Chronicles of The Omniverse Archived Westeria City

Tiko

Draconic Administrator/Mentor
Administrator
Mentor
Nexus GM
as written by Lobos and Tiko

Nearly running on instinct, the deep circles under Riaze' eyes were cast all the darker under the glow of the street lights, the rather ragged countenance of the lycan in his human state lending him the air of just another homeless. As bare feet slapped the sidewalk, his weaving pace sent more than a few moving out of their way to clear the bedraggled stranger. With one crimson eye staring almost sightless ahead, there seemed to not be a path to his wandering.

He was beginning to wonder if there even was a path to follow.

____

She was there with him.

Even in his waking hours he was rarely rid of her these days, but it kept her voice to a whisper instead of a roar. Still, the more exhausted he grew the closer his consciousness teetered that edge between wakefulness and sleep which left him all the more vulnerable to her suggestions.

'Why do you reject me?' she whispered.

The words were a soft caress of satin but they carried a decay with them that left Riaze with the sensation of worms crawling beneath his skin.

Every night her voice was there, and no amount of walking could rid him of her. The worst of it was that every time he fell into slumber, she threaded her tendrils all the deeper into his subconsciousness until he was left with a need to seek her out, and to be close to her. It was likely he himself didn't know if he was searching for her, or running from her with his aimless wandering.

____


Pausing in his stride, the lycan growled to himself, yet for once, simply didn't respond to the harassment of Sanina. Truth be told, he no longer devised answers, for he didn't know.

Why? Probably due to always being a stubborn bastard.

He resumed his trudging along.

____

He could almost imagine her arms around him as she embraced him from behind, and he could almost feel her cheek against his shoulder as she whispered softly to him.

'You need to sleep...' she purred. 'You can't keep on like this. It's not good for you... you're exhausted.'

He could have sworn he felt the press of her cold, dead lips against his shoulder, but there was no one there but himself.

'Don't you want to see me?' she asked.

Meanwhile Varia made her way towards Riaze from the opposite direction. Her eyes passed over him initially as she disregarded him as another homeless, but something in the way he moved drew her gaze back. Even in his weary state the lycan exuded an aura of danger about him, and the low growl caught her ear.

Her eyes found his as they passed one another and she froze

Recognition.

Her amber eyes reflected the wolfish gleam in his own, but the stench of vampire clung to her like some putrid odor. She was caught in a moment of indecision between drawing one of her blades, and fleeing into the crowd. The fire of the burning manor flashed before her eyes, and the memory of biting claws tore at her face as she came face to face with the abomination from her nightmares. She had hunted for him, and his lycan bitch, but months of searching had turned her up empty handed. And now here he stood, and she alone without the element of numbers on her side.

She wasn't a coward, but toe-to-toe she was out-classed by the lycan. The spike of fear in her may have been hidden from the casual eye, but the scent of it would fill Riaze's nostrils.

____

Irritation flickered through Riaze, and his wandering eye searched through the haze in his vision, wondering if he was already asleep, hallucinating through fevered nightmares again. They slid over Varia in disinterest, more intent on finding that vampire bitch and going for her throat once again. But then his next breath drew deep a twinned pair of odors that instinct demanded attention to.

The rank scent of fear.

And the crypt scent of a vampire.

Adrenaline course through his overwrought system like a rampant train, his bloodshot eye blazing as he whirled, his overstressed body sembling with welcome pain into the massive, midnight hued wolf that he truly was. A deep, reverberating growl slipped past exposed fangs as lips peeled back, both lupine eyes settling on the passed vampire with feral, murderous desire. One could virtually hear the inner, unspoken promise of Riaze in his hate filled eyes.

"You're dead."

Claws raking into the sidewalk, the lycan propelled into a lunge, ducking his head and turning his heavy shoulder forward.

____

'Riaze, no!'

Sanina's visage was there before his eyes, but it dissipated as his lupine form barreled through it. For the moment, the haunting image was gone from his mind and his perception. There was just him, and Varia.

Varia's moment of indecision cost her valuable seconds, and like a deer in headlights her eyes locked on Riaze's. There was murder in those eyes of his. The scrape of claws jarred her into action and she narrowed her eyes back at him. It happened so swiftly that the bystanders that surrounded them scarcely saw what happened.

Riaze's claws raked against the cement as Varia reached behind her to withdraw the small side arm from the small of her back. Riaze lunged as she dove to the side, hitting the pavement in a roll. She twisted and came to her feet at a run while firing towards Riaze's black form with silvered bullets.

A pedestrian fell as a stray bullet struck him in the chest, and another moved to aid the man whose body twitched in the street from the pulse of blood spilling onto the pavement.

Varia held no remorse for the man whom she had shot, nor did she wait to see if any of her shots had struck Riaze.

The crowd in front of the theater started to scatter as Varia cut through through in the hopes that the innocent bystanders might deter Riaze, where they had failed to deter herself. It wasn't the interior of the building she sought shelter in though. She hit the wall at a run, propelling herself upwards as she snagged the drainpipe in hand. Without breaking her momentum, she reholstered her gun so she could pull herself higher. Many werewolves couldn't climb in a lupine form, and her instincts screamed to get off the ground and to take to the rooftops.

____

A bellowed roar as rounds slipped into his side, scrabbling paws halting his charge and swinging him around, hammering the aiding bystander with his flank as he regained stable footing, snarling as muscles bunched around the embedded slugs and forcibly contracted, propelling the excruciating invading metal out of the deep tissues, smoke roiling from the holes as he surged forward, tossing the bullets from blood streaming wounds as he plunged into the crowd undeterred.

Far more agile than any beast his size had the right to be, several pedestrians were slammed aside, trampled, or run down as he homed in by scent and sound like a living missile. Quickly gaining speed, and laying low members of the shredding crowd, the lycan watched as Varia climbed like a madwoman.

So he leaped, tucking into a shoulder charge once again. Falling drastically short of Varia, even with his enhanced power. The theater's front, on the other hand, fared terribly as the virtual living missile tore through the facade and the structure beneath it with all the ease of a wrecking ball, including at least one support for the lit facade. Finding himself within, shaking the dust from his eyes, ears perked for a moment as an ominous groan sounded, the floor under his paws quivering dangerously.

Slowly, slowly look back the way he'd come, Riaze snarled as with a sharp report, the facade support snapped and buckled, his front end suddenly dropping as the floor caved, twisting momentum catching sight of the upper level coming to meet him. Curling in as tight a ball as possible, Riaze slipped, caught in the landslide of the collapsing face of the theater.

____

When Varia came to, there was an immense weight crushing down upon her, pinning her in the darkness of the wreckage. She tried to push it free, but one arm was pinned beneath a large slab of concrete, the bones crushed. The pain was distant but she could taste the blood in her mouth. It wasn't the warm rich blood of a fresh kill, it was dead blood tainted with necromancy. It was her blood. She spat as she tried to sit up, but it just drew a pained groan to her bloodied lips.

She strained with her good arm against the support beam, and with a low creak it raised up enough for her to roll to one side before it crashed back down. Free of the crushing weight her body was beginning to mend itself and the crushed bones of her sternum were swiftly reknitting while gashes on her face and arms healed closed.

She could hear sirens overhead but she didn't care to wait to be dug out. Somewhere in this wreckage was Riaze, and she didn't much fancy the odds that the building falling on his head would slow him down for long.

She bit down with a low growl as she pushed against the slab of concrete that pinned her arm. She was strong, much stronger than a human, but she scarcely accomplished more than dislodging some dirt. She clawed at the slabs of wood and smaller bits of debris from around and beneath her arm as she sought to free it that way instead. It was several minutes though before she managed to tear her arm free so that the broken bones could begin to set.

Had she been human she would have been dead, and from the sound of distant groans of pain there were plenty enough of them caught in the collapse as well.

____

Slowly recovering from the daze of being hammered and crushed by falling debris, Riaze attempted movement, the groaning of wooden beams, the grating shift of concrete, and the slap of stone against metal rebar announcing his life. Yet the weight compacted on him was, for the time being, too great for him, broken bones mending quickly, the slow drip of blood halting progressively as wounds closed on his sides, his head, his limbs. Swinging his head around, jaws clamped on a slab of concrete, shifting for a better grip, then snapped shut.

The crunch was fairly audible, a split running through the slab as its halves slid free. Testing movement once again, the lycan had to find and snap several more entombing articles before he found the freedom to belly crawl free of the wreckage. Shaking free of the dust for the moment as he gave his wounds more time to heal, Riaze waited for a few minutes, taking the time to scent through the mix of scents. The ozone of torn wiring discharging, the scents of human blood by those caught in the collapse. The pervasive dry odor of concrete dust.

The scent he hunted for, however, remained, if muffled by the cacophony of other smells in the air. The vampire female, somewhere within. Listening through the wreckage, however, he let out a rumbling growl, the ability to pinpoint the other masked by too much interference.

Looking about, Riaze hunted for a decent avenue, snarling at each facing left him with no room to maneuver, nothing to build momentum. Turning about, however, he realized he was in a hall of some sort, and the way he'd come was less impeded than the rest. A wulven smile as he trotted backwards until his hindquarters touched the wall. Pawing the ground for a moment, he cleared proper footing.

Then with an explosive start, he lunged forward. Three paces, his speed increased. Run to sprint. Four paces, a beam's broken end gashed his shoulder, his head ducking down and tucking in. Sprint to charge. His head impacted the barricade, hammering stone to dust, tearing through rebar and wooden planks with the unstoppable force of a juggernaut, hammering through the obstacle that ripped fresh tears along his sides and back, slamming through the building with the monstrous strength of his kind. Tearing a new path until with an explosive crack, he scrabbled on asphalt, his sundered path to the street complete.

Turning lambent eyes behind him, he winced at the chorus of groans of already unstable wreckage given a new blow to the sensitive system...

____

As Varia pushed, clawed and dragged herself free of the debris she gripped her still mending arm as she stood. Her clothes and hair were torn and in disarray, and dirt and blood was smeared haphazardly across her skin. The cuts and abrasions were healed close, but the bones were still knitting themselves as she found herself face to face with Riaze.

Her left leg wouldn't yet hold her full weight, and her face twisted into a feral snarl.

Her sidearm was missing, lost in the building collapse and she instead drew a large silvered knife as she faced off against the lupine abomination.

"Let's go, you fucking mongrel," she spat vehemently.

Varia had all the look of a cornered animal to her, and she seemed set on doing as much damage as possible with whatever she had on hand.

The officers by the street had their guns drawn as they stood beside their vehicles, but they seemed more intent on containing the situation until backup arrived. Wading into a couple of supernaturals having it out was a good way to land ones self on a one way trip to the morgue. SWAT would be here in momentarily, and the distant sounds of sirens warned of their impending arrival as the officers maintained their rudimentary barricade out front of the half-collapsed building.

____

With a demon's snarl on his lupine face, Riaze noted well the stance and subconsciously chose to match. Veering, in almost the heartbeat he retook human form, the speed of his transformation a subtle threat as to his state of health. An instinctual gesture of his right hand, shadows dripping down his arm as the rattle of chains almost sounded, Abyss's menacing appearing grasped in hand.

Stalking forward, Riaze held one nearly burning eye on the vampire, the swirling hatred blending with designs of murder in that virtually luminous regard. His free hand clawing at the air, Riaze closed the distance with swift strides, lunging forward at the last instant to dip the point of the black blade down, then straightened his arm, pulling up in a feint for a low strike, altering the course from her belly from her right hip to left side to angle sharply upwards, point driving to sword kiss Varia's face.

The police might as well not have existed currently, in the fevered, agitated mind of Riaze Nightroad.
 
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as written by Tiko

There was a blur a motion as a third figure entered the fray and Viktor collided with Riaze as the lycan lunged for Varia. Unarmed, Viktor had opted for simply bowling the beast over. The speed of the impact threw them both to the ground before Viktor tumbled free and came to his feet in a guarded stance with one hand held in a loose open handed position slightly in front of him. He didn't fancy trying to disarm the lycan if Riaze had a go for him next, but he hadn't been carrying any of his own weapons with him during his evening foray through the city.

Keen eyes swiftly assessed the situation. Varia was injured, there was a raging werewolf only paces from him, and there was pair of police vehicles and police cars with a gathering of bystanders behind them.

His crimsoned hued eyes locked on Riaze's and he froze as he pushed a thought into Riaze's mind. Viktor had inherited Sanina's penchant for mind manipulation, but where Sanina's was a subtle force that required a delicate touch of coercion, Viktor's was a battering ram of domination.

'She escaped with the one who attacked you. Those people over there helped her escape.'

The force of the compelling thought was a powerful one, but also a rushed one. If Viktor managed to push the thought on Riaze, he and Varia would simply vanish from Riaze's thoughts and perception, including his senses. There was room for error though, and had they been alone it was well likely that Riaze could simply logic his way past the compelling thought. Fortunately Viktor had a feeling he would be too distracted by the police and his outrage to give it the rational thought that would be necessary to see the compulsion for what it was.

Meanwhile the humans were far easier to manipulate than the lycan, and a separate thought filled their heads.

'That one's the threat. He'll kill everyone if you don't stop him. Shoot him now. Quickly!'

The officers raised their guns from behind their parked vehicles and opened fire on Riaze with gauss pistols firing super-conducted bullets that were both blessed and silvered. The WCPD had learned well enough that silver tipped bullets subdued humans just as easily as the supernatural and demonic entities that plagued Westeria City, but normal bullets had a penchant for falling short against supernatural threats. The result was a shift towards standard use of multi-purpose silvered and blessed bullets, while more specialized bullets were distributed among the special response units.

No doubt the police and the bystanders would suffer for Viktor's actions, and while he took no pointed pleasure in throwing them in the path of the raging beast, neither did he hold any regret or remorse for it. Humans were cattle and if a few had to die to get Varia out of here, then so be it.

The third and final thought he pushed was upon Varia herself.

'Don't move.'

If Varia so much as took a step and drew the attention of the officers, it wouldn't take much for Riaze to figure out that she was still standing right where he left her.
 
as written by Lobos and Tiko

A cross between a yelp, roar and snarl escaped Riaze as he whipped around towards the police, an instant before a round ripped through his left shoulder in the sounding of the first volley. The mental fugue of blood rage, the crushing weight of exhaustion, the mental state of the lycan was precarious, and it was not merely nudged. It had been given a shove, then a punch to the face. Nearly spinning, the hole smoking out either side, Riaze dived to the side and flicked Abyss's tip at the police barricade.

Shadows pooled and then lashed, tendrils gripping and hurling the officers back into the crowd before flipping their very cars into the press. Screams tore the night as Riaze stumbled to his feet, weaving at the radiating pain coming from his shoulder, staggering for an alley. The animal mind had turned to flight response, and the extreme nature of the negative stimuli roaring through his head led him to merely follow.Wrapping layers of shadow and dark over himself, the lycan plunged into the alley, nearly becoming one with the darkness within.

____

Viktor moved swiftly as he grabbed hold of Varia and guided them away from the scene while Riaze was tangling with the officers.

The officers had fared well under the circumstances, but one's leg was trapped beneath his own vehicle as he tried in vain to push the car off himself. Numerous bystanders were wounded by the rolling vehicles though, and several had been killed outright by the impact.

The pinned officer was yelling to his fellows to go after the suspect and the sounds of sirens and ambulances were drawing closer. Backup would be here in moments, as well as emergency vehicles.

The three remaining officers pursued Riaze into the alley noting the blood trail from where one of them had struck him. That he had bled when their bullets hit him was promising. If he bled, he could be subdued or killed - in theory. The sounds of gunfire quickly filled the alley as two of the officers opened fire once more upon the fleeing form of Riaze. The other officer was on his radio directing backup to be ready to cut the suspect off. With the officers coordinating with each other, a net was swiftly being erected that would soon close in upon the fleeing lycan as he took to the alleys.

____

Riaze slumped against the wall at the base of the stairs, glancing back up through the charred stairwell, seeing vague hints of the night air above the husk that was the Lessard Manor. Bleeding freely from nearly a dozen holes in his flesh, the lycan groaned. Memories of the chase still flashed through his mind.

Searing pain through his side, caught by a round as he fled down the alley. Shifting once again as he turned a corner, racing through the shadows. The sounds of sirens all around, the chopping whumps of helicopter rotors as they closed, their searchlights flashing across the rooftops overhead. Silver inflicted wounds bleeding, the healing process slowed. A frantic race through the city, snarls of frustration as every clean way free was blockaded. A losing battle of running out of places to run, yet more wounds taken as the net tightened on him. Diversions failing, a line of chaos and scores of all too competent cops too close to shake anymore. And now, this.

"Back to where it fuckin' began. I could smack that bitch right about now." Pushing the face of Maria out his head for the time being, Riaze glared around, stepping forward and stumbling to a knee. A wave of dizziness washed over him, the dark room swimming in his gaze as exhaustion and the damage to his body came crashing down like a wave. "Fuck."

He likely knew, given the last shot to have caught him, that even now, the Gardens were being closed off, and the SRU summoned from his wake of carnage and desperation. Caught in a rock and a hard place, as he glared at the still smoking hole through his left foot. At this point, the agony merely reverberated with the rest.

He was out of ideas.

____

"Shh...." Sanina whispered. "Everything will be okay..."

He would feel her touch before he saw her... the coldness of her hand against the side of his face. If he looked up she would be there once more, drawn out by his exhaustion and near delusional state. Pain and blood loss were powerful forces on the psyche, and he was staggering between consciousness and unconsciousness.

"Let me help you..."

Her touch as always held an almost paralytic nature to it, and she would press her lips to his forehead lightly. The touch of her skin against his would leave that familiar sensation of necrosis seeping into his skin, and into his subconscious. The months had left his body craving the touch, but his mind still fought her... His struggles to remain awake, and free of her influence were testament to that.

____

With a snarl he made to lurch away...failing. He barely shifted, gasping at the weakness in his limbs, the leaden weight they dragged down with. "How the fuck will you make this okay?"

As she came into view, even the illusion wavered in his eyes, swimming. Too long without actual rest, too long fighting this war against a hallucination, this curse. Desperation, anger at this misfortune, left him still lashing out, still seeking to wound those nearby.

And yet he had too much to lose to simply let it end. Stifling his pride, he spoke again, softer. The growl he tried to bite back instead lessened. "And how can you help me now? A ghost unseen by any but the one she haunts. Too vile for even death to properly take back. I'd think you'd welcome the end of your killer by now."

____

"It was in your nature," Sanina replied. "But it doesn't need to be. We were meant to stand together... it wasn't chance that brought us together and led us back here where it all started."

He lost sight of her as he struggled against his exhaustion and this time when he felt her it was the familiar embrace of her arms from behind as he knelt upon the floor, his vision swimming. Coming and going from his perception, it was as if she were both there, and not there.

"I can do more than you know, if you would let me in... you don't need to die down here."

She pressed her lip to his shoulder.

"I can take the pain away... if you would only stop fighting me."

____

"My mind is my own, Sanina Lessard." The low growl came more forcefully this time. "Always will be. If you actually want to help, figure out something else. Otherwise, this cruel game ends in the pit of your house, for the last time."

"Only this time, I fall. Not you."

It felt like a stone coming down on his shoulders, the admission.

____

"It's not your mind I seek..." Sanina replied softly.

She slid a hand down to rest over top of his chest, feeling the rapid struggles of his adrenaline fueled heartbeats.

"I want you to come with me... away from this place. I want you to come with me to Issunar."

She rested her cheek against his shoulder, as if she were embracing an old friend.

"I can numb the pain, but not if you keep fighting my touch. And you can't walk if you don't let me help you. Trust me... please."

The weight of sincerity and concern behind her words settled over his psyche like a protective blanket."

____

For a long moment, Riaze was silent, as the request settled on him, a surprise he had not anticipated. "Why Issunar?"

"Before I let you do anything, I want to know. Why, after all this, is that all you want from me?"

That lone crimson eye locked on to the illusion.

____

"I told you that we were meant to stand together... you have seen it as I have."

She closed her eyes as she rested her head against his shoulder. She had often shown him images in dreams of them drawing werewolf and Lessard together into an alliance - however tentative it might be - but it was difficult to say if they were visions of the future or simply elaborate fabrications. The future was an ever changing place, and even Sanina's ability to glimpse into it was not without flaw. The things she saw were only possible futures, and often without a road-map for what path was needed to reach any one particular future.

"Issunar is my home," Sanina told him. "I was driven from it long ago... You have the strength to bring the Lutetia werewolf packs to heel, and to end their feuding. Think what we could do together. We would become something that even the elder Vampire houses of Issunar would learn to fear..."

"There's no more here for you in Westeria City than there is for me anymore. Lutetia can become a sanctuary. These Terrans will not pursue us there."

There were voices in the distances as the gardens were being combed by the police with flashlights, and the sound of a helicopter had joined the distant sirens as it too scoured the gardens with a spot light from somewhere overhead. A dim illumination passed through the cracks in the charred basement doors as the spotlight passed by overhead, and it was only a matter of time before they would find Riaze's hiding place.

____

Riaze gave the woman one last searching look. With a heavy sigh, he relented. "I hope I don't regret this. Alright Sanina. Help me."

Finally, he let cracks in his armor, yet even in admission, portions of him remained hardened, more an effect of the stresses of the moment then willful choice. His mind still raced, despite his exhaustion, the flashes of illumination making the desperate situation even more hopeless.

"Is there another way out of here?"

____

Sanina couldn't mend Riaze's injuries, nor could she interact with his environment as she existed only within his mind, but his mind could be numbed to his pain, allowing him to push himself beyond his limits. There would be consequences though. Pain was the bodies way of telling one not to do things that are liable to damage it further, but it would keep him on his feet a time longer. He would feel her roiling through him like some cancer, seeping into his subconscious mind as the pain of his injuries began to dull until it seemed distant and unimportant.

Overhead the sounds of voices grew closer, and there was banging around at the top of the stairway as the police were searching the wreckage of the old manor house for him.

"They're coming," she whispered. "You need to release me."

It was more of a feeling, or an impulse. Abyss flashed through his mind, and he would know what she wanted of him even without words.

The beams of flashlights were visible now as an officer pushed aside the charred remnants of the cellar doors. He called out over his shoulder for the other officers to come check it out.

"Quickly," Sanina whispered.

Officers were moving down the stairs now, growing nearer.
 
as written by Lobos and Tiko

As the pain faded from his psyche, Riaze's mind cleared. As the thought of Abyss ran through his mind, the sword blossomed from instinct drawn shadows, he eye turning to gaze on it one last time. Reaching with his other hand, he drew out of the ash a long, old but sturdy nail.

Footsteps. Before him the blade lain on the floor, glinting like a menacing snake. Taking a slow breath, he raised the nail high.

And as the footsteps reached the base of the stairs, he brought it down, the point punching into the midnight crystal of the blades core. A vast pressure descended on the lycan's shoulders as a piercing cacophony of a legion of screams tore through the wreckage of the manor, etherial chains of smoke blooming in swirling, tossing and writhing lengths. These then began to sunder with thundering cracks, ghostly links riven apart as Riaze was flung bodily across the basement, shards of the sword's detonation lashing to pepper the charred walls.

Yet not a one struck him, even as he reeled as though hammered in the gut, spilling bile as he vomited, hacking and spattering the blood that now streamed out of his nose. Tears of blood wept from his scarred pit, weakly raising his head to the witness the sight before him.

Three twisted, ragged shards had impaled the floor, each larger than the rest. About these, darkness swirled, cracks further crazing the webs spreading across these each. The door to the room sprang open, even as these last remnants crumbled. Smoke billowed from the crumbled glass, and figures took form within...

The first, darkness even deeper loomed, onyx lights gleaming at a height looming above any man. Spectral features took shape, a sunken skull within a hood of tattered darkness.

The second, beastial snarls erupted from, the hulking form of a wolf even more immense than Riaze looming, lambent eyes a virulent, toxic yellow, mottled fur matted, stained fangs glinting dully in the officers light.

And then the third...

____

The third was a haunted figure with ghastly pale skin, crimson eyes, and the tattered remnants of an old Victorian dress. The acrid stench of its vampiric nature assaulted Riaze's nostils as she moved to his side with swift steps.

Sanina's freedom would be short lived if she did not act quickly. Shouts from the officers on the stairwell erupted into gunfire as the snarling wolf was mistaken for Riaze amid the shadows of the basement.

Sanina's hand touched Riaze's shoulder as the battle weary werewolf knelt there amidst his own bloody retch.

"There's no time. You need to get up," she whispered as she took hold of his arm to help him back to his feet. Her touch was as necrotic in life as it had been within his own mind, and his skin crawled with the neromantic taint that seeped into his skin. Maintained contact would likely inflict a rotting affliction to the dying flesh, but brief contact would provide no pointed harm outside of the sickening sensation of something vile crawling beneath his skin.

A long pale finger pointed towards a side corridor that was half barred by a fallen support beam.

____

Stumbling as he rose and staggering as though punch drunk, Riaze glanced towards the officers, dreading the sight that greeted him. Surging forward like a liquid tide of fury, the lycan revived pounced into the knot of officers, acting as though the rounds were flies, hammering into the group. Screams erupted, as blood misted. The other brought back to a state of existence met his gaze for a moment.

A promise was unspoken, and then the contact broken, the ephemeral wraith gliding forward. The sound redoubled, then muffled as he slid under the support beam, clambering back to his feet as he entered the passage, looking for Sanina.

"Gods forgive me for what I've done."

____

The passageway was largely intact, as was much of the underground basement and laboratories that had been nestled beneath the burned out manor house, and the pair made good time in distancing themselves from the screams and gunfire.

Some of the rooms were filled with the decrepit remains of animals that had been trapped down here in the fire - starved most likely - and through open doors could be seen alchemy reagents and beakers coated in thick layers of dust that suggested no one had been through these tunnels since the fire.

She led them to a pair of old shuttered hatch doors which opened up into the outer grounds of the property. The helicopter was still up there searching the gardens for any sign of Riaze, but the passageway had taken them past the police scouring the area. Dense clusters of trees provided cover by which to scale the eight foot wall that separated the Lessard Manor grounds from Lady Une Drive.

"Quickly, you're almost there," Sanina crooned.

She glanced over her shoulder, but there was no sign of pursuit yet. The officers it would seem were otherwise engaged with the other entities that Riaze had unleashed.

They needed to get as much distance as possible though. If they were fortunate the officers wouldn't realize that the wolf they had engaged wasn't the one they had been pursuing from the start. At least not until Sanina and Riaze were already out of the city.
 
as written by Faithy and Tiko

As she walked towards her destination, Val played back in her mind the directions she had been given.

“So, find the group home… and kidnap them? No, that wouldn’t do. Go to the group home and tell them their mother had sent me? They don’t know me, why should they believe me. Mrr…” Grumbling, she squeezed the bridge of her nose and just shrugged to no one in particular. NomNom meowed as if answering her question. Snorting Valentina just rolled her lavender eyes, realizing that he wasn’t going to be much help this time.

“How did I get talked into this…” She sighed, coming to a halt in front of a huge building that reminded her of the school she once attended before her parents were slaughtered. Shrugging, she walked around the entirety of it, trying to figure out what to do. Realizing that it would be easier to sneak in, get the three girls and get back out than attempt to explain what was going on, the small vampire started to look for a way in. After a few minutes, she found herself popping open a window, slinking inside on the main floor. Now came the hard part... finding the girls.... especially when she had no idea what they looked like. Sighing, she shifted NomNom to her shoulder and moved silently down the hallway. After a few minutes, she came across a door and after stepping inside, realized she found the bathroom. Snorting and moving back out, she continued down the corridor. Quietly opening the door, she stepped inside of the room and moved towards one of the bed, shaking one of the kids awake,

"Psssst, I'm looking for Sarah, Alice, and Jezebell."

____

"Mmm... huh?" the boy of about seven years of age asked sleepily.

He tried to roll over and go back to sleep, but Valentina's incessant shaking finally roused him. Groaning, he rubbed at his eyes groggily and sat up in his bed.

"Who are you?" he asked through the haze of being half asleep before noticing the cat on her shoulder. "We're not supposed to have pets you know," he told her. "You're going to get in trouble."

____

Valentina stared at the boy, grumping when he tried to go back to sleep. Luckily, she was pretty good at being annoying towards other children and after ignoring the urge to bite on his neck and drink his blood, Val was grateful when he finally sat up. She snorted when he mentioned the no pet rule. Rules weren’t for her, not in a place where she didn’t live. Shaking her head, she shook him a little bit more.

“No, stupid. I’m looking for three sisters. Sarah, Alice, and Jezebell. I don’t actually… I mean, hmm…” Valentina paused, wondering if perhaps she should pretend to live in this place. Smiling sweetly, she patted him on the nose, shaking her head.

“I mean, that is… I’m new. I snuck in my kitty because he’s my best friend. I’m lost… where are the girls’ rooms?” She decided to take this another route, figuring he might tell on her.

____

"I don't know anyone named Jezebell..." he mumbled as he rubbed at his eyes again. "But I can take you to Sarah and Alice."

He finally pushed his covers back and stood up from the bed. Taking Valentina's hand he led her towards the door. The sooner he got her where she needed to go, the sooner he could go back to bed without her nagging him. Besides, he was kind of curious what was going on. Sneaking around the place in the middle of the night could be fun.

"This way," he whispered as he headed down one of the halls, towards the wing that held the girls' dormitories. "What's your name?" he asked.

____

Score! Valentina just smiled sweetly and allowed him to touch her hand in order to lead him to where she needed to be. He smelled delicious and the tiny one tried to recall the last time she had any blood. Shaking off the urge to slam him down to the ground and feed from him, she instead made sure to pay attention to where they were going so that she could retrace her steps and get the girls out. It bothered her vaguely that he didn’t know anyone named Jezebell, but maybe she had been sent elsewhere.

The two were sneaking around like a bunch of ninja’s and Valentina wondered if this was the first naughty thing he had done since coming to this drab place. Maybe she should bring him too. No… that wouldn’t be practical. NomNom jumped back up onto her head, nestling down in his comfortable place as she continued to follow the boy. When asked her name, she wondered if she should lie, but figured telling the truth wouldn’t hurt anyone.

“Valentina Rosetti… who’re you?” She whispered, wondering where all the adults were at. Surely the kids weren’t on their own, right?

____

"I'm Jean-luc," he told her.

He peered around the corner to make sure the route was clear before he hurried across another hall that led to the girl's dormitories.

"They're in one of these rooms," he said.

Had he been thinking more clearly he might have been more confused as to why Valentina didn't know where the girl's slept, but at the moment he simply overlooked such notions.

"I'm not sure which room though..." he said. He cracked one open and peered inside but closed it again before leading Valentina further down the hall. The third room they checked proved a success.

"They're in this one," he whispered.

____

What a stupid name. Valentina kept her thought to herself, but couldn’t help but wonder if he was for real. Who named their kid that? Well, actually, she knew of more bizarre names, but still. Following behind him, she was glad when they finally reached the girls dormitory. Either the boy didn’t care or he was still asleep because he hadn’t really inquired how she ended up in the boys’ wing and why she didn’t have a clue where she was supposed to be. It wasn’t like new people just showed up alone in the middle of the night, right? Shaking out the thought in her head, Val instead glanced towards the door that he indicated was the correct room.

“Great, thanks a lot, Jean-luc. I really appreciate your help. Be a good boy and go back to your room and don’t speak of this to anyone.” Val patted him on the head before stepping into the room. She glanced around and was thankful that only two beds were within the room. Scooting over towards one of them, she felt NomNom jump off her shoulder onto the second bed and shook her head when he began to meow quietly and traipse all over the girl’s body. Shifting her gaze back towards the girl in the bed right beside her, Val knelt down and poked her in the nose.

“Psssst! Wake up if you are Alice or Sarah!” Yep, she was so smooth.

____

"Mmmph, go back to sleep Sarah..." Alice muttered as she rolled over and covered her head with her pillow.

"Kitty!" gasped Sarah, the younger of the two girls, as she discovered the kitten tromping around in her bed.

She sat up, and reached out to pull the kitten over to her in a hug, and it was then that Alice realized something wasn't quite adding up in her head. If Sarah was in her bed, then who was poking her?

She sat up in her bed and blinked at Valentina.

"Who are you?" Alice asked.

____

Valentina growled under her breath when the one she was poking told her to go back to bed. The only silver lining was the fact that it was obvious that she had found both Sarah and Alice. NomNom just meowed when he was suddenly hugged by the other. Instead of fighting back like most kittens would do, he just let her do whatever she wanted to him, knowing that it was important she remain calm and quiet. Turning her attention back towards the other female, the one that had to be Alice, Val just arched her brow and dropped her hand down away from the girl’s nose.

“Before I say who I am, have I found Sarah and Alice? If not, I need to get moving before the adults figure out that something is going on.” Valentina whispered, her lavender eyes shifting towards NomNom who was watching her intently, his ears twitching every once in a while as he listened for any trouble.

“If you are Sarah and Alice, then you both need to come with me. The name is Valentina Rossetti, but that’s not important right now.” She spoke, urgency evident in her tone.

____

"Me name is Sarah," Sarah answered. "Where are we going?"

She was hugging NomNom awkwardly to herself, much like a stuffed animal as she listened to Valentina.

"We're not going anywhere, Sarah..." Alice said. She threw her covers back and got out of the bed and eyed Valentina suspiciously. "I'm going to tell on you if you don't tell us what's going on."

____

Valentina found herself smiling over at Sarah, wondering why the younger of the two was so trusting. NomNom just meowed softly and nuzzled his head against Sarah’s before glancing back towards his owner who was not enjoying the lack of following her directions. Snorting, she stepped in front of Alice, not letting her near the door, preparing to slam a hand over the girl’s mouth if she tried to call for help. Narrowing her eyes, she squeezed the bridge of her nose and exhaled, having no idea if they would even believe what she was saying.

“I was sent by Sanina to get you two and Jezebell. I am sure you’re not going to believe me, but I’m telling the truth. She’s at Viktor’s house right now…” She chewed on her bottom lip, hoping they believed her so that they could just leave.

____

"'nina's back?" Sarah exclaimed before clamping a hand over her own mouth as she realized how loud she had been.

"How do you know about Jezebell?" Alice asked, still suspicious of where this girl had come from.

She seemed to be coming around though. How could Valentina have known about Jezebell unless Sanina sent her

____

“I just told you… Sanina sent me to get you all. The boy though… he said he didn’t know a Jezebell. Look, we can talk about this later… we need to leave before the adults come. I am not asking you to trust me completely, but if you don’t want to see Sanina and leave this sterile place, then let’s go.” Nodding towards NomNom, Valentina turned around to face both of the girls, hoping that Sarah’s exclamation wouldn’t draw attention, but her luck lately had been complete shit,

“Yes or no, tell me now. I’m not about to be captured and put into a room just because I look like I’m nine-years-old.” She hated how tense her neck felt at that moment and as if feeling her anxiety, NomNom slid from Sarah’s grasp and moved onto his owner, nuzzling her lovingly.

____

"Can we, Alice?" Sarah asked.

"Alright, but keep quiet," Alice told her sister.

She took Sarah's hand who slid out of the bed and led her to the dresser and pulled one of the drawers open. She rummaged in a bit before handing Sarah some clothes.

"Quick, put those on, and get your shoes," she sold Sarah.

While Sarah was getting dressed, Alice pulled on a dress of her own over her head. She didn't waste time taking her night slip off, and just wore the dress on over top of it for now. As Sarah sat down and pulled her shoes on, Alice knelt down and helped her tie them before pulling her sister back to her feet.

"Okay, let's go," she said as she waited for Valentina to lead the way.

____

Exhaling in relief when Alice finally decided that they would go with her, Valentina moved to the door as they got dressed. Glancing out into the hallway, she was grateful when the corridor was still empty. Peering back at the two, she nodded and moved out into the hallway, bringing her finger up to tell them to be quiet. Thankful for her exceptional memory, the child Vampire led them towards where she had first came in. Pausing and shoving them backwards into the shadows as an adult walked by, she was thankful she didn’t need to breathe. Once it was clear again, she waved them forward and started towards their exit once again.

“Alright, you two… let’s get out of here, hmm?” She found the window she had snuck into and popped it back open, motioning for them to climb out,

“Climb down and I’ll be right behind you.” She hoped they would just do as she said without any questions.

____

"Wait here, I'll catch you," Alice told Sarah.

She quickly slipped over the windowsill so she could lower herself down. Hanging from the lip by her fingertips she let go and landed with a soft thud before gesturing for Sarah to do the same.

It would seem it wasn't the first time the two girls had snuck out, and Sarah gingerly got one leg over the windowsill before awkwardly lowering herself. She wasn't as strong as her sister, and she had both her arms on the windowsill while Alice helped her down from the outside.

As Alice looked up to wait for Valentina to follow them down Sarah tugged lightly on her sleeve.

"Alice, Alice. We can't leave Jezebelle," she said.

"We won't," Alice reassured Sarah.

____

Valentina watched as the two climbed out of the window, her brow arching slightly. Once the two were down, she slid onto the windowsill herself and quietly jumped down, landing in a crouch in the process. Sliding back up, she let NomNom jump back into Sarah’s arms and she nodded in satisfaction, a slight smirk playing on her lips. Turning to the two, she slid her fingers through her lavender locks, straightening up her bunny clips.

“Right, ready then?” She questioned, her brow arching a little.

____

Sarah hugged NomNom happily as he rejoined her, and Alice shook her head pointing in the other direction, which led around back of the building.

"'nina will be mad if we forget Jezebelle," Sarah explained.

Alice led them along now, keeping quiet as they passed under a window that had its lights on. Voices could be heard inside. Once they had moved past earshot she picked her pace up again. Where she led them to was the small recess yard that was fenced in by a chainlink fence.

At the back of the yard several shrubs grew along the fence and behind one of the shrubs, the ties that secured the mesh wire to one of the posts had been removed so that the fence could be peeled back. She let Sarah go through first before she followed.

On the other side of the fence was a small stand of trees with a few bushes before the property line met another fence leading to the next property over. It was under one of the shrubs that Alice stopped to start moving dead leaves away from a box. Once the box was uncovered she pulled it out and opened it. Inside was the skeletal remains of a small infant, wrapped up in a dirty blanket.

Sarah set NomNom down and picked up the bundle.

"Okay, were's Sanina?" asked Alice.

____

Valentina blinked, still confused. The boy said there wasn’t a Jezebelle, yet these two said otherwise. Shrugging and following behind them, she glanced up towards the window, wondering who was inside and whether or not they were bity material. However before she could think any more about feeding, the voices faded away and she was once again following the two girls. When they reached what was the most pathetic recess yard she had seen in her short life, Val grew even more confused. Just where was this girl anyways?

“Er…” She started to question, but decided to keep mum for the time being. However, when they finally reached their destination and she was presented with a box that had what was once a small infant, she nearly lost it.

“What in the hell? Why… what…? I … what the hell?” She fought to keep her voice low, but to say she was confused wasn’t even touching how she truly felt. NomNom jumped onto her shoulder and Valentina just stared at them both before just squeezing her eyes closed momentarily. Opening them back, she shook her head for what felt like the millionth time and turned back around, intending on leading them back to Viktor’s.

“Follow me…” She scrunched her nose up as she started leading them away from the drab building and back to Viktor's place.
 
as written by Calcos and Moonscar

Abigail made her way down the sidewalk on the unnaturally windy midnight of Westeria City. She didn't mind a bit of a wind chill; it hardly affected her in her jacket besides. She was in a rush to get home, as she wanted to do some more patrolling/field testing as Arbiter. Having taken up that duty was quite an exciting adventure, she had to admit. It exposed her to a side of the world she'd have never seen if she hadn't been given the push that drove her to her life of crime-fighting in the first pace.

Thinking that made her dwell on her brother's murder; some nameless thugs with loaded guns and junkie bloodstreams, lit out of their damn minds, demanding that Gabe fork over his cash lest he become just another statistic and another cadaver for the police to gawk at while they feverishly tried to pin the blame on someone; usually the wrong person.

Of course, Gabe had done what the muggers had asked, doing the smart thing to save his own skin. But, addicts usually had twitchy trigger fingers, and were prone to fits of paranoia. It was in one of those fits that one of the junkies had squeezed, thrice, on his pistol's trigger, hitting Gabe in the lungs twice, and the neck once.

Abigail had watched her brother die as the gang of addicts fled the scene; but not before knocking her over the head with a lead pipe, attempting to knock her unconscious. She had been fifteen at the time; entirely too young to know that kind of pain. But it had guided her: forged in the fires of hatred, she was molded into something more than just a scared girl in a scary world. She had been evolved into something much more...menacing.

However, she broke that train of thought. Her apartment was nearby, and so she headed in to get ready for the night's endeavors.


---


Arbiter looked out over the city from the rooftops. It was noisy in the main parts of town, traffic along the highways was still very much alive. However, the vigilante's focus was not upon the bustling commotion of cars and transfer trucks; it was on the alleyways. It was trained on the darkened silence that existed between the buildings and down the back ways of the city. Arbiter was ready to head out.

She just needed a target.

____

There.

Walking down the street like a normal guy. Among the others. Just like the sociopathic coward he was. There was no reason to dump on him when he was surrounded by other people. This had to be quiet and quick. Stealthy. If it wasn't, he endangered everyone around him. He would forsake the purpose of catching him in the act.

Biohazard had been on his tail a while, walking on the other side of the street. In comparison, he was much more shady. A young man with brown hair, swathed in dark clothing, a scarf covering most of his face. The mechanical implant he had secured in his empty eye socket shined red and locked onto the target even as he fell behind other people.

Just another block. He'd be in the alley soon.

____

Magnified lenses allowed for a better view of the streets below. They were bereft of activity for the most part; a small group of drunken revelers, a homeless person or two, and some late-night office workers coming home from a long, arduous night of work. She was confident that something would turn up. It always did.

And, like an answered prayer to a dark and malevolent god, she found what she was looking for. Or, at least, she thought she had found it: a young man, dressed in dark clothing, tailing another man on the other side of the road. She had picked up on the man's bodily cues; the occasional glance, the nonchalant, trying-not-to-be-noticed demeanor. They were the telltale signs of a crime about to be perpetrated. To the untrained eye, his movements would seem rather unremarkable.

Unlucky for him, her eyes weren't untrained. From her perch, she sunk down low, as to blend in with the dark and not be noticed. From this position, she would observe, becoming the delayed breath of the wind itself. She made no noise, no sudden moves. She merely watched, ready to spring into action if need be.


____

There. Slipping into a long, dark alley behind a department store. There was a club on the other side, and Biohazard knew exactly what he was going to do. Crossing the street, the shady figure made sure he wasn't moving too sharply or too directly. To anyone paying attention, however, it was obvious he was tailing the other man.

Once in the alley, he zoomed in on the man, his footsteps eerily silent. His hand reached out to grab the collar of his target.

Before he knew it, a steel baton- one that had been folded on the inside of his target's jacket- came swinging for his head. Biohazard stumbled back, dazed from the hit. The nanites in his blood had hardened the skin right before the impact, though not quickly enough to defend from the full force of the hit.

His hand shot out again to take the man's collar, swinging him into a wall with little effort.

____

It was time.

The other man had apparently been expecting his assailant, as he retaliated in kind when the strange figure reached out to grab him. However, his assault failed to bring his attacker down, and he was immediately thrown against the wall of a nearby building. That was her cue to move.

From her belt, she produced a grapple: a gas-propelled, motorized, pistol-shaped grappling hook used to swing her into action quickly and nimbly. Aiming for a flagpole on one of the taller buildings, Arbiter glided through the air, her armored frame cutting through the midnight oxygen, the wind whipping past her like water off a duck's back.

She landed, hard, on the concrete ground, hands against the asphalt, used to propel her to a standing position. "You!" she said, the voice module within her helmet making her voice sound metallic and masculine, disguising the fact that there was a woman underneath all of her intimidating armor.

"Give up now, or suffer the consequences!" She wasn't sure how tough this guy was going to be, but judging by how effortlessly he tossed his victim, and how ineffective the other man's attack seemed to be, she surmised that she might be in for a hard fight. She was only used to fighting generic thugs and violent junkies.

This guy would certainly be more of a challenge.

____

Though his vision hadn't completely cleared up after the blow to the head, which would have left him with a cracked skull without the nanites, he managed to keep focus on the figure before him. The surface of his skin blackened, and the hoodie and baggy pants vanished to reveal the shiny, sparse bits of silver armor beneath.

"Didn't know you had a buddy followin' you," said Biohazard to the unconscious target. His voice was also altered, deeper, though there was a semblance of the young man behind it. "You back down! You're breaking the law and allowing an underground trafficking operation to run down there! You don't know who you're messing with, so leave."
 
as written by Calcos and Sentry

'Oh goddammit,' she thought, staring the other guy down, who had suddenly become dressed dwn in a more sleek-looking combat skin. If what he was saying were true -and this being Westeria City, it probably was- then she had no reason to confront him. Of course, she didn't know who this guy was, or his true intentions. His explanation could very well be a cover for something more sinister. She had no way of knowing.

"A likely story," Arbiter spoke, "But where's the proof to back your claim?" She was still green in regards to this superhero work, so she didn't have her own stable source of information; not a large one, in any case. She didn't have the run-down of every single criminal enterprise within Wing City, so she had to collect what she could as she operated. And, of course, this man that stood before her could be an apparatus of one such enterprise.

"All I see is another sick murderer, unless you care to show me otherwise."

____

"A likely sto- why are you trying to pull this on me? No, lemmie guess. There's cops and you're trying to turn this around. I get it, I get it. But it's not going to work today."

The scarf around his mouth vanished, and swirling around him was a black mist that rose above his head, then dispersed to his sides. The red eye clicked and clacked inside his head as he locked onto the woman. "You show me evidence you're not covering up for this sicko!"

____


Damn; he certainly turned that around fast. However, she had to laugh at his insistence that she was working for the police. However, her desire to laugh at his expense ended when he began showing her what he was capable of: a strange, dark cloud surrounded his person, coming to rest beside him as he stared her down.

If there were a fight about to be had, she supposed there was no talking her way out of it. Even if she did, it's not like he would believe her at this point; nor would she do him the same courtesy. However, she felt it only right to try and avoid a conflict, just in case it spilled over and caused unnecessary damage.

"I can assure you, I don't know who that man is. And even if I did, would I need to feign heroism to protect him if he is what you say?" she asked rather prudently. Awaiting his reaction, she held her ground, her eyes unblinking, and her resolve unwavering.

____

"Westeria City's filled with a lot of nut jobs. If you've been here long enough, you'd know." He looked the other guy over real well. Armor. Weapons. Mask. This dude was the real deal. An actual other superhero with as much worry disguising his identity as himself. Or was he actually a villain pulling mind tricks?

"I don't have proof. That's... that's why I was following the guy. I was gonna dump everything over to the police and rat them out. Just killing this guy isn't gonna solve anything."
 
as written by Saarai

The two vigilantes would have much more to worry about when a metal door flew off of it's hinges just down the alley, an alarm blaring loudly to warn the people of Wing City that there was a robbery in progress. Several men and women, all dressed in dark clothing and crimson masks, stepped out of the building carrying metal boxes.

Each one was filled with expensive jewelry. They had just broken into a jewelry store, clearly the plan was to escape out the back undetected. Unfortunately for them, two vigilantes stood nearby.

The thieves brought their eyes to the two, seemingly trying to figure out if they'd be problems. They could have just been cosplayers or weirdos, a few conventions of varried weirdness were coming to town soon.

"So..."
 
as written by Calcos, Sentry, and Saarai

Arbiter looked to the man she had been about to square off against, her eyes portraying her concern if they were able to be seen behind the lenses in her mask. She shifted her focus back to the robbers in an instant afterward, her hands tightening into fists.

Yelling "Stop!" would seem rather ridiculous, as the thieves weren't currently running away. A tense air filled the gap in the silence between the two parties for what seemed like an eternity.

"So..."

Arbiter decided to take the opportunity to make her demands. "Stay where you are!" she said forcefully, being cautious of the robbers' next moves. She cast a glance over at the other man, wondering if he knew anything about them; like if he worked for them. If nothing else, this would be the perfect opportunity for them to prove their innocence to one another.

____

Biohazard gave his attention to the group sneaking out of the bank.

"Oh, opportune," he cried, holding his hands up to applaud. "Perfect timing. Shouldn't have expected anything else from this place." He parted his hands slowly, out to his sides.

"Get back in the bank," the man growled, the voice resonating from the black cloud around him. "Put the money back. You're not in a good position to get away with anything."

____

"There's only two of you." One of the thieves pointed out, turning to count the number of heads among his group. "And... fifteen of us, plus the sister." He told the vigilantes, "So, no. We aren't giving this back. You can try to make us." He continued.

The men and women with him seemed odd, somewhat psychotic and anxious. It could have been drugs. It wasn't. The truth was that they were members of a cult that worshipped a group of gods that they felt wanted them to worship through anarchy, crime, chaos.

They didn't care if they made it out of there with the money, they wanted to fight the vigilantes or the police, or both, and drag the fight on as long as it would create chaos. Influence looting.

"Here she comes now."

Out of the building stepped a woman. She wore a black hooded cape, a crimson bodysuit with white highlights and a protectice mask that covered only her mouth. She looked she had just stepped out of a comic book or a vampire novel.

But the coldness of her blue eyes as they landed on Biohazard and Arbiter were warnings not to underestimate the woman.

"Make it interesting, okay? We don't have long." The woman said, her barely placeable European accent draped over her words.

____

Arbiter smiled at hearing the odds. It hardly seemed fair to them; here they were, some petty bank robbers, facing down two vigilantes -one of them with some crazy ass powers- thinking they'd be getting away with their haul. She cracked her knuckles beneath her gauntlets, ready to start beating the brakes off of these thugs. "You get the ones on the left," she told Biohazard in jest.

However, the arrival of the one they called the "sister" saw her mood change rapidly. Her quickly-gained confidence left just as swiftly as it had come. This woman, mysterious and gloomy, gave off a dangerous vibe that one didn't even need to be an empath to pick up on. Her overall demeanor cast an icy air about them, and Arbiter couldn't help but think that this woman may be the most dangerous foe she had come into contact with.

"So..." she said, waiting for a plan to come together.

____

"Punch first, plan later," said Biohazard to Arbiter, zooming in on one of the thugs first. Everyone knew that's what you did: clear up all the minions before you went in for the boss.

His fist flew for the thug's face, knuckles hard as steel, fist heavy. If that hit landed, his face was bone meal. Vince had no doubts about it.

____

It was on now. When Vince charged the group of lawbreakers braced themselves for impact. When he hit the first man, he stumbled back and seemed to be on his way down. It took a lot of trying for him not to hit the ground, despite the punching taking even more out of him.

"There we go!" The man shouted, the other cultists dropping the boxes they carried. "No guns!" One of them called out, showing that they had some sort of honor. Or they were insane.

After a few seconds they began to charge, half going for biohazard and the other half for Arbiter. They drew knives, brass knuckles, daggers, and a few even carried batons. They were ready to have a real fight with some real fighters. They hoped Biohazrd and Aribter could deliver.

"Oh my fuck! My face!" The first cultist said, breaking character. "The punch took more out of him than he initially let on. "I'm going to stand back for a second." He told anyone actually paying attention as he walked away.

Sister Ovus stood by for now, letting the melee play out before she would jump in.

____

The group rushed her with weapons drawn, and that made her have to play more defensively; or, more brutally, that is. As they began their assault, she initiated her counterattack with more fury than the cultists may have been suspecting. Stomping at kneecaps, stabbing at elbows, and even trying to snap necks, the Arbiter was doing whatever she could to take these guys down.

Biohazard had his own group to deal with, and he was dealing quite effectively, having essentially turned the inside of one guy's face into bone Jell-O. He didn't need her help, even if she could offer it. She had her own safety to worry about in the meantime, trying to avoid damage with back steps away from knife thrusts, blocking strikes from batons with her gauntlets (and retaliating in kind), and catching punches in her hands and squeezing to break bone.

What disturbed her, however, was how the woman continued to stand there, nonchalant and actually rather bored-looking. Her presence here cast a dark shadow over Arbiter's own confidence, but she couldn't afford to betray that feeling.

For now, she'd just have to put down the dregs.

____

"Nope," said Biohazard, reaching for the collar of the same man he'd just assaulted. He would be pulling him back for a blow to his temple for a knockout. He did his best to move swiftly between his victims, though he hardly needed to defend. Human fists hardly did anything to harm him. Most of them would be breaking their hands on his armor.

"You'd be better off with your weapons," he grumbled to them. Still, there was that one woman. The one who just stood there. What was her deal?

"Hey, catch!" he cried to Arbiter as a thug came toward him. He grabbed his arm and threw him over his shoulder at the other vigilante.

____

"What?" The first cultist asked as he was pulled to Biohazard, when he was hit he fell straight to the ground. Sprawled out on his back.

The others continued their assault, They were relentless and their attacks much stronger than Biohazard might have expected. There was a certain resilience from the cultists, they seemed to be able to take whatever the two were throwing at them. It was almost as if they didn't actually care about winning as much as they cared about hurting the vigilantes or causing a scene.

They were like rabid dogs, or a swarm of bees, they never really backed down despite what the vigilantes were doing to them. A few moved to flank Arbiter, keeping their distance while she defended herself from the other attackers.

Then they moved in, one trying to grab her from behind in a chokehold. Another moving to pull her legs out from under her, this while yet another lifted a garbage can and went to chuck it at the vigilante's face.

And the Sister walked. She walked slowly, but surely enough she was getting closer to the fighting. She was moving towards Biohazard,

The Sister raised a hand towards the man, then the other, eyes focused solely on him. Then her hands moved, outstretched towards the walls of buildings on both sides.

She clapped her hands together suddenly, brick and mortar from the buildings flying out towards Biohazard and anyone unlucky enough to be in the way.

____

She was getting surrounded; multiple attackers flocked towards her, aiming to deal a significant amount of damage and put her out of commission. Unlucky for them, she wouldn't be done in so easily.

Biohazard had wrangled one of the cultists and flung him her way. "Hey, catch!" he shouted as his victim was hurled towards her general direction. The robber would be met with an armor-clad elbow, aimed for the center of the man's chin. If she were able to land the hit, the cultist would likely lose consciousness, or otherwise wish he weren't around to feel the repercussions of Arbiter's attack.

She would have resumed pummeling the others, but her assault was interrupted by one of the thugs locking her in a chokehold from behind. At the same time, one of the other cultists was picking up a trashcan, obviously looking to cave her face in with it. She quickly retaliated with a swift, backwards jerk of her head, trying to smash her attacker's nose.

Suddenly, her feet were pulled out from under her, and she hit the ground face down. Mentally kicking herself for allowing someone to get the drop on her so easily, she attempted to roll out of the way of any stomping or kicking that would come from her attackers. She took solace in the fact that the now-flying trashcan was on a collision course with the cultist who had had her in a chokehold before she hit the ground...

She was able to witness the Sister in action, finally having broken from her trance-like immobility. Her powers were rather menacing for someone like Arbiter; someone merely human. Effortlessly, she tore the very bricks from the surrounding buildings and hurled them towards Biohazard at a frighteningly fast speed, all with her mind (or so Arbiter assumed).

She now had a new reason to feel uneasy about this woman...

____

There had been almost no warning. What the woman had done prior to bringing two buildings atop his head was hardly enough to tell Biohazard what would happen.

Luckily, since the thugs didn't seem to be crumpling under his punches as they likely should have, Biohazard had to expend more nanites on armor. Once the debris came down, he was brought off his feet and had to crumple under the rain of bricks. Once it had all fallen, he braced his arms against the ground, trying to push himself up under the pressure.

Biohazard didn't have super strength. He didn't have super speed. He was strong, and he was quick, but the only superhuman thing he had were the nanites. The eye, the boots? Those were gadgets.

The bricks weren't going to crush him or kill him, but they did a damned good job at immobilizing him.

____

The fatigue was starting to set in, some of it on the side of the vigilantes. Arbiter didn't seem to be as experienced or trained as her new ally, but the cultists weren't expecting to take so much damage. Biohazard was tough, tougher than they'd hope. Arbiter was unorthodox and the man holding her had the now crushed nose to show it.

He held his nose, then his shin when the garbage can hit his leg.

"Sorry!" The garbage throwing cultist called out, he and the others moving to swarm Arbiter. The Sister would deal with Biohazard, they could handle the weak link. They hoped. She seemed like the kind of character who had tricks up their sleeves. All the cultist had for now was brute force and the walking tank that was Sister Umwa.

Said tank of flesh advanced on Biohazard, some of the cultist he had been fighting putting some distance betweem themselves and the debris. They could use the time to catch their breath, especially now that they could hear sirens. The robbery had triggered an alarm, and who knows who was watching the melee in the alley? Who called the police after they heard bricks being torn from their building?

Or there could have been something more important that warranted the police response. A missing white girl, maybe.

"Stay down. We're done with you. Both of you." Sister Umwa said to Biohazard and Arbiter, "We've got more important things to do than kill you. But, you put up a fight. We'll see you again." She continued.
 
as written by Calcos and Sentry

The robbers were fleeing, and the echo of sirens reverberated through the night air, spelling sweet relief for the vigilantes. Arbiter would be lying if she were to say she weren't the slightest bit tired; fighting this particular group of thugs had taken more out of her than she even thought they could.

She would likely need to make herself scarce as well, as she wasn't entirely certain how well WCPD would treat a costumed vigilante such as herself. However, letting the cultists escape did not sit well with her at all. As they turned to flee, she found herself gritting her teeth, hard, angry breaths escaping her nose.

There was nothing for it, however; she was unable to continue duking it out in her condition, but she had to do something...

On her person, she kept and array of throwing knives that served multiple purposes, such as disarmament, debilitation, distraction, or dolling out some death. She was able to procure two of them, holding them firmly between her thumbs and index fingers. With a flick of her wrists, she sent them hurtling through the air, aimed at the backs of the group of cultists.

She turned towards Biohazard afterward. "We should leave," she said, "The cops probably won't take too kindly to us, either." With that said, she retrieved the grapple off of her belt and ascended upward to the rooftops, prepared to swing her way back home to get some much-needed rest.

Today didn't feel like a victory, but she definitely learned a lot.

____


With a great amount of effort, Biohazard managed to shake off the bricks from his back and stand up in time to see Arbiter depart. He wasn't letting that vigilante get away without some questions answered, though.

The activation of the grav boots took little more than a thought, and soon Biohazard was bounding from one side of the alley to the other until he got to the rooftops as well. He began to sprint toward Arbiter.

"Wait!"

____

Biohazard decided to follow her, utilizing what appeared to be some sort of anti-gravitational force to attain lift to her position. She didn't have time for a confrontation; she needed to return home and rest. She was tired, but most of all irritated. Tonight had been a horrendous experience, showing Abigail just how much she had to learn before she could become the hero she wanted to be.

Now, however, she had Typhoon to deal with, as he ascended to her current place on the rooftops. Studying his fighting style, Arbiter had witnessed firsthand the nanotechnology that powered Biohazard's abilities, which gave her a rather radical idea that she only hoped would work.

From her belt, she procured a pulse grenade, an explosive device that emitted a field of disruptive electrical energy, capable of damaging or disabling electronic systems. The grenade flew through the air, landing at Biohazard's feet as Arbiter continued to walk away. Should the pulse grenade fail, she had other ideas in mind to make her escape.

____

Biohazard skidded on his heels when the grenade landed at his feet. The nanites gathered at his front in an attempt to soften the blow, but it wasn't the kind of explosion he'd been expecting.

When the grenade went off, Biohazard felt a dizziness wash over him. He swayed and tottered on his feet, then fell to his knees. Half his vision went out entirely. He grabbed his arms with his hands, but found himself with a handful of black... ash? No... no, no, no.

A handful of dead nanites.

Biohazard reached his hand up to his face, feeling the armor fall to the ground with small clitter clatters, like millions of small beads fallen to the ground. Where the silver armor didn't conceal, he was exposed. His face...

Shit. The mask. His face.

____

A satisfying thud rang out as Biohazard hit his knees. Arbiter thought nothing of it; just a poor cyborg whose systems were now going haywire due to the electric damage done to its components. However, the trickling sounds of dead nanites raining off of him caught her ear, and she turned back to look.

He did not look well at all. Clutching at the defunct nanomachines and his face, Biohazard looked rather pitiful; unhealthy, even. Her eyes widened beneath her helmet, the realization of what she had done finally dawning on her. 'Oh shit,' she thought, 'This guy is really sick.' She turned all the way around, walking towards his crumpled for in a hurried pace.

Crouching down, she looked over the cyborg, his face now fully exposed. The situation didn't call for it, but she captured an image of his face with the camera installed in her HUD, saving it for future reference. However, she had to do something about his current condition, and fast. She couldn't risk him knowing where she lived, so she decided to do the only thing she knew to do...

On her hip was a small aerosol can of chloroform, which she retrieved slowly, raising it to Biohazard's disconcerted face. She sprayed, hoping she had killed enough of the machine for it to work. She needed to act fast if she were going to help him recover; after all, he had helped her in that alleyway. The least she could do was not let him die from her carelessness.

____

It wasn't Biohazard, the cyborg superhero, that looked up to Arbiter now. It was a young man. A pitiful, normal young man who was half blind and slowly getting sick. The disease he'd retracted so many years ago hadn't gotten to him- not yet. But the shock of losing his systems, which he'd been in tune with, was what got to him.

His hair flopped into his face as she rolled his head to the side to look at Arbiter, more fear than hatred in that eye. "...no," he growled. He winced as the chloroform spray hit him in the face, swooning.

____

The guy was out like a blown lightbulb, and Arbiter looked down at him. She had to get him back to the hideout before he died on her. She fired up the receiver-transmitter in her helmet. "Jaufrrey," she said.

"Is everything alright, Abi?" a gentle yet firm voice on the other end asked. Arbiter rolled her eyes at this, not amused at all. Jauffrey was an old family friend, and had helped her in her time of need. After Malcolm had passed, Jauffrey was there to help build Abigail back up. However, the middle-aged man could never have imagined he'd be a part of her crime-fighting scheme.

"I'm fine. And don't call me that," she practically snapped, "I need you to prepare the basement. We're having company over. He needs a cryostasis pod ready for him when I get there."
"He?"
"Yes, he. Just be prepared for me to get there."
"As you wish, mistress Hendrix."
"Don't call me that, either."

---

In the basement level beneath the apartment building, she conducted her business. She had placed unconscious man in a cryostasis chamber, a large, cylindrical piece of metal with a plexiglass window crafted on the front. The chamber was meant to keep the sickly young man alive, halting the spread of the sickness that plagued him while she conducted her research.

Abigail had taken a blood sample from him before placing him in stasis, performing an analysis to determine what was wrong with him, exactly. It would take quite some time for results to pull through, so she had to keep him locked away until then. Meanwhile, she studied the deadened mechanisms of one of the nanomachines that came from Biohazard's body.

"This is odd", she remarked as she peered into a microscope. "I've never seen anything like this before. It can't be Terran technology..." she trailed off, popping her head up to look at the young man from her place outside the stasis pod. She couldn't help but feel guilty; she had put him in that position, after all. However, the technology before her was making her quite frustrated as she didn't know what to make of it.

That, and she still had many hours ahead to operate as Arbiter. She left her post at the microscope, donning her helmet once more. "I'll analyze the nanomachine later," she said to Jauffrey, who was standing nearby. "Might be able to replicate its mechanics if I study it enough. But I've got things to do, and this will have to wait. He'll be fine inside the pod. I'll be back later."

With that, she set out once again, aiming to doll out her brand of justice to Wing City's criminal element.

____

Working in her laboratory was always supposed to be a therapeutic activity; however, Abigail felt overwhelmed. She was quite shaken, still processing the harrowing story of a group of thugs belonging to the Hammer & Star Bratva being massacred by who she could only assume was the Red Rain Yakuza, judging from the threat painted in Japanese on the side of the truck the Russians had been using to smuggle drugs into Wing City. She didn't know how she was going to handle the situation, or where to begin.

On top of that, the process of reverse-engineering Biohazard's nanotechnology was proving to be difficult; the technology used to build these little machines was unlike anything she'd ever laid eyes on. Deciphering just how to construct these devices was trying her patience. Additionally, his blood work finally came back, and readings suggested he had a fatal viral infection on the level of AIDS, but this particular illness was multitudes worse. Had he not been in cryostasis, the young man would probably have died days ago.

She rubbed her eyes, taking a moment to look him over as he dreamed away in his frozen slumber. It must be horrible, having to live with such a burden as his. It made her feel worse about causing this in the first place, but that only strengthened her resolve to get the job done. Further analysis of the nanomachines, such as what materials were used to assemble them, would be required.

Abigail just had no idea where to start.

She took comfort, however, in one of her latest projects: a pistol-type coilgun. She was devising a way to maximize power output without having to use overlarge -or an excessive amount of smaller- capacitors. She would need a continual supply of electricity, without having to worry about long charge times and therefore limited shot counts.

The task was proving difficult, but at least this was something she could manage a lot easier. Repairing Biohazard, and cleaning up Wing City, were two different matters that were currently tearing her apart.

She needed a fix...
 
as written by Saarai and Calcos

Dima sat quietly outside of one of his favorite bars, it had chairs and tables for their patrons that preferred the night air and had an impressive amount of Russian booze. He liked that especially, and when an attractive Asian walked by he probably enjoyed that more than the beer.

He leaned back, letting his eyes glance over the men standing near to protect him. He closed his eyes and when he night air hit his scarred face a sense of bliss came over him, but it could have just been his drink. He was about four in waiting for Kiril to arrive. He didn't have to wait much longer.

The cyborg Kiril stepped out of a car parked across the street, his muscle in tow as they approached Dima. Dima stood for the man, his own muscle greeting the other men with handshakes.

"Kiril, kak u tebya dela?" Dima asked, reaching out to take the man's hand. "Eto kasayetsya pola inogda. No, moya podruga lyubit yego." Kiril answered jokingly, taking Dima's hand.

"Sit, let's drink and talk." Dima said, those not fluent in Russia only hearing a foreign man speak his native tongue. The men needed their conversation remain secret, they figured not many could speak the language on Terra.

"The delivery was your responsibility." Kril said, "I know. I'm not sure how the cross-eyeds knew where to go. How they knew we had a shipment moving." Dima told the other man, eyes glancing down to Kiril's tattooed hands. They were hardcore Russian Bratva and prison tattoos. Kiril had made a killing, literally, in the service of the Bratva. He wasn't a man you crossed.

He crossed you.

"Could you have a mole, or could the police be selling us out?" Kiril asked, "Absolutely not. No, I vouch for all of my men. As for the police? Our contact is a faggot with a nigger faggot husband and a sick kid. If someone paid him more, I'm sure he'd spill our secrets. I don't trust him." Dima answered.

Kiril fell silent for a moment. He only nodded his head a few times during the silence. For Dima it was almost unbearable.

"Give me the name of this faggot cop. I'll kill him. Look into your crew, make sure no one is playing you. If they are, kill them." Kiril ordered Dima, getting up from his seat. "I understand. His name is Brian Roth. He's Asteria PD." Dima told the Bratva boss, standing up and reaching out for his hand.

"We'll be back in business when we find another contact in Asteria." Kiril said, shaking Dima's hand before he turned to walk away.Dima watched the man for a second, that was until the Asian woman walked by again.

"Excuse me!" He called out in English, his accent very American."Let me talk to you." He said, the woman stopping her tracks and turning to the man. "Me?" She asked, "Yes, you. Come here, let me buy you a drink." Dima said to the woman.

She seemed reluctant at first, but she made her way to Dima's table and sat down. "I'm Dima, who are you?" Dima asked the woman, letting his eyes wander down to her chest.

"Michelle." The woman answered, reaching out for Dima's hand. When he grabbed her hand she would hold on tighter, eventually she reached out with her other hand and nearly pulled Dima to her side of the table.

"What are you doing?" He asked, the woman offering him nothing but a smile in response. Seconds later a black van approached just as Dima's men were advancing on Michelle. The van's doors slid open, men with assault rifles opening fire on the Russian gangsters with an accuracy that screamed ex-special forces.

Dima was in shock at what was going on around him as his men fell and bullets hit walls. He reached for his own gun with his free hand, but before he could get to it Michelle was leaning over the table and jabbing an icepick into his neck a few times.

Blood erupted from his wound, and when Michelle let him go both hands were clutching his neck. He reached out for the woman as she stood and he began sliding from his chair.

Bystanders were screaming and whipping out their phones to call for help, meanwhile Michelle casually walked away from the scene. The black van departing as well. This was an organized hit.

"One down." Melinda said, watching the chaos from down the street in a black sedan.

"So many more of these fuckers to go."

____

911 calls were flooding in, and the police scanners were going haywire with activity. Her patrol had yielded far more than she could have expected; an assassination right in the middle of bar, close to where she was now. Bystanders had notified the police of a fleeing black van from which the assassins had emerged from and escaped in. Peeling through the streets in her own car, Arbiter began to hunt the roads for this vehicle.

Making a left turn at a four-way stop, she tore through at breakneck speeds, heading in the direction of the bar. She had no idea who these assassins could be, but that was what she intended to find out."Jauffrey," she said over the comm, "I need you to tap into any and all outdoor surveillance cameras within a five mile radius of these coordinates and keep an eye out for any suspicious black vans."

Keeping her eyes on the road, she made her way through Wing City, hoping to meet the van in her path before it slipped away. She'd follow up on the crime scene if she had to, but catching the killers was priority at the moment.

____

"Move!" Charlotte shouted as she drove her car through the streets towards the crime scene. It just went down, that meant the shooters couldn't have gotten too far. She and her fellow officers could find them if they worked fast enough.

"What's the status on the getaway vehicle?" Charlotte asked, "We think we've ID'd it." A voice said through a police radio in the car, "Got reports of a burning black van on the north side of the city, a blue pickup truck was seen leaving the area. Officers are in pursuit." The voice told Charlotte.

"Officer Charlotte Munroe, show me responding." Charlie said, whipping her car around a corner to head north. She wanted to catch up to the shooters before they got away. She was sure they wouldn't be afraid to open fire on the law.

And they weren't afraid, a few men in the back of the pickup truck took aim at the pursuing police vehicles with plasma rifles. They fired, their shots hitting the hoods of the cars and destroying their engines. Several of the cars began to slow to a full stop as a result.

It looked like the assassins were going to get away.

"This is Detective Park. We've got a survivor. Requesting an escort to the hospital." A woman's voice said over the police channels, "Get me one of those shooters for a lineup. Alive."

____

"We've got a winner," Arbiter said aloud. Paying close attention to the police scanner in her vehicle, she was able to pick up the location of the fleeing vehicle. She tore through the streets in that direction, her car weaving through traffic, barely avoiding collision with other vehicles. It wasn't long before she was in pursuit of the aforementioned pickup truck, blowing by the deadened police cruisers as she did.

She looked at the men with the plasma rifles, discerning that they would be a problem if they made a direct hit to the Judgemobile. Flicking a switch on the console, she activated the vehicle's electromagnetic repulsion field; a potent energy field capable of deflecting projectiles and energy beams by diverting the motion of the electrons present in the offensive matter. It was a limited use shield, draining power from a secondary battery. She could only tank about four hits before the shield collapsed, leaving the Judgemobile vulnerable to plasma fire.

She'd have to end this quickly.

Trying to line up a shot, she was trying to hurl an EMP spike at the truck. If the piece of metal were to stick into the vehicle, it would send a wave of electricity throughout the framework, frying the electrical components and shutting the truck down, effectively stranding the shooters and leaving them at her mercy.

She got behind them as closely as she dared, and pressed the trigger button on her steering wheel.

____

The gangsters were clearly frustrated when their shots were deflected by the Judgemobile's repulsion field, if they were prepared for taking on more than common police they'd have brought some heavy duty weapons. A few to take down vehicles like Arbiter's.

Unfortunately they didn't have that, they took their chances and continued to fire on Arbiter. But, when her EMP spike stuck the truck and went off they found themselves ready to panic. Especially when the truck began to slow down to a stop. The men jumped from the truck when it slowed enough.

The driver and passenger climbing out as well and running towards a storefront.

They began to scatter, it wasn't a good idea to get rounded up in one big group. One of them began to run towards an alley, but before he could get far Charlie rammed him. She didn't speed up enough to kill him, but he probably had a broken hip.

"WCPD! Stop running!" She shouted as she got out of her car, pistol aimed in the general direction of the gangsters. But, they weren't planning to slow down any time soon.

One opened fire, his shots barely missing the officer.

"Fuck!" She shouted, "This is officer Munroe, I'm in pursuit. Multiple suspects on foot." She said, looking towards the Judgemobile. She didn't know if the approaching vehicle was going to be friend or foe. Only a pickup was ever mentioned.

This could have just been a civilian passing by.

"Requesting backup."

____

Arbiter screeched to a halt, masterfully parking parallel to the now-defunct truck. The cockpit of her own vehicle burst open, and she clambered out in a hurry. Giving chase on foot, she began following the man running for the storefront. She stopped in her tracks when she heard gunfire, watching as one of the fleeing criminals unloaded several rounds at the police officers.

This wouldn't do.

She was several feet away from the shooter, and although she felt confident that her armor could take a few hits before she got in range enough for her fist to get intimate with his face, she didn't want to take the chance. The police needed these guys alive, preferably, so she took precautions. The taser on her belt would suffice for this task; it was a specialized weapon that discharged independent darts with small-yet-powerful lithium ion batteries inlaid within them, the darts producing a one million-volt charge. The wireless capabilities, achieved by a specialized frequency shared between the darts and the taser itself, made the weapon an extremely useful asset to her arsenal.

She took aim and pulled the trigger, holding it down as to allow the electric charge to flow freely. Her target in plain sight, she expected him to crumple like a used tissue. This tactic would hopefully give the cops some breathing room, and another suspect to haul into the station.

____

The Triad gangster stopped in his tracks when the electricity went through his body. He was almost in slow motion the way he fell to the ground. He convulsed on the ground for a few more seconds, waiting for the charge to wear off so he could try crawling away.

Not that he'd get far, sirens were closing in and Charlotte had already put binds on the wrists of the gangster she ran over. She had more than enough for the rest of the Triads.

"Hey! What are you doing?" She called out to Arbiter, raising her weapon on the woman. She appeared to be on their side, and Charlotte had met a few vigilantes who were good people. This could have been one of them.

She watched Arbiter, waiting for her to give her a reason to fire or lower the gun.

"Hey! Hey! Over here! They're locked in my shop! The back door isn't open!" The owner of the nearby store called out to Charlotte, and anyone that would help for that matter, as he stepped outside.

"Uh.... stay put!" Charlotte order Arbiter, but she figured that would be ignored in favor of the store. And backup was nice if they were on the same side. The WCPD officer ran towards the store with the intentions of taking down the gangsters before they broke down the shop's back door and got away.

The police officer headed for the back of the building, weapon still drawn in case the men decided to take a shot at her. It was quiet as she moved, much quieter than she wanted it to be. They were either hiding or they'd already got away.

The crate that slammed against Charlie's head indicated that they'd done neither. She dropped her gun, as she went to reach for it one of the men pushed her roughly and sent her careening into a nearby wall.

He raised his hands, fists balled and ready for a fight. "Come on, pig." The man told Charlotte.

"Really?" Charlotte asked, "I'm from LA. I know how to fade." Charlotte responded, raising her fists. She realized there was only one Triad. She counted two heading inside.

____

Stay put?' Arbiter scoffed internally. Watching as the female cop scurried after the remaining criminals who took up positions within the shop, she walked away from the others, striding over to the man she had downed with her taser. Producing her own set of cuffs, she flipped the man over, restraining him with his hands behind his back.

Looking over the other police officers Arbiter merely strolled away from them and headed towards the shop. Taking the front door would be stupid, and she assumed the other officer had the back door covered and would be ready to open fire on the vigilante if she showed her face. So she took the best route she could think of: the roof.

Grappling her way to the top of the building, she located a ventilation shaft and removed the cover. Immediately afterward, she tied a cable around one of the other shafts, using it to rappel into the one she opened.

Reaching the bottom of the metallic vertical corridor, she procured a laser cutter, using it to make incisions around the grating as to weaken the structure. As she finished cutting away, however, she realized the folly of her plan; the grating fell, and caused a loud bang to echo through the quiet shop. The two thugs inside undoubtedly heard the clamor, and would be on their way to check it out.

She'd just have to wait for them to come over before she dropped onto them.

____

The missing gangster, who had been looking for a window that lead out to an alley or a different street, jumped at the sound of the grate. He drew his pistol and turned quickly to where it had come from. He was ready to fire if the cops were on their way in.

He slowly began to head towards the scene, pulling back on his pistol's hammer. Someone was going to die if he had his way. There was no way they'd be taking him alive if he could help it.

"Is that your friend?" Charlotte asked, referring to the loud bang. "Don't matter. I'm knocking you out quick, cop. And, then we're gone." The gangster said to Charlotte, charging the woman. She placed her back against the wall, raising a foot to the gangster's gut to stop him in his tracks.

The gangster bent over from the kick, Charlotte wrapping her arms around his head and tossing herself over his back. It was awkward, and painful, for the gangster to say the least. His body was being back by the woman in a way he'd never have expected.

Charlotte used the momentum she had to try pulling the gangster down to floor with her and slamming the back of his head against the ground.

No one usually got to see her Lucha training come into play. Especially not in a life or death situation.

____

The gangster drew nearer to the source of the noise. Gun drawn, he was ready to put some rounds into the perpetrator. Arbiter, however, wasn't looking to get shot any time soon.

She held her breath, waiting for the right moment to strike. As soon as the guy got close enough is when she leaped, legs extended and slightly bent so as not to break them as she hurled down towards the thug.

She was going to land on him, plant her feet right into his chest and pin him to the ground. It was going to hurt, badly, if she made contact. If not, she would have to resort to fighting the bastard outright; not that she was opposed to the idea, but this would be so much easier.

____

The Triad gangster was searching for people on the same level that he was. Feet on the ground, somewhere near eye level. Arbiter striking from above was unexpected.

He tried reacting when her feet slammed against his chest, but the most he could do was get off a panicked shot that slammed into the ceiling before he hit the ground. His gun fell from his hands, but even still he tried to reach for it. It was so close, but so near. And he was sure a few of his ribs were broken in the impact.

Then suddenly two bodies came flying out into the main area of the store. It was Charlotte and the other Triad. They were knocking over racks as they struggled with each other.

The two slammed into a fridge, shattering it's glass and knocking down a few cases of beer. Others broke with the impact of their bodies. Charlotte reached out for a bottle, it was broken and sharp. She didn't want to kill the guy if she didn't have to, but the fight had to come to an end.

He knew that too.

He reached one hand up to grab the bottle before she did. They both placed their hands on it and it became another struggle, the two attempting to turn the broken glass on the other and get the kill.

____

Landing on the poor mook was like stomping on a glass table; he broke beneath her heels, and was in need of serious repair. He continued to scramble for his weapon, even in his crippled state. Gripping him by the shirt and raising him from the floor was no troubling matter. Neither was delivering a right cross across his jawline with a deafening thud that twisted the thug's neck into unconsciousness.

Dropping him to the floor, Arbiter continued about the store with caution about her person. She bent her knees, keeping herself low enough to potentially evade gunfire while at the same time making sure her eyes were level enough to completely scan the environment that she found herself within.

It was quiet.

That is, until the combative pair came bursting through the back of the store, slamming into one of the many refrigerators in the immediate area. It was the cop from outside and another of the thugs. 'Don't these assholes ever stop appearing?,' she thought in regards to the gangster. No matter; it was her responsibility to deal with these scum, so she was.

As the two fought over the broken bottle in the floor, she calmly strode over to their position. "Let go," the metallic voice from her speech modulator said, her gaze cast upon the officer. She hoped the woman would heed her warning and release the makeshift weapon, just in time for the vigilante to sing a steel-toed lullaby aimed straight for the Triad grunt's face.

____

Charlotte thought it was more than stupid to let go of the bottle and allow the Triad to stick it in her face or neck. But, at the same time she knew Arbiter wasn't with the Triads.

"Ah, fuck it!" The Jamaican woman cried, pushing the Triad's hand away. In the next few seconds she was letting go of the bottle. She hoped she could trust Arbiter, or at that she knew what the hell she was doing at the very least. Charlotte wasn't quite ready to die.

She was literally too young to be another statistic as far as she was concerned.

She leaned back when Arbiter kicked the guy in the face, watching as he crumpled down to the floor. "Thanks." Charlie said, attempting to catch her breath. "You should probably get out of here, my buddies are probably locking down the scene as we speak."

____

Inspecting the now-unmoving Triad as he lay face down in his kick-induced slumber, Arbiter confirmed that he wasn't getting back up again for a while. Not until he was in cuffs, anyway. Arbiter found herself sizing the female officer up, before deciding to heed her warning. Pointing with a backward thumb towards the other, similarly incapacitated Triad, she spoke, "There's another one back there. Might want to restrain him." She concluded, and proceeded to stride towards the rear exit.

A device on her wrist brought the Judgemobile to life, and homed in on the specific coordinates she had designated it to follow. Coming to a halt directly in front of Arbiter as the vigilante made her way outside, she clambered into the vehicle and sped off into the night without a word.

Inside the car, she contacted Jauffrey. "I'm on my way back. Have you made any headway on the nanomachines?"
"Some. These results look promising; I'll forward them to you."
"Don't bother. I can wait."

With that, she gunned the engine, careening her way down the highway leading to home.
 
as written by Calicos

Abigail was slumped against the wall in her apartment, her head tilted and staring at the blank glass plane that was her TV screen. She felt like she was rushing through time itself even though she was sitting still. An expended syringe lay by her right leg, a durable black balloon clinging loosely to her left arm.

The girl was in a daze, the effects of the morphine taking hold and placing her in a welcomed state of euphoria. A smile curled at her lips, false happy thoughts traipsing around in her brain and making her feel, for the moment, at peace. She chuckled slightly, going over the memories she had stored up over the years.

She thought of Malcolm and all the fun they used to have as kids, before their parents died. She remembered all of the pleasant times they spent together afterward, Malcolm taking it upon himself to take care of her. She thought of how good of a person he had been.

Then she thought of the night he was taken from her.

It was that same memory, revisiting that cold black night in that dark alleyway, cowering under the presence of the gun in the mugger's hand. The man spoke with Malcolm, but she didn't hear a word of it, having covered her ears and head with her hands. Then suddenly, he opened fire, and Malcolm's life was over.

She wanted to move, wanted to go out and hunt the bastard that stole her brother's life, stole her happiness. But she couldn't; the drug had deadened her muscle control, leaving her numb and immobile. She couldn't do anything.

She merely shed her tears in silence.
 
as written by Calcos

Her breath was a series of sporadic gusts, nervousness causing her uncertainty. She had worked tirelessly trying to replicate the nanites present within Biohazard's body, and now she felt she had perfected the reverse-engineered batch she was about to implant within the sleeping young man. She'd have to inject the nanites while he was still in cryostasis; allow them to settle in so she didn't risk killing him before they could do their work.

She looked up at him now, resting somewhat peacefully in the cryo chamber. At either side of the elongated tube was a series of apparatuses made specifically to perform in-cryo injections; syringes mounted on mechanical arms, filled with the reverse-engineered nanites Abigail had been developing over the months. The machines were on standby for now, awaiting her orders.

With a shaky exhale, she began the trial. "Initiate phase one," she said. Immediately, the internal machinations which powered the injectors whirred to life, easing the arms slowly forward, the syringes aimed for ports in the side of the cryo chamber. The needles slipped inside the small entrances, and slid under Biohazard's skin with a sickening ease. Abigail nodded; she was pleased, although her face showed no hint of emotion.

"Initiate phase two." The nanites began spilling into Biohazard's body, guided by a plunger which served to push the machines out of the syringes. By the masses the machines cleared out, filing into place within Biohazard's bloodstream. Once the syringes were empty, Abigail was ready to awaken him. She needed to act fast before the machines were affected by the cold.

"Initiate phase three," she stated. With a hiss, the pressurized locks on the cryo chamber came undone, the cold air within the sleek tube released through vents in the sides. The hatch slid open, and Abigail reached for the still-unconscious young man, taking him out into a warmer climate and attempting to resuscitate him.
 
as written by Sentry and Calcos

Vince would have liked to imagine that he was waking up after a long night of drinking. Headaches, nausea, no memory of the previous night, and opening his eyes to an attractive woman were the pinnacle of good and bad college tales.

His violent wake-up wasn't one of the things he really remembered from those stories, though. Waking up in splutters and coughs and pain. Not to mention the chills- terrible chills! Achey, intense, bone-freezing chills. His hands curled around his biceps, and his body shook like a rusty, old machine. With blue lips and hair pasted along his forehead, he turned to Abigail, at first speechless. One eye searched her face... but half his vision was gone. Why was that?

Reaching up, he tapped the mechanical eye, trying to turn it on. Still blank. He twisted it, the thing popped, and the mechanical eye plopped onto the floor in pieces.

Vince looked back up at Abigail in barely contained terror.

"What... happened to me?"

____

Casting her gaze to the now-shattered mechanical eye, Abigail's own peepers widened in horror, feeling all the more guilty about what she had done to this poor young man. "I can fix that..." she said, regarding the defunct mechanical appendage.

Addressing his question, however, required her to take a deep breath and steel herself. "Well, you -we- got in a bit of a tussle with a group of robbers, after I confronted you in the alleyway about attacking a man..." she trailed off, thinking carefully about how to deliver the next part of the story. "Once the robbers ran away, I tried to escape the scene as well. You followed and, well...I almost killed you. With an EMP..." she let that sink in before continuing.

"You've been in cryostasis for about three months; in that time I've been working on reverse-engineering your original nanites --the ones I fried. It wasn't easy at all, but, I seem to have been successful in replicating them."

She offered a warm, apologetic half-smile that splayed her guilt across her face like a priceless painting. She scratched the back of her head, shifting her gaze to the cold, metal floor. "Anyway, I wanted to say..." she paused, "I'm sorry I almost killed you," she finished in a barely audible tone.

All she could do now was wait for his reaction.

____

Vince listened to Abigail as he blew hot air through his palms. His eyes proceeded to grow wider as more and more of the story was told and the memories flooded back.

"... three months?" he hissed through clasped, shaking fingers. "I've been out of commission for that long?" Did the Invictus even try to find him?

The cyborg could do nothing but watch Abigail for the longest time. He was more human than most other bionic machines. The emotional process took a while, and during that while he never once looked away from the girl. Eventually, he looked away with a scoff.

"I don't even get a blanket?"

____


Abigail smirked; an involuntary reaction to his remark. She turned her back on him, facing the many monitors that made up her supercomputer. A few keystrokes later, and she was able to pull up a bio-mapping of the young man's internal workings, provided courtesy of the newly-installed nanites.

"Your body seems to be adapting to the replacements quite well. They've already begun managing your...condition." She turned to face him, her eyes soft and gleaming in the phosphorescent lights above. "They should begin regulating your body heat soon, but until then..." she said, removing her jacket and tossing it at him, exposing a plain black scoop neck t-shirt. She looked back at the bio-map, seeming to study it closely.

"Hope you don't mind wearing a girl's clothes," she said, finally.

____

"Aww, such a gentleman," chided Vince flamboyantly. He took the jacket and wrapped it around his shoulders tightly. It wasn't the best fit, but it was good enough for the moment. He turned around to face her, curled up on his spot.

"So I guess you've gotten a good look at me, and now I can very..." His eye wandered up and down her figure, "... very clearly see who you are. What now? You're just gonna let me go after this? There's a catch to this whole thing, isn't there? Did you plant something in my brain to make me forget everything I've seen?"

____

"Well..." she said, regarding his questions. She turned around, leaning on her console as she did. She crossed her arms, looking over him as he sat there, trying to bundle up in her jacket. "That would be telling, wouldn't it?" she said with a wink.

Of course, she had thought of a contingency; the replicated nanites were designed with a fail-safe, just in case he became a threat to her or anyone else he needn't be a threat to. In the event he went rogue, the replicated nanomachines were designed to receive a signal which would immediately shut them down, rendering his powers, and thereby his regulated health, useless.

However, she felt he didn't need to know that.

Suddenly, the elevator whirred to life, and was beginning to descend. Abigail look over and up, watching as the box made its way down to their level. As soon as it hit the ground of the hideout, the doors opened. Out stepped Jauffrey, carrying a tray with a bowl of soup and a green liquid one could only assume was a protein drink of some sort. He strode over to where the young man was sitting and set the tray on an adjacent table.

"I took the liberty of preparing these for you. And don't mind the color; it's actually quite fresh," he said, gesturing towards the drink. "Thank you, Jauffrey," Abigail said. The middle-aged man bowed in a rather sarcastic manner before making his way back to the elevator.

"Although, I may have to knock you out again. Just so I can get you home, wherever that is," she paused, looking around the room before resting her eyes on him. "I'm sure you understand that I can't let you know where this place is."

____

"Fancy," commented Vince, tilting his drink in the direction of the departing butler. "Manservant and all."

With a sip of the green liquid, the cyborg grunted. He wiped half a green mustache from his lip and placed the glass carefully on the floor. "You're going to knock out the poor, one-eyed cyborg chap who you almost killed three months ago? If I didn't know better, I'd say you bought your manners at the dollar store." He took a mouthful of soup with a smirk, staring up at Abigail from the tops of his eyes. "Really, though. One eye. A blindfold couldn't hurt, and you could deposit me at any place in the city. Even so, you know my identity. Won't be hard to find me after all this if you need to, hmm?"
 
as written by Tiko and Saarai

Adriaan groaned lightly as the black sedan containing him, Phinx, and Shawn came to a stop. He had slept for the ride here from the hospital, but the change in movement and the dying of the car engine had begun to rouse him.

The groans turned louder and more pained as someone was helping him from the vehicle.

His head was throbbing, and his ribs felt like they where on fire as he took unsteady steps. Someone was supporting him, but he was disoriented and more than a bit nauseated.

"What's going on..."

____

"You've just been saved from years in prison." Phinx said as they walked through her apartment's lobby towards an elevator, "That is, if we can get you home." She added, "Otherwise, we're all going down." Shawn said, calling the elevator with the push of a button. "We're getting you some meds, bro." The purple-clad woman told Adriaan.

When the elevator came, the three stepped inside. Shawn pressing a button that would start their climb up the building to their desired floor. When it stopped Phinx was quick to guide Adriaan out and towards her room, Shawn running ahead to open the room door for them and make the trip easier.

Inside the apartment sat Viktor on a reclining chair. He was a man approaching his 30s with a slicked back thick head of hair and donning an expensive grey suit. In the apartment's kitchen Taco and Nina stood over the former's medical bag, picking out the things they thought they'd need.

"What the hell happened to him?" Taco asked, turning to get a look at Adriaan. "Long story." Phinx answered, moving Adriaan towards her couch to lay him down. "Where's Chuck?" Shawn asked.

"On her way." Viktor told him, his Italian accent very prevalent.

____

"Shit, wait," Adriaan hissed as they neared the couch.

The thought of trying to lower himself onto that couch was enough to stay his steps for a moment as he steeled himself for it. He finally nodded for them to get it over with, and the pained sounds that bubbled up where barely muffled between clenched teeth.

Between the fractures in his skull, left arm, left wing, and ribs, there was no way to lay on the couch without something hurting. He finally managed to shift himself onto his right side to keep from laying on his wings, but breathing was not an enjoyable ordeal at the moment.

"Don't suppose you have any of those fancy drugs from the hospital?" he managed to ask.

The chuckle it drew up from him only caused him to wince further.

"Okay, no laughing. How did we get here?"

____

"We got in a car, and then we took an elevator." Shawn responded in a deadpan tone. "You were a bit out of it, but that's basically what happened. We busted you out and drove here." Phinx told Adriaan, giving a quick nod to Viktor. The Italian man dug into his suit jacket, slipping out a pill bottle. They were his painkillers for his injuries, he had some he could spare.

"Here." Viktor said, tossing the pill bottle to Adriaan. "Take those and then Taco will be right with you. He's a nurse." Nina said, "It's not a female only profession." Taco noted, "Many great men have been nurses. Like... uh..."

"Okay, give it a rest." Nina told the man.

____

Adriaan fumbled with the bottle of pills as he tried to open it with one hand. As the top finally popped off, he poured half the pills out onto the small coffee table next to the couch before picking up twice the prescribed dosage and downing it with a wince.

The past few days had been something of a blur, and he was still trying to work through it all on his head.

"Home?" he asked as he suddenly realized what Phinx had said.

She didn't mean home did she? He hadn't been back to Volaria in years.

"How bad is it?" he asked.

He had been schedule for surgery in the morning to work on his wing, and for the meanwhile the broken bones where being held in place by little more than tightly wound tape. The broken arm had already been set and cast though, and the ribs... well there wasn't much to do for the ribs but to wait for them to heal. He was stable though, and the swelling from the skull fracture had gone down. He would likely live provided there where no unseen complications.

____

Taco made his way over to Adriaan, eyeballing the man's injuries. "I'm no expert on wings, but I can do my best to help it until we can get you out of the country." He said, "Which we'll have to do. There will likely be a warrant on you." Phinx told Adriaan, "And us." Shawn added.

"Matt, remember when Vasili found that bird with the broken wing? He like... taped it to the other wing so it can heal and be out of the way." Nina said, "We could try that. Though, this dude's bigger than a Brooklyn pigeon." Taco said, heading back to the kitchen to grab his bag.

"Chuck's on her way up. Just got the text." Shawn told Phinx. "She'll be angry at you for bringing her into this." Viktor informed Shawn and Phinx.
 
as written by Calcos and Sentry

Abigail noted all of his points, but decided to counter them rather than support them:

"True, but, a blindfold isn't exactly an ideal replacement for an eye -even a cybernetic one. And dumping you just anywhere isn't my style. Secondly, while I would know at this point where to find you if I needed, I don't need you to be able to find me," she took a moment, letting her words sink in. "You should know by now that us girls come loaded with double-standards." She smiled.

"Also, I don't think you want to be conscious for when I fix your eye. Some soldering into your eye socket isn't out of the realm of possibility, you know."

____

Vincent chortled.

"I'll fix the eye. I've been doing it for years," he told her, holding a hand up. "That's a bit of an intimate experience I don't think I'm comfortable sharing with you just yet." With a wink (though it was really a blink, since he only had one eye) he tried to get up, mech eye in one hand. "By the way, I do not believe I've even gotten your name. You'll figure this out soon enough without me telling you." With some effort, he stretched his arm out in an exaggerated bow. "Vince Galven, known as Biohazard. Friendly techengineer assassin at your service."

____

Abigail looked down at his hand, a smile playing across her lips. With a fluid motion, she snapped a pair of rubber surgical gloves on her own hands, before proceeding to return the handshake. "You can call me Arbiter, for now. And don't mind the gloves; they're just to make sure I don't interfere with your recovery. Dead skin cells are pretty disgusting, after all."

With that, she took a step back, sizing him up. "Well, I suppose I can let you fix your own eye. But that doesn't solve the issue of not wanting you to know where we are, and I find blindfolds highly unreliable. There's always a chance you could peek..." she said, only half-facetiously. She felt rather bad about how she was speaking with him, but she had to be secretive in order to preserve her safety.

"I hope you can forgive my reluctance to be trusting," she finally said.

____

"It's easy to understand from the same perspective. If the roles were reversed, I wouldn't have ever let you see me without the suit on," said Vince. He paused, but the edge of his lip, then smirked. "Well... not for a while."

"We can make out another arrangement, I'm sure. But I will need a little time to fix the eye unless you're going to throw me out into the street without it."

____

Abigail smiled slyly, crossing her arms. "Make out? But we only just met." Her smile transformed into a grin before she turned to face the monitor with Vince's bio-map. She studied the area where his cybernetic eye was supposed to be, stroking her chin as she did so. Her smile faded as she turned around.

"I suppose I could allow you time to fix your eye yourself, if you'd rather not have me do it. But I'll be supervising you while you do, and so will the automated security system I have set in place. You're going to get fixed up, and then I have to get you home. Understand?"

It wasn't really a question of whether or not her instructions were unclear; they were obviously very direct. Her concerns were in the interest of possible protest, her question asked to the effect of 'Are we doing this the easy way, or the hard way?'

____

With a defeated, but not reluctant, sigh, Vince held up his fist with a thumbs up. "Gotcha, boss," he retreated. He gave her a phony salute and beamed. "So after I guess I'll be meeting you in the streets, doing our usual and not getting attacked by EMP bombs. How's that sound to you?"

____

As she looked Vince over, Abigail's eyes widened, letting a sharp, surprised exhale escape her lips, a limp hand coming to rest on her sternum as if taken aback. It would be understandable if the young man were still bitter about the whole experience, but he seemed to be making light of the fact that she had utilized an EMP against him. However, she didn't find it very amusing that she had almost killed him.

She crossed her arms, her eyes lowering, a pained look painted across her face. She turned her head away from him slightly, looking out over the laboratory. "I already said I was sorry," she said, a hint of hurt in her previously strong and playful tone.

Finally, she sighed, shifting her focus upward again, looking Vince in the eye. "Shall we begin?" she asked seriously.

____

Vince gazed off after Abigail, small wrinkles forming at the edges of his eyes in a gentle squint. He scratched at his chin and, after a moment of silence, nodded. "We shall," he said as he bent down and picked up his eye.

____

Abigail pushed herself off of the console, spreading her arms and gesturing about the place. "Well, you've got a full workshop and medical facility at your disposal down here. Make use of what you need, and then we'll discuss arrangements to getting you wherever you need to be." She paused, looking him over once more.

"And if you need anything, don't hesitate to ask," she went to turn away, but whipped back around, pointing a finger in his direction and smiling. "Within reason," she finished.
 
as written by Saarai and Lialore

"I hate it here." Chemo told his friends, crossing his arms as he observed the other people in the hipster haven known as Cool Beans. "We know, it's why we brought you here, Rob." Nina told him, waving down one of the cafe's servers. "Let me get an Arteghian brew, no cream." Nina said to the server.

"Surprise me." Taco said, "Oh! And a weird foreign sandwich." He said, almost mocking the cafe. "No, really. Let me get one. I'm starving. I was up one night with one of my fans."

"Palmela Handerson, right?" Nina asked jokingly.

____

“So you broke his arm?”
“I didn’t mean to.”
“Of course you did.”
“Then he shouldn’t have grabbed me.”
“Freja. He was trying to tell you you’d dropped something.”
The blonde woman blinked, blue eyes narrowed in confusion.
“He grabbed me.”

Abigail sighed. She’d already had enough. She didn’t know much about Freja’s life before she accepted her invitation to come and work with her. But she wondered what had happened to make her so… obliviously inhumane. The elder sister watched the younger with a concerned gaze.

“He’s fine. Anyway. Where do you want to go?”
“Um…” Abigail trailed off, coming to a stop outside a pane of glass through which she could see her new accomplices. Freja had continued walking, and only stopped when the answer to her question didn’t come in the expected time. She strolled back, clearly annoyed.
“Cool Beans” she read aloud after glancing up at the sign, the mockery plain in her tone. “Really cool.”

Freja took the abrupt stop as Abigail’s decision, and pushed the door open, walking into the café as though she was doing it a favour.

____

Nina was feeling at home in the cafe, it reminded her of growing up in Brooklyn when her neighborhood became more modern. Brighton Beach pulled in hipsters who turned the local Russian and Jewish population on to the hipster lifestyle. Nina was part of the first wave, evident by her several different Eisenhower jackets, the dress shirt and tie she wore, and even the music she listened to.

Her counterpart, Taco, wasn't as much of a hipster, but his slicked back hair and secret wardrobe of cardigans could fool anyone.

And Chemo hated it.

"I heard Stryfe writes erotic friend fiction about everyone." Nina told the two men, "Erotic what?" Chemo asked, "Friend fiction. Like, fan fiction, but about people she knows." Nina explained, "I heard there's one where that white-haired chick with the superpowers gets it on with Anodyne. And then that Nagala chick gets involved." Taco said, "That's what I heard, at least."

"It's like the Illuminati, there's evidence it might exist, but no one knows." Chemo said, "We should send this to LegendBlasters." Taco suggested, "You mean MythBusters?" Nina asked, "No, LegendBlasters. It'll catch on." Taco told her.

"I don't think so..." Chemo muttered, gesturing to Freja as she walked in. "That's the iceberg." He said, "Who? Oh, holes in the ship." Nina said, "Hey!" She called out, "Join us!" She shouted, beckoning Freja over. "You with your sister?"

____

Abigail followed her sister with quite the grim look on her face. Perhaps the others would be able to act normal after what had just gone down at The Palace. But Abigail wouldn’t. She looked awkward, a stark contrast to her younger sister’s careless way as she weaved over to the seated three. Abigail followed, moving slowly and stiffly.

Freja nodded and smiled quite sweetly, something that should probably make the receivers nervous. She pulled up a chair.

“This is my sister Freja” Abigail said flatly, giving them an official introduction. Her sister was never around much, and she supposed it would be nice for her to put some names to the faces. Though she was certain there’d be no blossoming friendship. Freja didn’t really do friends.

“And this is… Nina, Taco and Chemo” she continued, fairly certain she’d got the names right.

“Cool beans” Freja replied, her tone laced with fake amusement. She took a look around. “I feel like I should be wearing non-prescription oversized glasses or something.”

Still, she didn’t look as out of place as Abigail did. Freja always wore black. Tight, high-necked t-shirts and jeans. But the navy blue boyfriend coat that was keeping her cosy almost fitted in. Abigail, however, practically lived in sportswear or her uniform and really knew nothing about fashion. Right now she was still geared up, minus the weapons.

“Excuse her, she’s not down with the kids” Freja said, noticing her sister’s change in demeanour.

____

"We're all almost in our thirties. We'll be joining her in being out of touch soon enough." Nina said, giving Abigial a wink. "It's nice to meet you, Freja. I'm Taco, as your sister just told you. I'm single, I'm a nurse, and I'm single." Taco said to Freja, "Did he mention that he's single?" Chemo asked sarcastically.

"It might be because I started working in our recruitment division, but I'm curious, where did you two come from?" Nina asked the sisters, "I mean, like, what's your story? We all have stories." She continued, "I'm curious too, I know you've got that whole magic swag going on." Chemo said, "I've got my own, if I may brag." The Canadian added.

____

“I’m twenty” Freja had grumbled under her breath as she settled in her seat; one leg over the other, arms resting, crossed. Her sister, on the other hand, slumped down into her own chair, failing to not look mildly miserable.

The blonde woman smiled, but it held no warmth. Her eyebrows arched as she gave Taco the once-over with a slinky, speculative stare. “Your girlfriend sounds lovely.”

Abigail shifted quite suddenly and threw Freja a look that seemed to read ‘behave yourself’. She always feared being embarrassed by her younger sister’s behaviour.


“Ah” Abigail began, pleased for a topic to talk about. “Well our bloodline originates from a place very, very far away. A different planet. Roshar. But that was many centuries ago. There it was common for people to be born with our abilities. But to our family who are now so far removed, it is very rare to be born with abilities like ours. Rarer for two in the same generation. I feel strange to call it magic. It is just inherent to our people. Think about how you burn calories to give yourself physical energy, we do the same but with other materials, which lead to other kinds of energy.” Freja gave a nod to this. “I am just stronger than ‘usual’ people. Freja is more complicated.”

“Really complicated. Really useless. I’d rather I could just make bunnies appear in top hats.” Freja sighed, giving her head a tilt towards Chemo. “Is that what you do?”

____

"Actually, no." Chemo answered, "I harness spiritual energy tied to, what we guess, is some sort of indifferent death god. For example, I focus my energy enough and I can have it wash over someone like a big wave. Except when it's done they have no skin." He explained, "We never use it for that though. The no-killing policy of our branch and all." Nina said.

"I'm guessing you don't mind killing, otherwise you would have followed your sister into our branch, right?" Nina asked Freja, "Are you secretly a badass?" Taco asked the woman, "Are you?" He then asked Abigail, "We've got people in our branch who could be really deadly, they just choose not to. I need to know who to call if I'm ever drunk and picking fights I can't win." He joked.

"No, seriously, I like my face without bruises and bumps."

____

“Oh” Freja said shortly. “Well, I sometimes complain about being so pale but I quite like my skin attached to my body. Thanks.”
“He’s not going to do anything” Abigail scoffed.
“No shit” Freja said, concentrating on not rolling her eyes. She then contemplated for a while before answering carefully. She’d learnt that being as blatant as she was, to shock people wasn’t always a good move.

“Killing has made me very rich. And I can’t afford my own island yet. So, yeah. Also, secret badassery is the best kind of badassery.” She smirked to herself whilst her sister shook her head. “She’s the open, reluctant badass pacifist, though” – a nod towards Abigail - “call her for help. I drink a lot of wine on weekend evenings and don’t care to be disturbed, and I quite like guys with scars, anyway.”

“What’s good to drink here?” Abigail asked Nina, heart set on guzzling down a coffee and escaping, dragging Freja along with her before she made her cringe too hard. Or before she went crazy thinking about that bug that was still safely nestled in the roll of Freja’s high collar.

____

"You seem like you need something stronger than what they serve here." Nina told Abigail, "But, they've got some coffee from Windcrest here that I had before when I was there. It's great." She said, "Nina here was in politics for a short while. It's why she was up there in the first place." Chemo told Freja and Abigail.

"Our little Nina, moving up in the world only to plummet back down to us." Taco joked, "Anyways, it's kind of strong. It's not weekend wine, but it'll do." Nina interjected, looking between the two sisters. She found what was going on between them to be extremely awkward for herself.

She wondered if anyone else noticed the tension between the sisters.

"There's this club in Van Leugen, we should all go there. Like a field trip, have some fun." Nina suggested, "You might meet a guy with scars, Freja."
 
as written by Sentry

Vince threw his hands in the air with a roll of his eye. "I'm a simple guy! I'm sure I can't manage to be that demanding," he huffed back. He began to walk around and eyeball tools and items around the workshop. "I'm going to have to do a lot of tinkering. Special stuff went into this. I was due for an upgrade, though. What do you think? Maybe it should shoot lasers." He pursed his lips in a playful muse at her. "I'll let you know if I'm feeling a little lonely. I mean... if I need anything specific."

With a snicker, he began the long process of repairing the eye, which started with him tossing it into the nearest trashcan and starting from scratch.
 
as written by Lialore and Saarai

Abigail gave the most rigid smile to Nina. She was actually quite fond of her. Freja, on the other hand, seemed to be brewing up some animosity behind those eyes which had narrowed slightly.

“Interesting” Abigail said, honestly. “So, who is more hated? The politician or the mercenary?”

Freja snorted lightly then waved for a waitress. One caught sight of her and nodded, indicating that she’d be with her soon.

“Hm” she then started, considering Nina’s proposal. “That could be” – the word seemed to get stuck in her throat – “fun. Ma-”

“I don’t do clubs” Abigail interjected.

“Well then, you don’t have to come. You dance like a drunk dinosaur anyway… What’s this place like? I hear dodgy things about Van Leugen. By dodgy, I mean I think it sounds great.” Freja said. Any excuse to get into trouble sounded great.

____

"People love me. So, neither." Nina answered, "I'm kind of a big deal." She added, brushing her shoulders. "Van Leugen is really... uh, it has it's charm." Chemo told Freja. "That's a Canadian way of saying we might get mugged if we leave our hotel and end up in the wrong part of town." Taco explained.


"Look, it'll be fun, Abby. We'll all be there. Drinking and stuff. Getting into fights if someone doesn't like Freja'so more direct demeanor." Nina was sure fighting wasn't the selling point for Abigail.

"You might not regret this. It'll be sick." Nina said, "Like a guy with Shintenchi Shakes." Chemo added, "I heard it's real. A bunch of Terran marines got it once."
 
as written by Sentry

After a few long and sleepless days, Vincent slumped over a table and collapsed.

He had worked on the eye without a break in concentration except to throw a flirtatious quip in Abigail's direction when he could. Joking comments, such as the new eye being able to see through her clothes, were among them. But now, he was completely silent, the cybernetic implant jammed inside his skull, softly glowing red. Its design was more modern than the last, latching over the eyes with a smooth frame that looked more like half a pair of shades than a mechanical eye.

Faintly, it whirred and clicked in the cyborg's sleep.
 
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