Fates And Futures [IC | Heroes & Legends]

[Forest State]

This is the IC thread for Fates and Futures. To apply for the thread, please go back to the OOC, which is located here.

[Forest State]

ARC ONE: Web Of Darkness

January 23rd, 2018

(Collab scene with Lunas Legion)

It was good to be home. If Santa Marina even was home, that is. Candace had already been across the world at the age of 20, but Santa Marina was the one place that she kept coming back to. If only because it was where her parents and her three siblings were. She was just coming back yet again, after getting back from a trip to Washington D.C. It had been fairly basic stuff. A little bit of sightseeing, a bit of training with her family's friends to the north. It had been fun for a month, but now, she was expected back at Syndicate HQ and it was back to reality. Back to the expectations, back to the spotlight, and back to all the problems that came along with being a famous hero and making a ton of money off of it at a young age.

She pressed her hand to the scanner and her fingerprint was scanned, opening the doors into the inner part of Syndicate HQ. The dorms area for the Futures Program wasn't far from here, and after a walk down the hallway and a trip up the elevator, towards the middle of the building, she stepped into her room and set her bags down. She put her clothes where they belonged, and tossed her bag of souvenirs onto the bed. She'd go through the rest of her stuff later. For now, she stepped into the hallway outside. She was looking for one of her two friends, either Vivian or Gabriella. Even though she'd only known Gabriella for the six months they'd been in the program, she was already one of her closest friends. Her only other close one, really, other than Viv. And with Viv's apathy in recent months, Candace felt herself drifting towards Gabriella.

She had some things that she wanted to talk about, that she technically wasn't supposed to talk about. But she had found out abut these things anyway, from her tip to D.C, and she needed another mind to bounce these things off of. After all, the stuff she had found out about happened to be quite important.

Gabriella had known as soon as Candace had arrived back, felt her mind moving through the overlapping telepathic ranges of her three bodies, heard the mental bings every once in a while as Candace's thoughts strayed in her direction. Unfortunately, two of her bodies were occupied, one was in a class, the second was down on the firing range, which left her third body which had been sleeping to get up and dress itself before heading off to find Candace. She could just have sent a projection, but this felt like it was something better done in person.

She felt Candace moving in her general direction, and so she stopped walking, instead moving over to stand by a wall as she silently waited for Candace to turn the corner, tapping a heel against the floor impatiently.

She smiled as Candace turned the corner. It had been a lonely month, since she didn't have many people she really considered friends here."Welcome back from up-country." It wasn't much of a greeting, but it was all she had to offer really. "How was D.C?"

"It was about what you'd expect. Traffic, bureaucratic buildings, old monuments, all that. But I stayed with some friends from the Capital Team, so it was a nice trip. Specifically with a cousin of mine, Asher," Candace said, smiling slightly as she looked Gabriella over. It really was good to see her again after being apart for an entire month. It didn't seem like that long of a trip when she marked it out on the calendar, but when she actually arrived, it felt like she would be there forever.

She moved to wrap Gabriella up in a hug, one that would pick her up slightly. Candace had always been the stronger one between the two, the one that spent some time in the gym. "I would have brought you something back, but I figured you already have everything. So I'll just say I'm giving you myself," she added, an ever so slight blush appearing on her face as they made contact.

"That's... Nice, I guess?" Gabriella's voice was uncertain as she felt Candace pick her up just slightly, glancing away out of embarassment as she blushed slightly at the contact. "But you'd be here anyways, so I don't know if it's okay to say you're the gift? It is nice to have you back, however. Things have been... Lonely and almost boring back here without you."

Candace shrugged slightly, setting Gabriella down and taking a step away, looking to the side awkwardly. "It's not like I have to be here or in this program. I could have pulled strings and went up north full time, and I didn't, you know," she said, before letting her voice trail off. "I've been lonely too. I missed you a lot. Especially when Viv wouldn't even answer my calls. But um, more about that later. There's some things I learned in D.C. that you should probably know about. But I can't talk around here, this stuff is supposed to stay classified."

"And I'm grateful you don't, since otherwise I'd be stuck down here all on my lonesome." She shook her head slightly. God, that would be like last month but only all the time. Not a pleasant thought. Not at all. And this talk of classified information was interesting, to say the least. "To my room it is then, I think it's closer." She couldn't help but roll her eyes at 'classified info'. What use was classifying information with people like her around?

"Although if it's classified I don't know if you're supposed to be telling me, although I'd probably learn it soon enough anyways." She turned quickly on her heel, walking back the way she'd come from earlier. "Come on, we can see if I can pick your brain faster than we get back to my room to talk."

"I wouldn't dig around my head too much. With all due respect, I'm not sure I want you knowing everything that's going on in there at the moment. I mean, you probably can't help it, but it's weird as fuck to know that my thoughts aren't even private. Especially after being gone for a month and having some actual privacy," Candace replied, following after Gabriella with a slight sigh. "Only God knows how awkward things would be between me and Viv if she was able to read my mind."

"Fine, I'll stay out of your head if that's what you want. Or try to. Sometimes I, well, just can't help myself." She glanced back over her shoulder as she said the last part, giving Candace a small joking smile. "It's not an easy power to have, but I manage. Most of the time people wish for privacy for a good reason, and I know I would." Gabriella fell back into silence as they walked through the corridors, trying her best to ignore Candace's mind and instead concentrating more on her other bodies, leaving this one on near-autopilot until they arrived outside her room. She swiped her hand over a scanner panel next to the door which unlocked with an audible click.

"Come in, shut the door behind you and sit, well, anywhere." She said as she walked through the door. Her room was the same as most of the other rooms; bed, desk, en-suite bathroom, wardrobe, a few other things, but she'd added a few other touches. A small row of plant pots, a line of worn old books, a few random knick-knacks from home. Personal touches. "So." She sat down gracefully on her bed. "You wanted to share some information with me?"

Candace looked around for a moment, debating what to do, before sitting down directly next to Gabriella. She rested her head on her shoulder, her purple hair brushing against Gabriella's face. She was going to reach for a joint, which she already had in her pocket as she anticipated earlier that she would need it, but she stopped. She knew Gabriella didn't like it, and well, she would play along for now. "Back in D.C, I talked to some of the higher up heroes on the east coast. They know a lot about what the Council of Ten is thinking, and things aren't looking good all around the world. There's a lot of problems, really, and we're probably going to have to help clean up some messes soon." After a pause, she revealed the biggest thing.

"The Horsemen are active again, you know. They were seen together in Ireland two weeks ago, and while the Council is trying to keep it under wraps, some people know about it and the word is spreading. It got to someone else, and then someone else, and then that someone told me. They also saw Famine meeting with the Riot in Guyana, and while they've been tracking all of the Riot members for a long time, we don't know what the motives behind the meeting were. It looked like a friendly one. Famine seemed to be amicable with Alpha, they said. And I'm telling you this because my source also said that we're going to be with the team that has to deal with these guys, if anything happens involving them."

"Ah." There wasn't much of a reaction she could have beyond that to any of this. It wasn't every day that you were told that you could be going off to fight one of the more notorious villain teams on the planet, potentially with a member of the most notorious as backup.

"Well, hopefully nothing does happen with them. Even as backup to another team with just one member, well, the Horsemen were nasty business. Are nasty business. And if they're starting to talk to those lower down the chain of bad guys..." She let her voice trail off. The Legends had been bad enough, but a group of villains headed by the Horsemen would likely put even their conquest of Africa to shame. A worst-case scenario, perhaps, but one should always prepare for the worst.

"It just sounds like it's all going to be one large mess." Gabriella let out an almost-defeated sigh. "And we're lucky enough to be being placed right into the middle of it. Even as backup, it'll be unpleasant. Just what we wanted."

"Yeah. I know. And because I'm one of the more famous ones here or whatever, they're going to want me to be involved with it if we end up fighting these guys," Candace said with a sigh. She breathed deeply, her body rising and falling against Gabriella's. She closed her eyes, picturing the worst case scenario scene in her mind and almost shuddering. She wasn't ready fort his, but she was one of the ones that was expected to act otherwise.

"Everything's just fucked up right now, isn't it? You have the Legends trying to reunite and get back to their usual activities, you have the Horsemen appearing together again and getting ready for... Something. And now they're working with a group that's dangerous in their own right," she said, frowning. "And back home, if you can even call this a home, Vivian has never been as cold to me as she's being now. I don't know what's going through her mind right now. I wish I had your ability, sometimes."

She didn't move, simply letting Candace lean on her as they talked, not reacting in any way to the closeness. "What, the telepathy? It's very much overrated, believe me." Gabriella shook her head slightly. "You could always just try asking her. I'd offer to help, but I'm quite sure her reaction to me going through her brain would be similar to yours, only more... Aggressive."

"But, yes, as you put it, everything is 'quite fucked up'. And if you get dragged off to go fight Riot and Famine and whatever else crawls out alongside them, I suppose I'm obligated to come with you if I'm allowed, as much as I dislike fighting. Friendship is friendship, after all. But all of those, even Viv, are all problems for the future, no? They may not even become problems. Maybe her work is taking a toll on her."

“If her work is bothering her or something, she can at least talk to me about it. Like we used to, back when it was just us and you hadn’t shown up yet. I was closer to her than I was to my blood sisters, and then something happened. And now she’s cold to everybody for whatever reason,” shrugged Candace. “I miss her. The real her, not the one that you see right now. Even her mother doesn’t know what’s going on.”

She opened her eyes again, breathing deeply. “Cercei Hara was spotted in Belfast before the Syndicate lost track of her, you know. It’s like everyone is getting active at the same time, and well, I guess I feel out of my depth with it all. Just because I’m from the Marin family doesn’t mean I can deal with all of this.”

Gabriella was silent for a few moments before she spoke. "I don't think any of us could really deal with all this. Not even me. There's just so much being placed onto your shoulders all at once."

"I'm not sure what advice I can give you really. With Viv, if she isn't going to talk to you, then go talk to her. Sometimes just talking even beats out telepathy since what's not being said is just as important as what is. With everything else, all this... Hero stuff, well, it's not my world, not really, but I'll support you in it as best as I can." She turned her head slightly and smiled at Candace. "It'll be fine. I promise."

Candace laid back, staring at the ceiling after brushing the deep purple strands of hair out of her face. Her face was pained. Not physically, but emotionally. Even so, it was hard to tell the difference just from looking at her. "Yeah, I know but... Do you think this is my fault? Do you think I've neglected her, now that I finally have another real friend? I know it looks like I'm popular, but as far as people I can actually connect with, it's always just been me and her. Then you entered the picture, and she starts treating me like I killed someone. I don't want to believe she'd do it without good reason."

"Perhaps, perhaps not." Gabriella replied as she lay back alongside Candace, her arm brushing against her as she lay back. "It's just been you and her for so long, so it might just be taking her time to get used to that I'm also around and it's not just her and you anymore. Or maybe she's jealous or doesn't like me or something along those lines. People are complicated, but whatever it is, it's probably a good reason to her. Or I hope it is."

"I don't know who I'm more worried for, going forward. Her, or myself. But um, thanks for being around to talk about it, I guess. My family, or anyone else for that matter, they just wouldn't understand. They'd either be too busy, or tell me to get over it, or..." she fell silent, blinking back the small tears that were forming in the corners of her eyes. "You know I don't do this emotional shit, but I guess what I'm trying to say is thank you for being there for me. Because a lot of people that should be there, really aren't."

"You don't need to thank me just for being here." Gabriella said as lifted her head up slightly, sliding a hand underneath the back of her head. "Just being there and listening is what friends are for. You can thank me when I've actually done something beyond that."

She fell back into silence, unsure of what else to say on that front, so she decided to change the topic instead. "But anyways, to move onto something less... Emotional, since you're far more in the loop than I am, anything on our odds of actually having to help deal with Riot and maybe Famine if he hasn't moved somewhere else by then?"

Candace was happy when the subject changed, and the emotion went away from her voice quickly. She had become good over the years at bottling it up. "They aren't actually doing anything yet, but because of their meeting in Guyana, the people back in D.C. have the feeling that they're planning something in this region. And if we feel like the States, or Mexico, are threatened, we're going to have to make a trip to fight them wherever they are. Everyone is waiting to see if they move in this direction or if they stay there and don't act. But knowing them, I give us a sixty percent chance of joining Team Diamond in some kind of defensive measure."

Sixty percent, huh? She let out a long breath. Great. Just... Great. "Well, it could be worse than a 60% chance. It could be certain, so I'll take 60%."

She shifted, rolling onto her side, facing towards Candace. "But anyways, since you've told me what you wanted to tell me, you feel like doing anything to celebrate your return? You seem like you could do with cheering up."

"I dunno," Candace said after a pause, still staring at the ceiling. "I already partied enough in D.C, it's time to get back to reality. My plan was originally to pop pills until I'm numb, and stay in my room all day, but I decided against that because I knew you would disapprove. The other few things that I want but don't have... Well, I think it would cause more trouble than it's worth. You probably already know what I'm talking about. It's not like you aren't in my head all the time."

"Well, thanks for not getting high or... Whatever for me. And... Yeah." She rolled back onto her back, letting out a long, drawn-out sigh. "Not all the time, since I know you don't like me looking, but it's reflexive. We could just stay here, like this if you want? The other two can handle anything I need to do and this body is supposed to be sleeping."

"If it's reflexive, I'm sure you already know that I want to do this," Candace blurted out, rolling to the side so she was straddling Gabriella and looking down on her, hands touching Gabriella's body to balance herself. A blush covered her face, but her long hair hanging in front of it did a bit to make it harder to see. Still, her heart was racing and her hands shook ever so slightly. "But since it would make more problems than it solves, I won't. Maybe this is the reason Vivian hates me. Not that I ever thought she would be jealous in this way, but it did start when I started hanging out with you..."

"I can't really say either way." Gabriella shrugged, seemingly nonplussed by the turn of events, her tone just as confident as before. "It's possible though, although it could just be jealousy I'm someone else you pay attention to. I'll admit when I asked if you felt like doing anything I vaguely expected you to say me." She let out a gentle chuckle at that. "But, yes, it would make far more problems than it would solve for the both of us. At least for now."

"Right," Candace sighed, rolling again so she was sitting on the bed instead of straddling Gabriella. "Your prediction isn't inaccurate, but some things are better left unsaid," she added, standing up as her voice was suddenly more tense and cagey. Like she wanted to say something else, but she was saying this because she knew it was the best. She needed to get out of here, before she made things worse. She'd already gone too far in opening up, and it wouldn't do anything but make things more complicated and make her current problems go deeper. "I need to go talk to some other people. You know, the ones that act like they care about me being back, even if they don't."

She stopped in the doorway, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a small roll of hundred dollar bills. "Consider this my payment for your patience over the last month, and for your advice today. Don't bother rejecting it, either. There's no point in having money if you only hoard it," she said.

"Well, I'll have to disappoint on you on rejecting that. Being a good friend isn't something I need payment for." She sat up, smiling at Candace. "And money should be used to buy what you want, not spent just because you have it. Unfortunately for you, I'm not for sale. I'll have one of my others come and find you after they're no longer busy. This one-" She let out a yawn, covering her mouth with her hand. "Needs some sleep. I'll see you later."

January 28th, 2018

“I have looked into the reports that the Riot are working with the Horsemen in Guyana, and I can confirm that they are entirely true. At least, Famine is working with the Riot, and they aren’t staying in Guyana for long. They’re traveling east, and I believe their destination is Colombia. It’s what I was able to observe from the little I picked up on while following them when they were in Guyana,” said Zara Nakano, standing in front of the Council of Ten as it convened in Santa Marina, on one of the upper floors of the luxurious and advanced Syndicate HQ. “I don’t know what they want, but there’s something that they’re after that’s in Colombia. After that, they may be on a path for the United States. I can’t speak in absolutes. I can only say that they’re absolutely working with Famine, and possibly the rest of the Horsemen.”

“Quite the unholy alliance,” Vesta stated, clasping her hands together and staring straight ahead without showing any sign of emotion. However, Zara knew what she was really thinking. She wanted to be out there fighting against the Riot, but her lingering injury wouldn’t allow her. Being stabbed that day in Canada, it had broken her body, even if her will was still strong. It was strange how things worked out, considering she had bounced back from worse. “It’s well established by now that the Riot and the Horsemen have opposing goals. One seems to be after the apocalypse, while the other one, the Riot, desires to rebuild the world after destroying the current system. What motive would these two have for working together?”

“I don’t know, when it comes to motives. I wasn’t able to get close enough to gather much information other than what I just told you. One of their members, the demonic one known as Mori, makes that difficult. She would have discovered me if I moved too close, and so I kept my distance and picked up what I could. Long story short, all I determined was that they’re headed to Colombia to collect something of theirs, and then they’re delivering it to someone else. I don’t know who this person is, they only used a codename when they talked about them. Called them Overlord. I looked at the wanted list and I don’t think it matches anyone, worldwide, so I’m not sure what to think about that,” Zara continued, with a sigh. “Their target is with a couple of other metahumans, living in the suburbs of a Colombian town outside of Pereira. After that, I believe they talked about heading to the States, or Texas specifically, to meet with Overlord. Can’t be sure.”

“We’re aware of the presence of a villain named Overlord, but the details on them are… Sketchy at worst, and not there at all at best,” said another member of the Council, Angelo. “We believe that right now, Overlord isn’t directly involved with the criminal world but acts as an information broker for those who are. This person has not revealed their real identity, and our digging has come up inconclusive. In fact, we don’t even have a good theory on who the person behind the mask is. Whoever they are, however, they were very thorough in cleaning their tracks. We don’t know anything about them, and their clients don’t know anything about them either. Not even what their power is, or how they have the information that they do.”

A third member, Machina, chimed in with an opinion of her own. “We need to find out exactly what Overlord is looking for in Colombia and how the Riot ended up working with them. Furthermore, the fact that one of the Horsemen is working with the Riot on this is concerning, considering the danger presented if the two groups combined. It would take a lot to make them settle their differences in how they see the future… Which is why this seems like something bigger than a routine sighting of some villains, to me. I believe we should get a team on the ground to look into this immediately. If Overlord enters the scene as an actual villain, it would be… A major problem for us.”

“Our nearest heavy hitting team would be the one stationed here. Team Diamond. We have another team in Brazil that could deal with this, but they’re in the middle of handling a crisis of their own. Team Diamond can be sent from Florida, but if the Horsemen and the Riot are teaming up, I don’t know if they’re enough. We can mobilize the Lone Star team, but they aren’t ready to deploy at a moment’s notice and they have two members that need to get out of the hospital after the shootout in Louisiana...” said Vesta, turning on her tablet and looking through the list of available members. “Diamond could link up with Alvarez, the biggest magic specialist we have in this region and the one that’s currently stationed in Miami, but it looks like he’s away at a reception in London. Something about the Syndicate Cares program. Damn it to hell. I’m all for doing things for the kids, but these sick kids are going to cost us lives in the field.”

“I can use the kids. They need to get out in the field anyway, and technically, we consider them full Syndicate members. They don’t have to take the center stage, but I can pick some of them that I think are the best for this and we can bring them with Team Diamond to have more bodies than the enemy and overwhelm them a bit. Look, I know you’re going to be reluctant because they’re your students, and I’m just as protective of them, but we don’t have a lot of options here and it’s better to take the students than bring a gimped Team Lone Star and end up with casualties on our hands because they’re missing two members. I’ll be there with them. I’ll make sure that they don’t get into trouble, but they can still make an impact,” stated Zara. “You know that you don’t have many other options. Just let me do this and handle the Riot, and I’ll pay it back somehow.”

“They’re just kids-”

“They’re just kids that I’ve been training for six months. Don’t insult my skill as an instructor by acting like they’re going to be pushovers in the field. We assembled some of the brightest young metahumans around. Now let’s let them show their talents and see which of them stand out under pressure. You wanted a field test, didn’t you? This is a real one. Not a fake one where the circumstances are all controlled by us,” Zara continued, turning towards the doorway and starting to walk out. She stopped, looking over her shoulder. “I expect that you’ll call me with your verdict by tomorrow, Amanda. I’m headed to brief Team Diamond on the situation. Whether or not the rest of the Council votes to take action in the coming days is out of my hands.”

January 30th, 2018

“We’re making our landing inside of the next couple of minutes!” called out the pilot, from the front of the Iron Bird transport that was zooming over the Colombian countryside and approaching the destination, the suburbs of the town of Cartago. It was out of the way of the bigger cities of Colombia, or any of the cities, really, but this was where the Riot wanted something, apparently. According to some final intelligence conducted by the Syndicate’s people on the ground, the Riot’s business was with a few metahumans who lived in a single house in the countryside here, something that had been set up to help them deal with the rejection they had received in other parts of the surrounding region. What the Riot wanted with them was unknown, but the people handling the recon were quite confident in not being wrong.

“Alright, everyone. We’ve been over the basic battle strategy already. Pay attention to your surroundings, remember the plan, and make sure to keep each other up to date via radio. Don’t be afraid to radio questions to your teammates. It’s better to look like a fool than it is to lose your life over a simple mistake,” Zara reminded everyone, and they passed the location they were heading to before swinging around and beginning to lower their altitude as they made an approach towards the field that was just past the trees to the northwest. They were moving quickly to avoid being shot down by Sol, the member of the Riot that had enough range to shoot them right out of the sky if they showed that they were here. Before, their altitude was protecting them. Now, they were going through the biggest risk. “Everyone out of the transport, now!”

The doors opened, and the away team dispersed. As soon as they did, the VTOL turned around and took off before accelerating to the north, away from the Riot and the dangers that they presented. The team of young heroes were there, too, and not just Team Diamond. Candace, in her red and gold leather outfit that she hadn’t worn in months. Sadie, wearing all black except for the contrasting gold masquerade mask that shon in the sunlight. All of them were amateurs at this, as they hadn’t been given a live fire “exercise” in the field like this before. Now, however, they were being thrust into a challenge that wasn’t an exercise at all, but a real combat mission against the tenth most wanted villain team in the world.

But maybe because they were young and naive, they weren’t running from it. They stood ready.

[Union Princes]

Jennifer Jane Doe

Jenny was awfully eager to face this threat that plagued the world. Chosen to fight the 10th most wanted villain group in the world? Easy pickings to make her family proud back at home. Locked and loaded with her bazooka, shotguns, and frying pan, Jenny jumped out of the transport as soon as it opened its rear doors. "This is where the fun begins!" cheered Jenny, checking for the 12th time if were weapons are loaded. She didn't bring her Tommy gun or her Great Claymore under the advise to reduce weight and increase agility.

"So the plan is simple: I find Azdaja, beat his teeth in, and if I need help, Pig comes in and split his arse in two." said Jenny, addressing to herself. After holstering her bazooka, Jenny took out her Octopus shotgun as her primary weapon for the time. What a beastly gun it was: eight 3 inch barreled shotgun decorated with the stamp of "Stockwell Steelworks" on its side. Half of the barrels have slugs while the other half has buck shot in it.

Her Six-Shooter, or her six-barreled shotgun, lies on the left side of her waist surrounded by the rockets and munition attached to her utility belt and vest. The frying pan was on Jenny's right, covering her right side of her rear like an armored skirt.

Jennifer momentarily took off her helmet to let her hair feel the breeze. She never been this far down south before and the area of Colombia that they were in gave off a positive vibe for the redhead. Jenny's blue eyes pierce through the shade omitting from her dirty blue helmet as she scanned the horizon. "Poor bastard won't know what hit him." she muttered in utter joy.

[Arkeyana]

Scrapyard leaped from the VTOL, body compacting into a flaming, sparking ball to absorb the impact when it hit. There was a loud bang as parts went every where, only to be pulled back to reform their body. Two arms, made of bulky plated armor, slammed down into the ground, a long tail forming behind what could be considered the torso, and a clump of metal impacting between the shoulders, shifting into what could be considered a head.

Reformation complete, Scrapyard spoke through the radio in a deep gravelly voice. "Scrapyard reporting in, reformation is complete and I am going to begin searching for Alpha." They started clawing their way across the ground keeping low and flat, almost like a snake.

[Forest State]

The Riot

The Riot had been in Colombia for half a day now, and they had only arrived at their destination in the past thirty minutes. You could say they were behind schedule, but that was partly because they had spent extra time in Guyana finishing their… Negotiations. It was never easy bringing someone new around the group for the first time, but eventually Famine had been worked into the fold, and now they headed as one team to the town of Cartago with the aim of completing their goal as quickly as possible and then getting to Texas while avoiding detection. Once they were there, they had a meeting to set up. A meeting with the person that was the reason they were in Colombia in the first place.

The team was all traveling in one van, which Famine was in too. However, they stopped as they passed someone along the road, on the way to the building where they suspected they would find their target. If the recon wasn’t wrong, that was. They hadn’t worked with their eye in the sky enough to know if the recon would be accurate, and if it turned out they had traveled here for nothing, they would be understandably angry. “Excuse me,” said Alpha, leaning towards the open window and looking at the man that they had approached, a farmer who was carrying crops towards his own truck by the road. “We’re looking for someone. He has about the same complexion as the people around here, black hair, cornrows, and he’s taller than average. We have some business with him, we heard he’s staying out in this area.”

Her eyes met the man’s, her influence working without her saying anything. It looked like he was going to say something about the way her eyes glowed, but she spoke up first and stopped him. “Don’t bother asking about my eyes. I get enough questions about them,” she said, and he dropped the subject from his mind. It wasn’t hard taking control, not from an ordinary person who was relaxed and wasn’t on guard against a mental attack like hers. “Now, can you tell us if you’ve seen the person I described?” she asked, getting his mind back on track towards the question that she’d put forward.

“I believe the boy lives down the road from here, in the villa where the snake boy and the vampire live, along with a few others. I’ve seen him around these parts, heading to and from town. He stops and says hello sometimes. Seems like a nice young man,” the farmer said, and Alpha nodded without another word and accelerated the van, continuing down the way as she glanced to the side at Famine, who was sitting in the seat next to her and had his usual outfit on, including the mask that obscured the lower half of his face and the part that wasn’t already covered by his hood.

“Famine, answer that phone call and set it to speaker,” she said, gesturing to her phone as it switched from giving directions to displaying an unknown number. Famine did as she asked, and a familiar voice came across the line. One that was mechanical, but still fully human at the same time. It was altered, for the purposes of identity protection, but the person behind the voice had still assured the Riot and the Horsemen that they were still human beneath the mask, when they met in Ireland.

“Be alert and be prepared for a fight. My predictions that the Syndicate may interfere with our operation here have been proven correct. As I speak, there is a Syndicate dropship headed towards your location. You won’t arrive in time to shoot it down as it flies over your target destination, but by the time you arrive, based on your current speed, the Syndicate team will be on the move to meet you. They’ve been given the greenlight to shoot to kill, so no fucking around. Get this job done, and get out as soon as possible. Anything less, and you put yourself at risk-”

“Just tell me who’s on the Syndicate team. I’m not scared of any of the bastards,” said Azdaja, from the back of the van. “Bunch of glorified celebrities who haven’t fought someone like us…”

“I wish that was the case, Azdaja, but these are the Syndicate’s heavy hitters. The same team that excelled in the Battle of Barcelona, Team Diamond. Engage them at your own caution, because you, my dears, would not be the toughest opposition that they’ve defeated before. They also have help with them from the Futures Program, and while these kids are raw, they outnumber you and they still have tremendous potential as a team. Do not underestimate them, unless you want to cause your own downfall,” Overlord reminded everyone, before falling silent. “Keep an eye on the sky. The Syndicate has drone support in this, and their transport may loop around and act as a gunship. Sol will play a valuable role in your defense. If it comes to that, of course. It may not, if you pick up the pace.”

“Fine, then,” said Alpha, stepping on the gas pedal as they accelerated and went over the speed limit. “We’re picking up the speed, hopefully we’ll get in and out without much delay or talking. We’ll change this into something of a smash and grab. I’d rather not go up against Team Diamond. Too much collective firepower, too much room for them to take one of us out in one good strike. Jupiter worries me especially.”

“I swear I’ll protect you with my life, master,” swore Mori, her voice on edge because of the battle that they all knew was looming. Her size was already starting to inflate, with the tips of her horns almost touching the top of the van. She had to hold herself back to avoid them smashing through the metal, but she could only hold herself for so long before her nerves started to show and she started to revert back to the form she took during battle: her feral one.

“Don’t remind me, it sounds cringey when you do. I already know you will,” Alpha replied, before shifting her attention back to the phone call. “Keep us in the loop. If the enemies make any major movements, tell me and I’ll relay it to the others. We’ll hope it doesn’t come to a fight, but if it does, we’re relying on you. Is there any chance of getting backup of any kind, in case it happens?”

“I might have eyes everywhere, but I’m not a teleporter. And neither are the useful fighters in my service. I asked you before this operation if you would need extra firepower and gave you a list of in house options, but it was your own choice to reject them and say that you could handle it alone-”

“Because we can handle it alone. You were just vague on whether or not fucking Team Diamond would show up,” Alpha snapped, ending the call and parking the van now that they had reached the villa. She looked slightly angry for a minute, but she squashed whatever she was feeling and turned to her crew, waving them out of the van before stepping out herself and reaching for the shotgun that had been resting on the dashboard. “No slacking. You heard the phone call, we need to get in and out before this attack comes. Sol, stand out here with the van and watch the perimeter. If you see anything in the sky that looks like a drone or a VTOL gunship, open fire. Liu, scale the building and enter the top floor through one of the windows. Azdaja, come with me and help me break down the front entrance. Magma, you’re on perimeter duty with Sol. Mori, stand by the door and be prepared to enter if I call you. I don’t think you can fit through the doorway with your horns, so we won’t even try unless we get desperate.”

She stopped and took one more look at her team, readying the shotgun and making sure it was loaded. “No fucking mercy. These guys have something we want, and it’s our job to take it. Bumbling around and being nice is only going to get us killed by one of the strongest hero teams on the planet, so let’s take a more aggressive route on this. Even if we don’t feel as good inside, once we’re done. We won’t rough them up too bad for no reason, but if they stand in the way…”

“Aren’t they other metahumans? I don’t know about all this. Roughing up other metahumans hasn’t been our ethos. Unless they’re the house slave kind that have sold out their own people-” started Liu, but Alpha interrupted her.

“They’re standing in the way of progress, aren’t they? That means they’ve sold out their people just as much as the heroes have. Now come on, we’re losing time by arguing. We can have the ethics debate in the van on the way back, if you so wish. Right now, we have some work to get done.”

[Faal Lot Himdah]

Lora, aka Dichotomy
On Mission

---

Lora didn't like this. At first she volunteered for this mission because she figured it would be good experience, and she could provide support with her healing and illusions. But that wasn't what the plan called for. The plan was what Lora didn't like. It wasn't because she didn't agree with it, it was because it called for her to do one thing she feared. The plan called for Lora to give control to Gwen. Not to mention they had orders to kill.

"Relax Lora..." Lora said to herself as she stepped out the VTOL, and began her role in the mission.

---

Alasdair Francis Damon, aka Blackfire
On Mission

---

In this world of metahumans, with unnatural abilities, it seems that magic is still rather rare, at least to Alasdair, one of the few magic users among the Cadets. The Futures Program didn't even have a dedicated staff memeber for magic. This lead to Alasdair's current position. Sure he was a cadet, but he was also an assistant to the staff for magic matters. And that was why he felt obligated to volunteer for this mission, as it was the Riot, and one member of the Riot was a demon and as such, magic was needed.

So, it was no surprise when the plan involved him aiding in taking down the demon Mori. The idea of him aiding in the take down of such a being would have brought a smile if not for one thing. Sure it was an exciting prospect, but he also knew the risks. If you took away Alasdair's magic, he was just a normal human, and demons were physically superior to normal humans. So, even though he was glad to see that he was to work with Kronos, he knew that if Mori got close to him, he'd be done for.

"Here we go." Alasdair muttered to himself as he stepped out of the VTOL, and waited for those who'd join him against Mori.

[Lunas Legion]

Gabriella Michelle Raphaella Sara Bianchi-Costa a.k.a Tetrarch
Santa Marina

The base felt empty. Well, not exactly empty, but emptier than usual. Candace had been gone for one long, drawn-out month, returned for a week, and then she'd been zipped off at a moment's notice by her family along with a bunch of other Cadets to fight Riot and Famine, just as Candace had said might happen after she'd returned.

And she hadn't been asked along. She wasn't entirely sure how to feel about that.

Two of her bodies was sleeping currently, leaving only one awake, and that one was in the building's firing range, alone for now, wearing a T-Shirt, shorts and trainers, ear defenders on, rifle held ready, stock under her shoulder, one eye shut, the other staring down the scope at the target. She didn't need the practice, but shooting things was a nice distraction, a way to take her mind off things.

On the one hand, she hated fighting. It wasn't something someone like her, with her powers, should find themselves doing except under the direst circumstances. On the other, well, being passed over for something, anything, didn't sit well with her. Why had she been passed over? Her powers? Something else? It was irritating, knowing she wasn't a first choice for something, that others were better at something than her, even if it was only grunt work like fighting.

She pulled the trigger. Even through the ear defenders she heard the crack of her rifle, felt the recoil through her shoulder.

She lowered her rifle, pulling back on the bolt as she did so, letting the cartridge spring free before she raised it again, looking down the sight at the target. 8. Not the best, she was getting distracted.

She raised her rifle again, pushing the bolt forwards and chambering another round. And then there was that she'd said to Candace that she'd go with her, and she hadn't been able to. At least not in the flesh. Her projection was only limited by the summoner, and since it was summoned on Candace, well. She'd be able to do her best to look out for her at least, even if she couldn't do anything else, and no one but Candace knew her projection was there.

She took a breath in as she adjusted her aim slightly before pulling the trigger. 9. She was getting back on form.

Hopefully everyone would make it back fine. She repeated the process, pulling back on the bolt, letting it ping free, and then chambering another round and raising her rifle again. She let out a small sigh as she turned her mind back to the range. They'd be fine. It was all out of her hands anyways now.

[The Cross and Davids Star]

Nev Hurn AKA: Decipher

Combat Protocal Online

Having been stuck in the HQ’s infirmary for most of his time as a Cadet, Nev was ready to have his first experience in the field, though this eagerness was hidden behind the polarized lenses of his mask, hiding his face from the world around him, including his teammates. Despite the lack of electronics in the area, Nev was sent out as the designated sniper instead of hanging back at HQ as originally intended, due to his incredible accuracy and sight granted by his cybernetics, which was fine by him, as he did not want to engage in close combat unless he had to.

With him was a .416 Barrett variant of the Barrett M99 anti-material rifle, which gave a higher accuracy and velocity compared to it’s .50cal variant, allowing him to stay at least a mile from the actual fight while not sacrificing accuracy. For the rifle, Nev brought special anti-metahuman ammunition to use, which would have been a standard requirement in this case. For a sidearm he could simply use bolts of data he stored up to fire with, though that acted as a last resort.

To finish his support loadout, he brought a special transmitter, linked up to what he what he would have piloted initially; an Avenger UAV, which he had taken the liberty of modifying, painting it so it would blend in with the sky above and giving it a thermal optic system. The drone itself was armed to the teeth with 16 Hellfire missiles on its 6 hardpoint mountings and 4 GBU-39 glide bombs in its internal bay, ready to unleash hell on whoever Nev needs to die, no pun intended. Having flown for the entire trip, the drone would have about 6 hours of flight time before it would be impossible for it to make the trip back, though it had been circling the area at 45,000 feet ever since it arrived at the mission site.

“Decipher reporting, moving to vantage point and commencing overwatch.” Nev said in that robotic tone of his, before beginning to sprint to the other villa to the east-southeast of the landing zone, it would be a while before he could get into position, but it was much better than trying to take potshots.

[Forest State]

The Riot

The front door smashed with a bang after the first punch from Azdaja, sending his hand straight through. After that, it wasn’t hard to slip his other hand through the opening and rip backwards, pulling the door out of the frame and tossing it aside as if it were a light toy. The entrance happened immediately after that, with Azdaja turning one way and bracing for a fight and Alpha turning the other way and raising her shotgun, closing one eye and staring over the barrel as she waited to see if any of the building’s inhabitants would come to meet them When they didn’t see anyone, they started going through the rooms.

“You handle it if we see any of the metahumans that are supposed to be here, I’ll restrain and then use my power on them,” Alpha told Azdaja, who nodded and began leading her through the rooms, taking the lead in case there was a hostile inside. As they reached a room that looked like the study, they found one of the ones that Overlord had briefed them about. Delio, a boy with the appearance of a snake, with green reptilian skin and fangs to match. One of the ones who had originally moved into this place, with the goal of making it a haven for metahumans who didn’t fit in with the rest of society. He was sitting at a desk, but it was only seconds before Azdaja slammed his face into it and Alpha bound his wrists together, tying him to the chair and keeping him from going anywhere.

She turned his head so he was looking into her glowing eyes, and she posed a question that he would have a hard time refusing. “We’re looking for this person,” she said, reaching into a pocket at her belt and taking out a picture of their target. “Supposedly, he is living with you. Where is he, exactly?”

“On the third floor,” Delio replied, without hesitation. That was the effect that looking right into Alpha’s eyes at this proximity had. She simply released his face from her clutches, gesturing for Azdaja to head up the stairwell and go to the highest floor of the building, the third one. There were already noises of a battle coming from that floor, however. Liu was up there, and she had encountered the other main member of this little group, the other one that had founded it.

They reached the third floor to find Liu flying backwards after being thrown by a white haired young woman with red eyes, fangs, and a pair of demonic wings. Alpha, however, stayed calm and simply swiped the device on her wrist, contacting the others. “We have discovered that our target is on the third floor. Once we help Liu with eliminating the vampire, or half demon, or whatever you want to call her, we’ll search every room for him and bring him out. Oh, and Magma. There’s something you need to do for me. I left a prisoner in the study on the first floor. I need you to retrieve him and take him outside. If Overlord says the attacks are going to come from the sky, let’s make it more costly for them by putting the civvie in the middle of our formation. Sol, Magma, stay close to the prisoner once you bring him out. Make it so they can’t hurt you without hurting him.”

Suddenly, Overlord cut in over the same line, alerting Alpha of something new. “If you want to win more favor, I suggest you make an alteration to your plans. There is something else that I want that’s in the vicinity, something that I only gave myself a twenty percent chance of getting previously. Now, however, that thing is right in front of me. I desire Sadie Hunter, or the Syndicate member known as Moxie. If you at all have the chance, capture her and bring her to me along with your main target. However, be aware that she is quite the feisty one, and that she has the ability to teleport away from danger-”

“You can’t change the fucking terms now that we’re already here and engaged in a battle. We’ll think about it if we have the chance, but we’re not risking our necks trying to take someone from the Syndicate team instead of trying to get in and out as fast as possible. If you wanted someone else, you should have set us up with more support. Maybe the entire Horsemen team, and not just one guy,” Alpha snapped, ending the call and shifting her attention to the battle in front of her. Hermina, the half demon, was charging towards Liu again and drove her into the wall at the end of the hallway, but Liu ducked away from Hermina’s claws and drove her armored fist into the demonic girl’s stomach, stunning her long enough to allow Liu to reverse the position.

“I won’t let you take him,” Hermina said, but Liu jumped into a flying knee that seemed to damage one of her ribs. Liu reached to her side and pulled out a twelve gauge pistol, firing it directly into Hermina’s face but not doing much other than causing blood to drip down it as the fragments embedded themselves in her skin. Her demonic side was quite durable, even if she was still human underneath it all. Liu fired again, aiming for the chest, but the slug seemed to disintegrate on contact rather than doing much damage. And then Hermina charged after her again, driving her towards the wall at the opposite end of the hallway and using her large wings to propel herself, even in the hallway where they almost didn’t fit.

“Get ready to jump into this if it looks like Liu isn’t holding her own,” said Alpha, gesturing for Azdaja to come forward. Liu was roughly slammed into the wall, and then Hermina picked her up and threw her back to the spot where Alpha and Azdaja were standing. She slid to a stop, landing under Alpha’s feet and looking up at the leader of her team. “Are you hurt?” Alpha asked, simply. She worked on putting a calming effect behind her words.

“Just a knock, I’m fine. Start searching the rooms, and I’ll keep holding her off,” she said, jumping back into action and colliding roughly with Hermina, lifting the demonic girl up with her own inhuman strength and then throwing her to the ground backwards in a suplex like move. Meanwhile, Alpha and Azdaja split up to start breaking down doors.

Back outside, Famine reached into his cloak and pulled out a few imbued necklaces, ones that had the power to protect the wearer from life drain. They certainly weren’t easy to come by, because they required a mage that was familiar with the power in the first place, but the Horsemen used them in the field to keep from getting hurt by Famine’s own power. And now, the other Riot members would wear them. “Mori, run the rest of these up to the others. I’m going to begin, soon,” he stated, placing a few more small necklaces into Mori’s hand and sending her inside the building.

[Talchyon]

Chambi Uro
Santa Marina

Gabriella Michelle Raphaella Sara Bianchi-Costa a.k.a Tetrarch
Santa Marina

The base felt empty. Well, not exactly empty, but emptier than usual. Candace had been gone for one long, drawn-out month, returned for a week, and then she'd been zipped off at a moment's notice by her family along with a bunch of other Cadets to fight Riot and Famine, just as Candace had said might happen after she'd returned.

And she hadn't been asked along. She wasn't entirely sure how to feel about that.

Two of her bodies was sleeping currently, leaving only one awake, and that one was in the building's firing range, alone for now, wearing a T-Shirt, shorts and trainers, ear defenders on, rifle held ready, stock under her shoulder, one eye shut, the other staring down the scope at the target. She didn't need the practice, but shooting things was a nice distraction, a way to take her mind off things.

On the one hand, she hated fighting. It wasn't something someone like her, with her powers, should find themselves doing except under the direst circumstances. On the other, well, being passed over for something, anything, didn't sit well with her. Why had she been passed over? Her powers? Something else? It was irritating, knowing she wasn't a first choice for something, that others were better at something than her, even if it was only grunt work like fighting.

She pulled the trigger. Even through the ear defenders she heard the crack of her rifle, felt the recoil through her shoulder.

She lowered her rifle, pulling back on the bolt as she did so, letting the cartridge spring free before she raised it again, looking down the sight at the target. 8. Not the best, she was getting distracted.

She raised her rifle again, pushing the bolt forwards and chambering another round. And then there was that she'd said to Candace that she'd go with her, and she hadn't been able to. At least not in the flesh. Her projection was only limited by the summoner, and since it was summoned on Candace, well. She'd be able to do her best to look out for her at least, even if she couldn't do anything else, and no one but Candace knew her projection was there.

She took a breath in as she adjusted her aim slightly before pulling the trigger. 9. She was getting back on form.

Hopefully everyone would make it back fine. She repeated the process, pulling back on the bolt, letting it ping free, and then chambering another round and raising her rifle again. She let out a small sigh as she turned her mind back to the range. They'd be fine. It was all out of her hands anyways now.

What is real? Is what you see real? Can you trust your senses? Do not be so sure you can...

For Chambi Uro, questions like these were wrestled with often. It didn't help that as an ethnic minority from Bolivia, from a people group no one here had ever heard of, Chambi saw and noticed many unusual things in this new country. Were American ways more real than Aymaran?

Many of his classmates had gone on a mission in the field. To Colombia of all places. A country near his homeland. To be honest, Chambi was glad he was not selected. He was trying to get as much distance as possible between himself and his people, and going to a nearby country was too close for comfort in his mind. No. Staying behind was fine this time.

With nothing else to do, Chambi made his way to the firing range to get some practice in and keep his skills sharp. His marks were getting better, though he had not started off as a bad shot. As he entered the range with his protective gear on, he saw that he was not alone. Gabriella was also there - one of her, anyway. He found her attractive, but like most of his classmates, he didn't quite understand her culture and customs.

When she had stopped firing for a few moments, Chambi politely said, "Hello, Gabriella. Mind if I join you?"

[Lunas Legion]

Gabriella Michelle Raphaella Sara Bianchi-Costa a.k.a Tetrarch
Santa Marina

She was lowering her rifle, the final round of the clip pinging loose as she drew the bolt back when she heard the vague mumbling of someone talking, what they were saying hazy and indistinct through her ear defenders. It took quite a bit of effort not to jump in surprise as she heard the voice, but she managed to keep her composure, tucking her rifle under her arm as she used her free left hand to pull her ear defenders down so they hung around her neck, looking over her shoulder to see who it was.

Ah, Chambi. One of the two resident people whom her telepathy didn't work on for some reason. It was annoying enough that her powers were as subtle as they were, let alone there were people who were completely immune to them. But that was why she had her rifle and her bodies.

"Not particularly." She gave a small, almost unnoticeable shrug as she picked up a full clip and slid it into her rifle. "Although firing ranges are hardly the best places for conversation." She slid her ear defenders back on as she raised her rifle back into a shooting position, pushing the bolt forwards, chambering the round. She slowed her breathing, adjusting her aim up slightly. A moment's wait as she drew in a breath- She pulled the trigger, drawing the bolt back, the cartridge springing out as she raised her rifle again, peering down the scope at the target. In the 10 area, but not dead center.

She let out a muffled hmph as she readied to fire again.

[Nachfolgia]

Raelynn Adams aka Dynamite

This was it, the moment everyone was waiting for. All the training over the past several months have led up to this. The young heroes first mission. To say that Raelynn was excited is an understatement. She was so estatic that she could barely stay still during the flight and who could blame her. The young Mauy Thai fighter had been training non stop, homing her skills for the opportunity to prove herself in real combat. In her mind, Raelynn was more than ready.

As she sat in her seat on the VTOL, Raelynn was doing some warmup punches, striking at the air in front of her. Her headphones were in and she was listening to some heavy metal to get her pumped and motivated. She also made it a point to make sure the wrappings on her arms and legs were good and tight. She decided to go with a somewhat traditional Mauy Thai outfitoutfit for this mission, seemed appropriate giving who she was.

When Zara stood up to brief everyone, Raelynn figured it was game time and put her headphones away. She smiled and nodded her head at her words, confident that she'll be fine. She felt the VTOL tilt to the side as it made a pass around the LZ. When the aircraft landed and the ramp dropped, Raelynn quickly hopped to her feet. " Let's get 'em, guys?" Raelynn called out as she slammed her fists together before heading out the VTOL and following her instructor, Soulja.

[Segral]

Jim Flanagan
The Vermiform King

To say that Jim was nervous was a bit of an understatement. He was terrified. Sure, he had had six months of training under his belt, and it wasn’t like they were winging it alone, but they were talking about internationally recognized criminals in a foreign land here, and, contrary to the phrase, this was in fact, their very first rodeo. Good for getting experience, he supposed, but bad for the rest of them if things went south.

He spent the whole VTOL ride fidgeting nervously, his five large worm shelters packed in his lap or in the crooks of his arms. He needed worms that could survive in the new landscape, so had taken his hook and roundworms. He felt underdressed for the occasion, only wearing a simple T-shirt and shorts, as he knew that when he became the Earthworm, as he called it, his clothes would burst at the seams from the sheer size of him. The only other tool in his box was his Colt, holstered on his hip, ammo tied to his belt. He hoped he wouldn’t have to use the gun too much, as it was slightly impossible to fire it as Earthworm. But he would figure something out.

Soon, the VTOL landed in its final location, ramp dropping out onto the rural Colombian landscape. He stepped out quickly, with long strides, one hand over his eyes to shade his face as he looked over the horizon. There was some attack point over yonder, but he couldn’t see it for the love of Mary.

“This is Jim.” he began over the radio in a quiet, Texan twanged voice. “Need to meet up with those takin’ down Magma, please reply. Over.”

[The V O I D]

Syndicate Headquarters
Santa Marina, Florida
The United States of America

Autumn Summers || “Assimilator”

---

Autumn felt... frustrated. That was the nice way of putting it. Mostly, because she'd been feeling restless - and she wasn't sure if that was entirely her or if the Symbiote were involved, somehow. She punched the bag again. She was in the gym, practicing some of her fighting skills - ones that the Symbiote had helped grant her.


“I really fucking hate this.” Autumn muttered under her breath as she began punching the punching bag harder. Autumn felt the Symbiote within, and it shuddered slightly; writhed and wanted to be let out.


You could let us out, you know. The Symbiote whispered into her thoughts, and Autumn received the distinct impression of a grin. After all, what're a few limbs between friends?


“Not. Helping.” Autumn growled at the Symbiote, amplified by the Symbiote's own growl. She sighed as she punched the punching bag one more time, this time approaching as hard as she could - causing the entire thing to fall over. “God... damn it. Whatever. No, you aren't tearing off any of my friend's limbs.”


Who said anything about tearing? The Symbiote sounded bemused, but she could tell it was also amused.


“No breaking, either. In fact, you aren't touching my friends unless it's to pull their asses out of deep shit.” Autumn retorted immediately. The Symbiote, of course, just gave a slight chuckle in her mind.


You know they're all threats, right? They will eventually hurt us. Betray us. We should kill them and eat their brains, just to be sure. Autumn decided it was for the best that she ignored the Symbiote, for now.


Instead, she returned her focus on the punching bag; lifting it with one arm to place it back to normal. Autumn felt tired, but decided to run on the treadmill next. Walking over to it, Autumn got onto it and set up her usual running routine.


She was going to need to eat, a lot, after this. But that was fine. The Symbiote agreed; it was feeling particularly in the mood for beef today...

[The Empire of Tau]

Henry V. Jack
The Butcher, The Eater, The Pig

Pig stands among the heroes in the field, annoyed. He didn't want a job like this, but it was either be incarcerated or be a big shot hero. He chose the latter which landed him into a six-month-training progran, and then forced to fight some international Electric Boogaloo team of misfits. Squads of heroes were given a Riot member to take down, which was Azdaja for Pig along with his partner, a blood thirsty bazooka garl. In his debriefing, Pig was given a general idea of Azdaja, big tanky dude like Pig himself but without all the fat, eating, and slavness. Shouldn't be too hard to take down if things goes according to the not yet planned plan. “Jenny, we need to place down some heavy ass ordinance on that slav cunt. If we can put him down via range, then that’s great. If not then we need to place down more ordinance on his ass to pin him, or you and I have to get personal with the man. Sound good?” Pay says, his voice belonging to Cuban origins and was usually raspy. Pig checks his M60 along with his 4 drums that had 200 rounds of 7.62×54mmR each for each dump, which were all in good condition. Rising a left arm, Pig looks at his power armor cladded hand. “One hell of a suit” Pig thinks to himself. Pig then lastly looks to Jenny, waiting for a response.

[Ralnis]

Louie/Calico, Columbia

It's been six months sense I left Japan for the Syndicate. It was still strange coming back to the States after the loss of Tanto, more so being a meta. Everyday was intensive training, learning teammates, and going over procedures. I haven't left the HQ and didn't want to, just being alone with Kiara was enough. Though some chillwave or future funk with some alcohol can go a long way. I still needed to take some time out to myself and was planning on doing so before the call came in.

It was the first mission and one that was to take down the tenth most dangerous meta team in the world, the Riot. The Riot itself was something I support in some ways but anarchy is never the answer in my book. I always interviewed exiles and anarchists that supported the Riot in some shape and form but they still never gave an answer to the current one. Still, I was to be part of the team to take them out.

The hum of the VTOL's engines came in contrast to having Kiara purring on my lap. It wasn't entirely strange as the Yokai like to come out of her mobile home once in a while to do as she please. I pet her as a sort of comforting act as I was still having doubts about sending me in, or anyone for that matter. Sure, I have killed to avenge my husband's death but I... I couldn't truly come to do it again. The young meta was...

"Focus Louie," Kiara said in Japanese,"keep yourself ready for what is needed of you."

"I know," I responded back in Japanese," I just can't..."

"Understand that you are a soldier, a trained killer that is meant to uphold order from chaos. The enemy will give no quarter and will kill with impunity. Whatever beliefs you may have accepted about them must be pushed aside for you to do what is asked of you."

I sighed, these were people that kidnapped and destroyed things, whatever change they wanted was forfeit in the eyes of the people. It all came full circle in my mind and ready myself for what is needed. As the VTOL landed and the team leader, Zara, reminded us of our rolls as we were specialized in.

My job was to help bring down a demon known as Mori. She was dangerous since she couldn't be harmed by conventional weapons but magic was different. I was only picked because of the soul magic I know and that was the fastest out of the three that could hit her. Despite my initial weakness to using my powers in daytime, I was still more equipped in the role given to me by the higher ups.

"Time to transform," I told Kiara.

"Yes I know, just to let you know I'm only half awake."

"Better than being at our weakest for hunting a demon."

As she possessed me, I felt the transformation take place. It was like I was on fire, bone breaking and mending itself as joints became longer or became different forms. My face structured itself to become like a cat and fur grew in the same, calico fashion. My iris became slant as a cat's and I grew larger in my clothes. I became more hunched as my tailbone stretched out and forked between the end of the bobs. As the transformation into my hybrid form was done,the fatigue of my weakness came upon me but it wasn't as bad as it could be but it was still bad.

I grabbed my katana, slinging it on my shoulder as I stepped out. I was ready to go and waited for what was left of our group to come out so we can get the mission done. Though one thing I did note as I scan the surrounding area.

" I think it will be best if I scout ahead," I said to the rest of the team.

[Korhal IVV]

Nikolas Aknolojia

As they rode the VTOL gunship, Nikolas was silent for the most part. It has been a long time, he thought. That fateful day when he was abducted in the dark of night by the Athenian Ravens. He remembered it so vividly as if it was yesterday. Nikolas reminisced how he pierced one’s heart with a katana and killed another by throwing an estoc into her head. How he lost sanity for the first time. Every now and then, he would wake from nightmares. Nightmares that showed him as one who leveled cities simply for the sake of it. He sought to purge it all from his mind, but alas, the attempted mind wipe has done enough damage to scar him permanently. He prayed that nothing would happen, at least just now.


He contemplated ways how to destroy the enemy efficiently. Soon enough, the signal came for them to land.

“Let us get this started.”, he said as they landed on the ground. Without a second thought, he conjured an estoc. “Whose blood will be spilled first?”

[Free Empire of the Low Isles]

Oh, the Way My Dreams Traumatize Me,
Syndicate HQ, Santa Marina, Florida,
Michel de Provence, AKA Prophéte

"Yo, Luci!" Michel turned his head in response, a wry grin already working its way onto his face. The smirk continued to grow when he saw the person calling the worst of his three names. "Pierre, you cringy bastard! What the hell are you doing out here?" There he was, in all his glory, that Roma bastard. Michel's best friend and a couple more of his mates were coming up the road while hanging on to the back of an old farmer's truck, a few of them holding tonight's main entertainment: a few bottles of Jack and maybe a little rum in there, too. Of course, every bottle had been obtained perfectly legally! But maybe it wasn't so legal for a few of the chaps to be planning on drinking it that night, but that wasn't really Pierre nor Michel's problem.

As the truck pushed past, it's rugged engine sputtering under the unexpected weight it was carrying, its load suddenly lightened as all the boys leapt off next to Michel. All their faces seemed blurry except for Pierre. He handed Michel his own bottle of whiskey, uncorked and ready to drain, with the widest smile on his face. "Drink up, mon ami. Gotta get sloshed tonight... I hear that redhead you keep watching's at the pub right now... You're gonna need all the liquid courage we got if you're gonna tap that shit!" Everyone laughed and in a swirl of colors, they seemed to have made it back into town as if by magic. Michel didn't question anything; the dream wasn't lucid by this point. He had one arm around his childhood buddy and the other gripping a half empty bottle of Jack. It certainly wasn't an unfamiliar situation and definitely was not uncomfortable. Tarot cards seemed to make themselves known in his pocket, pushing against his thigh, and he already knew that his special little fortunetelling shtick was definitely gonna get him laid tonight. All he had to do was actually make it to that fucking pub!

Every one of his mates were laughing and Michel himself was in damn near stitches by the time they wandered through that heavy, familiar door. Pierre was in top form tonight, jokes flowing from his mouth like a river, though if asked Michel to repeat them he wouldn't be able to remember for the life of him. But everything stopped the moment he stepped into that bar, because there she was. The bombshell with her luscious red hair, perfect as, and... a frying pan stuck to the side of her hip. It was fucking Jenny Doe.

"Oh, fuck no!" Michel exclaimed, shaking his head in fear. "No, no, no no nonononono! I have had enough to deal with your crazy ass in the last six months, not to mention that three body chick, fucking Pig, and good
God forbid that asshole Dagon! I do not need any of you schmucks in my dreams, especially not a great one like this!" As the words tumbled out of the young Frenchman's mouth, Jenny morphed from her civvies into her full combat uniform, bazooka and all. Slowly, she started stalking toward Michel, that bloodthirsty grin permanently present on her face. Instinctively, poor Prophéte started backing up, the pub scene dissolving before him and evolving into that familiar gym he'd been stuck in for the last six months. His very bones started to feel like they were aching. "It isn't enough that you get to beat me up in real life, you have to invade my fucking dreams too!? Aw, come on! My head wants to fucking kill m-"

It was at that moment that the frying pan made contact with his temple...

And everything started to smell like fire.

His fingers could feel the heat as it radiated off of something in front of him and the ragged, ash covered concrete of a sidewalk. Acrid smoke curled into his nostrils, strangely metallic yet with the familiar hints of asbestos, wood, and plastic. The distant sounds of screaming but mainly a dastardly ringing. This wasn't a dream anymore. This was a vision. This was the future and he had better make sure to remember every fucking detail he could, because God damn it, this was almost certainly important. Looking up, Michel's vision suddenly flickered into action. It seemed dark, at least by contrast with the rest of the scene. Directly in front of the precognitive was the burning wreckage of a gigantic skyscraper, barely standing at the foundation. A dead woman, half charred, laid off to the right with shards of glass penetrating her face. Glass and ash covered the sidewalk Michel was laying on, piercing his hands as he scrambled for purchase. Then that flicking sound, that dry, sharp hiss of metal on flint sounded, drawing his eyes upward. Before him, lighting up a cigarette, was a fiery-haired girl, no younger than twenty but not older than twenty-five, physically at least. She wore the remains of what looked like mechanical powered armor, but parts were missing and the rest looked incredibly damaged. She'd be beautiful, if it wasn't for the complete and utter destruction behind her. One foot was resting on the step directly below the one she was sitting on, while the other dangled across the last few steps and its heel was perched daintily on the sidewalk itself

Just before the vision ended, Michel was able to memorize two more details. Firstly, the doorway to the skyscraper had somehow managed to survive whatever destruction had befallen the rest of the building. Well, most of it had. The structure itself was left standing, somewhat lonely despite being flanked on either side by the remains of the previous stunning glass and stone walls. Above it was some Asian iconography, but the fire and flame, not to mention the smoke and ash currently floating about, obscured any real decision about it's origin that could be made. Other than that, out of the corner of his eyes, Michel could barely see the barrels of tactical police moving in to make the arrest, while the girl sitting in front of the wreckage made no move to stop them. Several brightly colored suits also made appearances, revealing the presence of metahumans.

Then everything faded to black once again, the whole vision only lasting ten seconds.

Slowly, groggily, Michel's eyes opened. His hand reflexively moved to cover them again and slowly ran down his face a few times, removing the sleep from his eyes if not the exhaustion. The non-occupied hand drew itself out from under the covers and blindly reached for the nightstand next to the Cadet's bed. After slapping the tabletop a few times in different places, his hand closed on its goal; a small composition notebook, typical in its white and black smattering pattern, along with a pencil hidden within the folds of his pages. Dream journal time, especially after the harrowing vision from the future that he just saw. Sitting up, the young superhero shook his head once more, placed the pencil in his hand, and, while still practically undressed, he began summarizing his dream before the vision. It was when he finally transition into his premonition that he gained some detail and started transcribing word for word what happened to him, along with an accompanying sketch of the girl's face as she smoked the cigarette, her body as it was encased in armor, and the doorway behind her with it's obscured Asian lettering. Also, he jotted down some quick sketches of what he could catch of the metahumans he saw and the uniforms of the cops, just in case whoever read these journals could make any use of them. Also, some slightly less detailed doodles of the guns they carried and then one lewd sketch of the girl without her armor.

Gotta give those boys up in Command some interesting shit to look at, too, right?

After placing the journal on his bed, Michel got dressed in some of his rattier attire, fit only to be exercised in. Of course, that made sense, mainly because his next step in getting the day started was to make the trek to the 'Futures Program Ultra-Deluxe Training Gym, fit with everything a young, prospective hero needs to grow into the world-saver of tomorrow!' ... Imagining most of these buildings with their own optimistic fifties tagline was so much more interesting than just calling them the gym or the cafeteria. Gotta spice up your thoughts in this place, right? The grey walls, white floors and ceilings, and complete lack of easily accessible booze and weed certainly weren't enough spice for this young Roma wanderer. Six months poor Michel had lived here and since day one he'd been suffering for just a little color in his life. Not even the city outside was that helpful. All it had to offer was the seedy concrete jungle of its nightlife, with its neon highlight and silicon additions, or the fake brightness of the day with its plastic, manicured medians and fenced off trees. It was nature, that was certain, but it was nature with its beautiful balls cut off and placed in front of you like some sort of neutered chihuahua when it was once a dastardly, enchanting grey wolf.

Life here was so different to that of southern France and the change was definitely not worth the supposed glitz, glamour, and fame Michel might get when he was finished with this whole 'Futures Program'. But, c'est la vie, this was all he could do for now. Wake up, write down his dreams, go to the gym, take a shower, eat a meal, go to training, take another shower, and then get hammered out in a club and maybe fuck a wannabe heroine bitch that moved to Santa Marina 'for the danger' until it was time to rinse and repeat for the next day.

Michel arrived just in time to watch Autumn punch a sandbag that had almost certainly been firmly placed into the concrete floor at some point in its life firmly off its hinges and into the distant ground yonder, before she reset the thing and went on to get her run in for the day. "Well... always nice to feel emasculated first thing in the morning. Keeps ya motivated..." he muttered himself, before jumping into his trainer prescribed routine. What followed was montage of stretching, cardio, weight lifting, breathing, yoga, and gymnast exercises, all of which carefully planned by some Syndicate paid professional to turn this little French kid from a barely in shape at best track runner into a back-line superhero, with the delts, traps, abs, pecs, and ass to match.

For some reason, this particular trainer was obsessed with his ass, but he filed that away under the 'possible workplace sexual harassment' folder and went on with his day.

Or he would have.

Had he not accidentally run into someone on his way down the hallway toward his room, which contained his shower.

"Oh, sorry..." Michel muttered, exhausted for the first and not the last time in the day, before noticing who it was he ran into. "Oh, Wes! How's it going, Ensign? What are you doing out of your little hidey hole?"

[Doughertania]

Dagon Argrave, Before Mission

Santa Marina, the metahuman capitol of the world. Known for its growing economy and positive attitude towards powered people, it's a place that symbolizes hope to those who need it and possibilities to those who look. Unfortunately, those who seize these opportunities don't always have the best intentions. Despite the Syndicate base located at the heart of the city, criminal elements darken its outskirts, coalescing like shadows around a spotlight. So-called super villains lurk the streets, as if to challenge the heroes who call Santa Marina home. And while the rest of the city slept, one man rose to answered that call.

As dawn approached, a white and red armored figure sat kneeling on a concrete rooftop, his eyes focused on the warehouse ahead. He had patrolled the streets most of the night, having grown restless in the polished halls of his school. Although the Futures Program tried to keep him occupied, he knew training would only get him so far. He craved action, a chance to put his skills to the test against real opponents, and spent the better part of the night proving himself worthy of his position as hero. With two robberies foiled and five people saved from a burning building, he set out to do something for himself before he retired for the night, a small reward for a thankless job.

But even this simple pleasure was denied to him. As he neared his destination, he caught a glimpse of a plot most sinister. A man appeared at the outside of the warehouse's fence, cutting the heavy chain that locked the gate before clambering into a truck that moved to the warehouse's loading dock. Weary from his long night of heroics, he steeled himself for combat, observing his opposition with quiet determination.

"Come on Doc, let's not lie to the reader, ok? When do I do anything quiet?" The figure looked up at the cloudy sky, as if to berate a particularly annoying cumulus. "And cut down on the melodrama. I'm supposed to be the light-hearted fun one, remember?"

Well, excuse me for trying to heighten your capers past the slapdash antics they are. And when I saw you sitting on the building instead of leaping down like a lunatic as soon as you spotted a villain, I thought this was the RP where you become a proper hero.

"Please, I was just making sure I didn't miss anyone. Last thing I need is a baddie missing my grand entrance." Dagon stretched, his armor glimmering in the early morning light. Positive he hadn't spotted any stragglers, he jumped to his feet. Backing up a few steps, he sprinted before bounding forward, easily clearing the ten foot gap and landing with a roll. Stealthily, he peered through the skylight down into the bowels of the warehouse, spotting the intruders almost immediately. They were the only ones moving inside, loading crates off a forklift into the truck they came in. He counted four men, armed with various automatic weapons, not wearing any discernible gang colors or other identifying marks. They were bunched up at the van, prioritizing speed over making a perimeter, which suited Dagon just fine.

With a smile, Dagon crashed through the skylight, crystal rain showering upon the hapless thieves. Not bothering to slow his descent, he slammed to the ground, landing on one knee, amber eyes locked on the shocked opposition. With a determined voice, he cried-

"Ow, sonuva bitch that hurt!" Crimson began to pour out of Dagon, pooling around his kneeling form. Slivers of glass were imbedded in his arms, and the force of the fall shoved any shards he landed on deep into his legs. Shaking a bloody fist at the sky, he shouted "Why Doc, why? Why didn't you remind me to harden my armor?"

Would you have even listened to me?

"Don't try to trick me with your facts." Dagon straightened up, his ashen armor turning rosy as more blood streamed from his wounds. Gesturing to the criminals, who stopped loading their van in stunned silence, he asked "Did it at least look cool?" The men looked at each other in disbelief, as if expecting one of them to say this was all an elaborate prank. Dagon sighed. "See Doc, these guys don't even look impressed."

Perhaps it has something to with your scream of agony? Aren't you used to pain by now?

"It was a moment of surprise, ok?" Dagon turned to the men, the streams of red slowing to a trickle as his body began to repair itself. Glass fell to the floor with a rhythmic tinkling sound, forcefully expelled out from his wounds as his lacerated armor began to close. With a shrug, he asked the group "Any chance you wanna surrender?" In response, the men took aim, their barrels glinting in the dim electric lights. "I'll take that as a no."

The gangsters opened fired, their rifles echoing like thunder in the cavernous warehouse. Dagon dove behind the rack of crates, narrowly avoiding being perforated by the hail of gunfire. He stayed behind the boxes, his armor strengthening in the back as he dodged the bullets that pierced the wooden palisade.

"Alright, fine! Dagon shouted, listening to them reload. Stepping out of cover, he pointed his hands at the enemy If you won't do that for me, let's at least meet in the middle." Two tendrils rocketed forward from his arms, each latching onto a gunman, fastening their arms against their body. With a mighty heave, Dagon yanked the entrapped criminals toward him, before throwing them into the aisle. Their bodies slammed into the wooden boxes, the pine splintering on impact. As they groggily forced themselves to their feet, another crate sailed their way, hitting their heads with a dull thud, ushering them to the realm of sleep.

You say my narrating's bad, but you use puns unironically?

"Hush you, I'm basking." Dagon stood there for a moment, proud of his handiwork. His admiration was suddenly cut short by bullets hammering his back, throwing his body into a ghastly dance as the lead pierced his thinned armor. After what felt like an eternity, the rifle's terrible song reached an end, with Dagon hunched over yet still on his feet. The gunman stepped forward hesitantly, unsure of what was happening, only to jump back as the armored hero slowly turned to face his assailant.

"You'd think after watching my femurs belch up glass, you'd realize bullet's won't work." Dagon coughed violently before spitting a slug to the floor. His hand shot forth, lifting the goon by his neck. "But hey, you hit my lungs, so at least your aim's sharper than your mind." Dagon said as he pulled his fist back, reading a blow. The criminal, now red-faced, only smiled.

"Wait, smiled?"

Dagon was blindsided as the forklift, now free of its cargo, swept him from his feet. The metal bar impaled his left side, ripping through his free arm and sinking right above his pelvis, blood spurting from the puncture wound as the car sped headlong into the far wall. Dagon let go of the gangster, reaching out to the rack in a vain attempt to slow his breakneck pace, but only succeeded in destroying more crates, their contents ruined by the heroes flailing fist. The forklift crashed into the wall, trapping Dagon between its surface and the 4 ton vehicle.

Just cause you can regen doesn't mean you have to. You could've dodge that easy, why aren't you?

"What can I say? My fortune cookie said I should be open to new experiences." Dagon looked at the driver, the mask shifting into a manic grin as he reached for belt of his suit. A grey and blue organism jumped to his hand, swirling slightly before taking the form of a pistol. The gangster panicked, fumbling with the seat belt as he tried desperately to flee, but he wasn't fast enough. Dagon aimed in. "It also taught me yāròu!" He fired, sending a pellet into the man's forehead. He wasn't dead, but he'd have a horrible headache when he came to.

"That means duck in Chinese. See? I am being a proper hero. I'm educational and everything." Dagon lifted the gun high into the air, letting Truth morph into a short sword before slicing down through the metal that pinned him. Another cut later, and Dagon was free, letting the organism crawl back into the suit and reform into his belt. With a wince, he pushed the bar out, letting the now crimson-spattered metal clatter to the floor.

I'm not sure "educational" is the first word I'd use to describe you.

"Aw, you only focus on the negatives." Dagon picked up the bloody bar before whistled down the aisle, approaching the only criminal still conscious. Grabbing the man's arm, he pushed it against the rack of the warehouse, tying it in place with the metal beam. After seeing what happened to his comrades, the gangster didn't even bother fighting, instead looking at Dagon with the same disbelief as when the meta first entered.

"H...how?" He managed to stammer, equal parts awestruck and terrified of the meta before him. "We did everything right, we planned this job down to the second. How did you know we were smuggling guns here?"

Dagon blinked. "Wait, you guys were smuggling guns?"

The criminal paused, confused. "You mean...you weren't here to stop us?'

"Hell no, I came here to stop those ceramic assholes!" Dagon jammed a finger at the now partially demolished aisle. Toward the box he first hid behind, porcelain dust coating the exit holes. Looking further, the gang memeber saw his fellow thieves Dagon had first grabbed rested on a colorful throne of earthen shards. Sifting through the wreckage, Dagon pulled forth a single lawn gnome, its once proud face frozen in silent horror, and showed it to the criminal who was beginning to question his life choices. "I mean look at this smug little bastard, with his sick little hat and dumb beard, sitting on lawns like they know. Someone's gotta put a stop to their schemes, might as well be me."

Dagon tossed the gnome backwards, turning around to take in all he had wrought. "Gotta hand it to you guys though, if it wasn't for your friend's forklift stunt, I don't think I would've gotten done in time to catch my flight!" In front of him was a row of busted crates where Dagon had "tried to stop himself," the once immaculate row now a jagged cut where broken gnomes fell like blood from a wound.

Not even going to bother hiding it from the Syndicate?

"Syndicate, shmyndicate. I'm not scared of them." Dagon shot a tendril up at the now busted skylight, heading out into the early morning light. "What're they going to do, give me a slap on the wrist for being a hero?"

They might if you miss the plane. At this rate, there's no way you're going to make it.

"Psh, I'll be fine."

---

As Dagon soon discovered, he was not fine, and his brilliant narrator was right once again.

"Up your's, you pretentious bread turtle!" He retorted, slightly out of breath from his race back from the outskirts to the base. Running through the halls shoving any heroes or staff member who was in his way, Dagon worried he might not make it to the hanger in time to board the Iron Bird.

What does it matter? I thought you didn't care about what the Syndicate thought of you?

"I don't! Well, most of them, anyway." Dagon mumbled the last bit, the normally loud-mouthed meta seemingly embarrassed to admit that he might like some of the instructors. He originally hadn't even planed on going on the mission, instead wishing to stay at the base and figure out what sort of mischief he could get into in Santa Marina. Had any of the teachers asked him to join the mission, he would've declined without a second thought.

But it wasn't anyone, it was Zara. Between the height and power set, it was clear she came from a Nova school, whose methods for making metas made Tartarus's look like a trip to a spa. He'd met enough Nova "graduates" to know their fate too; a life as a tool, a killer for hire without anyway to cash in or cash out. At least Tartarus brainwashed him into thinking he had a family; most Nova mercs lived a solitary life to match their spartan lifestyle. And despite all this, this woman managed to break free of her past, rising as a hero all the way up to a seat on the Council of Ten. If there was a teacher that could convince him that he really could turn his life around from a heartless merc to a hero, it was her. So when she asked him to join he didn't even hesitate.

Hell, you didn't even quip! Since when did you become a teacher's pet?

"Shut up, I was just too busy planning important anti-ornament raids to make a good one. You wouldn't understand."

Despite his best efforts, Dagon reached the hangar just in time to watch the VTOL taxi out. With a groan, he bolted forward, vaulting over a cart delivering fuel and pushing past the mechanics working on a beat-up gunship. He could feel his muscles starting to ache, having been stuck in a sprint for a whole timeskip, but he could rest when he was sitting in the plane. Closer and closer he drew, waving his arms in a futile attempt to get them to stop, but even as he reached them they were already rising in the air. With a deep breath, he leapt upward, fighting the backdraft of the plane, extending his tendrils high and praying he'd find a guide rail or something.

Dagon's prayers were answered, his tendril latching tightly on a bit of exposed metal. Whether it was through the jostling he caused from his landing, or by the grace of a narrator trying to move the post along, the back of the plane opened. Dagon clambered in, his mask detracting as he caught his breathe.

"Sorry I'm late!" He grabbed a handrail, slightly winded from his endeavor. "I was on patrol in the city, and there was this gang attacking a warehouse and-" He stopped, taking in the faces of the other heroes. Team Diamond stared at him with various looks of incredulity or annoyance. His fellow Cadets seemed a little less surprised, although some were still clearly peeved by his rather unorthodox entrance. One kind soul was making an abort motion with their hands, silently trying to get Dagon to stop talking and avoid getting in more trouble then he was already in.

"And you guys...don't care..right." Dagon scratched his head, before pointing sheepishly back at a seat at the back of the plane. "I'll, uh, just sit over there..." Shooting the group two finger guns, he backed himself into his seat and sighed. It was going to be a long 4 hours...

---

Dagon Argrave, Mission
Dagon blinked, suddenly finding himself exiting the Iron Bird. He had a vague memory of get briefed in the air, then whistling show tunes as he waited to arrive in Columbia, but it seemed like the trip was over in an instant. As if a mysterious and awesome force moved time past the boring parts of his adventure.

"Yeah yeah, thanks for the timeskip. Where am I supposed to be going anyway?" He gestured to the students, who all seemed to scatter to the four winds as soon as they touched down. Dagon knew who his opponent would be, a molten metal manipulator monikered Magma. Between his healing factor and his non-metal bullets, he was sure he could take the Riot member down, no matter how strong his powers of alliteration were. What he didn't know was when he'd be fighting.

Over the radio, he heard one of the Cadet's call for those fighting Magma to join up. Eager to follow the plot, Dagon jogged ahead to Jim's position. Turning past a tree, Dagon gave the Cadet a friendly wave, his mask still retracted to show his smiling face.

"How's it going, Earthworm J-"

You know that's his actual hero name, right?

"Damn it, really?" Dagon looked back at the edafoskinetic, seeming disappointed. Before Jim could speak, Dagon put up a finger, interrupting anything he had to say. "Sorry about that, honest mistake. Let me start over, ok?" Dagon backed behind the tree, and for a moment it would seem as he left the Texan all by himself. This fear, or hope, would soon be dashed, as Dagon emerged from behind the grove once more.

"So, how's it going Verminator? Any idea how we're going to take down Magma?" Dagon grinned the whole time, as if nothing strange had happened moments before. "Personally, I vote shooting the bastard but I'm trying to be less murdery, you know?" Turning towards the house, Dagon put his hands to his eyes, like a kid pretending to hold binoculars. Although Jim wouldn't see it, Dagon was forming lens, zooming in at the house. His face hardened as he watched Magma step out of the building, a bound green-skin boy in tow. He didn't look like Famine or a Riot member, and none of them could shapeshift, which meant he must be Magma's bargaining chip.

"Well, shit, looks like our dance partner brought a plus one. How rude of him." Dagon lowered his hands, turning back to the Texan. "Alright, we gotta figure a way to get the kid out of harm's way"

"Way I see it, one of us grabs Magma's attention while the other grabs the hostage. You wanna be on rescue duty, or distraction and first contact?" Personally, Dagon would rather be on distraction duty. He had the mouth for it, and he was eager to get the first hit on a villain relying on putting innocent lives in danger. But with his superhuman reflexes and tendrils, he could just as grab the hostage before Magma could react, letting Jim attack with impunity. In the end, it'd be up to his partner to decide.

[Great Confederacy of Commonwealth States]

Dan Coyote
January 30th
Santa Marina, Florida

It was with a particular suave and blasé motion that Dan covered the sausages with puff pastry. A remarkable motion, too, since Dan had never done this before. Just that morning, he had woken up with a craving for something like this. Salty, hardy, meaty… So, he had gone to the local supermarket on his bike, riding it with outstanding proficiency, to pick up some ingredients. Walking through the store he felt like he was on autopilot, almost. Puff pastry, sausages, herbs and spices... It seemed happen automatically. He didn’t remember half the things he had done to make it happen, but there he stood, towering over a baking tray with 24 neatly organised sausage rolls. He picked up the tray, careful not to let the rolls stir from their perfect alignment, and placed it in the preheated oven. After that, all he still had to do was wait. He heaved himself onto the counter opposite the glass oven door and took a little notebook from his pocket. Armed with a tiny pencil he browsed the contents.

Dan’s little booklet held all the information he had learned about himself in the past few months. It wasn’t quite easy. He was a 21-year old person who had only known himself for eight months. There were still a lot of things he had to learn about himself that others knew automatically. The booklet was divided into various sections. Medical, personality, food, body, all the things one would like to know about oneself. Things other people knew without really having to write it down. Things like age, gender, hair colour, eye colour, style of laughing, his allergic reaction to cats and grapes… He came across a page on his body, where he had made the simple remark:

Beard grow – unmanageable, just don’t bother

With underneath a second remark

Handwriting – could be better, work on cursive

Dan found a blank page under the section ‘talents’, which was at the moment the most detailed of them all. In there were his language skills, his physical abilities, everything that would make him useful to the team. At the top of the blank page he wrote ‘baking’, underlining it, and going to an empty line. ‘Sausage rolls’ he added. He placed the end of the pencil between his lips and began humming. ‘Omelette’ he added below that, with a smiley face. He liked it a lot. Then, he flipped a few pages to personality, to the page labelled ‘ticks’. ‘Humming, sucking on objects’ he added there. He was happy to get a quick overview, and the booklet was getting more and more informative.

A light *ding* informed him that the oven was done. Armed with two oversized kitchen mittens he opened the oven, immediately being greeted by a whiff of warm air. The smell of heated puff pastry was a delight, and a smile drew across his face as he removed the tray from the oven. The rolls still sizzled a bit, and puffs of steam left every one of the 24 rolls periodically. The scent was hard to resist, but Dan knew he had a tendency to burn his tongue on food that was too hot, so he decided to let the tray sit near an open window for a while. As he looked out the window into the building’s courtyard, he felt a true sense of happiness flare up in him. Sure, being trained here was hard work. And it was hugely frustrating to hear everyone tell stories near the campfire about past events, things they did when they were little. How they discovered and used their powers for the first time. Dan had none of that. Did it make him feel like an outsider? A bit, perhaps. He wasn’t too bothered. He was still so new to this world, it didn’t hurt to observe it a bit before getting into it. A strange idea for someone who had been a part of this world for… god knows how many lives he lived before his last one.

Before he knew it, the pastries were good to eat. Still staring out the window he took one of the best-looking, with a perfect crisp brown skin, and took a bite. He happily chewed a few times, expecting the taste to fill him with comfort and joy. What he got instead was that his gag reflex kicking in, and before he had to throw up he just managed to spit the pastry out of the window.

“What the fuck” he said aloud, taking one of the 23 remaining rolls in his hand. He observed it closely, seeing if there was anything wrong with it. He tore off a small piece of puff pastry, placing it in his mouth. It crunched between his teeth, and the taste was absolutely fine. Next, he tore off a piece of the sausage, taking a bite out of that as well. Again, his gag reflex kicked in, making him spit out another piece.

“Great…” he said, his whole happy demeanour having suddenly turned sour. He angrily took his booklet and his pencil, flipping to the baking page he had just titled. With a bit too much force he wrote down in big, capital letters ‘puff pastry – good. Sausage – disgusting’ with a little frowny face behind it. Suddenly, thinking about the sausage rolls almost made him puke, and the smell had suddenly grown disgusting on him. He let out a myriad of curses before putting on one of his oversized kitchen mittens and picking up the tray. He stormed out of the kitchen, looking around the abandoned hallways of the Syndicate school. Surely there would be someone who could take it off his hands. Alas, many of his compatriots were off on a mission. The hallways of the HQ were abandoned, apart from some staff. He lost about two of his rolls to a janitor and three to a plumber, and Janice from accounting took another two, but that still left him with 15 of the bloody things. Before he knew it, he was checking the gym, seeing if there were any familiar faces there.

To his surprise, even the gym was almost completely abandoned, save for Autumn. The girl could often be found here as she tried to find an outlet for her more violent urges. There were a lot of crazy people around here, but of all of them Dan found Autumn one of the most intriguing. In a way, she was similar to him. A new life, a new personality, all knew things she had had to find out about herself over the past four years. While totally different from his own troubles, he quietly thought of Autumn as somewhat of a kindred spirit, even though he would never admit that. And her, being as quiet as she was, would probably never do so as well, or at least in his mind.

“Autumn, voudriez-vous des rouleaux de saucisse? Je ne peux pas ... “

It didn’t take long for him to correct himself.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Autumn, would you like some of these sausage rolls? Apparently, two hours of work have resulted in me finding out I find sausage disgusting”

[The V O I D]

Dan Coyote
January 30th
Santa Marina, Florida

“Oh, I’m sorry. Autumn, would you like some of these sausage rolls? Apparently, two hours of work have resulted in me finding out I find sausage disgusting”

---

Syndicate Headquarters
Santa Marina, Florida
The United States of America

Autumn Summers || “Assimilator”

---

Autumn heard Dan's voice. It would've startled her, but the Symbiote had given a small warning that someone was approaching. Still, Autumn decided to stop her run. She'd done a lot, today, after all. She'd started on the weights, punched a bag out of place, and done most of her running routine. Autumn found herself licking her chops at the idea of sausage - hunger from within craving food. Considering her rather carnivorous diet, it was not surprising.


“That sounds great.” Autumn found herself admitting, even as her stomach growled lightly. She frowned, crossing her arms in front of her - not self-consciously, but rather, out of slight embarrassment.


It actually does. The Symbiote noted, sounding almost pleased by the idea of food. But then it just had to spoil the mood. We should check it for poison. If it's poisoned, can we eat him? He looks delicious.


“No.” Autumn firmly muttered under her breath, in admonishment towards the Symbiote. She returned her attention to Dan, offering a weak smile - she had to at least... try to be nice. Well, not really, but he was offering food and until she ate that food, it wouldn't do to make him mad at her. Autumn looked at the tray in his hands, and her mouth suddenly watered. “...I can take that tray off your hands.”


Autumn was suddenly starving. Or maybe that was the Symbiote wanting some of the action. She didn't care which, at this point. Hopefully, Dan would entrust the tray to her.


I will eat his face. The Symbiote growled inside her head, and she was too hungry and tired to reprimand it.

[Union Princes]

Henry V. Jack
The Butcher, The Eater, The Pig

Pig stands among the heroes in the field, annoyed. He didn't want a job like this, but it was either be incarcerated or be a big shot hero. He chose the latter which landed him into a six-month-training progran, and then forced to fight some international Electric Boogaloo team of misfits. Squads of heroes were given a Riot member to take down, which was Azdaja for Pig along with his partner, a blood thirsty bazooka garl. In his debriefing, Pig was given a general idea of Azdaja, big tanky dude like Pig himself but without all the fat, eating, and slavness. Shouldn't be too hard to take down if things goes according to the not yet planned plan. “Jenny, we need to place down some heavy ass ordinance on that slav cunt. If we can put him down via range, then that’s great. If not then we need to place down more ordinance on his ass to pin him, or you and I have to get personal with the man. Sound good?” Pay says, his voice belonging to Cuban origins and was usually raspy. Pig checks his M60 along with his 4 drums that had 200 rounds of 7.62×54mmR each for each dump, which were all in good condition. Rising a left arm, Pig looks at his power armor cladded hand. “One hell of a suit” Pig thinks to himself. Pig then lastly looks to Jenny, waiting for a response.

Jennifer Jane Doe

"You have the heavy ordinance in the for of your machinegun while I have it in my bazooka." agreed Jenny, turning to face her partner in taking down Azdaja, "If he tries to close the distance, I'll knock him with my shotguns and you keep pinning him down. The frying pan should do the trick in finishing him off. A market garden should be the trick."

She turned away to resume scanning the horizon for any heads that popped out. So far none. Already, Calico wanted ahead of the team to do recon. "Just don't get yourself killed!" shouted Jenny after he spoke of his idea.

[Great Confederacy of Commonwealth States]

Dan Coyote

“Yeah, sure!” Dan said, giving a kind smile. With his free left hand, he touched the tray.

“I think it has cooled down enough. There you go!” he continued, handing the tray over.

“I think I saw Wesley and Michel outside, could you get them some if there are any left?”

Suddenly, Dan felt the urge to open up to Autumn. After all, she wasn’t too different, was she? Well, certainly a better fighter than him, and leagues more athletic, but she was friendly enough. Quiet, of course, but it was better to have a friendly quiet person than an obnoxious loud bastard. What was he supposed to do? Make conversation? He had been a bit of a background character for the past six months. A strange fellow. Did the others think him as strange as he thought himself?

“So… How are you doing? In general, I mean?” Dan said, almost immediately regretting it. He should have just handed the tray and walked off, but there was no stopping it now. He quickly grabbed his notebook from his pocket, opening it on the ‘personality’ page and writing down ‘bad conversationalist’, but in Maya. There was no point in Autumn seeing this admitted weakness of his.

[The V O I D]

Dan Coyote

“Yeah, sure!” Dan said, giving a kind smile. With his free left hand, he touched the tray.

“I think it has cooled down enough. There you go!” he continued, handing the tray over.

“I think I saw Wesley and Michel outside, could you get them some if there are any left?”

Suddenly, Dan felt the urge to open up to Autumn. After all, she wasn’t too different, was she? Well, certainly a better fighter than him, and leagues more athletic, but she was friendly enough. Quiet, of course, but it was better to have a friendly quiet person than an obnoxious loud bastard. What was he supposed to do? Make conversation? He had been a bit of a background character for the past six months. A strange fellow. Did the others think him as strange as he thought himself?

“So… How are you doing? In general, I mean?” Dan said, almost immediately regretting it. He should have just handed the tray and walked off, but there was no stopping it now. He quickly grabbed his notebook from his pocket, opening it on the ‘personality’ page and writing down ‘bad conversationalist’, but in Maya. There was no point in Autumn seeing this admitted weakness of his.

---

Syndicate Headquarters
Santa Marina, Florida
The United States of America

Autumn Summers || “Assimilator”

---

Autumn took the tray as Dan offered it, and licked her lips. Holding it on just one hand, her free hand grabbed one of them and she began to dig in; teeth sharpening slightly as she did. It took only a few bites to finish one of the sausages, and she was careful not to eat over the tray. The Symbiote caught any crumbs, seeping around her mouth slightly to prevent any mess from being made while she ate.


“Mmm...” Autumn suddenly remembered she was with company halfway through grabbing the next sausage, and her face flushed. She wasn't sure if there'd be enough left for Michel or Wesley, but decided to nod at that anyway. “Yeah, I can do that.”


Autumn returned to eating; the Symbiote greedily helping her devour sausage after sausage off the tray. Of course, she turned a bit to the side to avoid letting Dan see just how fast she was eating. When she heard his voice again, she paused. She finished the sausage she held - there were only a couple left, at that point. Slowly, the Symbiote cleaned her face off as she turned back towards him.


“Me? I'm... doing alright, I suppose.” Autumn returned warily, but got this distinct sense that he felt just as awkward as she did. The Symbiote grumbled something, but it got lost in translation. She offered a smile, making sure that her teeth weren't too sharp. “And you?”


She felt mostly... satisfied by the brief meal, so she'd give the last couple to Michel and Wesley. Hopefully, her eating wouldn't scare Dan off. He was... an acquaintance, at the very least, and he actually seemed willing to talk to her. Of course, she usually didn't like talking to people, but that was beside the point.

[The Rebel Alliances]

Jason "J-Bird" Blake/Captain Cardinal-Syndicate HQ-Santa Marina, FL

The tension was real. Sweat formed over my brow as I stared down my opponent. The stakes were never higher. And I only had one shot at this. The sound of the ball bouncing up and down reverberated throughout the court as we both anticipated the next moves. The game was dead even, well...kinda. Throwing enough points to both keep it close and prevent Stan chief janitor from noticing was like a boxer punching himself in the face. But now, the game is on. And the loser is going out to buy the next round of drinks. And considering despite the benefits of living on base here, I get paid about as much as a minimal wage worker with some overtime, I had no intention of losing this next round.

"Bacardi." I said flatly as Stan looked at me puzzled.

"What was that?" He asked confused.

"My drink order, I wanted you to know up front." Stan had started to mouth sonuva, when I faked left and dove right with the ball. Stan as tired as he was chased after me as I neared the goal and as my wings stretched and flapped behind me I was lifted up into the air and delivered the ball into the net.

"WHOOO!" I exclaimed as I set myself back down on my feet and Stan proceeded to call all sorts of fouls on me.

"Come on, don't be a sore loser man. You played a good game. And how could you hate on that slam dunk?" Stan held his hands up in protest.

"It doesn't count as a slam dunk if you fly to the damned hoop, J-Bird." He argued using my nickname. I shrugged my shoulders.

"Pretty sure I saw Michael Jordan fly in that one movie with the Looney Toons." Stan gave the appropriate response of a face palm at my remark and then finally relented.

"Bacardi?"

"Bacardi."

"I love Bacardi."

---

It was about a half hour later that me and Stan were sitting on the bleachers in our gym clothes and pouring shots of liquor. With Stan finally having gotten over our little match from earlier. I took a swing from the shot glass and hastily poured another as Stan stirred up some conversation.

"So, isn't there some kind of mission or some shit going on right now? Should you really be here playing ball and drinking with the help?" I answered as I threw back another shot and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.

"Ah, you guys are the real heroes here Stan. I am honored to be here with you, sharing drinks and playing ball." After catching a 'don't talk down to me' look from him I sighed and answered more seriously.

"Yeah sure but they have Team Diamond with them. They will be fine. Hell, Diamond could probably take this alone if they wanted to. Probably only took what cadets they did just to show them how the grown ups do things. And besides, Nev is there..." My voice trailed off as I thought about that comment.

"Well, Nev is here. But he has a drone there. So Nev is there. But he is also here. Point is anything I could be doing for the team there, assuming they needed me in the first pace is being done by a flying drone. Not as stylishly of course. But all the same, so, why not stay here and drink with you and perhaps get to know some of my other teammates." Stan smiled as he poured himself another shot.

"Well, you are the best hero I know. I mean, not many of your types even recognize us and you make time to actually get to know all us support folk. That is pretty damn cool in itself. But there was something else I wanted to talk to you about." I looked over curious.

"What is that?"

"You know your mom is a total MILF right?" I stared blankly at him for a moment before I reached over and grabbed his glass.

"I think you have had too much to drink Stan." To which he mumbled something about that not meaning he was wrong. With that he started to stumble away and as I waved at him I called to him not to forget that we had the poker game tonight with the security crew.

With that, I kept my seat on the bleachers as I observed the half empty glass of Bacardi, then saying fuck it I poured another shot. Perhaps someone else will come along and help me finish this off.