving him a friendly pat on the back.

"Yeah I have to admit that was impressive. Good job kid." Blue added, ruffling the young man's blonde hair.

Despite his aloof nature, Icarus couldn't avoid cracking a smile at all the praise. With how distant most adults on the team were towards him, those two were his closest friends on the Stars, and Blue in particular felt like the big sister he'd never had, so it was no wonder he felt comfortable around them.

"Thanks guys, you did a good job too." He told them, before excusing himself and walking back to Frostbite. "Hey, good job dealing with her, you really saved me back there." He admitted sincerely. "Are you alright?"

---

December 1st

---

Eating marshmallows from the bag that Whitney had been so kind to pass to her, Alexis walked over and sat down near Kiris and Mars as the group decided on an activity to pass the time now that dinner was over. Andrew was quick to take over and propose to have people tell their dumbest stories, promptly setting the example by talking about one time he accidentally took a pipe to the stomach and somehow lived to tell the tale - a story that got both a chuckle and a wince out of the blonde girl, who wasn't sure if that was really the kind of fun story to tell around a campfire. Regardless, he was about to be outdone by none other than Whitney, who seemed to momentarily overcome her usual awkwardness to confess that she had once nearly caused her old high school's entire chemistry lab to go up in flames.

"Wow, Whitney. That's a hell of a story." The young genius said with a chuckle, setting down her bag of marshmallows and standing up. "Alright, I think I've got one too, let's see if I can make it fun." She continued, clearing her throat as if to prepare. "One time when I was little, after school was over I..." She began, only to trail off as a bit of a confused expression appeared on her face, thoughts unknown to the rest of the teens making her reconsider her choice of a story. "Um, no, that's not how it starts. Let's see... When I was still living in San Francisco, there was this..." She tried again, only to fall silent this time as well, realizing something about the stories she intended to tell. After a moment of awkward silence, she put on an apologetic smile as she looked around at the others. "Um, I think I've got the details a little mixed up, so actually I'm gonna pass for now." She said, her smile wavering as she sat down.

"Is everythin' okay?" Kiris quietly asked her as the others continued telling stories. The pink-haired girl had been understandably disappointed when her boyfriend excused himself to go grab some snacks, but otherwise she simply continued sitting by the fire, enjoying the warmth of its flames and the company of the others, even if she couldn't think of any fun stories to share with them. However, it was clear that something was troubling her best friend.

The blonde girl simply nodded. "Yeah it's... it's nothing, don't worry about it Kiris." She replied, smiling at the Hadrian. "I'm fine but thanks for asking." She said. It wasn't entirely true, as there was something that did bother her, but on the whole it was nothing too serious. She just didn't feel comfortable sharing all those stories of her youth and her life before San Diego... when she wasn't sure if they ever really happened or not.

"Ya don't have to thank me. That's what friends are for!" Kiris smiled at Alexis, giving her a light pat on the shoulder and eliciting a more sincere smile from the blonde, who started eating marshmallows again as she tried to focus on the others' stories instead of her own thoughts. Meanwhile, Kirisvala's own attention was promptly diverted to her boyfriend as he sat down next to her, handing her a treat on a paper plate. As she realized just what it was, she beamed up at Mars.

"For me? Wow, thanks Marsy!" She said happily, leaning over to give her boyfriend a quick peck on the cheek, her tail moving to rest on his leg as a sign of affection. The pink-haired girl then turned her attention to the s'more, taking a bite out of it and sighing in contentment as the taste filled her mouth. It was just as good as she remembered, and she was about to take another bite only to suddenly pause.

"Ya didn't make any for yourself?" She asked Mars.

[Segral]

Carter Graystone
The Cockroach Litter: The Finale

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3

12:40 AM

The moment he stepped out of the white sheet, he blinked hard, surprised by the sudden bright lights that had struck him in the face. He had seen camera flashes, a hell of a lot of camera flashes, but he wasn't used to a sheer wall of light slapping him upside the chin. The steps, the road, the walls, the dogs, all of it disappeared under a thick white blanket. Putting his arm before his eyes to screen out the harshest bits of it revealed the shadow of a van behind the light, a shadow that grew more and more pronounced as his eyes became adjusted to the light. The transport van, windshield gone and two masked individuals huddled behind the wheel. On either side of the van, a human figure, one with distinct glittering blades swirling around him like he had seen outside, the other with a murky shape that looked like wings behind their back. And then, in the middle, striding towards him with a cackle that barely rose over the running engine, the big bad, the alpha male, the archenemy. He was tall and lean, almost as tall as the brute Carter had kicked in the nuts, and just as fit. He wore a shirtless uniform like that man had done as well, revealing silvery, translucent skin, milky white eyes, and an assortment of blood-red tattoos of various symbols decorated all over his chest, arms, and bald head.

"So you are the one that's been causing trouble." the man jeered, his English clear despite a slight lilt. "I had a feeling something would happen today."

"You had a feeling?" Carter asked, speaking in a harsh, raspy croak that struggled to keep its breath in thanks to the broken bones around his chest. It pained him to talk, but his curiosity had pushed through.

"A little gut one. Could even be mistaken for gas." the man said with a shrug, quickly moving up the stairs to face Carter head-on. He was a good foot taller than the no-longer blond boy, forcing the smaller one to step back and crane his neck to keep his rival's eyes in view. "At first, I thought my men's dreams of Rainbow Tulip had gotten too overbearing for them to hold back. A man-woman with powers over the air kicking and leaping over soldiers armed to the teeth, taking injuries only when he-she stopped to warn an innocent passerby? Surely, they had been reading too many magazines, wouldn't you agree?" he asked with a chuckle and a wide smile, a creepy grin that looked plastered on. He looked like he had too many teeth, too.

"Y-yeah, I guess..." Carter trailed off, scratching the back of his head. "Sure, yeah, they had been reading too many magazines."

That didn't seem to be the right answer, because the grin immediately contorted into a face of pure fury, a roar, and two hands being slammed into Carter's chest, sending him backpedaling and crashing on his ass into the rotting wood porch. "BUT THEY WEREN'T!" the man screamed, stomping the ground with weirdly powerful force. "YOU WEREN'T RAINBOW TULIP, YOU DOG, YOU'RE AN INSOLENT BARB IN MY SIDE!!! WHEN YOU TEAR DOWN FIFTEEN OF MY BEST, YOU STRIKE ME FIFTEEN TIMES. AND NOW, I'LL STRIKE YOU WITH ENOUGH FORCE TO TEAR FIFTEEN OF YOU APART!" he shrieked, putting his hands together at the front and swinging them back to his sides like he was doing a pec fly. The boards underneath his back suddenly tore apart with an awful ripping noise, breaking down and leaving him sinking into the middle of the quickly-disintegrating porch. He could see the wood shattering and splintering at both corners of his vision, flying out in jets like a wood chipper. This loon could probably do the same thing to his chest.

"I was just trying to protect people, that's it!" Carter pleaded out of shock, his voice doing a really weird crack at 'protect' that nearly made him die of embarrassment right then and there. "I'm nothing to you guys! Why do you want to kill me?!"

The man's face of fury shifted right back into a wide grin, like an overeager teacher who was desperate to get on your good side. Creepy. "Ahhhh, child, let me spell it out for you." he said, kneeling down and speaking in that "instruction-time" voice. He even sounded like an overeager teacher. Carter wanted to gag. "You've beaten us. Stolen from us, stole money for repairs, and stole time. Some men may have scars forever. You disrespected and humiliated us, and aided infidels. You've committed crime after crime of heinous order. Do you know the ultimate Indian punishment for heinous crimes?"

"...No?"

"THEY ARE EXECUTED!" the silvery man screamed again, swinging his arms up like it was Lion King. Suddenly, a vice grip locked around Carter's neck, choking the air out of his mouth to the point where he could barely cough. His hands began scrabbling uselessly at his throat in an attempt to remove the collar, but there was nothing there, only air, air that was cutting out his breathing and lifting him off the ground into a standing position despite his attempts to stay down with his tip-toes. And then, he was thrown flying, sailing over the ruined stairs and hitting the ground in a hard roll that kicked the air back in his lungs. His chest was on fire, but at least he could breathe again, taking in huge gulps on all fours while he wiped foamy spittle away from his lips. Of course, it didn't stop there, though. Footsteps echoed behind his ears, followed by a soft, needle-sharp voice, one that prickles up and down his spine.

"You four, take care of him. Goodbye, child. I hope your pyre is beautiful."

The woooosh ahead of him and to the left told Carter all that he needed to know. Using his air to get his momentum going, he quickly began to roll to the right, narrowly avoiding a stream of metal knives and darts that embedded themselves into the dirt with solid thunks. The closest, a large, fat, serrated blade, came a hair away from slicing his left arm open a second time, tearing open the sleeve of his now-ruined jersey. That couldn't happen again. The clothes covering the pale patches of his skin were the only safeguard to his identity. He couldn't lose that protection. He had to keep moving. With a mighty grunt, he made a huge side flip back up onto his feet, dodging another two knives that whizzed right next to his left sneaker. The knives belonged to a man who was now directly in Carter's line of sight, a medium-sized, medium build man or woman with identical garb to any other foot soldier, aside from a motorcycle helmet with the Brotherhood's symbol painted down the side and a long curtain of flowing hair ejecting out the back. That was all he could take in before a massive force slammed into his side, tearing him off of his feet and shoving him backwards in a direct beeline for the white sheet that marked the doorway. No. He couldn't let them get inside.

With as much will as he could, he shoved a massive wind current to the side and tilted his body, willing his form to miss the sheet and crash right into the wall of the house, doubtful as he was that it could even take the force. Surprisingly, the force bent easily to the air, going askew and slamming Carter's back and legs into the a of wall just below an open window, where his head bobbed through the frame. Perfect. With a duck back, he threw his head forward and slammed the top directly where he could feel the force breathing hot air into his face. It stung like crazy, but it worked, causing the force to lash their head back and grab their mouth out of reflex, revealing itself to be a young man with short, curly hair and what looked like...wings, growing out of his back. The man didn't seem to want to give Carter too much time to analyze him, because he lashed back again, holding Carter in place with one hand and reaching out with the other, literal six-inch talons sliding out of his fingernails in big, sharp, grimy hooks. The birdman attempted to shove forward and rip open his face with the claws, but Carter threw his head to the side, letting the hand sail into the open window-frame and get stuck in place as the claws dug into the inside. With his arm locked in place, Carter was able to grab the birdman's shoulder and begin shoving his knee into his torso, hitting his stomach twice, and then his chest once, and then, with his leg fully drawn back, kick him high up, his foot clipping the man's chin. The pressure-aided force was enough to tear Birdboy's hand free and send him tumbling over the ruined porch, skidding on his back for several feet.

There was no rest. The minute Carter regained his balance on the crooked boards of the porch, he heard a small tap-tap to his right, instinctively causing him to whirl around to see a wooden electric pole just at the other side of the alley, and a dark, shadowy blur racing away from it. Immediately, he lapsed into instinct, dropping onto all fours on his back and pivoting around with his good arm like a breakdancing move. As the shadow passed over his body, he let pressure gather under the sole of his foot, spinning onto his side and using his injured elbow to brace him up for a solid karate kick right into the middle of the blur's stomach. With a pop and a mild grunt, the blur was flung over the side of the porch, hitting the edge once before bouncing over and disappearing. Relieved, he turned to the front, only to see a stream of green fluid erupting over Birdboy's limp form and towards his feet. He let off a blast of wind underneath his feet that aided his jump, letting him leap over the boards now pooling with green slime and crash down on his feet in the mud on the sidelines. The wind had gathered a spray of the green fluid and hit the soles of his Nikes with it, making them hot, almost uncomfortable to stand in, and misshapen, almost like they were melting under his feet. Guess it was green acid.

No more time to fixate on acid, though. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the Kniclone again, several darts drifting out of his spiral of blades and beginning to shoot in a volley towards Carter's head. Clumsily, he began to run out of the way on melting shoes, running to the left and hopping over a leftover puddle of acid to avoid getting torn apart by the raining blades. Two darts arced in a different direction, directly aiming for the top of his head, so he stepped backwards, circling around Birdboy on the ground in an attempt to fake Kniclone out. Big mistake. A sudden, sharp, jagged pain wrapped around his ankles and drove in, causing him to look down with a gasp of pain. Turns out, Birdboy had talons on his feet too, and they were locked right around his legs. On cue, the birdman's wings began to flap, quickly righting the avian man into a standing position mid-air and throwing Carter onto his back, uselessly scrabbling the ground with weak hands. Soon, the birdman took off, flapping higher and higher into the air with the brown-haired boy dangling upside down, vulnerable and ready for any hit that was about to come. "PUT ME DOWWWWWWWN, DICK-NOSE!" he shrieked, attempting to kick at the birdman's legs, but the grip only got tighter, cutting in and sending more warm trickles down his leg.

The only response he got was a belch from down below, followed by another stream of what he presumed was hissing and spitting green acid. He could tell from the warmth, and when he pushed his eyes to the top of their vision, he could see streaks of what you could easily mistake for water brewing at the cracks. The stream came dangerously close to his head, causing him to let out a whimper of fear as it whistled past the back of his head, but passed by quickly, falling into a wet, muddy pool on the ground. The spray on the edge of the stream hit him, though. It hit the back of his neck, his shirt at the back, lancing his skin with enough pain to make him start contorting and twisting. His muscles were losing control, causing him to begin trembling and shaking as fire ripped apart his back, itching and scratching badly enough to make him start to scream. He couldn't even get his hands far up enough to pull his shirt away from his skin, forced to begin biting the inside of his cheek to deal with it. His eyes, already getting moist with pain, rolled around in all directions to see something he could use to pull himself free, and soon settled on the blurry dart he had kicked earlier, jumping from pole to pole and roof to roof in an attempt to climb up to Carter and the bird's level. With one final shout, Carter sent a wave of air from directly above Birdboy and right down, pushing him down a foot or two and disrupting his flight. The trick worked, causing Shadowblur to collide into the birdman's torso with enough power to get him to reflexively let go of Carter's ankles.

The drop was just a few feet down and onto his belly, leaving him coughing on all fours as he struggled not to inhale the dust and dirt trying to fly into his face. Now that a lull had entered the fight, he finally had a good chance to properly take a look at all four of his enemies as the dust cleared and size them up. On the far left, Kniclone. He had spotted him standing out the window earlier, a modestly-built man or woman with long, dark hair and a motorcycle helmet covering their face and topping what would otherwise be a totally stock-standard Brotherhood uniform. A floating arrangement of knives, cleavers, machetes, and needles floated around their head like a tornado, obscuring what little Carter could see of them. On the near left, Shadowblur. This one was a woman with her hair covered, or at least he was guessing based on the painted fingernails that gripped two sais nestled in palm. Her suit was almost identical to any other foot soldier, aside from a golden sash that circled her waist and the milky white wraps that covered her mouth and hair, different than the boring beige ones of the others. On the near right, Birdboy. He was shirtless like basketball pole earlier, his body practically ripping with muscle, especially in his legs, which looked like they were gonna split his pants at any moment. His silver talons were still extended out of his hands and bare feet, and a beak had taken over for his nose, snapping and clicking away. His wingspan was huge too, meters and meters, and dappled with white feathers. A few had gotten caught in his curls, held back with a bandana at his forehead and another at his mouth. And finally, on the far right, Sewerrat, the freakiest looking of them all. His uniform was identical to the other foot soldiers aside from his lack of head wraps, but his face was horrible to look at it, with eyes like a snake, no hair, and a ridge of spines cutting across his scalp, green scales replacing his skin and a toothless maw with a long, sticky tongue taking over his mouth. He had no gloves either, his hands looking like a lizard's, with sticky fingers and webs in the gaps.

And then, there was Carter. One short (if handsomely muscular and tanned), shivering boy with his fists up, with no shoes, blood all over his legs and left arm, a T-shirt held together by the seams, a waterfall of sweat pouring down his face and neck, a slightly recurring acne issue, several broken ribs, burns all over his neck and back, mud all over his face and hair, a nosebleed, and a left eye he swore it was easier to see out of just a few minutes ago. Each one of these guys could hit harder, think smarter, and move faster than he could. But that was okay, because they would do the moving for him.

Sewerrat immediately flicked with his tongue, the appendage stretching out like an impressively long piece of gum to begin snapping and lashing at Carter's legs from at least ten feet away. Meanwhile, Birdboy kicked off with a spin and began to glide directly towards his target's torso, probably attempting to gut him with his claws and beak. In response, Carter let off a quick series of skips and jumps, dodging the flicking tongue multiple times and using the final kick to jump high and land straight on Birdboy's back and neck. The man gave an oddly squawky cry of alarm, his belly nearly dipping straight to the ground, but a blast from Carter caused him to rise up, quickly ascending to become level with the roof of the white-sheeted house. He made an attempt to spin and around and steer Birdboy's flight path by grabbing the men's neck, but the feathery one didn't like that, tilting, bucking, and with ne final rock, flinging Carter off of his back and onto the roof of the house, where he neatly landed on his feet. He wasn't ready for Shadowdart though; the woman somehow backflipped onto the roof of the house with a sudden creak and made a two-handed slash for Carter's chest. The "Om" necklace the girl in the house had given him flapped up around his neck as he attempted to lean away from the sai, catching the blade as it whistled past his neck and clinking as the two pieces of metal bounce apart. Carter attempted to widen the distance by making a two-footed hop onto the edge of the chimney, but she lashed out with her foot in a vicious kick, causing him to lose his footing, stumble, and slip feet-first into the dusty chute.

He willed a soft wall of air to catch him as he fell back down, slowing his fall enough for him to reach out with his hands and knees and brace him before he collapsed into the family kitchen. The bad part was that it sent a cloud of ash and dust into his face, darkening his vision and involuntarily forcing him to sneeze and gag. But maybe that bad part had a good part too, because it gave him an idea. Closing his eyes and scrunching his face, he willed a small, weak cyclone of air to billow up the chimney, a huge cloud of ash and soot wafting up and beginning to spin in a vicious spiral around his body. If one of the family could see what was going on, he couldn't see, and he would never know, because with one final push, he let go of the walls and let the air lift himself and the black powder up and out of the chimney, both spilling out all over the roof in the process. The dark cloud and tears in his eyes prevented him from seeing anything concrete, but he could hear the coughing of his enemies in both directions, and he could make out their outlines, one slightly wider than the other. With a maniacal scream, he charged for the smaller one first, driving the heel of his good hand into their chest as they turned around and sending them flying away, dipping out of sight and disappearing in the ash. Maybe the two thunks were a good sign. Either way, he didn't pause, turning on his heel and quickly charging for the wider shadow, who he could swear was Bird Boy given the huge, flapping wings that were jumping in and out on either side. With a vicious leap, Carter tackled the man by the torso, wrapping his arms around his chest and kicking off the roof.

Birdboy was completely unprepared for the hit, unable to even plant his legs before he was thrown off the side of the one-story house and barely able to get his wings working to avoid immediately ploughing straight into the ground. Carter's limited eyesight meant he was stuck to simply holding on for dear life as the shrieking and sailor-swearing bird twisted in and out, wrenching and bucking as knives whistled around him, the circus-looking freak on the bottom unable to get a clear shot. Eventually, Bird-Boy gave one final lurch, tilted down, and began to twist, spiraling faster and faster towards the Earth. Breathing in, Carter gently kicked off of the bird's back, falling back on his ass hard enough to rip the tears out of his eyes as the bird smashed sideways into the ground in front of him and twisted upon itself, screaming as its wing got pinned around and began to give off several awful, sickening cracks. It took a lot to not puke up that cauliflower.

Puke or no puke though, he had to keep moving. And the object that Birdboy had just fallen in front of had given him another bright idea. The van was still just humming away, headlights still beaming directly in Carter's field of vision. Kniclone and Sewerrat were already advancing on him in Birdboy and Shadowblur's absence, the latter beginning to flick his tongue in Carter's direction and the latter launching another dagger, but the boy was quicker, rolling to his feet and jumping onto the hood of the van as the knife sailed through and slashed the tip of Sewerrat's tongue off. The pink cord began to tweak and leap around, spurting a thin red fountain of blood all over the ground. For some, that probably would've been a good enough distraction, but Kniclone was unfazed, continuing to volley needles at the boy as he frog-leapt through the broken windshield and into the driver's cabin, the closest whistling right over his back and skewering the leather seats in two places. Maye a couple more places, he wasn't really sure.

He needed to drive away now, but even figuring out how to get the car going was a struggle. The van was live, but the wheel was on the right side of the board, something which cost him precious seconds slinking towards as Kniclone ran to the front of the van and Sewerrat kept grabbing his tongue. And then, once he was in the right position, which stick position was the right one? Couldn't hurt to try the defa--nope, nope, this was reverse. The van yanked back as soon as he put his foot to the pedal, forcing him to whip the wheel around as hard as possible to avoid backing up into the nearest house and throw him parallel to the dirt road's path. The move kept the knives whizzing safely in front of his windshield, but the Sewerrat was gaining ground, a distinct fizzing sound becoming audible from behind the porthole as the side of the van began to melt away into green vomit. The spray even reached his side window, beginning to burn small, bullet-sized holes in the glass. Time to try a new stick. How about uh...two forward? Bingo. As soon as he touched down again, the van sped forward with a huge blast of mud and dirt ejecting from the back wheels, leaving the vomit completely behind him and leaving the knives a distant tapping at the dividing wall behind him. He had done it! He had pulled it off, he had escaped! He wanted to scream with glee, but he settled on taking his left hand off the wheel to flip off the two crooks through his porthole, watching as they ran to the nearest wall...and began picking up scooters.

Panicking, he pressed harder on the gas, rapidly flipping the wheel to pull the van around a tight corner and into a long road decorated left and right with empty market stalls. The clusters of people on the roof, many of whom looked like they were still in their pajamas, had grown and were now shouting and pointing down at the van as it bounced up and down over the dips and bends in the road. Idiots. Now they would know exactly where to find him. All he could do was keep the van steady in response, gripping the wheel in his tightest 9-3 possible as he tried not to knock his teeth out. The only positive as far as Carter was concerned was the straight roads. This entire colony/slum/village was built like a grid, everything at a right angle and neatly portioned into blocks. On one hand, it made navigating over the terrain fairly simple, but on the other hand, it made certain turns a little...tight. Like when he hit a right at the nearest junction, and instead of making a perfect right-hand turn, swung too close to a pole and knocked off his side mirror. "Shiiiiiiit...." he groaned, immediately checking his fuzzy, acid-filled blind spot in response. There wasn't much to see, only more run-down housing, but it was a force of habit. This didn't feel fluid, like driving at home, or driving his motorbike for movie stunts. This was shaky, this was out of control, this swung in weird ways and didn't always catch up. You couldn't even throw it into proper gear, because you were too worried about hitting a pothole and chewing off the top of your tongue. Also a nuisance when two freaks on mopeds were after your ass, especially when they had just turned onto your street.

"Come onnnnnnn..." he simply groaned upon seeing the two figures in his rear view, quickly throwing a left and barely squeezing through a narrow turn. He had the head-start, but the scooters had the speed to gain on him, especially given how cautious he was. He gave a little bit of leverage down and hit the gas a bit harder, but it still didn't come to close to keeping pace with the bikes, leaving him totally exposed as they got closer and closer. He could literally see Kniclone's blades glinting in the moonlight. He had to pull off one of his stunt tricks. It was the only way. Tilting the wheel slightly, he began to make a beeline for the right path in a T-shaped junction up ahead, like the one he had bruised up those axe-catchers in. It was just like switching lanes. The bikes quickly followed suit, tilting their own paths to the right and bracing to attack or jump into the back cabin of the vehicle. Sewerrat looked especially hungry. But, at the last second, Carter quickly flipped the wheel in the opposite direction, causing the vehicle to begin cutting left and heading for the opposite side of the junction. Kniclone slipped slightly, wobbling on his bike and falling behind as they attempted to stay on trail. Sewerrat, who had stopped tailing the van and tried to get level with Carter on the left, was forced to swerve in the same direction to avoid getting knocked off his moped, and his lizard hands and bowed legs were making him struggle with the turn. After a few moments of wobbling back and forth, the reptilian man lost total control, letting out one last hiss of fear before entering a total skid and hitting the front wheel on a massive pothole in the road. Who knew lizard-men could fly? Especially so gracefully, right over a clothesline full of dresses and into the nearest alley.

Only one more left. And it was probably the most dangerous one. Kniclone stayed steady on his path as the two whipped past a garbage stack full of rusted signs, and, once he had recovered from Carter's feint, began gaining too. Before he could decide what to do or when to do it, Kniclone let a single small dagger lift out of his collection, the blade pirouetting and dancing in the light. Carter could only helplessly watch in his mirror as the blade suddenly rocketed towards the ground underneath his vehicle, a few metal clangs echoing throughout the night air before an even worse sound, a slash and hiss become audible, followed by a thump and vibration that rattled through his dashboard. That skinny circus bastard had slashed his damn tire! They just let crazy ex-girlfriends be terrorists now?! No way this dude wasn't a woman after that. The tire was now beginning to flap and smack against the ground, and his wheel was starting to give way, the van tilting despite his hardest attempts to keep it straight. Kniclone was just gaining and gaining, thunk after thunk in the van letting him know how many knives were getting embedded in the side of this sorry-ass coupe. Soon, he would be right at the window. There was only one thing he could do.

Taking his feet off the gas for a second, Carter quickly whipped up and stretched out with his left foot, catching the passenger door's latch with his toe and barely managing to unhook it, nearly crying with relief when he heard the click. And then, after he got all of his almost-tears out, he let out a blast of air that caused the door to swing flying open. It was perfect timing. The moment Kniclone put a last bit of speed on to bring her level with Carter's seat, the door smacked against the front of her wheel and was torn off its hinges, falling right on top of her in the process. She tumbled off the back as her scooter teetered off to the left and collapsed onto its side, rolling and rolling as her knives and needles and blades fell in neat jumbles and patterns all around her.

He had done it. With one last jerk, his van groaned and stressed and whined its way around one last corner, finding itself on a long, straight throughway with only a few small sheds and houses bordering the path. It was less muddy and filthy than the other roads, with actual gravel in some parts, and patches of long grass occupying the space between. A couple of the houses even had tiny second floors, with balconies and wire fences. In the distance, he could see trees, skinny ones, and even further, after what looked like a small ridge or valley, a deep, thick wall of woods separating this slum from whatever was beyond. It was probably a shitty road, rocky and full of death traps, but it was a road OUT. He would finally be free, finally out of this cockroach litter, with no more damn cockroaches on his skin. He could get help, find police or someone to get him to the hospital. Even a bus to take him back to the city center. Anything was possible. He wanted it all. He wanted food, he wanted water, he wanted some painkillers, he wanted to see his goddamn dog, he wanted to sleep. Just a little further, a few feet more, just a little bi--

"I SHOULD'VE NEVER TRUSTED THOSE FOOLS!!!"

Carter cried out in fear as a massive, hunkering, slamming force nearly ripped through the ceiling of the van, sending it wobbling in place on an already crooked set of wheels. He recognized that voice. It was silver-skin, the crazy one. He had come back. He had seen Carter escape. He was gonna kill him, right then and there. The boy slammed the gas as soon as he felt the thump, pushing the van as fast as it could go, but with the slashed tire, it just wasn't fast enough, just too slow.

"YOU'VE FORCED ME TO DO DEEDS THAT SHOULD'VE BEEN DONE LONG AGO!!!"

Suddenly, the back wall of the cabin pushed in, breaking in the back of the leather seat and sending Carter's face and torso inches away from the steering wheel. Something in the dashboard rippled, and a weight pressed into Carter's stomach and upper legs, metal buckling in and pressing tighter, tighter. For a dangerous second, his leg got pinned so badly his foot slipped away from the gas, but the van hit a pothole seconds later, bending the metal and letting him hit the gas a second time. It only lasted for a brief second though, because as soon as he touched back down, both side windows shattered at once, sending glass all over his arms, face, and lap. Somehow, no pieces hit his eyes.

"I'LL TEAR YOU LIMB BY LIMB, YOU GROSS PARASITE!!! YOU DOG!!!"

The roof buckled in and shattered like an eggshell, a corner coming down and scratching across Carter's forehead. He screamed with pain and fear as it narrowly avoided breaking his skull in, sending another trickle of blood down his cheek. The porthole behind him twisted and clamped shut with an awful screech, impossible to even slip a pencil through. His knuckles were turning white. The doors were starting to bend in and the dash was starting to get closer to his belly, forcing him to slide into the middle with his foot still on the gas to avoid getting crushed.

"THERE WILL BE NO ASHES LEFT TO SCATTER WHEN I HAVE RISEN!!!"

No exit out from the back. No exit from the sides, the doors were too bent. The only way out was the front, the quickly narrowing triangle that faced out into the unknown. It was his only shot. The flat tire had ripped off and turned bald, screeching against the ground and jetting sparks in all directions, but just a moment later, the entire axle snapped like a thundercrack, instinctively causing him to cover his ears. Another axle snapped, this time at the back, and the screeches from the floor and suspension were only getting wo--

"RISE!!!"

From the roof of the van, one silvery skinned superhuman with blood-red tattoos leapt off the metal with the grace of a dancer and touched down on the ground using the balls of his feet, bending his knees down and lifting them and his arms straight to the sky, The blown-out van suddenly lifted off as it approached the steep hill into the valley, ignoring all signs in various languages to "SLOW DOWN" by lifting off the peak in an incredible bounce and sailing through the air, the screams of the teenager inside still audible in the quiet nighttime air. The vehicle flipped once, twice, and crashed down on its nose in a massive blast of metal and glass, rolling for several feet before screeching to a slow halt in the middle of the road. And then, it burst into flame, fire roaring from the engine and quickly consuming the entire vehicle in a bright blaze. The only remnant of its passenger was a misshapen white high-top shoe, lying on its side just down the path from the flames. The ordeal was done.

The sound of creaking and wheeling made itself audible behind the silver man as he continued to pointedly stare down into the valley. It was a rickshaw, a classic one, being wheeled and pushed by a huffing and puffing man in brown Brotherhood garb. Unlike many of his comrades, he was quite pudgy, a huge beer-belly poking out over his leather belt and a fat face flushed with red smeared up top. Once he saw the silver man, he waved and laughed, leaving his rickshaw in place behind him as he tottered over to where the man was standing.

"<Have you caught the boy, Khan?>"

"<Yes. I have.>" Khan replied in a serious, even tone, clasping his hands behind his back. "<I am not sure if I have ended him.>"

The fat man looked incredulously back down at the valley and the flaming van, before looking just as incredulously at Khan. "<What do you mean, 'not sure'? He is dead, the boy is dead! Only Allah knows how he ended so many of our men with his blows, but he is dead!>"

"<Allah is the most knowing, but I'm sure there are others that know just as much.>" Khan said, a sentence that made the fat man squirm. Upon turning his head back to the valley's pits, he was met with another surprise, one that made his eyebrows furrow tightly. "<Oh, look...there he is.>" he suddenly followed up in a somber voice, pointing down towards the pit for the fat man to follow. Once he had followed Khan's arrow, he would see a boy, small and thin, filthy, and bloody as well, climbing the opposite hill on foot, struggling at every dip to crawl his way up and maintain his two feet. He looked as if he had seen humanity's darkest corners, as if he had been through a thousand trials, but yet, the boy pushed on, walking and walking further up the hill.

"<Well, what are we waiting for then?>" the fat man asked, growing more indignant as Khan turned away and began to walk back towards the rickshaw. "<Let's kill him! How in the hell could he get away from us now?>"

"<There is no need.>" Khan replied simply, fiddling with the boards of the rickshaw's carriage and tracing his fingers through the grooves. "<He will die soon. Look at his wounds. He will never make his way back to Chandigarh. He is lucky if a drunkard doesn't hit him on the way over. We will hear of his tragic death on the morning news. As well, I have questions to ask you.>"

The fat man jumped slightly at the word 'questions', fiddling with his fat fingers as he trotted over to Khan's elbow. "<Of course, Khan. What questions?>"

"<You chose the men who would guard the van, correct?>"

"<I did.>" the fat man replied, getting more and more terse by the second. "<I chose eight men, plus the driver. It is a pity that they were not able to stop this.>"

"Hmmmm..." Khan muttered, continuing to fiddle with the board with his face away from Khan. "<And you insisted that the men only carry blunt and sharp weapons, correct?>"

"<Of course. We are in a crowded area, there could be police. Gunshots may have been investigated. It was important to keep the noise to a minimum, avoid a scene like in Chennai.>"

"<Yes, yes...>" Khan said, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "<And, last question. Where were you during this entire situation?>"

"<Providing coverage with my men. We were demanding payment from the local tavern. Disgusting men. They deserve to lose their hands and heads.>" the fat man said venomously, spitting onto the ground. The move did not have its desired reaction from Khan though, who merely went back to fiddling with the board.

"<Did you know your rickshaw has a loose board in it?>"

"Wha--"

And without warning, Khan turned around and shoved his fist through the fat man's stomach. There was barely any blood, scarcely a gurgle as the fat man's eye bulged out of his head, staring up with his face tilted towards Khan's sneering, growling face. Only pain, immense pain, the feeling of his intestines and stomach being shredded and torn, his muscles losing control as they were torn strand by strand. He couldn't even ask why. All he could do was sink lower and lower into the fist as his legs gave way, and feel it in his core as the fist went deeper, deeper...

And deeper.

END OF ACT 1

[Galnius]

Mikaela Mynd
Sometime Mid December

Mika let out a deep sigh once she was sure that Jan had completely left. Bringing her hand up she mimicked Jan pushing her chin up, and her eyes narrowed in confusion. "What the fuck was that?" she asked, incredulous. She'd seen the action before of course. It was something she saw in anime when someone was crying their eyes out and the main character need to make them feel better. However, she was not crying, and Jan certainly was not a main character. Such things just seemed strange in real life.

"Whatever. People are weird." Grabbing her note pass again, she looked through his answers. Most of them made a lot of sense, like the Polish whatever and liking fencing, though a few caught her by surprise. What kind of person reads geography books for fun? And Westerns? Really? Weren't those only really watched by grumpy 60 year olds? She knew he had died but if he knew a member of the Young Bloods it couldn't have been that long ago. Penguins though, penguins were cute. Jan sort of had a penguin like look with his uniform too.

"Alright, well, a guitar it is. That shouldn't be too hard." Mika opened her largest, middle desk drawer to reveal the other, clearly smaller presents. A new phone and a math computer game were neatly placed next to a black skirt and a decidedly not math multiplayer computer game, another copy of which sat on her desk. Next to those two was a single gift for the hardest person in the world to shop for, only because they would probably be cool with anything. Decisions were difficult, but Mika had decided on a choker with the phases of the moon... and yet another copy of the game. Maybe she should get another copy with that... Would be nice if the whole table could play together.

All that was left for the season of buying to end, and the season of giving to start. Then, Christmas Eve with a guitar in Italy. What had started as a hectic year seemed to be gearing to end on a high note. A new feeling, but definitely a welcome one.

---

Christmas Eve 2017, Florence, Italy

"Why the hell do people even wear these stupid things?" Mikaela asked herself for the tenth time today. She had been in Florence since last night, and woke up way earlier than she usually did whenever she wasn't going to school on time. Even missed a raid just to get enough sleep. An important raid. She could've done that to celebrate the holiday, but no, instead, she was stuck wearing this stupid red dress and going to stupid church. Sure, the church was beautiful, and she was really looking forward to hanging out with Jan, but she had a very small comfort zone that she was very far away from. She had contemplated just going in a sweatshirt and jeans, but that's not what people wore to church. Especially on Christmas Eve. No, they wore stupid dress clothes and dumb fancy dresses and idiotic looking bow ties. So that's what Mika wore, even if she had to pull the shoulder back in place every ten minutes. Otherwise, she just knew she would stand out there wearing normal clothes. God, church was so fucking backwards.

Mikaela looked herself in the mirror one more time and let out a defeated sigh. "I guess this'll have to do. God I look like a twelve year old going to a middle school dance. If Jan says a word about this... " Mika grabbed a light coat and left her hotel room reluctantly and headed into the sunny Cradle of the Renaissance. "Alright Jan, please don't be late."

[Zarkenis Ultima]

December 4th

---

Another day at Los Angeles, another after school patrol. Such was the lifestyle that Icarus had grown accustomed to in the past few months. Despite the toll that it took on his energy and his free time, however, the truth was that moving from San Diego to Los Angeles had been a very positive change for the former vigilante - his grades had only gone up now that he wasn't constantly on edge and watching his back at school, and having a place to call his own was a very welcome experience, not to mention he now had some spending money to do with it as he pleased, and all for the small price of helping uphold law and order in a city often beset by villains and all sorts of criminals. Not the worst job he could have, all things considered. It was quite the change of pace from his days as a disgruntled teenager and, later, his days as an angry vigilante, but he felt that it was a good change overall.

As he observed the streets of a poorer neighborhood from his perch on the rooftop of a building overlooking an intersection, the young hero saw a hooded figure running down an alley at full sprint, clutching something held within his jacket and often looking back, as if to check whether he was being pursued. Raising an eyebrow at this suspicious activity, he nonetheless decided to follow quietly instead of acting right away. Moving swiftly from rooftop to rooftop thanks to the physical prowess his powers afforded him, he was soon able to track the hooded escapee down to a small hideout located in a particularly empty and rundown slum. Moving as quietly as possible, he entered the small, rickety lair and observed.

The hooded figure, believing that no one had followed, plopped down on a small stool by the corner of the room and grabbed something from inside his jacket, revealing his ill-gotten haul at last: a bundle of worn books, some of them old textbooks and some of them works of fiction. Setting them down on an overturned crate that fulfilled the role of a table, the apparent thief looked over the texts for a moment before letting out a grunt of approval. Satisfied with the haul, he began slotting them into a make-shift shelf of sorts near the crate, where a few other old books were already present.

There was little else to be seen inside the hideout, with a few blankets bundled up against the wall seeming to serve as a bed and various small crates elsewhere containing a few other items, likely ill-gotten as well. Still, the hero in hiding was quite surprised by what he saw. This didn't look like the lair of a sly criminal or a desperate drug addict, and this was perhaps the first person he had caught stealing books of all things.

That didn't make it any less of a theft, unfortunately, and with an inward sigh, Surge decided to make his presence known.

"A thief that enjoys Twain's works? That's new." He said as he stepped to the center of the room and crossed his arms. "We should call you the book bandit."

The culprit jerked his head around to look at the new arrival, clearly in shock from realizing that someone had been following him all along. He tried to move away, despite the futility of attempting to escape from an enclosure with only one exit, but all he succeeded in doing was knocking over his stool only to trip on it immediately afterwards, falling to the ground in such way that the impact caused his hood slipped from his head.

Watching this unfold before him, Surge sighed and shook his head. "Don't try to run, that's just going to be a waste of my time and yours." He said as he took a step towards the thief, eyes fixed on him. As he observed the thief, however, he noticed his short blond hair and unusual eyes, which gave him pause. Those features seemed familiar to him, though at first it was difficult to place them until, finally, a certain memory returned to him. A memory of a dark September night, criminals from a distant land and a group of people rescued from being kidnapped and shipped across the ocean.

"Wait... I know you." The young hero said after stopping himself. "You're one of the people we saved from the yakuza."

"Yeah. Shouldn't you be on their trail instead of bothering me, hero?" The other boy snapped as he scrambled to his feet, making sure to keep as much distance as the small space would allow between himself and the hero, futile as he knew it was.

"Some gratitude that is." Icarus scoffed. "What are you doing here? Didn't the police send you back to your family?"

"Yeah they did. Sent me right back to that asshole drunk and his punching bag." The boy spat. "Look, why do you care? I'm fine here. Just leave."

"I can't just leave a thief to his devices, can I?" The hero shot back. Truth be told, he didn't know for sure that he was a thief - he didn't see the act itself, only the subsequent escape. However, the boy made no effort to deny it before, and much to his surprise, he didn't this time either.

"It's not like they're going to miss it, nobody in this shitty neighborhood cares about these things." The boy replied, clearly growing more agitated by the second. "Really, don't you have anyone more dangerous to go after right now?" He said. At the same time, Icarus noticed he seemed to be mentally preparing for something, tensing in anticipation and eyeing him carefully. In response, he just sighed.

"Listen-" He began, only to pause as his sixth sense detected something change around him. Sure enough, in the next split second the boy raised his hand, palm facing towards the hero's face. A black wound of sorts opened on his palm, and out came a fistful of sand. Luckily for Icarus, he was quicker to react than the boy was to act, and raised one arm to cover his face before the sand entered his eyes. The boy attempted to slip past him and escape, but he quickly stopped as a hand grabbed onto the back of his hoodie and pulled him back harshly.

"I said listen and then you go and do that? I was going to say I could help you out!" The taller of the two boys chastised the other one.

"Yeah right. What are you going to do, take me to foster care so I can get kicked back onto the streets in a year's time? No thank you." The shorter boy replied during a brief pause in his attempts to squirm out of Icarus' grasp. With a sigh, Icarus pushed him to the back of the room.

"Well, no. But I could lend you some books, and try to help you find a place that's... you know, not this hovel." He replied, looking around in disapproval.

The boy's eyes looked up at Icarus suspiciously, but he didn't seem like he was getting ready to fight for a chance to escape anymore. "You really want to help me after you caught me stealing and after I kept telling you off?" He asked. "Why? What does it matter to you?"

The question took the hero by surprise, and he took a moment to think of a good answer - he was mostly acting as his conscience dictated, but he wasn't quite sure why he had been so insistent on this. Still, thinking on it a little bit, it wasn't difficult for him to find the answer. "It's simple really, I don't want to know that we saved you just so you'd end up on the streets, having to resort to theft to survive."

The answer seemed to finally appease the boy, who remained silent for a moment, only to let out a sigh and nod at Icarus. "...Alright. So... what now?"

"I guess some introductions are in order, first of all." The taller boy replied. "You probably know me as Surge already, but you can just call me Icarus."

"Morgan." The other boy said curtly after acknowledging Icarus with a nod. "...Nice to meet you." He added afterwards. Icarus couldn't help but roll his eyes at Morgan's needlessly aloof behavior, but said nothing about it. A few months back he was sure he would've acted the same way, or worse.

"Alright, well, with that out of the way here's what going to happen next. We're heading back to wherever you took those from..." He pointed at the makeshift bookshelf. "And I mean all of those, and you're giving them back and apologizing. I'll make sure nothing bad happens but the rest is on you."

At this, Morgan let out an irritated groan. This chance he was getting was practically a blessing, however, so he knew he couldn't just refuse.

"...Fine."

[Tomia]

December 1st

---

It was just under an hour before midnight, and though a good few of the teenagers that had gone on the camping trip were still up and around the campfire, a few others had already retired for the night, or excused themselves in order to go about their business in private. Humming to herself, Kirisvala walked across the moonlit clearing where the Young Bloods had set up their tents and their firepit. The alien girl had changed into a pair of blue sweatpants and a white tank-top to prepare for bed, also tying her hair into a long pink ponytail with her boyfriend’s help. She wasn’t sleepy yet, however, and instead of making her way to a tent, she approached Alexis’ portable cooler and reached into it, grabbing two bottles of Lipton iced tea.

Smiling to herself after completing the task, the young Hadrian heroine closed the cooler and walked back to one of the many tents tucked away in the clearing. The tent was sizable enough to house two people and their belongings, and sitting in the middle of it was Mars, a pensive look on his face. Ducking in order to fit through the entrance, Kiris promptly sat down next to him, setting one of the iced tea bottles in front of him.

"I'm back honey." The pink-haired girl spoke, giggling at the pet name she used for her boyfriend. Leaning closer, she kissed him thrice along the jawline before backing away, a sweet smile on her face.

"What were ya thinkin' about?" She asked curiously as she tried to open her own bottle of iced tea.

Mars gave a small smile as his girlfriend greeted him sweetly and shook his head at her question. “Nothing really.. Guess I’m just thinking about Roy not being here. I miss him. He’s my best friend, or at least I hope he still is.” He told her, a little worry clearly present in his look.

Seeing Mars feeling uneasy like that put a little frown on Kiris’ face, and she promptly leaned over, placing an arm around him to comfort him. “I miss him too. He was a really good friend. He supported me during… ya know, all that stuff I was goin’ through right before I left for Adai. And he even dropped by just for my birthday.” She said, letting out a sigh. It wasn’t nice to be short one friend - more than that, really, with how many Young Bloods had left since the beginning of the team - but that was no reason to be all gloomy, and she knew that.

“But hey, I’m sure he still thinks of ya as a friend. Even if he left like that… he still cares about ya Mars, I’m sure of it.” She told her boyfriend, lightly squeezing his shoulder.

“Ya…” Mars said, leaning into her embrace. “I’m just worried about him. I hope he is okay, and knows we’re thinking about it. I don’t want him thinking he is alone even if he isn’t with the team right now.”

Kirisvala nodded, pulling her boyfriend close to her chest and placing her other arm around him as well. “Yeah, I hope so too…” She said softly. Feeling like you’ve been left all alone… she wouldn’t wish that on anyone, and especially not a good friend like Roy.

After sitting with her boyfriend in her embrace for a while, however, something occurred to her. “Oh, Marsy, I have an idea!” She told him, gently letting go of him before crawling over to her belongings and rummaging through them. It took her a bit, but she eventually found what she was looking for: an older-looking burner phone. “Roy gave me this during my birthday, he said we could use it to contact him once.” She told Mars. “Do ya wanna send him a message?”

Mars hesitated for a moment. He wanted Roy to know they hadn’t forgotten about him but he figured they were only supposed to use something like that for emergencies. “Well… I suppose Roy wouldn’t mind right? What should we send him though?”

Kiris thought about it for a moment, though she didn’t have a whole lot of ideas. “Um, not sure to be honest… I guess we can just write that we’re all fine and thinkin’ about him?” She offered, though she knew that her suggestion wasn’t exactly groundbreaking.

“Hmm…” Mars hummed as he thought about it. He wanted to send something meaningful, but also didn’t want to look like they were trying too hard. It was times like this he wished he was more creative…

“Wait, I have an idea! Why don’t we send him a picture?”

Kiris’ face seemed to light up at that. “Yeah! We could send him a picture of us by the campfire and tell him what we’ve been up to. I bet that’ll cheer him up!” She said. “You’re gonna have to take ‘em though, because this thing doesn’t even have a camera.” She added, waving the burner phone around.

“No problem, we can just send the picture to the burner and send it from there.” Mars told her as he took out of his phone. “Come on, let’s go take the photo outside.” He told her, taking his girlfriend’s hand and leading her outside the tent. She smiled brightly at this, a faint blush appearing on her cheeks as he guided her by the hand towards the campfire.

When they got there Mars looked around among those who were still stirring about the fire. He noticed Alexis and decided she was the perfect person to ask. “Hey Alexis! Mind taking a few pictures of us in front of the fire?” He asked her, offering out his phone as he approached. The blonde girl had simply been sitting on a log, idly staring into the fire, but as the couple approached she smiled at them.

“Snapping some pictures to keep as reminders of your romantic getaway, hmm?” She teased the boy before taking the phone. “Sure thing, Rocket-boy. You two go get into position.” She said as she promptly stood up and walked a few paces away, waiting for them to pose.

“Thanks!” Mars told Alexis as he and Kiris got in front of the fire. Mars decided to wrap his arm around his girlfriend’s waist and held her close as they smiled in front of the fire. The hint of red on the pink-haired girl’s cheeks was brighter now, but she seemed like she couldn’t be happier at the moment, resting a hand on her boyfriend’s shoulder and leaning into his embrace.

“Alright you two lovebirds, say cheese!” The blonde spoke as she took the first picture. “You want just one?” She asked Mars afterwards.

“Actually, could you take one more?” Mars asked, an idea forming in his mind.

“Don’t have to ask twice. Get ready!” Alexis replied. Mars steadied his nerves and leaned in to give Kiris a soft kiss on the cheek as the picture was snapped, causing the Hadrian to blush even brighter. Alexis chuckled as she took the photo and handed the phone back to Mars.

“There you go, loverboy. Don’t pull too many more of those or she’ll melt.” The blonde girl teased again before stepping away in the direction of the forest.

“Where are ya goin’, Lexi?” Kiris asked her as she moved further and further away.

“Just going for a walk. It’s not like I’m sleepy anyway.” The blonde replied. A few moments later she was out of sight.

Mars looked over the pictures with a smile before turning to Kiris. “These came out great.” He told her before noticing Alexis’ somewhat peculiar behavior. “I wonder what that was about.” He said as he gestured to where Alexis was. The Hadrian girl shook her head.

“I dunno, but I’m sure she’ll be fine. It’s not like she’s in any danger with all of us nearby.” She stated. “More importantly…” She added as she tugged on Mars’ sleeve, pulling him away and just out of sight of the campfire. Turning around and placing her back against a nearby tree, she had a bit of a mischievous smile on her face. “You’ve been actin’ real smooth tonight haven’t ya mister?” She told her boyfriend, making it clear what she wanted as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

Mars’ blushed at Kiris’ boldness and smiled. “I guess I have, I’m glad you noticed.” He told her before leaning in to give her the kiss she was looking for as he wrapped his arms around her waist. She closed her eyes and basked in the moment, brief as it was. When her boyfriend pulled away, there was a dreamy expression on her face.

“Ya got any more of that, smart boy?” She said. The hesitation in her voice and the bright blush on her face made it clear that she wasn’t quite used to acting this way, but there was no denying that she was enjoying it.

“As much as you’d like my lady.” He replied with a smile, giving her another kiss as they leaned back against the tree. Things were heating up between them and Mars realized that probably wasn’t ideal in the middle of the woods. “Hey, do you want to go send that message to Roy now?” He asked, his tone less flirty and playful but still tender given the moment.

In response, still holding onto him, the pink-haired girl gave him yet another kiss and then leaned into his ear. “I think Roy can wait until- okay no, that’s too much.” She quickly backed away, laughing partly in amusement and partly in embarrassment at what she was about to say. Clasping her hands behind her back, she smiled sweetly at Mars. “Sure thing Marsy. We should think of what exactly we’re gonna write too.” She said as she took his hand into hers, being the one to lead him this time as the two made their way back to their shared tent.

As they walked, Mars saw that his girlfriend was a bit embarrassed about getting carried away and so leaned in to whisper, “You know, that was fun, that side of you. I really liked it.” He assured her as they reached the tent. Kiris shuddered a little and let out a nervous laugh, her face beet red by this point.

“Well ya better don’t get too used to it Marsy, because that was kinda embarrassin’.” The pink-haired girl said with a chuckle. “Although it was fun. Ya know, maybe ya could try takin’ the lead some more next time…” She added afterwards, her dreamy expression returning for a moment as she imagined what that would be like. She was quick to snap out of it, however, and pulled out the burner phone before sitting down. Mars too blushed furiously at that, but decided not to comment, not even knowing what he would say.

“Alright enough of that. Send me the picture and let’s figure this out.” She stated, reaching for her iced tea and taking a sip. It was weird that they had just left them there untouched, she realized, but that didn’t matter at the moment.

“Okay ya, will do.” Mars said, pulling his phone back out and sending over the picture. “So… what do you think we should say, ‘thinking of you?, or maybe ‘wish you were here?’”

Kiris wondered about that for a bit, taking another sip of her tea. “Well… maybe we can just write how we felt earlier, ya know? Tell him how we miss him so much, and that even though we’re doin’ alright, it just isn’t the same without him around.” She replied.

“Ya I guess… Just feels kind of weird to say.” Mars admitted but tried writing something anyway.

Hey Roy, we were thinking about you and wanted to let you know we missed you. Stay safe okay?

“Is this alright?” Mars asked, showing Kiris the phone. The pink-haired girl looked it over quickly.

“Yeah, that should be fine. If that’s what your heart tells you to write, I’m sure he’ll appreciate it. You’re his best friend after all.” She smiled at him before quickly replicating the message on the burner phone and sending it along with the picture. “Okay, that’s done.” She said.

Then, as an afterthought, recalling the instructions that Roy had given her, she suddenly crushed the burner phone in her palm.

“Woah what was that for?” Mars asked in surprise.

“Oh, Roy said to ditch the phone when I used it so I figured we could just break it and be done with it.” She said, offering her boyfriend a sheepish smile as she realized how that must’ve looked to him.

“Well, I guess that’s one way to do it.” He chuckled. “Anyway, this was a good idea. I feel better now.”

Kiris nodded, then leaned over and gave Mars a quick peck just below the ear. “I’m glad ya feel better darlin’. This was nice.” She said with a smile before putting away the remains of the burner phone into a small plastic bag, not wanting to leave trash out. Then, she set her iced tea aside and laid down on the grass, resting her head on her boyfriend’s lap.

“So!” She said as she looked up at him. “Tell me more about this ‘Halo’ thing you like so much!”

Mars smiled brightly at that, “Oh! Well you see there was this alien race called the Covenant…”

[Finland SSR]

Mikaela Mynd

Christmas Eve 2017, Florence, Italy

Jan Sorok, the champion of Heaven!

---

It took a while for the Choir of Angels to give the approval for the promise which Jan gave to Mika - perhaps he could have considered whether his duties as a guardian angel allowed to do what he wished, before he agreed to Mika's Florence vacation plans. Eventually, however, he received the green light, though with some reservations and restrictions on what he was allowed to do, and was granted a temporary human body to inhabit for the duration of his mission.

The city of Florence was as beautiful as always - the vast churches and monuments laying across it were the jewel in the crown of one of the most incredible cities in Italy. They were a memorial to a... rather complicated past which Florence had with the Church, but that past was all in the past, and the men who were responsible for it back then are already paying for their crimes.

A teen only somewhat taller than Mika approached the girl from behind her, without announcing his presence, and stopped besides her, where he spoke up:

"Found you."

Jan was dressed in a gray buttoned shirt and pants, and unlike all the other times he had met Mika, he had no wings on his back. For all intents and purposes, he was indistinguishable from any other person. Compared to Mika's cocktail dress, his clothes were more casual, though still formal enough.

"Was Florence the only destination you could reach, or are you fond of it particularly?" he asked.

[Finland SSR]

December

---

The balcony terrace protruding from the front of the Carondelet Palace offered a sweeping view of the old town of Quito, busy and glimmering with a million lights in the evening. Resting her hands upon the ornamented balustrade handrail was a princess in her locked castle, staring into the distance lost in her thoughts. She has been assigned private tutors to complete her studies and her ability to leave outside of the presidential palace was restricted - not to the point where she would be forced to spend entire days inside, but she was required to register in and out of the building whenever she wanted to go.

Not enough for it to be an actual prison, more than enough for it to feel like one.

Soon after Torres' coup attempt, American news sites and, most notably, the NASL fell under government censorship, so finding information about them on the Ecuadorian internet was turning increasingly difficult. Still, Renata tried to scrounge any information about her team she could find - secondary mentions, articles which slipped through... about missions, anything which may have happened to individual members, so on and so forth.

It was still her team, after all - no matter how distant they may appear now, and no matter how impossible it felt for her to reunite with them, Renata knew that this changed nothing. She was merely temporarily indisposed, separated from everyone else due to unfortunate circumstance - but she was still a Young Blood. The least she could do was stay optimistic - and who knows, maybe she can eventually find a way to where her heart belongs?

"May I come in?" a voice called out from behind, getting Renata to glance over her shoulder.

A woman dressed from head to toe in a medieval plague doctor's costume stepped into the balcony - though the mask was in her hand instead of on her head, revealing a middle-aged, dark-haired face beneath the cape. Of the members of the Andean Condors, Plague Doctor, or Carolina Tamajo, was the most recent and by far the least known by the average person. It was not a mystery why - the Plague Doctor rarely showed up to the people and rarely, if ever, partook in fighting, using her bacterial powers for a support role instead. She was not in Quito at the time of the coup, either, and had to be recalled back to the capital as soon as the fighting receded. Lots of people needed a healer's aid back then.

"Oh, um, miss Tamayo, I can... go elsewhere, if you need me to," Renata blustered under her breath as soon as she heard the fellow heroine enter - Carolina, meanwhile, gently shook her head and answered:

"There's enough room here for the two of us," She then stopped next to the heiress, resting her hands on the railing. "I told you that you should just call me Carolina. You use just the name for everyone else in the team."

"Ah, yeah..." Renata answered, briefly lost in thought. "I just got used to it, I've known Father's friends since childhood..." Carolina, meanwhile, only joined the team when she was ten years old - and in a rather distant role as well. The older heroine recognized that as well - her expression briefly betrayed disappointment, but she merely turned her eyes towards the city skyline to hide it. Renata, meanwhile, slumped her face into her hands, staring into the distance.

A few seconds of silence passed, before Carolina spoke again:

"Is it San Diego that's still on your mind?"

"I-uh-" Renata's voice cracked for a second. "Yeah... like always."

"I understand you. It was a rather sudden decision, and from what I heard, you enjoyed your time there."

"I... guess "enjoy" is the right word, yes. I'd rather be there than here, for sure."

A few seconds of silence followed yet again. A few armored vehicles drove past the street before the presidential palace, hurrying towards the suburbs. Chances are that they need even more reinforcements to deal with the spreading strikes.

"What was it like?" Carolina asked, which got Renata to faintly perk up and glance her way. "I'm not interrogating you, don't worry, I'm just curious. By the time I went down my hero's journey, your father had already saved the country and established the National Superhuman Task Force, so... I've never seen what a hero team like yours is like."

"It..." Renata muttered, sighed, and stared off to the evening sun setting behind the mountains. One after another, her mind went through memories of the Young Bloods, flicking through them. It was only a few months, even less than she spent as an actual member of the Condors, but it was still almost impossible to summarize. "Well, I suppose I should not pretend it was perfect. We were a team of twenty or so teenagers who got together via circumstance and decided to make something we thought would be great together. We always made mistakes, we had problems and problematic personalities in our ranks and... I was one of them, too. A lot of it... my own fault, probably. We disagreed, we had to take losses, we narrowly avoided our hijinks from costing lives... but, but..."

Struggling to find the right words to explain herself, Renata pulled her hands off from the railing and turned to face Carolina directly. Sparks of light and brief pops of plasma were sparking around her hands from the flooding emotions.

"But it was so genuine! It was more genuine than anything, anything in this whole country!" Her hand pointed northwards - in the direction of San Diego.

"When the Young Bloods dropped everything to go on their next mission, they didn't do so because it was ordered from above, or they made a calculation that this would be more helpful for the national interest! We didn't throw ourselves at giant robots, or murderous maniacs, or criminals, because of that, or because of the fame, or... No, we fought because there were people who needed to be saved, villains to defeat, and things to set right!"

Carolina remained silent during the entire rant - just continued watching and listening. Renata clutched her hands into fists, heat began radiating around her.

"And I... And I... And I constantly ran into problems with everyone... And I wasn't the best hero I could ever be... And... And that got into my head often... But that's where I finally found my calling. I knew that this is what I want to do for the rest of my life. And, and... it was something I truly felt was my own, and built upon my effort alone. That, with the Young Bloods, I could become - I became a hero. Not just a... heiress locked in a castle, or a soldier trained to follow orders, I..."

By now, the girl was breathing heavily, and started to realize that she had been yelling at her fellow heroine for over a minute straight, and her words were starting to lose cohesion. "I'm sorry, mi-Carolina, I..."

"It's okay. I can tell you've got a lot of pent up in that head of yours," the older woman answered, and struck a smile to try to reassure her. "Would you like me to make you some tea? It'll help calm your nerves..."

[Agritum]

Sometime in late November

Rhyolite was a spooky ghost town, like many other ones in the great Death Valley that crossed Nevada and California. What set apart Rhyolite from other ghost towns was however the fact that it had a functioning gun store, a special one at that. Or at least, its owner liked to think that it was special enough to be considered notable.

Ramsey Ironhide had set up shop in the 70s and had never moved away from the rickety-looking shack with a big flashing neon sign depicting a cartoonish, goat-headed siege engine bashing down the door of a great castle. "Iron Ram Arms" the sign read. Outside, more discreetly, hanging over the entry door's opaque black glass was a lenghty message warning that 'Iron Ram' received customers only on appointment. His was no ordinary gun store.

He was content to think of that in the long nights he spent, sleeplessly, listening to late night hard rock radio and chewing smoked beef jorkey. The shop's isolation was a mixed blessing: it deterred potential robbers, but still put it at risk of some thief trying to ransack Ram's precious antique weapons. At least, that's how Ramsey justified his stay there. More likely he had grown too attached to his business to never really leave it. He shoved some jerky pieces off his well groomed white beard, glancing at the reflection of his face on the shut off monitor sitting at his desk. He was getting just as old and rickety as the shop.

This distraction could have been fatal any other day.

The door opened. Ramsey never locked it. Afterall, he knew he would have blasted any would be assailant the moment they walked through the door. The bell at the entrance rang as a dark, foreboding figure entered the shop. Ramsey quickly gripped the sawn off shotgun sitting on his desk and turned it towards the cloaked individual, a jerky stuck in his mouth.

"Ya got three seconds before I blast 'ya off, kid."

The night creep quickly lowered its cloak. Two purple eyes glanced awkwardly at the gun shop's owner, a girl's long black hair cascading down.

"Uh, sorry for scaring you Uncle Ram."

Ramsey had problems with being overweight, but his reaction was fast nonetheless. Dropping the gun, he darted up and shoved his desk away, overturning his mug of night time coffee and splashing it across the floor. Not that he cared.

"Ellie! Long time no see. What are you doing here little skullgirl?" he shouted affectionately, wrapping the young vigilante in a bear hug that kicked the air out of her lungs. Elle grimaced, feeling some ribs cracking.

"Oof! It's been a long time Ramsey. I'm about to start college now, and I'm an independent hero. Anyway, I need your help with a gun related thing, well, not just a gun."

Ramsey smiled, stepping back and slamming his butt back on his leather seat, turning on the shop's PC. "Name anything, Bastion Junior. I'll apply the Long Time Customer discount even if you haven't purchased anything in years. So what were you looking for? You need a super-heavy machinegun with a rocket module and an optional microwave unit like your daddy did back in Nicaragua? That gun's one of my proudest creations, I think it's been called a walking war cri..."

Elle smiled awkwardly. "Not really Ramsey. I need a katana. A katana with... a gun on it."

Ramsey widened his eyes, adjusting the heavy set glasses sitting over them. "Uhm kiddo, you know I've been smithing words for a while, but that kind of blade is not exactly my kind of specialty."

Elle sighed. "Indeed uncle Ram. That's why I wanted to ask you if you can come up with something that's vaguely like a katana, but dull bladed and thicker. One giant piece of thick iron I can slap people with. But thin enough not to look like I'm out to kill dragons. And it needs to have a gun barrel on one side."

The gun store's owner smiled cheekily, jutting down Elle's suggestions. "Now we're talking. What kind of barrel? Some heavy duty one with explosive bullets? Oh, wait, you said you're in that hero business thing now. Those types tend not to kill. Then I can set you up with these really, really hard hitting .50 rubber bullets. You're going to break ribcages if you shoot these point blank, but I heard that in Commiefornia they really like that socialized healthcare. You ain't gonna be in trouble."

Elle laughed awkwardly at Ram's small political quip, putting her hand under her chin. "That sounds great uncle Ramsey. Can it also have a, uh, shotgun style reload? Like, when doing that samurai blade-cleaning motion I can actually do it to expel a spent shell and shoot a new one. I don't know, it feels stylish enough."

Ironhide chuckled, adding the feature to the list. "Let's talk aesthetics. Of course, it's going to be all black and grey with some purple highlights, just like how you like it. The handguard's going to have an heavy trigger so that you don't shoot when you are not meant to. And you want to keep that Nipponese blade handle. I would've set you up with a much more badass Scottish claymore-style one with a skull-shaped pommel, but I feel that those 'manga' cartoons are all the rage amongst you kiddos."

"Uhm, well, sort of. Thing is, my best friend's boyfriend goes around with a sword. And that's pretty cool. I mean, my best friend likes that.So I wanted to get one. And yes I like anime too."

Elle's embarassed delivery convinced Ramsey that delving into the matter wouldn't have led to a comfortable place, and quickly moved to switch topic.

"So what are you going to name this blade, kiddo? I know you're creative with names."

"I don't know. Actually, what was the name of my old katana? Back when I was a little kid, you gifted me that one because I was addicted to Gem Senshi and loved Sapphire's sword"

"Vengeance."

"Yeahhhhh that's a bit lame honestly. But I think I can put a spin on it. Something that gives off the idea of a re-start, but it's still filled with vengeance."

"...you lost me, Ellie dear."

Elle spun on herself, theatrically mimicking the movements of a swordsman, before looking at Ram straight in the eyes, her purple eyes glowing in the demon aura of the Bastion Family.

"RE:Vengeance"

[Zarkenis Ultima]

December 6th

---

Books. Clothes. Shoes. A few personal effects. All of these things would fit neatly on an old cardboard delivery box as Morgan placed them inside. Of course, this made sense. Someone like him wouldn't own many things to begin with, and especially not after spending nearly three months living in the streets just to avoid going back to the home of two adults who couldn't care less about his well-being. Grabbing another shirt from a nearby pile, he folded it in a mechanical fashion as he hummed to himself. It wasn't an upbeat humming, like one might hear from an eager young child as they played outside in the grass - it was more of a vaguely rhythmic, monotonic drone, more of an effort to fill in the silence around him and drown out the voice of his own head than it was an expression of any sort of joy. Perhaps he had a reason to feel joy today, knowing that he'd finally have a chance to sleep somewhere better than a bundle of blankets on a makeshift hideout, but he was still skeptical. His luck had never been good, why would it improve now?

There it was again. The voice in his head. Thinking. Doubting. It was no wonder he couldn't ever have a nice moment to himself with that damn thing always telling him it was but a trap to lull him into lowering his guard, but he had to admit it had helped him survive thus far. That was perhaps the worst part of it. He hated it, but could he really say that it was a bad thing when that voice seemed to only seek to keep him alive?

Morgan began humming louder, trying to use the drone bouncing around in his head and the sounds of the city coming from outside to drown out that voice. He didn't need its suspicions infecting him every hour of the day, and especially not now. During times like these he missed having something to play music on, but he hadn't owned any such device for quite a while, and even if he had thought to steal one and actually managed to do so... well, Rapunzel would've likely forced him to give it back before moving, so that wouldn't have led anywhere. No luck there either.

After a moment, he finished folding and packing his clothes, placing them at the bottom of the box. Continuing to hum, he began placing in a few other things, such as a few notebooks and writing implements he owned, one of his two pairs of shoes, three or four books that he actually owned, and a few trinkets that were dear to him. The box wasn't even filled to its maximum capacity by the time he was finished packing, but he was hardly surprised. Picking it up for a moment to get a feel for its weight, the boy stopped humming for a moment, thinking back to his meeting with Surge two days ago. His skepticism made him act less than pleasant towards him, but the truth was that he was grateful for all the assistance he had received from the blond hero. If his reasons for helping him out were really genuine and not a means to something else, then... perhaps things were looking up for him after all.

The box was, fittingly, light enough for him to carry without much discomfort. Placing it back on the overturned crate that served as his makeshift desk, Morgan pulled out a roll of duct tape from one of his hoodie's pockets and quickly sealed the box with practiced ease. Using his teeth to break off the end, he placed it back in his pocket and then picked up the box, finally ready to depart. As he walked up to the entrance of his rickety hideout, however, he took one last look back at the place where he had been living for the past month or so, standing there for a few moments.

Good fucking riddance.

Humming to himself again as he walked, Morgan briefly stopped to pull his hood up over his head and then continued on to the streets of Los Angeles. He never heard the footsteps as they began moving towards him from behind, never noticed the shadows cast on the sidewalk underneath him.

Never saw the pipe as it flew towards the back of his head.

---

Hours later, a certain young man happened upon the scene. The box had been carelessly left on the ground, its contents abandoned to be ransacked by the local population and exposed to the elements. The hideout was completely empty, with only a few empty crates left and no one to be seen.

Walking back out of the now uninhabited hideout, Surge walked back and looked through the contents of the box, which he had largely ignored earlier. Searching through them, he saw books that he believed he had seen before, and a hoodie that he knew for a fact belonged to his new protege of sorts, Morgan. This left the situation frighteningly clear, and Icarus clenched his fists in anger as he realized what had happened.

The young hero stormed off in anger. To right this wrong, he would need help from those who lived in the shadows.

---

December 7th

---

"Absolutely not."

Donovan's voice was quiet, yet firm as he stood with his arms crossed inside Surge's apartment, looking down at the boy with a hard stare on his face. Next to him stood Jennifer, her expression significantly softer and displaying not anger or disapproval, but confusion and worry. Across from them and sitting on a bed was Icarus, his attention almost entirely on the man as he stared back defiantly, clearly having no intention of budging on this.

After having spent the previous day making certain arrangements, today Surge had decided to let those on the Los Angeles Stars close to him know about his intentions. He had called his mentor, Armorer, to his apartment, as well as the twins Red and Blue, perhaps the only members of the team he would be willing to call friends. Red had an important appointment that day, but, surprisingly, both Blue and Armorer were free to attend to that impromptu meeting, leading to the present moment, where a tense silence had fallen upon the young hero's bedroom.

"So what, I'm just going to have to do nothing? Knowing there's innocent people being targeted?" The blond teenager spoke, keeping his defiant stare.

"I'm not asking you to sit on your ass and do nothing, kid. You should know me better than that by now." Armorer shot back gruffly, and Icarus had to begrudgingly admit to himself that it was true. He'd be the last person to tell him to slack off. "I'm asking you to focus on your turf. There's authorities and heroes on the other side of the pacific that can help those people, but there's innocents to take care of on this side of it as well."

"Yeah, because those heroes have helped a lot with stopping the yakuza." Icarus shot back, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

But before he was able to say anything more, Armorer spoke up again, his temper clearly flaring up. "Listen kid, we talked about this shit when you came to us for help. We're heroes but we can't save everybody, and burning out while trying to do that is only going to lead you to dark places. We can't stretch this team any thinner right now to help you, and you are not going on a crusade across the ocean all by yourself. That's final." Donovan said. To emphasize his words, Donovan simply turned around and left, slamming the door behind him and leaving the two blond heroes together in silence. Of course, Icarus hadn't told them about the arrangements he'd made, doubting that they would approve of it either way.

The blond boy sighed, rubbing his temples. His temper wasn't much better than Armorer's, and he felt exhausted whenever they ended up arguing about anything, which happened relatively often. Unbeknownst to the older hero, however, Icarus wasn't asking for permission - he was just letting him know.

Suddenly, Jennifer sat down on the bed next to Icarus. The blonde heroine had been remarkably silent throughout the whole discussion, but now that things had cooled down and Donovan had left, she did show some sympathy for the boy, giving him a few pats on the back.

"You're one of the good ones, you know that?" She told him with a reassuring smile. "I can tell. Not a lot of heroes in the League would really worry so much about the people they've saved once the cameras are gone. I don't think that's bad at all, unlike uncle goatee over there." She said with a laugh.

The quip got a laugh out of Icarus, who started feeling a little better after hearing the older heroine's words of support. "Thanks, Jenny."

"You got it." She replied, before leaning a little closer. "And hey, you do what you need to do alright? Jimmy and I will cover for you." She told him before standing up. Surprised, Icarus looked up at her as she walked over to the door, where she stopped and turned around. "Just... make sure to look after yourself and come back safely, alright? You've grown on us." She told him sincerely. "I'm rooting for you, kid."

With those words, Blue left, and Surge found himself alone once again. With the heroine's support, his resolve to see this through grew stronger still.

Alright, I guess I'm really doing this then. Two days...

[North America Inc]

ft. Galnius

Part 5

Jackrabbit
The gentle breeze felt like a whirlwind to Jackrabbit as he picked up speed, keeping a few hellhounds busy as the others found a way in. He didn't know exactly what they could do, so he kept his distance for now, but he knew he couldn't let them breach the police line. Luckily, Makeshift had faced these things before. Jackrabbit listened in, focusing on her advice and the hellhounds before him.

So intense was his focus that Jackrabbit almost didn't notice the small prick of something grazing his skin. He resisted the urge to bring his hand to the wound. All he knew is that something had hit him. He prayed for it to just be debris, but he knew it could be anything from a mosquito to a neurotoxin.

Well, there goes not getting hit. That's disappointing. Let's avoid getting hit a second time, then. Jackrabbit slid past two of the hellhounds and led them closer to the bank, away from the healers. However, though he knew he wasn't losing velocity, the hellhounds seemed to be gaining. And getting bigger. Twice the size actually. As Jackrabbit leapt over a pair of angry jaws, he noticed it wasn't just them. Everything seemed larger. Or, more aptly, he was getting smaller. Someone, somewhere was making him shrink. He'd have to deal with that somehow, but first, the pack of hellhounds.

Four more joined the two, giving him a nice half dozen of damned dogs. "Just great. What's worse, I don't think any of you can hold a conversation." Jackrabbit ducked under the claws of one and made a retreat back to his first position, launching the one into another. Both recovered quickly, and all six gave chase. By luck or design, however, his retreat brought him back to full size. Still, six of them was a bit too many.

The beasts were in full pursuit, barking ferociously as they chased him from under road debris to over wrecked police cars. They smacked and ran into one another, their mouths smacking wildly as their snouts drew closer to his ankles. The one leading the pack leapt from their hind legs, fully prepared to land on and then maul him. It wasn’t looking good for the intrepid hero.

“Jackrabbit!” Someone shouted, “Duck now!

Jackrabbit dropped as The Red Princess leapt onto the scene, intercepting the alpha in the air with a precise kick to its neck. The beast smacked against Crystal Heart’s wall, two crystals embedding themselves in its abdomen. It let out a cry as it did its best to free itself. The Princess landed in between the remaining five and Jackrabbit, taking a defensive stance as the pack stopped in their tracks. “Get up.” She ordered her teammate.

The hounds looked at each other, as if to devise a plan. The two on either side broke off and began to circle around the two Young Bloods, while the remaining three growled incessantly, their mouths letting out a fiery red aura. It was loud and obnoxious, and they continued with no end in sight.

The Princess held fast, not losing sight of the other two dogs circling to her left and right while contemplating an idea as she watched the fire drip from the facing three’s snouts. Her right hand pointed toward the group while her left index and middle finger traced said arm, from wrist to bicep. She breathed in, feeling the heat emanating from within them. She could feel that familiar sensation of fire, the way it chaotically danced within them, with each breath she became entwined with it. The push and pull.

She exhaled right as the three opened their mouths simultaneously to wail, their barks cut short as they began to cough and whimper. A long steady stream of smoke was pulled from their orifices, their bodies tightening and hardening as the flames betrayed them. The long streak of fire that ran from their necks to their tails glowed dim, followed by the color in their eyes. They let out one last attack, charging her only for their now petrified legs to break on the jump. Their lives were snuffed out, their bodies crumbling away into dust.

The other two used The Princess' seeming momentary focus on their dying brethren to charge in, but both quickly found themselves colliding into each other as they were sent towards the bank. Getting up, they rushed the culprit, who had halved in size in pursuit of them. Jackrabbit quickly adapted to the situation, using his new size to weave between the two of them, releasing a quick jab to the throat of the second, who had been trying to pull up it's own blast of fire. As the first swung around, Jackrabbit kicked off of the other's head, allowing them to collid once more. He rocketed down and broke one of their backs with a sickening crunch.

As it dissipated into dust, the final remaining hellhound let out a ferocious growl. Jackrabbit met it head on, and for a moment he forgot he was smaller now. After all, nothing makes you feel taller than finishing off a fight. The hellhound crumbled directly following his fist, which used all of the hound's weight against it, cleaving it in half with a straight punch.

“Let’s focus on, wait, hold on.” The Red Princess turned her body to speak with Jackrabbit, only for him to not be there. She looked to her left. Then to her right. No trace at all. It wasn’t until she heard the hellhound’s sickening compression that she finally found him. One fourth her size, standing just above her knee. “What happened to you?” Her usually stoic composure was compromised, overtaken by her curiosity and the baffling display before her. She faintly smiled, “I hope that isn’t permanent.”

Jackrabbit looked up to the now comparatively taller Red Princess. "Nah, not permanent. At least as far as I know", he said as he wiped off what he hoped was concrete dust from his costume. "Something is making me shrink if I get closer to the bank. It isn't too bad though. Besides, there's a much more pressing matter at hand." With a befuddled gaze Jackrabbit looked at the other hero and tilted his head. "Did you just smile? It's a little creepy."

The Red Princess looked at him downright baffled, confused by his last comment. ‘What does that mean? I smile a lot, most of the time at other people’s expense, but that still counts.’ She lifted an eyebrow and just shook her head, “This is why we don’t hang out more.”

"Really? I thought it was because neither of us can share the spotlight."

“Besides that.” She took two steps back, gesturing to Andrew for him to follow. He wasn’t so small that she couldn’t hear him, but his voice was definitely more faint. “Just how intense is this--” Her pupils circled about, trying to stay professional, “--area denial ability.”

Andrew kicked back to match up evenly with Shi, growing ever so slightly. "I'm not really sure", he said slowly. "I get to full size around..." Jackrabbit tossed a pebble a few feet behind the two of them. "... There. Haven't figured out who is causing it though, or exactly how it works. For now it just seems to be affecting me. Outside of that I'm pretty in the dark."

An abrupt tremor followed by the sound of a violent thrashing of stone and crystal knocked the two out of their conversation as Shi thrusts herself into a nearby vantage point. Earlier she had gotten bogged down in the backline preventing any more of these hounds from running rampant in the nearby streets. By the time she came back, a crystal wall had been created and subsequently breached, though only in its center. Without a doubt one of Crystal Heart’s creations, if the name hadn’t been obvious enough. From where she now stood the remaining left wall, from the robber’s perspective it was the right wall, she could make out the officers hidden behind it as well as the terrakinectic attack heading straight towards it.

‘Him?’ She asked herself. While terrakinesis wasn’t exactly uncommon in terms of abilities, the ebb and flow of it struck her as remarkably familiar; he may have lacked his signature costume, but it was him.Andrew’s predicament had to wait, she had a job to do. “Jackrabbit mind the perimeter, but we need to stop him.” She pointed toward a man with a shimmering purple aura around him, adorned with an expensive suit and a black eye patch.

---

The Suits
The unknown vigilante had been briefly dealt with and though Dolce kept a close eye on his surroundings for him, his first and only priority was tearing that wall. His tidal wave of gravel, asphalt, and concrete arched towards its target, uprooting everything to the point where it was clear that crystal encampment would do little to slow it. A dozen police officers too wounded to flee were about to meet the end of Hugo’s barrel. “Let’s finish this.” Dolce said aloud in Mandarin.

Dolce looked back towards his subordinate about to relay the order, only for an unexpected crack and blast to roar aloud in front of him. His wave recoiled from the blast, scattering to its right hand side; while the street now had ripples etched into it, the wall had been kept. His second wave faced the same weight, though this time the source was in clear view of him: an azure flame, a signature of the Princess. She landed and stood over his heap, her fists radiating a blue aura. “Junqing.” She spoke in his language, “First Luohu now here? Eager to follow me around?”

He immediately assumed his strong, abdomen focused stance. Launching three more rock projectiles her way, he taunted her, “Girl don’t mock my mother tongue. I can hear that backwards dialect festering in your throat. Let me clear it!”

Shi swiped the projectiles away before they could connect, jumping high up in the air to land on his right. He arched his second attack, swinging it in a curve before coming back towards her head. Quickly doing the splits, she spun her arms together in a rapid succession to send a ring his way. It hit, and though the shockwave was protected by the shield, the heat itself was not. He winced, but his stance held strong. The ground around him began to swirl around him, encasing his feet before he shot out like a spring letting the earth move for him. She followed suit, thrusting towards him with another firebolt.

At the last second before they connected, he slid against the ground allowing the wave that carried him to continue forth towards her. She braced for it, the wave hitting her but doing little in the way of damage. That wasn’t the end of it, he sent out small bullet sized projectiles at high speed in rapid succession while a ball of fire around her incinerated them before they got too close. He shook his head as he watched it unfold, while he had planned to face her in the field, he had done his best mentally to brush her off. She had been the one to foil his corporate espionage scheme in Shenzhen; he had treated it as a one time fluke. He spoke aloud, speaking over his frenetic attack, “Northern Shaolin, impressive for a Xiāngjiāo rén!”

Xiāngjiāo rén is a slur against Chinese expatriates. It refers to a banana person.

Shi summoned forth lightning though in a more controlled and limited sense, lashing against his stones to smash them before he could even use them. She ignored his jab entirely, instead giving him a condescending sneer. “You lost to a thirteen year old child! Do you really think you could win now?” A protege mind you, but still he lost to a child.

“A mistake and error that I will not repeat.” The two got within range of their fists, forgoing their powers in favor of demonstrating their martial prowess. Their arms clashed and caught the other’s strike. The two paused. A lull in the fight. Their gazes met, each able to make out the finer details of their face from their distance. They said not a word, instead wondering and testing their resolve. It continued. Rather than the usual western centric attacks she usually showed off, this was more of a dance. Powerful but nimble, fluid yet destructive. The two went back and forth, matching blow for blow without giving the other any room to breathe; this was more a demonstration of skill than anything else.

Shi caught his wrist, spinning his limb back around to get the first grunt of pain out of him. He followed his arm, bending down with it as she twisted toward the ground. “Submit.” She ordered.

“Gah -- ah.” Prepared to break their impromptu rules of engagement by summoning forth earth, he was instead interrupted by her suddenly jumping back and letting go. Though out of his line of sight, he could feel the sudden rush of air around as something big and heavy was launched.

It was a close call, but she was able to dodge. Valentino triumphantly boasted in the background, “Having some trouble over there Dolce?” He shouted from the safety of the fortification, “It’s no problem, I can help!”

He was true to his word as he launched more and more items at her; while she was moving too fast and was too far for him to just catch her, he littered the street with his debris in his attempt to squash her. Dolce tended to his arm, realizing how lucky he was to have that shield around him or Valentino’s attempt to help could have been lethal. Though knowing that rumptious man, he probably enjoyed that facet most of all . “Get back in cover!” He said first in Mandarin then correcting himself and switching to English, “Don’t put yourself unnecessarily at risk!”

“What risk am I--” Shi landed right back near the crystal wall, launching a firebolt toward him. He held his arm out to catch it, like he had done with many other projectiles. Though this time he was in for a rude surprise as without any meaningful weight to focus on, the bolt shot right through his grip and hit the unshielded man right on his right bicep. The force knocked him back, thrashing against the concrete. He did his best to limp himself back up, letting out a series of graphic obscenities about Shi or his arm, “God damn it. I think she broke my arm that little-- Oh.” His fingers wiggled in front of him, “Oh it’s not broken. But it still hurts!”

Dolce didn’t check base with him at all, instead more focused on his prize. He could have had Hugo light her up with his death machine, but this was personal for him. He brushed against the brick exterior of the bank, breaking small sections of it as new fodder for him. As he did, his earpiece began to beep. It had to be Mission Control. “I’m listening, sir.”

---

Riverside, California
“Well that’s certainly one way to cut down on law enforcement costs for next year’s budget.” Charlie joked as a gravely injured officer was being rushed from the scene. The anchors gave their own thoughts, somber and solemn, doing their best to follow the spectacle while walking a fine line of ‘honoring the true heroes’. That got a laugh from him; even with his big head, passable comb over, and garish collared shirt, he was still less of a clown than them. People loved this type of action and now he had literally set up primetime television at 10 am in the morning. You usually had to wait until after dinner to catch this! And this wasn’t even his magnus opus, far from it, with how many villains he’s gotten on parole, he’s been hitting blockbuster after blockbuster. At this point if the bank robbery, and it’s connected secretive assignment fell through, he has enough suckers out there right now for a class action lawsuit. He can already imagine the commercials in his head, ‘Have you or your family members recently been injured by the city’s haphazard crime responses? If so, call me! When you need a dedicated and experienced lawyer who fights for you San Diego, call me Charlie Hustle! It's in the name!’

“Come in, Mission Control over.” A new voice spoke in the comm channel, rarely a good sign. MC and Charlie glanced over at each, both fearing the worst. The voice, hearing no response, went again. “Come in, Mission Control, this is codename Mr. Clean, over.”

MC switched the primary footage from the lobby to the fortress entrance, the drones overhead catching the familiar sight of the cloaked individual from about ten feet above him. “Yes Mr. Clean. I can hear you loud and clear. Why are you on the line? Where is Lysol?”

With absolutely no hesitation, “Lysol was killed, over.”

The seated man let out a reverberating sigh, smashing his full cheeks against his sweaty palms. The MC stayed silent as if to catch his breath only for Mr.Clean’s earpiece to catch the man violently thrashing about. Clean winced and took it out, the earpiece catching one high pitched shriek after another. After several table slams, Charlie slid into the conversation and waved the MC off to give him space. “You’ll have to forgive my friend here. So can you tell us what happened?”

Due to the depth, the numerous drones that the MC had deployed could not venture into the fortress without losing signal. The MC had planned around that, assigning the most experienced bank robber they had to that assignment; figuring despite her age she would manage. Giving her the highest degree of autonomy, even allowing her to bring her plus one without any question from either of them. So when Mr. Clean informed them of what had happened following their descent, how their operation was nearly jeopardized by sheer stupidity, the MC was beyond livid. He went off louder than before in the background, letting out obscenity after obscenity. “That’s what we get for contracting foreign talent! Soviet Black Widow? More like a Russian Geriartric Patient. Jesus!”

“Well--” Charlie tried his best to mend the situation as best as he could, trying to focus on the positives as usual. Speaking into the mic, he held out finger guns as if Mr. Clean could see him, “On the bright side we don’t have to factor in senior discounts for the cuts now.”

“Right…over.” Clean responded.

“Rrrright.” Charlie rubbed his neck, “So moving on from that, has Bon Ami moved forward with securing the goods?”

“Yes. Some of the locked doors are giving her trouble, but nothing too serious. Over.”

“Good, good. Just for that, I’ll give you a 50% discount on your next arraignment. If of course a law abiding citizen like yourself would ever need such a service. It goes without saying.”

Clean stayed silent.

Charlie hastily added, “Not that this admission of my profession either, and any use of this conversation in a court of law, would be at best, inadmissible.” Mission Control walked back from across the barren room having calmed himself, his thumb’s knuckle pulsating from his anxious bites. While he hadn’t broken skin, it was noticeably red and battered with a gleaming liquid sheen coating it. He had heard everything, sliding back with a new determined mindset that overshadowed his often defeatist mentality. The lawyer gave an affirming nod and went back to where he was standing.

MC cleared his throat, “Thank you Clean, continue doing what you are doing. This will all be over soon. Over.”

“Understood. Over.”

Grabbing a black pen that was lodged underneath his monitor and beside his keyboard, MC held it up and placed it between his lips. Suckling at the cap, a tick of his to help him compose his thoughts, he sat there silent trying to get the best reading of the scene. ‘The Suits are holding strong and keeping the kids back, Janitors are down a man, and the Guards need to blow one more wall.’ He looked off to his right, staring off at the aerial shots that the news helicopters were streaming of the outside carnage. ‘Defense is holding but for how long? Two gargoyles, golems whatever, are down. Some of that wall is still up.

The helicopter’s camera pulled from the street view to the wider scene. A whole convoy of cruisers and armored trucks were pouring down from the freeway with more personnel and firepower for them to contend with. His law enforcement tracker showed even more, with other individual patrols encircling them every which way.

‘Pull them in too early, they lose their defensive trump card. No way they can hold the lobby one on one for long, not with so many Young Blood heavy hitters. Wait too late, police have the whole place surrounded and no way they get out and blend into the streets. Decisions, decisions.’ He gave one quick glance down toward the time, watching those seconds he’ll never get back, pass by him. He let out a guttural resignation before sitting up straight in his seat, and calling Dolce.

“I’m listening, sir.” Dolce remarked as he flung another piece of rock toward his pyrokinetic foe.

“Pull back into the lobby. Janitors have breached the vault, keep them at bay for how ever long you can. Whatever you do, don’t let them discover the other teams.” MC spoke slowly to emphasize his last point, “Like mentioned before, if need be use those hostages for human shields.”

Not knowing what the time frame the other two teams were working with, and given their success so far, Dolce had no reason to suspect anything was wrong. His suits had done what they were told well, without so much besides a few annoyances so far. “Understood.”

MC disconnected the line, ready to discuss the actual elephant in the room. The facet of the news that had been bothering him ever since he was informed by Clean. They had been playing one group for fools, in service of another; an agenda behind the scenes that was now without it’s linchpin. He turned to Charlie and plainly asked, “She was our direct link inside the vault. If we can’t get the Tablet for the Client, what happens then?”

---

The Suits
From his spot among the pillars that lined the entrance to the Mesa Verde Depository, Etro carefully observed the scene as it unfolded, paying special attention to the performance of his summoned creatures, as well as the brief battle between Dolce and the Hadrian sorceress. All of his minions had been soundly defeated at this point, and with the arrival of more police assets and the consolidation of the Young Bloods’ position outside the bank, it was clear that his group wouldn’t be able to hold their position for much longer - not that he had been particularly proactive in helping with that. Beyond his initial intervention with the summoning, he had simply observed. It paid to know how his enemies had evolved in the time he had been away, and it paid to know what his ‘allies’ were capable of, as well.

Though as long as they uphold their end of the bargain, there should be no problems between us. The sorcerer thought as he ducked underneath a stone shard that had broken off of his fallen and flown in his general direction.

The bargain. That was really the only reason he was here today, along with Bon Ami and Desert Eagle - he had been working together with certain organized crime groups recently, of course, but this was something unrelated. Normally one such as himself would’ve never taken interest in a bank heist, considering such extreme measures unnecessary to acquire something as simple as material wealth - but this bank was different. This bank housed many relics previously guarded by the Phantom Brotherhood and Grizmahir’s Chosen, and chief among them was the Albescu Tablet, a relic from the late 15th century that had been created by an occultist faction in Southeastern Europe. The arcane knowledge contained within was something that would no doubt be coveted by magicians from all over, and holding it would no doubt be a useful bargaining chip, as well as another source of knowledge for him.

Stepping aside as a hail of white crystal shards embedded itself on the pillar next to him, courtesy of Dolce’s relentless attacks against the towering crystal barricade, the young sorcerer considered the situation. The tablet would be his if the others kept their end of the bargain, and he had seen no indication that they intended on subterfuge, though it always paid to be cautious regardless. Besides, none of that would matter if they failed on their mission, and as things stood currently, their position would be overrun soon if they didn’t move.

Astrid, Lucas, I hope your tasks are going better.

---

Unbeknownst to the young sorcerer as he hid behind cover, several figures were moving above them. Across the street was a large upscale apartment building with countless terraces and street facing windows. Each a possible line of sight for the SWAT to use. Most of the occupants had been evacuated, and as the officers made their way through their apartments and halls to get a better look, they stayed as close to the shadows as they could so as to not arouse suspicion. The snipers above and the general chaos of the scene were working in their favor, allowing them to set up their equipment while keeping a watchful eye on the perpetrators. They were already aware from their compatriot’s observation about the effectiveness of Hugo’s and Dolce’s personal shield; what they were more focused on were the three hidden behind them. Four technically, though one was continually disappearing.

The sergeant in charge of the other ten men radioed the others as he peered through grey curtains to see Etro shielding himself from crystal debris. “Ten seconds and we fire. Make sure the other rocket launchers beside you are loaded. We ain’t going to give these assholes any breathing space.” Each of the other operators were in their own separate room across multiple floors and different vantage points; the distance between them to prevent clustering. He extended the back of his LAW, waiting for others on the radio before fully revealing himself.

“We’re in position sir.” Multiple men said in unison.

The sergeant partially opened the window, enough for him to comfortably fire from. He aimed down at the group, catching Valentino as he slid closer to Etro. “Fire.” He ordered.

---

Dolce summoned a pillar from the ground as an impromptu launch pad, landing right beside the group with his back facing the street. He spoke to everyone, though his gaze was focused on Etro. “Janitors have broken through.We are falling back to the bank, we hold the lobby for however long we can.”

Seeing the squad’s leader jump out of the fray and land in front of them, Etro initially returned the man’s stare, though in the process he noticed the shadows moving and lurking about on the windows of the apartment complex across from the Depository. Before he could fully process this information, the bright flashes of something being fired alerted him to what was going on, and the dark shapes that arced across the air towards them made everything clear. Without wasting any time, the sorcerer pointed at the projectiles, snatching a wand out of his belt with his other hand.

“Valentino, bombs!” He shouted at the telekinetic.

Valentino, though partly injured from the Princess’ attack, was quick to respond as he followed Etro’s arm toward the projectiles; extending out his left arm, he caught the central cluster of six though another four were far too far for him to catch them in his radius. “Shit!” He muttered.

Noticing the incoming threat, Etro pointed the wand at one of the grenades and then promptly moved it in the direction of another, causing both projectiles to collide in mid-air and explode. The shockwave sent the remaining two grenades off course, though the sorcerer was nonetheless forced to shield himself with his cape as one of them landed remarkably close to him, sending shrapnel flying in his direction.

Dolce acted quickly, breaking apart portions of the stairway to act as a buffer for the majority of the sharpnel. Valentino flung the ones he caught back towards the apartment in a chaotic and wild manner, with no specific target he could make out the bombs destroyed more personal property than anything else. Though right as the last of the bombs were detonated, more streaking bright flashes erupted across the apartment. While more prepared, Valentino had to deal with more and more onslaughts with his patience and stamina wearing thin. “Good thing we’re going inside, I don’t know how long I can take this!” He exclaimed as threw more back.

Acting quickly, Dolce raised as much as he could to deny the Young Bloods any semblance of ground for them to take. More and more of the bank’s exterior was overturned, smacking against the door to cover up any possible entry points under six feet of dirt. “Valentino keep them at bay! Hugo, get everyone inside!”

“Yes boss.” Without any warning Hugo dropped his rifle and wrapped his arms around both Etro and Prada, with Ralph Lauren already sitting comfortably on his shoulder. Rockets went off behind him as Valentino was overwhelmed, the shockwave very apparent around Hugo as his shield shook back and forth like a wave. He brought them as far as he could inside the lobby with it’s wrecked tables and frightened hostages.

Valentino was the last one to make it through the door as the shockwave sent him flying inside, he tumbled and rolled across the floor like a ragdoll. It hurt like hell, but he was still in the fight. The last of the pillars were brought down, Dolce using that to cover the entrance fully. “Get ready.” He ordered as he backed away from the door, constructing new gauntlets from the debris.

The giant bald man placed both Prada and Etro back on the ground, even going so far as to wipe the dust off of their clothes. “Apologies about that. I should have asked.”

Etro shook his head. “It’s not a problem. You were following instructions.” He replied politely as he grabbed his hat and dusted it off - it had nearly been left behind in the wreckage that had become of the bank’s entrance, but he had managed to hold on to it in the end. “So, do we have a strategy to deal with the Young Bloods, or are we in for a melee?”

The actual lobby was spacious though not necessarily for combat encounters. While the metal detector that faced the door had been thoroughly thrashed during their entrance, the statues facing it had not been damaged as of yet. Further along, there was a wide opening near the center where most of the hostages had been kept tucked behind maple tables and nestled behind the benches. The actual waiting area to the right of the doorway offered little in the way of adequate cover, though with the amount of hostages in there as well, it could provide for decent concealment. As you approached the inner sanctum and the rest of the building, the teller’s area was below a second floor building that none of the suits had entered as of now. With its connecting set of stairs that provided a good view over the rest of the hall, it wasn’t a lot to work with, but it was enough.

Hugo walked over to the duffle bags of gear that the drones and Sig had brought, revealing a light machine gun hidden underneath. While it didn’t have the same punch of his rifle, he’d make due with this. Valentino limped a bit behind a pillar, pulling up two hostages from up above the floor as he did. They of course did the usual scream and panicked cries, but he really didn’t care. He held them up and placed them on either side of his person. Dolce summoned some more from underneath the bank, his terrakinesis more limited in the relatively confined location; forming more singular shaped constructs, he rested them across the floor to use them as projectiles. As he did, he spoke up and answered Etro’s question, “Hugo will provide us cover on the second floor.” He pointed toward the stairway, “While you, Valentino, and I form the frontline.”

Valentino, already somewhat in place, nodded to that strategy, “I can work with that.”

“Spread yourselves out, get them bogged down in individual fights.” Dolce added as he took center stage, several feet back from the statue. “Prada will keep a clear eye on who needs help and switch up accordingly, won’t you Prada.”

“Okay.” Prada dashed back toward the hallway that connected the rest of the hall.

“What do I do?” Ralph Lauren reappeared beside Etro, seated on the pile of duffle bags with a casual pose to her.

“Literally get inside their heads if she can.” Mission Control interjected into Dolce’s ear, the squad leader relaying that to the girl. “Tickle Bael’s ear or suffocate Crystal Heart or whatever. Don’t let them feel comfortable at all!”

“I can work with that.” She shrugged her shoulders before completely laying flat on the bags. “This could be fun, if we all don’t die by the end of this.”

“Don’t worry, those soft-hearted heroes wouldn’t kill you even if they caught you. Not that I plan on going back to jail so soon after escaping from there.” Etro told the shrinking woman before glancing at the rest of the team. “Though this will be a difficult fight. We are outnumbered here.”

“I already have drones and turrets in place to act as fodder.” The MC told his lackey as two drones took their place beside the earthbender, barrels retracting from underneath them. “We are so close to getting out of here, let’s not mess this up!”

---

The Red Princess stood over several feet of gravel and dirt that now covered the entrance. The shooting outside had stopped, finally giving her a chance to think without constant gunfire ringing in her ear. She did a quick headcount, making sure everyone was safe. She looked to her left toward the main road where a thick inch of dust now littered the road; the lingering remains of the hellhounds, no doubt. not far from it were the golems, the one nearest her missing an arm. “Crystal Heart? Phoenix? Are you two still behind the wall?”

"Still here. I've got the cops and civilians!" Phoenix replied.

The Hadrian girl had been keeping an eye on the battle from her vantage point atop Dolce’s first concrete pillar. Seeing that the enemies had retreated into the building itself, leading to a lull in the fight, she leaped down from the pillar and landed not too far from the mission leader, walking up to her. “Crystal Heart here!”

Shi responded to Phoenix first, pressing on her earpiece while staring over at her, “Are they stable enough for others to take it from here?”

"Umm..." Phoenix looked at the wounded. "I should probably stay here, honestly."

With Kiris by her side, the Princess pressed her foot deep into the dirt more to do something than anything. She looked down at the ground before complimenting Crystal Heart, “It was clever to create a wall back there. Good thinking.”

“Thanks. It was the best thing I could think of to protect the officers from that big guy with the machine gun.” The alien girl replied softly, her usual demeanor a little muted now due to the gravity of the situation.

“I agree, I should have been up here but--” Shi abruptly went quiet as a shiver ran down her neck, a strong negative aura hit her at that moment. Her face grimaced, as she rubbed the back of her neck, her discomfort plainly obvious to anyone who could see it.

“What’s wrong, Princess?” Kiris asked her, noticing something was amiss as she suddenly cut herself off.

“I’m fine, nothing’s wrong.” She regained her composure, trying her best to brush it off. As her fingers soothed her spine, “Just had the oddest feeling that something --” She couldn’t really explain it in words, “Just something bad happened to someone. I don’t know. Ignore it. It’s just a feeling.” She stood up straight and looked around for the other Young Blood, she was with, “Jackrabbit where is he?”

"Here." Andrew arrived from the other side.

Much like before, she wanted to address his current condition but that would have to wait. The last of the police out in the open were taken back behind cover, clearing the whole area of casualties and giving Shi the visual all clear she was waiting for. She pointed down at the ground.“Bael, clear this. Everyone else, be ready.”

[Galnius]

Mikaela Mynd

Mikaela Mynd

Christmas Eve 2017, Florence, Italy

Jan Sorok, the champion of Heaven!

---

It took a while for the Choir of Angels to give the approval for the promise which Jan gave to Mika - perhaps he could have considered whether his duties as a guardian angel allowed to do what he wished, before he agreed to Mika's Florence vacation plans. Eventually, however, he received the green light, though with some reservations and restrictions on what he was allowed to do, and was granted a temporary human body to inhabit for the duration of his mission.

The city of Florence was as beautiful as always - the vast churches and monuments laying across it were the jewel in the crown of one of the most incredible cities in Italy. They were a memorial to a... rather complicated past which Florence had with the Church, but that past was all in the past, and the men who were responsible for it back then are already paying for their crimes.

A teen only somewhat taller than Mika approached the girl from behind her, without announcing his presence, and stopped besides her, where he spoke up:

"Found you."

Jan was dressed in a gray buttoned shirt and pants, and unlike all the other times he had met Mika, he had no wings on his back. For all intents and purposes, he was indistinguishable from any other person. Compared to Mika's cocktail dress, his clothes were more casual, though still formal enough.

"Was Florence the only destination you could reach, or are you fond of it particularly?" he asked.

" It's just a place", Mika said offhandedly. " Came here once before. Figured Paris or New York City would be way too crowded." The walk to the church was largely uneventful. Florence, even as a tourist hotspot, seemed less crowded then the streets of San Diego. The roads were wide, originally created for hordes of people and horses, and the sidewalks were just as spacious. On each side of the street millenia of architecture and culture stood timeless, from the roman era to the Renaissance to far more modern shops and restaurants, all which seemed closed for the holiday. Eventually, the pair reached their destination.

Mika had second thoughts as she witnessed people funneling in. The crowds were huge, and honestly she was only really here to hang out with Jan. Was it worth it?

"Jan?" Mika locked eyes with the boy. "If things get too uncomfortable, just in case, is it okay to leave? You won't disappear if I do, right? I just... Nevermind. We should head in. And you should've worn something a little nicer."

---

Angelica Dalin, Camping

After the fire had begun to die down and everyone went their separate ways, Angelica found herself alone with nothing more than a book. At first, she simply sat near the fire, using a flashlight to read. However, something ate away at her, forcing her to leave for a different location. She walked and flew around the campground, attempting to find a place she could see everything. Eventually, she did find one just to the north that gave the others privacy, but still gave her a view of everything else. Satisfied for a moment, she opened her book once more.

Such satisfaction was not meant to last for Angelica, sadly. The book had pulled her in far too well. She had arrived at a suspenseful scene, reading now by her own firelight, when the feeling that something must be wrong hit her like a knife to the chest. She checked her watch. It was just after midnight. No strange sounds could be heard, and she could see the tents remained undamaged. No one is here. It's okay. Everything is okay.

Angelica expelled the worries from her mind and returned to her book. She was only a page more in when the anxiety came back with a vengeance. Orpheus was playing for Hades and Persephone and, while her mind imagined the music flowing from his instrument, it came with images of finding Icarus dead with a knife in his back, or Kiris crying over the body of Mars, or Whitney dead by poisoning. Checking wouldn't hurt, right?

Angelica rose to her feet and closed her book. Everything seemed fine at least. Maybe there wasn't anything to worry about after all. Still, better safe than sorry. Her first stop was to check on Whitney, who she found to be quite not dead. As her feelings of paranoia subsided, at least somewhat, she raised that she must look like she had just seen a ghost.

"Oh, hi Whitney! I was just, uh, seeing if you wanted to borrow a book?" Angelica quickly threw out an excuse for her rushed entry, her expression and shaky voice betraying her lie to Whitney and her pounding heart and short breath betrayed it to herself.

[The Republic of Atria]

Bael

The two Gargoyles were down and the powered robbers were retreating to the inside of the bank. Intrepid went over to help the helicopter that he got thrown into by what looked some like some sort of telekinesis. It didn't take him long and he was back out front with the rest of the gang.

There was a brief moment in the chaos after all the robbers retreated. Shi took advantage of the time to start getting ready for everyone to head inside, but first they needed to clear all the stone away from entrance that kept them out. His hands gained their bright blue glow and the chunks of stone were torn free. He made sure to pile it away from the entrance in as neat a pile as he could. This was really only the second time he's been able to use his earth powers in a real mission. Hilariously enough, the first time was also a bank robbery.

By the time he finished, Intrepid was back, having failed his initial counter attack against the robbers' own terrakinetic. "So, what's the plan?" He asked.

"We're about to head in." Bael said.

"Cool." Intrepid said.

[Finland SSR]

Mikaela Mynd is on a Date

Jan Sorok, the champion of Heaven!

---

Italy was just as vast, beautiful and dense with people as Jan had imagined from what he remembered of his mortal days. It was the heart of the city, so, of course, it was the best face which Florence could put up, but it caught the Virgil's attention nonetheless. Perhaps, after this outing is done and over, he can request the Choir of Virgils to give him a few tasks somewhere in Italy. There's demons to fight here as well, surely.

Mika stopped when they arrived at the San Lorenzo Basilica - a Christmas tree stood before its main entrance, decorated with red cut-outs. According to tradition, Christmas Eve Mass is celebrated in the cathedral by the Cardinal of Florence, and in conjunction with Papal blessing at Rome, an another Mass is held on the morning of the next day. The girl was hesitant to enter, and suddenly spoke to Jan, asking.

"Uh..." the boy muttered, the question catching him briefly by surprise. "I'm not... forcing you to go there. I'll be disappointed, of course, but I'll stay with you if you decide that you can't bear inside the Basilica any longer."

He followed after Mika as they made their way towards the front entrance, glancing to the side when the girl poked him for having not worn something nicer. "I... That doesn't matter," He could have taken a formal suit, of course, but he feared this would make their visit too formal. "I'm not here to be a mean stubborn principal who wants to take away a day of your life for some prayer. I want to help you feel a little better, you know - and Christmas time is the best time to reflect. A church is the best place to think how you've been doing so far and what you can do better from here on out." It certainly helped him often before he finally made his way to San Diego.

[Bentus]

A cowrite between Finland SSR and Bentus.
Changeling and Marionette

---

Tucked away deep inside an apartment complex in the Residential Midtown, a small unassuming apartment housed an unassuming lady. Certainly not luxurious, with a handful of rooms, but by no means a shabby place to live, either - and income from the Mob, coupled with Stage Fright’s stolen wealth which vanished after her... mysterious disappearance, was more than enough to keep it. The window was wide open, and revealed a panoramic view of the San Diego downtown.

Marcella Salazar was standing in the middle of the room, a full body mirror in front of her. The designers of the apartment intended this room to be a living room - however, the woman converted it into a massive wardrobe instead. Drawers and closets surrounded her from every side, each one filled with clothing - methodically collected, labelled and organized according to origin, powers and clothing type. Labels were glued on each closet - each one uniquely designed and crafted, adhering to the content inside, a closet with winter clothing was adorned with small cut-outs of snowflakes while one with physical improvement powers specifically had a drawing of Captain Quake flexing his biceps attached. Everything inside was cleaned after every use.

The woman herself was trying out several different hats in front of the mirror. Designing her outfit was an arduous task, and would often take hours, as Marcy had to balance two often very divorced things - how to handpick the clothing which would give her the powers she needs in villainy, all while keeping to the style, never ending up samey, and remaining fashionable?

No, this one’s dumb.

Marcy placed a small baseball cap back where it belonged, and briefly considered other options, before her session was suddenly interrupted by a knock on the door. For a second, she stopped, considering her options. She had given her address to Miss Lisette in the past, her neighbours were always there, and so was her landlord... Or, it could always be the Mob, or police.

Just in case, Marcy picked up Rendezvous, resting next to the wall, and made her way to the door.

“Who’s there?”

“It’s me.” Lisette’s voice called from behind the door, leaning in to stare back through the eyehole in case Marcy was looking out. “Would you open up? I need to talk to you about something.”

Three locks were unlocked one after another in quick succession and the door to Marcy’s apartment opened afterwards. The rest of the apartment, much like the wardrobe room, was squeaky clean and perfectly organized - not a single chair or eating plate was out of place.

Marcy politely stepped to the side to let Lisette inside and placed Rendezvous next to the wall, she did not need it anymore. “Is it another train hijacking? If so, I may need a few minutes before I get ready.”

Lisette hardly gave Marcy the time to open her door before she’d all-but-barged her way into the apartment. Groaning as a way to audibly vent the frustrations she’d been feeling, the girl made a bee-line for the nearest couch, before proceeding to flop herself down face-first onto the immaculately maintained cushions. With her face buried, Lisette’s voice was muffled when she responded.

Following after her peer, Marcy was not nearly as over the top - instead, she pulled a chair out besides the table and rested her elbows on the top rail of the chair, chin buried in her cupped hands.

“No, nothing like that.” Turning her head, Lisette frowned. “Just wanted to get out for a bit. Been feeling real cooped up lately. Burke’s hardly allowed me to do anything other than pace around my room. Which, for the record, seriously sucks.”

Glancing up towards the other girl, the villainess continued. “I need a distraction. What have you been up to? I bet it’s something cool.”

Marcy listened to Lisette’s venting in silence - and when the conversation turned towards her, she raised her eyes to the ceiling and answered:

“I can’t say it has been a very active month. I have been reviewing my wardrobe and added several new designs to the collection - but that is very passive work, so I doubt that counts,” Granted, collecting the clothes was an entirely different topic entirely - and since she needed to take them from actual supers, it was always an adventure to capture them. “Oh, if we’re speaking of something cool...”

Marcy straightened up in her stance. “A few weeks ago, I almost brought a live Young Blood for you, Miss - had it not been for a vigilante’s intervention. One of the... less popular ones, Cosmic.”

Raising an eyebrow, Lisette shifted herself so that she was lying in a more comfortable position. But nevertheless she remained all but prone on the couch.

“Wait, seriously?” She hadn’t heard much about Cosmic in a while, but he had still definitely been an active member of the team. If only for a little bit. “Way to go, Marcy! Kidnapping a hero is right up there with some of the classiest acts of villainy. And that you nearly succeeded once means that we’re definitely going to do it when we put our heads together next time.”

While Lisette was genuinely proud of her sidekick, and was doing her best to sound encouraging, she was surprised to find that she was far from as excited about the news as she would have expected. It wasn’t that Cosmic was no longer really a Young Blood at this point, nor that Changeling ultimately didn’t succeed in her daring mission. Rather, Lisette realised, it was because Marcy’s story had failed to distract her from what was really weighing on her mind.

Groaning at the realization, the notorious villainess nearly buried her head back into the cushions once more.

“I’m sorry, Marcy. I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me.” Pushing herself up into a sitting position Lisette leaned back into the couch with a glum expression. She sat in silence for a few moments, collecting her thoughts before glancing back up to her sidekick. “Have you ever met someone that one day you really just want to kill, but other times all you want to do is just keep hanging out with them for as long as you can?”

When Lisette moved on from congratulating her sidekick to lamenting herself once again, Marcy stepped away from the chair and took a glance towards a nearby drawer. Though she almost never allowed any guests into her apartment, she always kept a small box of cookies in the drawer to treat them with. Politely and with the same refined movement as always, she placed the brightly colored box on the coffee table in front of the couch and opened it for Lisette to treat herself with. And Marcy too, of course. But mainly Lisette.

“I...” she muttered, considering the question Lisette posed to her. “...can’t say I’ve felt that way towards a person before. There were certainly people I used to want to befriend and then... changed my mind, but that is a different feeling.”

Marcy straightened up. “If there is a person who bothers you, Miss Lisette, then just tell me and I will kill them for you.”

“What? No!” Lisette exclaimed. “I don’t want to kill him, Marcy! I mean, I appreciate the offer and all, but...” Her voice trailed off. Then again, maybe it’s worth thinking about? Lisette pursed her lips as she tried to consider Marcy’s offer more carefully. But after a few moments, she vigorously shook her head. “No. I definitely don’t want to kill him right now. Thanks, though.”

Sighing, she reached out to take one of the cookies that her sidekick had laid out for her. Nibbling on the sugary treat, Lisette frowned as she tried to think of a way to explain the full story to Marcy.

“You’ve heard of Hex, yeah? He’s the leader of the Cabal.” She began, speaking while chewing. “I met him a while back, before he first got defeated by the Young Bloods. And, I don’t know, I guess I had fun. But having him around just seemed to make everything too confusing.”

Having finished her cookie, Lisette leaned back into the couch.

“Then Burke suddenly started asking me about him. He told me to go and recruit Hex and the Cabal for the Mob, saying that I was someone that Hex would listen to.” The girl’s frown deepened. “Which pisses me off. I’m meant to be a villain, not some errand runner! But I go along with it, and actually end up finding Hex. And we hang out for a bit just...talking. And I actually had a really good time.”

Though disappointed that she did not receive the green light to do some cathartic murder, Marcy listened to the rest of Lisette’s story regardless - and raised her eyebrow when the blonde girl explained her relationship with Hex. The villainess knew of him, and nodded when Lisette asked her whether she did - how could she have not heard of one of the three members of San Diego’s up and coming villain team? They even challenged the Young Bloods themselves...

Perhaps it was a good thing that Lisette did not ask her to put a hit on Hex, then - they were in a different league. She’d have to resort to polonium tea in that case.

Marcy did not answer Lisette at first - she finished her own cookie, which she ate carefully, popping off bit by bit instead of eating it whole.

“I don’t see the problem here,” the villainess answered her. “Sounds to me like you have found a liking for Hex, went on a date with him, and enjoyed it.”

Lisette sighed. “Yeah, you’re right.” She said with a frown. “But that is the problem. I’ve felt like this before: all excited and eager to get to know someone and to have them know me. And every time, I get punished for letting my guard down. After the Mask, I realised that falling for someone was just stupid. All it does is let someone else have power over you. And that’s always a mistake.”

Pausing, the villain glanced over to her sidekick.

“And even though I know that all that, and I know how stupid it really is, I still think that I like him.” Lisette’s frown deepened with thought. “And I’m not sure how to deal with that.”

Marcy nodded, understanding - she expected to think much of the same had she ended up in Lisette’s position. Opening up to someone with excitement and a fluttered heart was a greater moment of weakness than any.

“Well...” the villainess thought and mindlessly placed another piece of her cookie in her mouth, thinking. “Do you think he likes you back?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe?” Lisette replied. “Probably? I think he likes me now. The first time we met, a couple weeks back, he actually tried to kiss me. I didn’t really react all that great at the time, I suppose. But then when we met up the other day, I thought he was going to do it again. Except he didn’t.”

Yet another sigh escaped from the villain’s lips.

“What if he liked me? Or even if he still likes me now, what’s going to happen if he finds out that Burke is treating me like some kind of dispatchable goon?” Frustration had entered into Lisette’s tone. Frustration at her current situation, and frustration that she cared so much about what Hex would think about it. “He thinks that I’m out there calling the shots, rather than just laying low because my parents froze all of my accounts and tossed me to the curb. And I don’t want him to find out and change how he sees me, you know?”

Carefully, Marcy picked up a cookie from inside the box, and placed it in Lisette’s fingers right as the other villainess finished another vent of hers. “You’re worrying too much. Wasting valuable energy over it.”

When she first offered to become Lisette’s sidekick, teenage relationship counseling was not what she expected she’d have to do. And, besides, Marcy was hardly any older than her, nor did she have much experience in relationships either. But if the perfect sidekick must help their villain at all times, in peace or in war alike, then she will help her villain to her greatest ability.

“So, do you believe that Hex likes you only as Marionette, the fearsome villainess who brought terror to all of San Diego, and if he learned that you are not as fearsome as you say you are, then he won’t find you attractive anymore?” Marcy reasoned, aiming to take her peer’s argument and re-format it. “But, your date with Hex was not about that, right? You just... talked. And not just about your villainous exploits, I presume.”

Having finished one cookie, Marcy picked up another. “If you believe that he may like you after all that, then perhaps he likes you in a way that doesn’t matter whether you are a villain or a goon? As a person?”

“I suppose.” Even though Lisette responded, she didn’t sound especially convinced. She took a bite from the cookie that Marcy had handed her. “It’s just that I sometimes think that I’d rather be Marionette than Lisette.” She paused, pursing her lips as she looked towards the other girl. “Do you think I should tell him?”

“Mmm... hold that thought...” Marcy muttered as she considered their options and folded her arms behind her back. “What if you considered this predicament from another light? Falling for someone is a moment of weakness for you, sure - but this weakness goes both ways. And if you believe that Hex may have a thing for you, then perhaps you can take advantage of this and make him fall even deeper in the well?”

The sidekick raised her finger, smirking. “Plot the most effective string of dates and encounters to maximize damage, and make it so he is so high over heels for you that it won’t even matter whether you are a real villain or just a goon for Burke! And you will have a villain as powerful as him under your strings!”

As Marcy’s words dawned on her, Lisette slowly began to nod in agreement. A grin began to spread across her features as the other girl’s contagious confidence spread. “That’s got to have been it...” She declared. Why else would she have so quickly started to have all these feelings around the other villain, if not for her subconscious mind recognising the villainous scheme lying just below the surface. “I can’t believe I didn’t see it before!”

She was in full swing now, a glimmer of mischievous excitement in her eyes as she ran ahead with the plan that Marcy had planted in her head. “With Hex and - by extension - the Cabal at our mercy, we’d be one step closer to being the villains that we’re destined to be, don’t you think?” Clapping her hands together, Lisette pursed her lips in thought. “Though how on earth am I supposed to figure out what it is that’ll make him fall for me like that? For the sake of the plan, I mean.”

Marcy raised her finger, smirked and walked up to one of the cupboards - there, she picked up a notepad with a pen. As she made her way back to Lisette, she ripped off the top page and gracefully folded it before putting it away.

“We need to make a character analysis of Hex to figure out exactly what you need to do to make him fall for you,” the woman announced and began writing down on the notepad. “You already know him personally, so, perhaps you can list everything you know about him so far? What do you think he likes, and what do you know he does not like?”

Lisette furrowed her brow as she tried to remember her past encounters with the sorcerer.

“Well, he’s really into old music. He actually had a proper vinyl from some group called the Blue Oysters. Old books, too - I think. Apparently he’s got a whole library at his hideout, though I’ve got no idea if there’s anything there beyond magical tomes and the like. I think he also enjoyed it when we got into a chase one time, so definitely open to a bit of excitement.” Pausing, she rubbed her chin as she tried to recall anything else that could be useful. “You know, I don’t think he likes ice cream. He took me to a really cute shop by the beach, where apparently he’s actually seen some Young Bloods before, but he only got an ice lolly.”

Lisette doubted that the last thought would be useful, but she couldn’t help but realise that she’d dragged Adrian to an ice cream stand during their first...encounter. Had he gone out of his way to take them to the beach because he knew that it was something that she liked, even if he didn’t?

Pushing the train of thought from her head, Lisette offered Marcy a smirk.

“And obviously, I bet that he isn’t a huge fan of superheroes.”

“Mhm, mhm...” Marcy muttered under her breath as she wrote. Nothing out of the ordinary, so far. Has some nerdy interests, is no fan of superheroes just like everyone in this apartment... doesn’t like ice cream... which was odd, and not too helpful, unless they planned to set a date in an ice cream parlor.

The villainess tapped the butt end of her pen onto her chin, reviewing the info they received so far and considering where to go from here.

“Do you think he is more of a formal and polite type of person, or more free-spirited?” If it was the former, then getting together at a restaurant was a classic move - but it would not work on a person whose life was pure chaos. However, as she thought, Marcy suddenly stumbled onto an even better idea, and asked:

“Do you know if he is a native to San Diego?”

Lisette shook her head. “Not originally. He said that he’s from Europe, but he might’ve been here for a bit. As for his personality he’s -” She stopped herself, pausing in thought instead of responding immediately. It seemed like an easy enough question, but now that she thought about it... Adrian struck her as an enigma. “He tends to act pretty formal. Gentlemanly, even. But I’m not sure that’s who he really is.” Lisette raised an eyebrow, not sure where the other girl was going with this. “Why?”

“What if...” Marcy raised her finger, ready to explain herself. “We got you two together in Europe? A person’s home holds an affectionate place in their heart... usually - especially for someone who moved into the United States from another continent. Overtaken by such warm fuzzy feelings - be it nostalgia or happiness - he will be much easier for you to sway. What if it just so happened that somehow you got a hold of two plane tickets somewhere and don’t have someone to share it with, aaand...” The villainess waved her finger in the air, letting the end of the sentence hang in the air.

“I’m not sure if warm and fuzzy are how I’d expect him to react.” Lisette said, pursing her lips as she recalled what Hex had told her about his past. “And even if that wasn’t the case, I can’t just up and leave California right now. Burke would throw me to the curb so quickly that prison might even end up being the better option.” She added bitterly.

As much as she hated to admit it, she was dependent on the Mob right now, more so even than immediately after the gala. If Burke chose to hang her out to dry, it wouldn’t just be law enforcement and heroes out to get her: the Bratva and the Triads would also be after her head. And she didn’t have the resources to go into hiding on her own.

“I’ll be seeing him during missions for now, so at least I don’t need to figure out an excuse to hang out.” Lisette added, pondering her options. “His friends: the other two members of the Cabal. I’m not sure that they’re my biggest fans, so they could be a problem. I could either try to pull him away from them, which is risky, or see if I can get on their good side.” She frowned. “Friends have always been...complicated, though.”

“Hmm...” Marcy muttered under her breath. Yet again, the predicament of her Miss curtailed her - and this time, after having put actual, serious thought into the Hex issue only to see her idea rebuffed, the woman was genuinely frustrated. Perhaps she can revive the polonium tea idea again, just for someone else.

“In matters of objective potential, keeping Hex and the rest of the Cabal together will be beneficial,” she answered Lisette’s following musings, about the villain’s two partners in crime - who, according to her, did not have much of a liking for the one-eyed villainess. “If you, hypothetically, turn Hex yours, then he will be able to speak for you to the rest of the Cabal - and, if necessary, bring the might of all three to your side. This would not be the case if you draw their team apart.”

Marcy raised her finger again, striking a faint smile. “Or, you could let me kill them, if they are so much a bother.”

Chuckling at the other girl’s comment, Lisette shook her head with a smirk. “I’ll keep it in mind, but somehow I don’t think he’d appreciate it.”

Despite herself, she couldn’t help but smile after the conversation. She’d found that talking things over with Marcy did seem to make her feel more at ease. It was strange, really, having someone that Lisette felt like she could talk to about her formerly-secret life. Glancing past where Marcy was sitting, her gaze peered through an open door towards another room filled with a mirror and a myriad of labelled drawers and wardrobes.

“Were you trying out some new outfits?” Lisette asked, grinning at her sidekick. She appreciated Changeling’s attention to the aesthetic details of villainy, and the girl’s fashion sense was superb. The added constraint of needing to select an outfit that provided a useful power set made it all the more impressive. Feeling that she’d spoken enough about Hex, Lisette paused for a moment. “You’ve totally got to show me what you’ve been working on.”

“Oh, um-” Marcy’s voice cracked for a second from the surprise at the sudden change of topic - especially as it put the woman in the spotlight. She moved her arms behind her back and glanced in the direction Lisette was staring at - then, with a cough, straightened up and nodded.

“Yes, in fact - I was in the midst of designing a handful of suits which would be able to compliment your powers, Miss Lisette - and style,” Marcy answered. The style meant something bright, colorful and flashy - but not too over the top, with a more restrained dress and skirt, to make sure that she fades juuust a little to the background of her mistress. With a faint smirk on her face, she stepped towards the wardrobe room.

“Allow me to show you. I do need a talented judge.”

Fashion was much more familiar territory - and perhaps Marcy could also figure out how to get a few of her shirts and pants on Lisette’s body for a bit?

[Segral]

Whitney Alvord
December 1st

Maybe her story had been too good. Alexis tried to top it, and then just couldn't, sheepishly falling apart and retreating back to the fire's outer edges. She looked stressed, and flustered about it too. For a while, Whitney wondered if she should ask the prodigy how she was feeling, but decided against it. Maybe she just wanted to be alone, or not talk about it. Maybe she didn't appreciate people when she just wanted space. So, she let her go, and waited for the next challenger. Except that never came, either. Everyone seemed more intent on either going their own way or just huddling around the blaze doing their own thing, leaving one of her worst stories in slightly uncomfortable isolation. Yeah, it felt good to win, but it would kind of take the sting off if someone else chimed in besides Andrew. Well, she thought she won. Her story was definitely cooler. More dangerous too. Still, it felt awkward just sharing that tale like that without any feedback, like she had just jumped in and blurted out something random to a group of people locked in their own conversation.

So, once the fire had eventually died down, she said goodbye to Angie and decided to pull off her own retreat, crawling off to the parking lot to have a smoke and stargaze. There was something peaceful about the moon and stars, a mixture of black and white that looked like table salt sprinkled across a sheer black table, or a dazzling pearl necklace sitting atop a black velvet dress. Just sitting in the glow calmed her nerves, made a shitty day improve to just mildly annoying for a few minutes. It was even better up here, in the mountains. The air here felt cleaner, fresher, only poisoned by the smoke spewing from her mouth ironically enough, and you had nothing but trees and clean, calm, barely rippling lake around you. The beach was untainted by people (except for her, once again ironically enough) and chatter, and the water was untainted by waves, leaving the entire place in perfect stillness. It made her forget that she was sitting between two beaten cars on a badly worn rock curb with her boots sinking into a fresh layer of mud, made her lose all perception of time for a few blissful moments.

And then, a noise and footsteps came from behind her, and she was jerked back into reality, where she was sitting between two beaten cars on a badly worn rock curb with her boots sinking in a fresh layer of mud. Turning around, she was surprised to see Angie practically bursting in from behind her, her face showing a weird mixture of fear and relief as she held onto her latest book with a trembling hand. Relief, from the way her shoulders were all slumped and her mouth was turned up in a smile, but fear, from the way her eyes got all wide and her voice shook. Whatever it was, it didn't look good, and a pang of concern shot through Whitney's chest as she looked her friend up and down.

"Er...I-I'm good, still working through that last one you gave me..." Whitney started, letting her smoke drop out of her fingers and mashing it flat with her heel as inconspicuously as possible. "You wanna sit down with me for a bit? I could use the company."