Frank walked through the wreckage of the church, shoving the stuff he could out of his way and climbing over what he couldn't. In his search, he found one of the dead bodies of the fallen enemy. He checked the corpse, and was rewarded with a pack of smokes and a lighter. He lit one as he continued to dig around, finding one of his guns then poking through rubble in a widening circle until he found the other. They were made to last, as still functioned. He counted his available rounds, then looked to Bard.

"Ready when you are, Chick."

In reply to Frank Jackson (msg # 60):

Bard's attention slipped from Frank and back to the Grand Pattern, her vision being subsumed temporarily. There, a little north, was a small knot. Likely murder, facilitated by some normals. Farther north was a larger knot, likely a hospital. Places of unnatural death often tended to tense up to a pretty high degree, so Bard's attention slid past it. At the last moment however, she caught something. The knot, although old, had just loosened a little bit. And then again, and again. The entire thing wasn't coming undone, and whoever was doing it obviously didn't have Bard's vision. Random strands were coming unknotted, and it was causing a great deal more chaos than order. Too many that should have ended were living, and a few that shouldn't have were living as well. Naivette? Perhaps someone else with a gift like hers? But she sensed no violence in those threads, and she'd promised Frank combat. Her brief analysis of him had revealed little, but she had no doubt that if she didn't offer him anything worthwhile, he wouldn't stick around for long. It wasn't worth assaulting that APC until it had stopped moving, and the Hospital was on the way though. She shook her head and snapped out of it, gesturing in the right direction. "We're going to hole up in a hospital that way, until the APC I marked stops moving. Then we can go and get revenge on the people who tore you to shreds." She paused. "And there's likely another gifted there. I don't know about intention, but perhaps she's aggressive. I'm sure you would enjoy tearing... her, him, whatever they are, apart if they do happen to be."

Frank walked out of the remains of the church, to the twisted and mutilated remains of a hot dog cart with tattered strips of yellow cloth hanging from a pole that proudly exclaimed;

..the.... .....go D..s

He shoved the thing aside, his natural muscles handling the task without any needed assistance from help of any kind. Underneath, on its side, was a 1953 Indian Chief motorcycle. Jackson placed his guns down, pulled the machine up back onto its stand, then reached into a saddle bag and removed a mixed tape case that proudly proclaimed, 'GREATEST HITS OF THE 50's!'. He opened this, and a key fell out into his hand. He smiled at Bard.

"Great, ain't it? Been using this here little trick for years, nobody yet has figured it out. Idiots don't even realize my girl here don't even got a tape player."

Frank stored his weapons, placed and lit a new cancer stick, then shoved the key home and gave a twist along with the few other needed actions. Without hesitation at its master's command, the beast roared back to life. Apparently, the cart had gotten between the classic ride and sure destruction. It had taken a few dings and scratches, but the boys who rebuilt her had known their business, and she was once more made to last.

The old man looked over to the woman, giving her a lip-curled smile and a wink.

"Hope on, Cutie. The Retro Rocket is ready to cut this scene. You just tell me where to turn, I'll get us to this hospital you want. Oh, make sure to hold on tight, and if your hands wander I won't complain..."

In reply to Frank Jackson (msg # 62):

Bard's head cocked. "Ineffective vehicle, but better than nothing." Her eyes flicked over the surroundings one more time before she sat on the bike behind Frank gingerly. Her arms snaked their way as far around his large form as they could and gripped tightly. Almost uncomfortably so, and a lot harder than it looked like a woman of her size could grasp something. She whistled, and even though it was loud and basically right next to Frank's ear, it didn't even make him cringe. The bikes rumbling did something strange, falling into a temporary pattern before fading back into it's previous sound, and Bard gestured. "We'll be harder to notice now. The hospital is that way." She pointed in the appropriate direction, and returned to staring at the Grand Pattern, keeping her attention as spread out as she could manage, but keeping a careful eye on that APC.

As Bard and Frank approached the hospital they saw the news trucks pulling up. Everyone looked tired but joyous, patients on the brink of death were healing miraculously. All around more and more hopeless cases were being brought by ambulance from other hospitals.  On the lawn in front of the hospital prayer vigils belonging to several denominations of the Christian faith had started, Catholics,  Lutherans, Evangelicals. Of course people understood that a gifted must be some how responsible, but was it too much to believe that maybe a benevolent god might have something to do with this gifted, who ever it was?

Janice could not help but notice two distinctly odd souls approaching.

[OOC] Please describe what Syndie feels about Frank and Bard. [/OOC]
This message was last edited by the player at 16:09, Sun 05 July 2015.

Outside of Chicago city limits the RoughRiders armoured troop transport slowed to a halt, and it's cargo of hostages were pushed and prodded out into the open at gunpoint. Moments later several nondescript civilian vans pulled up, divided the hostages among themselves, and drove off to blend seamlessly among the rush of panicked traffic leaving the city. The vans and the APC all moved off in opposite directions as the all-seeing eye of the Commanders drone darted around to ensure that they weren't being followed. Finally satisfied it retracted it's camera and pulled back into a higher altitude where it'd be able to glide in standby above the cities cloud-cover.

---

"Key objectives accomplished. Very good work, everyone." Commander said aloud to his command room, even as his attention was clearly elsewhere. He typed a program command into the keyboard built into his chair and the bank of monitors dominating the room shifted to make room for a new window. The public records of each of his hostages were displayed onscreen as their potential value was added to a running total, even after deducting the days operational costs, the cost of replacing his lost troops and reimbursing the families of the four hostages that'd died during the mayors capture it was predicted that he'd be able to end the week almost a billion dollars richer than he'd started.
"Have the Drivers move our guests back to base. They're to stay here until negotiations are concluded- and not to be mistreated in any way."

"Sir!" A technician interrupted.
"The cities power grid has been partially reactivated. Police radio is back online..." the technician held a finger to his ear as he listened to his interception, "...someone called 'Phoenix Crimson' is apparently responsible."
"Phoenix Crimson?" Commander thought aloud. "Isn't he that 'public' Gifted that's always jumping infront of news crews? No matter, it's too little too late, the CPD are hardly a threat any more. Leave it be."

"Something else, Sir!" A technician interrupted, again.
"News stations are coming back on the air. One of the top stories is that a Chicago hospital is claiming to be host to a number of 'miraculous recoveries'. Normally fatal wounds are being healed. A Gifted is probably involved."
Commander looked at though he'd been struck across the face, and the underling withered under The Commander's scowl before he finally spoke. "So what? Why should I care?"
The technician rallied himself as he defended himself. "A number of the recovered patients are victims from our own attacks. The civilian casualties you've inflicted might not be as bad as we initially thought. I thought that you might appreciate the good news."
Commander winced at 'casualties you've inflicted'. The technician had a point, though- if this unexpected intervention could keep a little blood from staining his hands it'd go a long way towards preserving both The Commanders public image and own peace of mind.
"It is good news, at least. Keep an eye on the newsfeed, it might develop into something interesting."

By the time the crimson APC rolled up in front of the warehouse, Vivianne was seated and breathing easier. True, Schwartze Augen and the wave in general had access to some of the best medicine the world over, but her ease had more to do with painkillers and a job near done. Chicago was in chaos; several key figures were dead or abducted; and their files on the Gifted were expanded. Even with ITSDA active now, Chicago was in a place to be easily tipped toward another California if the Wave applied more pressure.

She grimaced as she thought of how far this day should have gone though. CPD should be extinct not just crippled, Chicago's skyline should be unrecognizable not scarred; and she should have 7 more aoldiers. She grunted but sighed as she considered the day's goals and successes. She had requested an updated tiem table from her operational HQ due to casualties and it had been granted. Schwartze Augen was in full withdrawal. It could not be helped.

As she entered the warehouse supported by the last ghoul of Team Annie Lennox, she eyed the offide above with the light on and blaring against the darkness, "Prep our supplies and pack the APC. I was this forward base stripped down and mobile in thirty. Inform our guest that we are moving out."

The Ghouk sat her down on a crate even as the Banshees and he began stripping the eauipment down. The medic went upstairs.

The white armored soldier opened the door into a room and a man with wildly green hair and another in an all encompassing trenchcoat stood up. Between them sat the president of Brazil grinning like an idiot. "Sir, the situation has changed. We are changing sites. Please, move to the chopper on the roof. We are arranging an escort."

Minutes later the battle-scarred hull of Commanders JMR MPS hovered into view, it pivoted on it's nose midair and dropped it's boarding ramp and rocked the suspension of it's landing gear as it settled on the roof above Schwartze Augen's covert office. It's engine dropped a few rev's and the updraft from it's thundering rotors died down to a tolerable level.

The tactical situation was changing fast, and given the situation Commander had taken drastic but logical steps to ensure the Presidents security. The Numbered Brethren who'd taken refuge inside the helicopter had been moved back into Chicago to continue their objectives, whilst the remaining ZeroComets and Hostages had been extracted by van. Besides it's pilot, the Helicopter had been restocked with five infantrymen from his RoughRiders regiment. In theory, the combat-fresh soldiers and the superior vehicle would give the most reliable odds of success.

A figure stepped off the helicopters boarding ramp and greeted Schwartze Augen with a quick but professional salute.
"Lieutenant Tudor, reporting in on behalf of The Commander."
Tudor was an older white-haired man who carried himself with the bluff air of a proud gentleman soldier. He wore the same equipment as the four troops standing behind him: Navy blue bodyarmor of conventional design, a spraygun of capsin, and scoped needlerifles of the same design used by the AGF.
"Climb aboard, we're ready to move as soon as you are."
Tudor fished a device out of one of his armours ammo-holsters and flicked it open with a snap of his wrist before offering it to The President, it was a combination earpiece/headset/eyeglass.
"You will also need to wear this, it'll connect to the rest of my units display- should something unexpected happen."

As Bard and Frank approached the hospital they saw the news trucks pulling up. Everyone looked tired but joyous, patients on the brink of death were healing miraculously. All around more and more hopeless cases were being brought by ambulance from other hospitals.  On the lawn in front of the hospital prayer vigils belonging to several denominations of the Christian faith had started, Catholics,  Lutherans, Evangelicals. Of course people understood that a gifted must be some how responsible, but was it too much to believe that maybe a benevolent god might have something to do with this gifted, who ever it was?

Janice could not help but notice two distinctly odd souls approaching.

One tasted like Paranoia, Loneliness, Sadness, Loss, Pride, Happiness, and Confidence. The other a steel ball of emptiness, a sociopath...


But where these gifteds? Janice needed a test.


She reached out and found the angriest person in the hospital. A man who had just lost his wife. His anger compounded minute by minute as people all around him were coming back form the brink of death. The celebrations of the families feeling like mockery of his pain. Janice focused on his anger, and started to inflate it like a balloon. As she did so she focused the bio energy she had been giving into healing to him, boosting his strength, speed and endurance 100 fold.

Suddenly the man stood up form his dead wife's side and punched  the cinder block outter wall of the hospital room thrusting his fist right through it.

"Fuck fuck fuck, YOU ALL!!!"

In a blind rage the man grabbed a nearby hospital bed and flung it out the second story window where it landed right in front of Bard and Frank.

When the bed crashed down directly in his path, Frank not only failed to slow down or swerve but opened the throttle more and bore straight on as he popped a wheelie. As soon as the Chief's front tire was over the top of the wreckage, Jackson lowered it down allowing metal to rest on metal. The back end came up off the ground, but the momentum built up plus the Greaser leaning forward caused the bike to slide down and allowed rubber to once more make contact with the parking lot. A couple of seconds after the treads on one end touched Terra Firma, those on the other touched on the obstruction and propelled the duo clear.

Syndie wasn't pleased with this result as she watched from a window; she had wanted to know if either of the pair was a Gifted, and so far all she had learned was that one of them could do some fancy driving. Clearly, she was going to have to devise something not so easily shrugged off. To this end, when the man she was manipulating happened to glance out of the hole he'd made at the two unknowns the former stripper turned the blue hot rage inside her pawn to white. As she had planned, the widower thought this increase was due to the fact that those he was looking at had somehow been responsible for the death of his wife. With a screaming cry, he flung himself from the gap at the mercy of gravity. The two story plunge would have at the very least broken bones, but as that wouldn't serve her purpose Janice pulled life out of one she had recently snatched from Death and infused it into the once normal human causing his injuries to knit quickly

Her puppet stood up and snarled at those he wrongly perceived to be responsible for his pain, wanting nothing more to shred their bodies until they begged him for release. His intent etched plainly upon his brow, the bedeviled figure charged the bare knight seated upon his chrome steed. At the sight of this, Frank stopped his beast and dismounted while indicating his companion do the same.

"Looks like coming here was a good call, Chick. Get yourself clear, I can handle one raving lunatic."

Marie did as was suggested, not so as to be safe or stay out of the formerly dead man's way, but so she could concentrate on a battle all her own of which the old fighter was simply a tool. She knew this person who had survived such a fall without injury wasn't a Gifted himself because she could see his core pattern, but over it lay manipulations that were just another testament to the blasphemy this hospital represented to her. Now she was sure someone was twisting things to suit them, treating the Pattern as something that existed only for their sole benefit and nothing else, perverting it at their whim without care. Doiteain knew she had to fix it, the abominations cried out to her to be mended; she had to set all to right, but also prove to this Heretic the fruitlessness of their endeavor by sending a minion to do battle.

Frank pulled a gun out of one of his saddle bags as the lunatic closed in on him; honed skills aimed the barrel at the attacker's left knee and fired a plain fifty-caliber shot. The hunk of metal punched through flesh, pulverized bone, shredded tendons; yet the injury healed as though it happened to Jackson himself. The war hero blasted again, this time into the guy's chest but to no better result. He had time for one more shot; this bullet invaded the man's skull right between the eyes, giving him a forced lobotomy. The patsy went down, fluids collecting under him in a statement that he would not again rise.

Sydnie clenched her hands so tight the nails bite into her palms, but she didn't notice anything other than she still held no answers. She wanted proof one way or another if these newcomers were Gifted, but this naked man had bested both with mundane means; as she had expected him and his partner to either use powers to beat her challenges or fail, Rohas saw his actions as cheating. She focused on him for a moment, in an attempt to increase his guilt for having just taken a life, but a feeling of justification raised to a higher level within the nude man. The emotional manipulator dug for a grain of doubt about his abilities as his clearly advanced age she could exploit, but all uncovered was self confidence stronger than steel. Janice managed to find a deep sadness and yanked hard, but instead of tears and despair over the loss of his family there was only a resolution that burned within a broad chest to make sure that fate never befell another father and husband.

'You are going to show me your secrets, old man...'

Sydnie fished through the emotions of a group of spectators until she found those who most regretted a loss of human life, and amped this up along with their rage until they rushed past the security personnel attempting to hold a perimeter and charged the gunman in the birthday suit. Frank didn't bother with a warning of either word or shot since these challengers seemed to him of the same caliber as the single man from before; he did try to aim for non-lethal areas, but this did as well as before so he resorted to head shots; once more, bodies toppled and remained still. Janice hadn't planned for those she sent to win, nor the next batch nor the one after that; she was only interested in forcing the shooter to use up his ammunition. Men were dim animals she could do with what she pleased, at least it had been so until Dieter. That had been a one in a trillion happenstance, an universal irregularity. A man besting her shouldn't have happened once, couldn't happen again; WOULD NOT happen again. The fact that her determination to force any Gift the stranger might possess out into the open was causing Rohas to pull the life force out of those she had just saved to empower her growing army didn't occur to her, but even if she had been made aware of it nothing would have changed for her; it was a price she was willing to pay...

Syndie might be fully willing to pay the cost, however Maire wasn't. She had come here because something or one was damaging the pattern, allowing life to continue when it should have ended. That issue was being dealt with now, but the balance swung the other way as far too many died who were meant to live. Another having a like Gift but not her Vision, she could understand it even if it made more work for her. Being ignorant of the importance of the Pattern, well that applied to the mass majority of people she had met since her Awakening. However, to twist and pervert it with such wanton disregard? That was beyond shortsightedness and ignorance, into the realm of dangerously stupid and not by just a little bit. The more corruption one single thread forced into the Pattern, the easier it was for Doiteain to detect. Humming softly to herself, she increased her speed and took off toward the hospital leaving Frank to handle things for the moment on his end alone.

Janice was so focused in on the man, she didn't even realize the woman was gone until she heard a voice behind her. With a start, Syndie turned at the sound and met the gaze of one who's eyes held unbridled anger. When the other female spoke, it was in a tight snarl of a voice;

"YOU! Do you have any idea what you've done!? The giant mess you've made for me to clean up!? No, of course you don't, because you're just a slacked jaw mouth breather like the rest of them. Just because you can mess with something, you think that gives you carte blanche to do whatever you want to it. Because of you, too many people were left alive. Now, too many people are dead. Have you even seen the mess this city is in, do you even care that it will take years for this part of the Universal Pattern to be repaired? Of course not, you're just a spoiled little brat out for yourself who can't be bothered with a little thing like consequences."

Syndie held her ground through the verbal onslaught, the only outward reaction being a smirk upon her lips.

"Are you done? I hope so, because your babbling is making me wish I was born deaf. I've meet people like you before, you know. Oh yes, I know the type well; someone who has something, and for that fact alone they believe they're rightfully the only person who either should use it or have absolute say in how it's applied. All of them have been egotistical windbags, and you don't seem any different to me. I'll admit I'm not exactly sure what it is you can do, but since you act like I'm invading your turf I'll guess it's like my own Gift. As for this Universal Pattern you're on about, I'm  not sure you're aware but it's 2036. You're ninety years off, so how about you pack up your tambourine and get back to the 1960s when people actually cared about stupid made up garbage like that? Or, would you rather I tell your buddy down there that he's hooked up with a sociopath who's only using him?"

Syndie gave a confident smile, but her opponent just gave a short bark of a laugh.

"Go ahead, tell him if you think it'll make one bit of difference. It's not though, because he already knows I'm using him just like I know the reverse is true too. Humans use each other all the time; we use our parents to be born, we use teachers for education, we use envy of other drivers to get pride over the fancy car we bought, we use farmers to eat, restaurants so we don't have to cook, the homeless so for the investment of less than a cup of coffee we can fell generous. Heck, what do you think romance is? Romeo and Juliet? No, it's two people using each other so they won't feel lonely. Even having a child is just a way to make sure you'll be remembered, after you're gone. Go ahead and waste your breath, I'll wait."

Syndie was quickly realizing that things were even worse than she had first thought; she knew this woman was a sociopath, but as they care solely about themselves Janice had intended her threat of telling the dangerous figure with the guns to startle or scare the other female. It really didn't matter what emotion her bait produced or even how little; one tiny crack in that smooth armor is all she would have needed. However, her skill with her tongue had faired no better than her Gift, and that scared her. There were still people on the second floor, since the puppet from before had jumped out and no one knew Rohas held the power behind him; they were also too busy rubbernecking the fight below to notice how fast Maire had joined them. The teenager was playing to a hand showing aces, but she tried for a wild card; the stripper yelled at the top of her lungs,

"HELP!"

A few heads turned, and that was all Janice needed; as one man looked at the pair of women a tiny flutter of lust surfaced toward Bard, and Syndie amplified it many fold until the poor victim couldn't hold back but ran as fast as he could toward his 'true love'. Rohas then increased the jealousy within him when he thought about the possibility of other men looking at his own desire until it was an overpowering emotion, and turned it to rage against Maire by simply enforcing her wanting one of them over him. He roared as he charged, to which the only response Bard gave was to turn and hum a soft tune. As he was about to wrap his hands about her neck, his intended victim simply slammed her first one single it into the center of his chest. The unintentional hit-man let out a 'irk', and fell to the floor. As though she had just swatted a fly, Doiteain turned back to the younger woman with a cold indifference.

"You're powerful and resourceful, things that I could have put to use in fixing and maintaining the Pattern. However, you have clearly proven yourself my enemy and too dangerous to be left alive. You should feel proud, you're about to get a personal performance..."

Before Janice could figure out what that last comment meant, Bard started to sing a Note of Dissonance. Syndie felt lightheaded the instant she heard the sound, but it grew to dizziness and disorientation while a discomfort grew and intensified throughout her body until it felt like every cell was trying to rip itself free from her at once. In mad desperation, Rohas began sucking in all of the life force she could access as fast as possible. The people closest to the pair dropped dead first, then the whole group of gawkers who had been watching the battle royal in the parking lot, then everyone on the second floor followed by more and more of those above and below. Without any other course of action open to her, the teenager ran. With her muddled senses however, she took the stairs up instead of down.

Frank meanwhile had finally run out of bullets for both guns and had been slugging it out when suddenly, the onslaught of newcomers stopped and his attackers stood still blinking and looking confused. He turned to speak to the woman he had arrived with, only to find her gone. Without any other lead, he took off at a run toward the hospital and made his way to the second floor since that's the place the first crazy who came after him had come from. He got to the area with the hole in it just in time to see people start to fall dead; he felt a tiny tug himself, but it was easily ignored. He spotted the chick who had directed him to this place, and another girl nearby her who seemed to be in a great deal of pain. Before the old cop could make anything out of this information, the two women took off running and he followed.

Syndie burst out onto the roof, realizing it only because of the bright light of the sun. Bard followed close behind, the effort of hold the Note beginning to show on her. Last out was Jackson, not sure of what exactly he was witnessing but rather of a mind that it wasn't good. Janice knew there was no place left to go, so she turned to face what might very well be her final battle. She lifted her hands out to her sides, lifted her head toward the sky, and concentrated on ingesting any and all life force. She thought she had been at the limit of how much she could draw before, but the limit was pushed beyond what even she thought she was capable of. She took her hate, fear, pain, doubt, wound it up into a swirling mass within herself, and blasted it like a weapon at the cold, smooth shell that was Maire. The other woman held against the force assaulting her, and increased her volume; the louder Bard became, the more energy Syndie drew into herself and the harder she attacked Bard, who became louder, on and on.

As Jackson watched this weird fight, he noticed things happening around him; the light over the door back into the building popped, then cracks began to form in the concrete of the access area, followed by the thick steel door falling off its hinges. Shortly after this, the surface beneath his bare feet shook with such force he heard windows from the floor below shattering. A chuck of the half wall that surrounded the roof for safety reason was torn loose and plunged toward who knew how many innocents below. Frank had been a police officer in a major city for forty years of his life, and he knew that at the first sign of real trouble an evacuation was started; but with a building the size of this hospital, that was going to take a while as he strongly doubted at the rate this structure was doing the shake, rattle and roll that even half the patients inside could be saved.

"HEY YOU TWO! WHATEVER YOU'RE DOING KNOCK IT OFF! YOU'RE BRINGING THE WHOLE PLACE DOWN!"

With the noise level produced by Bard and the concentration Syndie was using his words went unheard, not that they would have been heeded anyway. Frank didn't know what he could do, but he was pretty sure as the hospital gave another sickening lurch that he didn't have much time to figure it out. He ran around the edge of the roof looking anywhere and everywhere for something he could use, and finally he found it. The immortal soldier moved back around to the other side of the two power houses, backed up as for as he could, and holding both arms out from his sides he bull rushed the ladies. They were so focused on the other they never even realized he was on the roof let alone coming at them, and he grabbed them both without issue and he continued forward. Before they could switch out of battle mode in their minds to figure out what was going on let alone how to react to it, all three of them had reached the waist-high safety wall; Frank pushed his upper body and those of the two other Gifted over the top of the wall as muscle bound legs shoved against gravity, winning the contest for a brief moment before plunging down story after story toward the intended target below. With as powerful as these two seemed to be, Jackson couldn't be sure a simple fall would eliminate them as threats. So, he carried them with him to do a full gainer into the fenced in area that contained the heavy duty mini-tower power transforms hospitals tend to have to keep them fully operational.

Even with the sun bright overhead, the glow could be seen as connections were interrupted and an electrical crackling drowned out even the reporters yelling to be heard on camera over a rushed and harried hospital staff and panicked patients. The building went dark for a few minutes, then the emergency generator kicked on and power was restored. The area was marked off, but a youthful reporter hungry for an anchor position snuck past the boundary with his camera man; they both died as their life force was drained away. Sydnie had fueled herself with so much extra of the precious energy that as devastating as the impact was she had held to life, if not by overly much. These little morsels allowed her to get up, still hideous and deformed from not only smashing into steel and concrete but burned badly by the current they had interrupted. As she crawled her way out of the wreckage, she knew that was a trivial thing; she could draw in all she needed to repair herself, but she thought it wise to leave the place of her intended demise in the event the other woman had somehow survived as well. Better not to take chances, and besides people were plentiful so she need not heal herself fully here; she could wait a little while.

Several minutes after she had managed to slip away, a security guard spotted the bodies of her latest victims and called over some other private uniforms; this wasn't what they normally did, but with the police department crippled like the rest of the city if the rent-a-cops wanted law and order they knew they were going to have to do their best to establish and keep it. It really didn't matter if their badges were plated tin or not in the end, since their patterns could be sacrificed just as well as that of any member of the CPD to repair Bard's. She looked around and realized what must have happened, could sense both that the other female Gifted was gone and that the unbreakable thread was still intact. The former wasn't pleasing, the latter not so bad as the man had proven useful as a distraction and had even stopped a battle he himself had no clear weapon against. He could be of use in the future, possibly. For now though, the Pattern of the city was still in tatters and needed her help. Since those in the immediate area were now dead, there was no one to stop her as she slipped away to some as of yet undetermined destination.

Eventually the bodies left by the women inside the fence were taken out, along with one more they found that appeared to be an unidentified nude male. Normally the police would have been called in, the remains taken away by a coroner, but with things the way they were there was no way to know when that process might even get started. So, John Doe was hauled by a couple of orderlies into the hospital morgue. They dumped him like raw meat onto a tray, slid him into a slot, and clicked the drawer door shut after him. That, as far as they knew, was that...

Marty was the third shift attendant in the morgue area, although he kept calling it the graveyard shift despite the fact that no one in the two years he had held the position thought it was funny. He was at the main desk studying a premed textbook for an upcoming exam, when he thought he heard a noise like one of the metal body trays rattling. When he had first taken the job he'd been jumpy sure, imagining he heard this or saw that. He had gotten that out of his system in the first couple of months though, and after he took a look behind him to see all was well he put it down to nerves and his upcoming test. A short while later he could have sworn he heard a muffled bang of something hitting metal hard, but again a quick glance proved nothing to be out of order and he thought perhaps he shouldn't have had that last reenergizing cup of coffee. He barely had time to get his mind back on the Latin names of body parts before there was again a sound just like the last if not louder.

The twenty year old was rattled enough at this point that he decided he was going to go to the drawers, just to double check everything was in order so he could get back on track with his studying. He walked up to the bank of shiny doors, and right then one in the middle center flew open. A naked man rolled out on a body tray, and hopped down. Marty promptly fainted, and would upon recovering quit his job, collect all of his medical textbooks and throw them away and change his major to business. In the interim, Frank made use of the desk phone to call HQ and let them know he was ready for a pick up. He also let them know he needed a double bacon hamburger, two cases of beer, his bike accounted for along with his guns, and one of his backup sets of thrift store vintage biker gear.

Non-Canon Battle Post


When the bed crashed down directly in his path, Frank not only failed to slow down or swerve but opened the throttle more and bore straight on as he popped a wheelie. As soon as the Chief's front tire was over the top of the wreckage, Jackson lowered it down allowing metal to rest on metal. The back end came up off the ground, but the momentum built up plus the Greaser leaning forward caused the bike to slide down and allowed rubber to once more make contact with the parking lot. A couple of seconds after the treads on one end touched Terra Firma, those on the other touched on the obstruction and propelled the duo clear.

Syndie wasn't pleased with this result as she watched from a window; she had wanted to know if either of the pair was a Gifted, and so far all she had learned was that one of them could do some fancy driving. Clearly, she was going to have to devise something not so easily shrugged off. To this end, when the man she was manipulating happened to glance out of the hole he'd made at the two unknowns the former stripper turned the blue hot rage inside her pawn to white. As she had planned, the widower thought this increase was due to the fact that those he was looking at had somehow been responsible for the death of his wife. With a screaming cry, he flung himself from the gap at the mercy of gravity. The two story plunge would have at the very least broken bones, but as that wouldn't serve her purpose Janice pulled life out of one she had recently snatched from Death and infused it into the once normal human causing his injuries to knit quickly

Her puppet stood up and snarled at those he wrongly perceived to be responsible for his pain, wanting nothing more to shred their bodies until they begged him for release. His intent etched plainly upon his brow, the bedeviled figure charged the bare knight seated upon his chrome steed. At the sight of this, Frank stopped his beast and dismounted while indicating his companion do the same.

"Looks like coming here was a good call, Chick. Get yourself clear, I can handle one raving lunatic."

Marie did as was suggested, not so as to be safe or stay out of the formerly dead man's way, but so she could concentrate on a battle all her own of which the old fighter was simply a tool. She knew this person who had survived such a fall without injury wasn't a Gifted himself because she could see his core pattern, but over it lay manipulations that were just another testament to the blasphemy this hospital represented to her. Now she was sure someone was twisting things to suit them, treating the Pattern as something that existed only for their sole benefit and nothing else, perverting it at their whim without care. Doiteain knew she had to fix it, the abominations cried out to her to be mended; she had to set all to right, but also prove to this Heretic the fruitlessness of their endeavor by sending a minion to do battle.

Frank pulled a gun out of one of his saddle bags as the lunatic closed in on him; honed skills aimed the barrel at the attacker's left knee and fired a plain fifty-caliber shot. The hunk of metal punched through flesh, pulverized bone, shredded tendons; yet the injury healed as though it happened to Jackson himself. The war hero blasted again, this time into the guy's chest but to no better result. He had time for one more shot; this bullet invaded the man's skull right between the eyes, giving him a forced lobotomy. The patsy went down, fluids collecting under him in a statement that he would not again rise.

Janice stood in stunned silence. She had never intended for anyone to die! All she wanted was a test. To find out if these were gifted and what their powers might be.

Janice was so focused in on the man, she didn't even realize the woman was gone until she heard a voice behind her. With a start, Syndie turned at the sound and met the gaze of one who's eyes held unbridled anger. When the other female spoke, it was in a tight snarl of a voice;

"YOU! Do you have any idea what you've done!? The giant mess you've made for me to clean up!? No, of course you don't, because you're just a slacked jaw mouth breather like the rest of them. Just because you can mess with something, you think that gives you carte blanche to do whatever you want to it. Because of you, too many people were left alive. Have you even seen the mess this city is in, do you even care that it will take years for this part of the Universal Pattern to be repaired? Of course not, you're just a spoiled little brat out for yourself who can't be bothered with a little thing like consequences."

Janice startled, as she awoke  from her stunned state by Bard’s words.  “Who the hell are you and what are you talking about? I saved hundreds of lives just now!”
Janice pointed towards the fallen man.
“I’m… sorry about that. I didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt! I didn’t think you would kill him!
You… you’re with Dieter aren’t you?”
Suddenly Janice put two and two together. A sociopath and a casual killer.. These were Dieter’s people, they had to be. Panic swelled in Janice’s chest as she reflexively started to draw life force form the crowd around her, including Bard and Frank.
“Are you here to take me to him or to kill me?” The anxiousness in her voice made it hard to determine which alternative she feared or craved the most.
“I won’t let you! Tell him I won’t go back!”
Meanwhile… The hospital had many police officers doing crowd control, visiting wounded brothers, taking witness statements. Clearly the police had learned to fear the gifted but Frank has only displayed normal human abilities. All around Frank police where responding to the gun shots, some were pulling weapons. “Sir, drop your weapon and put your hands in the air!”
Janice felt the rise of paranoia in Frank. Surrounded, in danger of capture. She feared that if she did not do something Frank might start killing cops any second.
“This was a mistake! I’m sorry!”
Janice started to drain Frank and Bard of emotion, all emotion, all affect and motivation. Suddenly the two heroes found it hard to care about the police or her or anything at all.
Using the strength of a hundred people and a dancers grace, Janice leapt through the hospital window and started to run using 100 foot leaping strides to escape.


This message was last edited by the player at 21:16, Sat 18 July 2015.

Non-Canon Battle Post

Maire was too focused on unraveling the tangle of threads in the hospital, hoping to find the source, too see the bed. Frank was on top of things, however, and deftly swerved. Maire's arms clutched tighter instinctively as she almost slipped off the bike, but after Frank slid to a stop at the front entrance of the hospital, she slid off of it quickly. "Whoever's in there has done enough damage to make it nearly impossible to find them." She said quietly.

Syndie watched cautiously as the two she'd hoped would be gifted merely avoided the bed and disappeared from her direct view as they stopped at the front doors. They were here for a reason. Neither of them were obviously injured and the news had only been reporting the hospital being hosted by a Gifted for a few minutes. She gripped the minds of the others in the building and filled them with an insatiable curiosity, directed at the two that had just appeared. Those that could flocked down the stairs and crushed themselves against the front doors, staring at Maire and Frank.

"Are they violent...?" Frank asked Maire, and she shook her head. "Somebodies twisting their patterns. They're just interested in us. She looked up at the second floor window that had been blown out by the bed and sighed. "I do apologize." She said before stepping up to Frank and whistling loudly. The whistle devolved into a series of complicated patterns, which she kept up for several seconds before stopping and gripping Frank. Her knees bent and she jumped, Barely making it up to the second floor.

Frank hadn't expected the small woman to pick him up, let alone jump an entire story, so when they landed and she set him down, he frowned at her. She ignored his look and gestured. "They're somewhere on this floor. When they sent all of those people downstairs, they exerted a great deal of influence on the pattern. I just followed the ripples." She gestured at a table by the door, with some clothing sitting on it haphazardly. "Maybe those will fit you."

She left the room while Frank gawked at her, and followed the trail until she stood at a door. Syndie was sitting inside, staring at the door. The woman was out there. Her cold steel emotional bubble was obvious, and the man was approaching the room as well. The woman was obviously gifted, at least. A 1 story jump carrying a man 3 times her size was proof enough. Super strength was a little cliche though.

Maire knocked the door open. "The damage you've caused is insufferable." She said before Syndie could even open her mouth. "Twisting the Grand Pattern like it's some toy." She shook her head. "You're going to break it. And unfortunately, I can't let you do that." Maire whistled, and Syndie blinked. Maire was gone from the doorway. But her emotional bubble was... all over the room. What?

Then Maire felt a sharp prick against her neck, and a dragging sensation of pain. She gasped as Maire appeared next to her, holding a scalpel. Syndie put her hand to her neck and gasped. The woman had just slit her throat! She paniced and pulled at the closest emotional energy, that of the woman, and healed herself. A sensation of cold filled her veins though, and she gasped again. The woman's feelings hit like a truck. Satisfaction, dissapointment, joy, anger, self-deprication, self-destructiveness, fear, anger, love, terror. The cold steel hid a lot more than she'd thought possible.

She swung out her leg, trying to knock Maire over, but Maire deftly avoided the leg and slashed out with the scalpel again, this time cutting a thin slice into Syndies upper right arm, which she again healed. She stood up and continued pulling on Maire's energy. It took almost 10 seconds of the two staring at each other for Maire to show any physical signs of being drained. It took seconds, of that, when used on other people.

The space under Maire's eyes darkened dramatically, like she hadn't slept for a long time, and she growled at Syndie. A quick whistle shattered Syndies concentration and before she could gather it again, she found herself falling. Frank entered the room just in time to see Maire heft Syndie out the window, and he frowned again.

Maire didn't resort to brute violence very often, but the pattern here was fragile as it was. If she made the effort to try and twist it to help her, she might end up breaking it herself. Syndie only fell one story though, and a quick sapping of strength from those gathered at the doors had her back on her feet. It had been a bad idea to try and draw Gifted in. She shook her head and turned away from the hospital, bounding away at a quick pace.

Maire was too focused on unraveling the tangle of threads in the hospital, hoping to find the source, to see the bed. Frank was on top of things, however, and deftly swerved. Maire's arms clutched tighter instinctively as she almost slipped off the bike, but after Frank slid to a stop at the front entrance of the hospital, she slid off of it quickly.

"Whoever's in there has done enough damage to make it nearly impossible to find them," she said quietly.

Syndie watched cautiously as the two she'd hoped would be Gifted merely avoided the bed and disappeared from her direct view as they stopped at the front doors. They were here for a reason. Neither of them were obviously injured and the news had only been reporting the hospital being visited by a Gifted for a few minutes. She gripped the minds of the others in the building and filled them with an insatiable curiosity, directed at the two that had just arrived. Those that could walk flocked down the stairs and crushed themselves against the front doors, staring at Maire and Frank.

"They violent?" Frank asked Maire, and she shook her head.

"Somebody's twisting their patterns. They're just watching us our target's behalf."

Syndie wasn't pleased; she had wanted to know if either of the pair was a Gifted, and so far all she had learned was that one of them could do some fancy driving. Clearly, she was going to have to devise something not so easily shrugged off. To this end, when the man she was manipulating happened to glance out of the hole he'd made, she turned the blue hot rage inside his heart to white. As she had planned, the widower thought this increase was due to the fact that those he was looking at had somehow been responsible for the death of his wife. With a screaming war cry, he flung himself from the gap at the mercy of gravity. The two story plunge would have at the very least broken bones. However, as that wouldn't serve her purpose, Janice pulled life out of one she had recently snatched from Death and infused it into the once normal human causing his injuries to knit quickly. The man stood up, growled, and sprinted toward Frank and Maire. He wanted nothing more than to shred them to pieces with his bare hands and to hear them beg for the mercy that his wife never received. He stood, growled as his whole body filled with rage and adrenaline, and charged at the monsters.

"Just watching, huh?!" shouted Frank as he suddenly drew his weapon, expertly aimed it, and planted a bullet in the man's leg.

Syndie hissed as the sharp, jagged fear of a wounded animal tore through her thoughts. This mortal fright was familiar, but it always took its toll on her.


"Get yourself clear, I can handle one raving lunatic."

Marie did as he suggested, not so as to be safe or stay out of the formerly dead man's way, but so she could concentrate on a battle all her own of which the old fighter was simply a tool. She knew this person who had survived such a fall without injury wasn't a Gifted himself because she could see his core pattern, but over it lay manipulations that were just another testament to the blasphemy this hospital represented to her. Now she was sure someone was twisting things to suit them, treating the Pattern as something that existed only for their sole benefit and could be perverted and twisted on a whim. Doiteain knew she had to fix it, the abominations cried out to be mended; she had to set all to right, but also prove to this heretic the fruitlessness of their endeavor.

The war hero blasted again, this time into the guy's chest (to no better result). The man's leg was thrown back by the bullet's impact, but his wounds healed even more quickly than Frank's usually did. He wasn't even thrown off of his feet! Frank had time for one more shot; this bullet invaded the man's skull right between the eyes, giving him a forced lobotomy. The patsy went down, fluids collecting under him in a statement that he would not again rise.

Janice stood in stunned silence. She had never intended for anyone to die! All she wanted was a test. She needed to find out if those two were Gifted and what their powers were. And now, because of her, an innocent man was dead. However wounded he was, he should have lived. For the good of the world, for the good of their child.

Syndie was so focused in on the man, she didn't even realize the woman was gone until she heard a voice behind her. With a start, she turned at the sound and met the gaze of one whose eyes barely held back a tsunami of unmatched anger. When the other female spoke, it was in a tight snarl of a voice.

"YOU! Do you have any idea what you've done?! The pieces of the pattern you've torn and scattered to the winds?! No, of course you don't, because you're just a slacked jaw mouth breather like the rest of them. Just because you can touch the very fabric of our realm, you think that gives you the right to do whatever you want to it. Because of you, too many people were left alive. Now, too many people are dead. Have you even seen the mess this city is in, do you even care that it will take years for this part of the Universal Pattern to be repaired? Of course not, you're just a spoiled little brat who can't be bothered with consequences."

Syndie held her ground through the verbal onslaught. And although she was quaking with guilt and anger, she sported a horrible, hateful smile as she responded.

"Are you done? Crap, your babbling is making me wish I was born deaf. I've met people like you before, ma'am. People who want to grab, push, mark, and enslave anything... or anyone, they can get their hands on. I can see into people's hearts. I've seen their pain, and I can see yours. And I'm no murderer; but I know your pretty face ain't worth saving. So why don't you get on out of here? Or should I tell your little buddy down there he's hooked up with a psycho?"


Syndie gave a confident smile, but her opponent just gave a short bark of a laugh.

"Go ahead, tell him if you think it'll make one bit of difference. It won't though, because he already knows I'm using him and vice versa. Humans use each other; it is simply our pattern. And though you can disrupt the pattern, you cannot break it. It won't let you, and neither... will... I."

Syndie was quickly realizing that things were even worse than she had first thought. She knew this woman was a sociopath, but as they care solely about themselves Janice had intended the threat of the dangerous, heavily armed maniac to startle or scare the other female. It really didn't matter what emotion her bait produced or even how little, one tiny crack in that smooth armor is all she would have needed. However, her skill with her tongue had fared no better than her Gift, and that scared her. There were still people on the second floor, since her victim from before had jumped out and no one knew she controlled him. Plus, they were too busy rubbernecking the fight below to notice that Maire had joined them yet. The teenager was playing to a hand showing aces, but she tried for a wild card by yelling at the top of her lungs.

"HELP!"


A few heads turned, and that was all Janice needed; as one man looked at the pair of women a tiny flutter of lust surfaced toward Bard. Syndie amplified it many fold until the poor victim couldn't hold back and ran as fast as he could toward his "true love." She then increased the jealousy within him when he thought about the possibility of other men looking at his own love until it was an overpowering emotion. Finally, she twisted the jealousy into rage against Maire by building it up and up and up until her loving someone else was his only thought. Much like the man that attacked Frank earlier, this man roared and dashed toward Maire. However, Syndie quickly realized her mistake and froze in fear. No one else had to die here!

That moment of doubt, that instant wherein the man slowed down gave Bard all the time she needed. She turned to him and hummed a soft tune. Just as he was about to wrap his hands about her pretty little neck, his intended victim simply slammed her fist into the center of his chest. The unintentional hit-man let out a gurgle and fell to the floor. As though she had just swatted a fly, Bard turned back to the younger woman. Her eyes were calm and utterly remorseless.

"You're powerful. but far too predictable. In time, you could have been useful. You can have helped me save us all. However, you're just too dangerous. You should feel proud, you're about to get a personal performance..."

Before Janice could figure out what that last comment meant, Bard started to sing a Note of Dissonance. Syndie felt lightheaded the instant she heard the sound, but it grew to dizziness and disorientation while a burning, no, tearing sensation spread throughout her body until it felt like every cell was trying to rip itself free from her at once.

In mad desperation, Syndie began sucking in the life force of all those around her. The people closest to the pair dropped to the ground first, then the whole group of gawkers who had been watching the battle royal from the hole the bed made, then everyone on the second floor followed by more and more of those above and below. Without any other course of action open to her, the teenage empath ran. With her muddled senses however, she took the stairs up instead of down.

Meanwhile, Frank was checking on the dead man's body and yelping orders at the civilians and cameramen that neared the crime scene. His ear perked up as soon as he heard his companion screaming bloody murder; he finally had some real work to do.

"Official ITSDA business. Clear out, now!" said the war hero as he flashed his badge. His command wouldn't convince everyone, but he needed some way to avoid collateral damage before he engaged.

BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!

When commands wouldn't cut it, his trusty pea shooter would. With everyone screaming and running for cover, his path up the stairs was clear. He dashed to the second floor within seconds, rolled behind the door of the battle's location, and took aim. Finding nothing but unconscious (yet still breathing) bodies, he immediately made his way up the hospital's staircase. Something was wrong. Unless he stopped them, these women could kill everyone here.

Syndie burst onto the roof, realizing it only because of the bright light of the sun. Bard followed close behind, the effort of holding the note beginning to cause face to turn red and her breath to run short. Last out was Jackson, who wasn't sure of what he was witnessing, but knew it wasn't good. Janice knew there was no place left to go, so she turned to face what might very well be her final battle. She lifted her hands out to her sides, lifted her head toward the sky, and concentrated on ingesting all the life force she could snatch from the people around her. She thought she had been at the limit of how much she could draw before, but the limit was pushed beyond what even she thought she was capable of. People all around the block fell to the ground, but there was no longer any doubt within her. She would drain, or she would die. It was as simple as that.

Moments later, as her enemy made her final approach, Janice gathered all the hate, fear, pain, and despair she could from the city, wound it up into a swirling mass within her own mind, and blasted it like a weapon at the cold, smooth shell that was Maire. The other woman held against the force assaulting her, and increased her volume. The louder Bard became, the more emotion Syndie drew into herself and the harder she attacked Bard, who became louder. The escalation kept climbing and climbing until both women's bodies and minds became little more than cables through which pain flowed.

As Jackson watched this weird fight, he noticed the world coming apart around him. The light over the door back into the building popped, then cracks began to form in the concrete of the access area, followed by the thick steel door falling off its hinges. Shortly after this, the surface beneath his bare feet shook with such force he heard windows from the floor below shattering. A chuck of the half wall that surrounded the roof for safety reasons was torn loose and plunged toward who knew how many innocents below. Frank had been a police officer in a major city for forty years of his life, so he knew that at the first sign of real trouble an evacuation was started. But with a building the size of this hospital, evacuation was going to take longer than the time it had left to shake, rattle, and roll before it collapsed entirely.

"HEY YOU TWO, KNOCK IT OFF! YOU'RE BRINGING THE WHOLE PLACE DOWN!"

With the noise level produced by Bard and the concentration Syndie was using, his words went unheard (not that they would have been heeded anyway). Frank didn't know what he could do, but he was pretty sure as the hospital gave another sickening lurch that he didn't have much time to figure it out. His experienced instincts kicked in, he ran around the edge of the roof looking for anything he could use, and finally spotted something just off the ledge.

The immortal soldier dodged several short waves of concrete debris as he moved around to the other side of the two power houses. He then backed up as far as he could, and, holding both arms out from his sides, rushed at the ladies. They were so focused on each other that they never even realized he was on the roof let alone coming at them. He grabbed them both without issue and continued to drag them forward like a bull goring a matador. Before they could figure out what was going on, all three of them were pushed down to the safety wall. Frank continued barreling toward the two other Gifted and managed to hurl them, along with himself over the wall. Soon, all three were plunging story after story. With as powerful as these two seemed to be, Jackson couldn't be sure a simple fall would eliminate them as threats. So, he carried them with him as he somersaulted into the fenced in area that contained the hospital's heavy duty mini-tower transformers.

Even with the sun shining bright overhead, the glow could be seen as connections were interrupted and ear-popping electrical crackling drowned out even the reporters yelling to be heard on camera over a rushed and harried hospital staff and panicked patients. The building went dark for a few minutes, then the emergency generator kicked in and power was restored. The area was marked off, but a youthful reporter hungry for an anchor position snuck past the boundary with his cameraman; he collapsed as soon as they entered. Sydnie had fueled herself with so much extra of the precious energy that as devastating as the impact was, she still survived. The little morsels she stole from those last two men allowed her to get up. She was still hideous and deformed from smashing into steel and concrete and being charred by the current she had interrupted. As she crawled her way out of the wreckage, she knew that her lost beauty was a trivial thing; she could draw in all she needed to repair herself, and besides, she couldn't feel her enemy any longer.

With her second kill of the day complete, she no longer wished to fight. She wanted to leave and repair herself slowly. That way, no one else would die. That way, she wouldn't have to feel the pain and shock from those who loved the men and women she drained. She had certainly felt enough of those emotions for one, or even a dozen, lifetimes. She wondered, briefly, if her survival instinct was selfish. No, she assured herself. She saved so many people in the hospital; she deserved this. She had the right to live. And Dieter, and all men like him, needed to be taken down.

Soon after Syndie left the scene, a strange, percussive coughing was heard by the armed orderlies who arrived on the scene. Bard, who had managed to worm her way into a bush, struggled to hold herself together as her attempted to let out a song of tranquility. As she recovered, the tranquil lullaby gave way to a low, triumphant tune that rapidly strung her bones back together.

"What in blazes?" asked an orderly who arrived on the scene with her male partner. She and her partner stopped and looked around for the song's source. Observing this, Bard threw her voice behind them.

"It's one of them! Get down!" said the orderly man. The man and woman flinched in fright and threw their bodies to the ground while covering their heads. When the song finally dispersed, the pair emerged from hiding, quickly placed the two living bodies within the fenced area onto gurneys, and took off like cannonballs.

Eventually, a third orderly braved the "haunted" area and took away the corpse of an unidentified nude male. Normally, he would have the remains taken away by a coroner, but with things the way they were there was no way to know when that process might even get started. So, John Doe was hauled away and unceremoniously dumped into the hospital morgue. They dumped him like raw meat onto a tray, slid him into a slot, and clicked the drawer door shut after him. That, as far as they knew, was that...

Marty was the third shift attendant in the morgue area, although he kept calling it the graveyard shift despite the fact that no one in the two years he had held the position thought it was funny. He was at the main desk studying a premed textbook for an upcoming exam, when he thought he heard a noise like one of the metal body trays rattling. When he had first taken the job he'd been jumpy, imagining he heard this or saw that. He had gotten that out of his system in the first couple of months, though. He carefully eyed the area behind him to see all was well and put what he heard down to nerves and his upcoming test. A short while later, he could have sworn he heard a muffled bang of something hitting metal hard. But again, a quick glance proved nothing to be out of order and he thought he shouldn't have had that last cup of coffee. He barely had time to get his mind back on the Latin names of body parts before there was again a sound just like the last, but louder.

The twenty year old was rattled enough at this point that he decided he was going to go to the drawers, just to double check that everything was in order so he could get back to studying. He walked up to the bank of shiny doors, and right then one in the center flew open. A naked man rolled out on a body tray and hopped down. Marty promptly fainted, and would upon recovering quit his job, collect all of his medical textbooks, throw them away, and change his major to business.

After the boy fainted, Frank made use of the desk phone to call HQ and let them know he was ready for a pick up. He also let them know he needed a double bacon hamburger, two cases of beer, his bike accounted for along with his guns, and one of his backup sets of thrift store vintage biker gear.

"Understood, Agent Jackson. Backup and supplies are inbound," the voice was crystal clear and familiar. But, Jackson wondered, who was his backup?
This message was last edited by the GM at 05:45, Thu 23 July 2015.

As the chaotic SubStation was brought back under control Phoenix Crimson watched his surroundings cautiously. Whoever was responsible for the attack was apparently content to leave it at that, and Phoenix felt confident that he'd be able to move on without leaving the building open to another attack. The Electricians and FireFighters who'd risked injury were recovering, and the repairs they'd made finally allowed Phoenix's mask to re-establish a link with the ITSDA's communication server.

The news channels that he'd been monitoring earlier reactivated; there seemed to be a fight at another Chicago hospital but a few seconds of viewing told him that Frank Jackson was already at the scene... bollock naked, for some reason, but even so it looked as though he had the situation under control.
His visor alerted him that his main objective was still unfulfilled: although trying to keep the chaos that'd spilt onto the streets was an obvious priority the ITSDA's primary targets were still Ash, Zenith and President Roman Galvez.

The three targets pictures flashed one after another and Phoenix quirked an eyebrow to himself as Romans own mugshot flashed; The President looked more than a little out of place paired against the two Namidians. The ITSDA had photographic evidence of the man conspiring with the other two men on his target-list and all three were suspected Namidian underlings, furthermore parts of a plan detailing an attack on Chicago were clearly visible in the photo's background- and given the current state of the city the evidence against all three suspects was pretty damning.
It hadn't taken long to match the photos origin to a location within the city, and with his systems restored Phoenix was able to access his latest mission information and return to his manhunt.

Daniel jabbed a thumb into his chest to trigger his suits 'flight mode' and with a careful detonation under his feet he fired himself into the air and above the buildings skyline, another series of blasts stabilised him and fired him like a bullet towards the warehouse that the ITSDA intelligence department had flagged on his map.

---

Phoenix Crimson crashed through the warehouses roof with all the grace and subtlety of a torpedo, and to a similar effect. The first explosion blasted a hole in the buildings roof and a second slowed him down enough to survive his landing.
He'd expected to find the warehouse packed with Namidian soldiers, or at least some of the Presidents own bodyguards, but the main floor of the building seemed deserted. Without anyone to take by surprise his dynamic entry had gone to waste, and after a quick glance around to confirm that the main room was deserted Phoenix lowered his guard.
"...huh. Weird."

As he strode to the warehouses office block he took in the details from his surroundings: the dust that'd accumulated inside the building was disturbed by recent footprints and scrapes, someone HAD occupied the building recently, but it seemed that they'd cleared out just before Phoenix had arrived. Phoenix felt a stab of impatience as he realized that his target might already have escaped- he'd finish searching the building before calling Headquarters for new instructions.

He finally came to the door to the warehouse's office and kicked it off it's hinges with an explosive stomp of his heel. This time he was rewarded with a sharp cry of fear and Phoenix immediately returned to a state of combat-readiness, there was one man in a red suit who'd stumbled back from the explosive kick and into the corner of the small room, Phoenix closed the distance between them with a lightening-quick lunge, grabbed the man by the throat, and crushed his face into the offices brick wall.
"Before we begin let me just say it's an honour to meet you, Mister President." Daniel smiled sweetly before drawing the mans head back and slamming it into the wall.
"Where are Ash and Zenith?!" he demanded, before slamming the Presidents head into the wall a second time. "Where is Namidias?! Why did you attack Chicago?!"
"How-" The president groaned painfully as Phoenix's interrogation addled his senses, he eventually managed to arrange and spit out a reply.
"How the hell should I know?! I don't know what you're talking about!"

Daniel stared at the man for a long moment, he was fantastic at reading people and the president didn't seem to be lying, furthermore the lack of resistance he'd encountered in the building was suspicious. He felt his stomach twist in a rare sense of self-doubt as he wondered whether he had the right target after all... visually the man was a perfect match for the one in the photo, but he didn't seem to have any other villainous traits. Hell, he hadn't even put up a fight.
Daniel tapped a button on the side of his mask while he held the President down with the other, and sent a direct audio message to ITSDA HQ: "Phoenix Crimson, reporting in. I have one of the targets in my custody... but..."
His voice broke a little as he was hit with another shot of doubt.
"...you're sure this is our guy, right? For a Namidian he's kinda' pathetic. Please respond ASAP."
He ended his communication and looked down to his prisoner. Nothing about the man identified him as a threat to Phoenix and he felt his growing sense of doubt turn to regret at handling him so roughly- something clearly didn't add up here, but until he got a response from Thunderclap or another of his superiors he'd have to keep his faith in his current orders and keep the man pinned down.

Ash, who had been grappling with a mountain of hallucinations and struck by alternative waves of ecstasy and rage, finally sat up aboard one of The Commander's transports. He looked around, flinched in pain at the white hot LED lights above him, then spotted Zenith frowning at his own image in the vehicle's reflective wall. In the span of a second, Zenith spotted his partner out of the corner of his eye and slowly turned to face him. A slightly disdainful, yet somehow still jovial smile swept across Zenith's face. Ash let out a fatigued, guttural groan.

"Get in a fight, wake up in some shithole hours later; them's the rules. Fuck, man... where are we?

"For once, I'm grateful to hear you vocalize the rusty, scatter-brained thoughts you mistake for wit."

"Fuck you say, old man?"

At that, Zenith tossed a smartphone in his pocket up into the air and threw it at Ash. Instinctively, the young thug caught it. On screen, a highly detailed map drawn from The Commander's GPS files showed their path toward the warehouse where the President was being held.

"Nothing of substance. But to answer your prior question, we are, as always, headed toward our next mission."

Ash angrily shook the smartphone in front of his face as he stared at it, without blinking, for a full minute. As he examined the expensive piece of commercial hardware, the dust he shook free ignited all around him. A nearby hostage flinched away in fright as the burning dust swirled closer and closer to his head. Tears of joy streamed down his face as soon as the dust dissipated. Of course, none of this caught the eye or even the notice of either criminal.

"You ever tried to clean this thing?" muttered the impulsive, fiery brat. Finally finishing his examination, Ash spoke again. "It's already time for Operation JFK?"

"You've been indisposed for a long while... and I've already indicated that that is not the name of our plan."

"Whatever. What's the ETA?"

"Five minutes."

"Make it ten," retorted Ash. He turned his head to the side and lowered it again.

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

Later, in the warehouse, Thunderclap's voice suddenly invaded Phoenix Crimson's head.

"We've confirmed and reconfirmed his identity several times. President Galvez is our target, and a Namidian associate. He might not be an agent, though. We have no data on the training he's received or the full details of his affiliation. Just bring him in quickly; Namidias springs his trap right when things start to get quiet."

A quaking, hyperventilating President Galvez let out a war cry and harmlessly elbowed Phoenix Crimson in the stomach. Driving his elbow straight into armor must've snapped his arm in half and he cried out in tremendous pain. Even as Crimson held the man in place, he could see the President's wounded arm twitching.

As he was comprehending all of this, ear-splitting alarms from inside the warehouse started blaring. Crimson spun around to face the door. A fire, no, an inferno had appeared out of nowhere; it was engulfing the entire warehouse! And as soon as he turned to look, a punk cockily danced through the door Phoenix had just barged through. He was trailed by a sharp-looking bald man wearing sunglasses.

"Hey, it's da ITSDA! I knew we'd find you here!" said the hoodlum. The President gasped as a trail of fire appeared on his shoelaces and started crawling up his pant leg.

"Now hear this, friend, before you attack us..." said the older, mafioso-looking man. "We both have a similar goal in mind here."

"You want him out of the picture, we want him dead."

"So just relinquish him and we'll make sure he never meddles in your affairs, or betrays our trust, ever again."

"What are you talking about?! I didn't do anything!" Ash chuckled. He loved it when the squealed.

The older man held out his hand to accept President Galvez. All the while, he war running his tongue along the inside of his mouth and cooking up a sedative that could bring down an elephant. And his partner was eying the dust on the brick wall behind everyone.
This message was last edited by the GM at 05:56, Tue 28 July 2015.

Miles away, the remnants of the Schwartze Augen force that had invaded the city was making good its retreat. Ash and Zenith would be more than enough to complete the errand Namidias had assigned his underlings in Chicago. Plan 101 had just been the plan to make it all happen. What better distraction for a very subtle plan involving the president of a major nation than to set an entire city ablaze and loot it for all it was worth?

Lady Crimson reclined in a seat, strapped painfully into it actually, and eyed the pile of loot they had liberated at the expense of 11 well-trained soldiers. The loss was felt keenly and would be hard to recuperate. Achwartze Augen's fighting strength was not so vast it could afford this kind of loses.

Lady Crimson was sure she would hear about it once they returned to base. She looked at the handful of personnel, Schwartze Augen and Rough Riders, in the craft and grinned darkly. Everything according to plan. "Mr. Green, Mr. Black, we will landing shortly in Ohio, from where you can get back to Boura readily. I have to move south after that. The Regional director has called for me and I expect I will be recuperating for a while while training replacement for the assets lost today. By the bye, have you a line on any good candidates? Commander, I assume you can hear me, funds are being transferred from Schwartze Augen to your accounts in payment for the taxi service. Let us off at the Gaultown facility, please. Oh, also, Dieter would like to talk to you about a certain prisoner he has. Hmm, he would like to contract interrogation services from you... personally."

The green haired man looked to his entrenched counterpart and shrugged, "Thugs and mercenaries, sure, but men fit for recruitment... I'll have to check my files. I should ahve something to Dieter by the end of the week."

---

Even as the various Namidian allies made their moves, retreats, and more, a non-descript grey sedan came into town on the Highway 55. Inside the car, Vincent Lee glanced sideways at the file folder on his passenger seat where a hasty image of Janice had been taken with Dieter's security cameras. There was a brief dossier on her abilities and personality. Vincent also had a long range rifle modified to fire tranq darts with an assortment of dart with various chemical cocktails within. He also had a machete. He had a simple mission, track down, capture, and return Dieter's... lover?

From afar, Janice could feel Dieter's razor, towering will focused on her like a high powered spotlight. He sought her, he would always seek her; he loved her. There was not hatred, now anger, no violence in his attention; just a sadness and loneliness and resolve. A towering resolve as she had never, ever felt before in anyone.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:54, Tue 28 July 2015.

Lieutenant Tudor placed a finger against his ear as his headset buzzed him a message. He sat listening for a brief moment and occasionally nodded his head, he responded with a curt "Aye, Sir." before releasing his finger and addressing Lady Crimson directly.
"The Commander thanks you for your business, and is pleased to inform us that our escape has gone unchallenged."
"He has also informed me that he intends to consider your contract. Mister Sievold can expect a reply through the usual darknet channels."

The sleek fuselage of Commanders gunship sped over the Illinois/Indiana border, and at their current speed it'd take less than two hours before the craft would touch down on Ohio soil and disembark its passengers into their separate discrete getaway vehicles: Dieters Lieutenants had their own transport arranged, the hostages were herded into the backs of several nondescript windowless vans of the same make that The Commander seemed to favour for his extractions, and the RoughRiders took back to the skies.

Phoenix Crimson winced as the president struck him, not in pain but in pity: The poor bastard didn't even know how to throw a punch without breaking his arm, and now he was apparently on his co-conspirators hitlist. Despite himself Daniel felt his suicidal sense of duty to 'help the helpless' barge past his other motivations, motivations such as 'self preservation' and 'rationality'.
Pheonix hoisted Mr Galvez to his feet by his unbroken arm.
"That's a very reasonable suggestion. It's a win-win- and hey, it's not as though I owe this sonofabitch anything; The opposite in fact!"
He twisted the Presidents arm hard enough to elicit a whine of pain before moving to stand protectively between the man and the Namidian agents.
"It's not going to end that way, though. I'm bringing him in. You as well." He shrugged carelessly. "Sorry, not sorry."

"Don't be. We're not sorry either." Both Ash and Zenith revealed wickedly malicious grins.
The room exploded into instant action as the thin veneer of civility between the two parties was stripped faster than a Porsche parked in Boura. The dust caking the crevices between the offices old brickwork burst and ignited the rooms back wall into a sheet of flame and as Ash released the attack he'd been holding the dusty floor between them ignited and leapt up to trap Phoenix and Galvez in a set of searing jaws- Phoenix tightened his grip on the traitorous^(?) politician and fired both of them out of the room and through the office window overlooking the warehouse floor with a stomp of his foot and a blast of force.
Phoenix Crimson's escape took them through a doublethick pane of soundproof glass, down a floor from the elevated office and hard onto the concrete below. Normally able to soften his landing with a second explosion and nimbly transfer his momentum into an escape roll, Daniel instead crushed against the ground with a jarring smack- carrying the heavy-set President with him made any kind of fine control impossible and Daniels conciousness fluttered as the shock of his crash landing washed over him.

As his senses pulsed in and out of darkness Phoenix tried to pull a battleplan together:
The President had a broken arm and was howling in pain from several fresh injuries- deafened ears, a dislocated shoulder and burns down one side of his body. Daniel was immune to his own explosions, but other people flying 'Air Phoenix' tended not to enjoy the experience. Despite just having his life saved President Galvez probably wouldn't be very cooperative, and keeping him safe from Ash and Zenith would be difficult.
The warehouse itself was ablaze, the previously dark and empty space was now brightly lit as Ash's flames spread themselves over the walls and crowded the scorching air with plumes of thick black smoke. The floor was as dusty as it'd been when he'd first seen it; favourable terrain for Ash.
As his body convulsed with another wave of pain his vision lolled upwards to see the bald head of Zenith glaring down at him through the shattered office window. With a disgusting hawk he spat his chemical concoction onto the ground between the dazed Phoenix Crimson and the severely injured President. Phoenix managed to force his numbed muscles to roll away with a supreme force of will but as Zeniths attack splashed onto the ground it vaporised into a cloud of gas that knocked the President out cold, just as Phoenix completed his evasion he could hear a pair of feet battering their way down the offices stairwell.
He dug deep and forced himself onto his feet. Assuming that Ash and Zenith would try to rush him together he'd only have a few moments to think up a plan before they'd be back ontop of him....

---

"Ahh... shit, man! I think we lost him!" Ash complained, sarcastically.
The two men stood around the patch of glass that marked where their prey had landed. A streak of blood trailed from a particularly crushed patch and dragged a noticeable path through the dusty warehouse floor and into cover behind one of the warehouse's forklifts.
"Indeed. Clearly we shouldn't underestimate this master of subtlety." Zenith replied, his voice dripping with an equal amount of mockery.
"We especially shouldn't underestimate someone who has the GENIUS-" Ash's voice turned from a sarcastic mock to an aggressive shout in a heartbeat as his head snapped from the forklift to face the roof "-TO TRY TO SNEAK UP ON US WITH GLOWING ARMOUR!" Ashes eyes flashed onto the lattice of support beams gridding the ceiling, and met the glowing white pinpricks of Phoenix's mask which were only partially concealed by the thick mask of smoke that hovered between them.
With a dramatic clench of his hand the minute particles of dust, dirt and ash hovering around Phoenix ignited and forced him to dive to the ground, he softened his landing with a microdetonation under his palm but before his fatigued muscles could make a follow-up attack Zenith lunged at him, with a single smooth action the sharpsuited mafioso drew his one long fingernail across his palm and tried to slap the bloodied hand into Phoenix's chest. As the attack approached Phoenix's defensive instinct kicked in, and the energy that he'd been gathering to leap at Ash was instead spent in a burst of energy that wrenched Zeniths wrist away to spatter his palmful of blood harmlessly against the floor where it bubbled into hissing pits that reminded Phoenix of his earlier fight. Phoenix once again gathered energy, this time in his foot for an explosive roundhouse kick, but a sudden wall of flame sprung up between himself and Zenith and he was forced to retreat backwards to the cover of the Forklift.

"A simple trick like that might work on the 'mundane variety' supervillains you're used to fighting, friend..." Zenith called out in an unfriendly tone.
"-But we're Ash and Zenith! Best of the worst! You ITSDA just don't compare!" the younger of the duo cut in excitedly.
Phoenix gave the pair reluctant credit- individually he'd faced worse, but they knew how to cover each others blind spots and were more dangerous than the sum of their parts. Even in close combat, his speciality, he would have trouble attacking one without leaving himself open to the other.
Zenith allowed himself a fond smirk of his younger teammates enthusiasm before his expression sobered. "Enough. They're both in one place, please finish them off before the building burns down around us."
"Only 'cuz you asked nicely, Boss." With another dramatic flourish Ash sent another wave of flame down the warehouse floor, it was tall and long enough that Phoenix could neither jump above it nor dodge around it without abandoning the President, and through the burning wall Phoenix could see Ash and Zenith grinning in satisfaction as they thought they had him trapped.
"PHOENIX...-"
Phoenix Crimson unleashed his battlecry as he charged another attack. Telegraphing his strikes was one of his major weaknesses, but in a situation like this he couldn't miss.
"-BEAM!"
Energy coursed along Pheonix Crimsons arm at the same instant that Ash's chest exploded into a destructive fireball, in a fraction of a second the Namidian was thrown from his feet and hard into the ground while the explosions fiery after effects surged out and staggered Zenith back with a blast of pressure. Without Ash's control the wall of fire bearing down on Phoenix returned to it's usual behaviour and exhausted into nothing more than scalding air as it washed past Phoenix's position.
Zenith's pharmaceutically skilled mind raced as he loaded himself with a cocktail of stimulants; Adrenalin and Analgesic compounds to help him shrug off the attack, and Benzodiazepine in his tearducts to restore his vision. As the drugs took hold his first instinct was to search for Ash- Zenith himself had no fear of death but he'd grown protectively attached to his young protege, and the thought of something happening to the boy somehow filled him with a dread that he never felt for his own wellbeing.
With great relief he saw that Ash was only knocked-down unconscious and not mortally injured, he turned his head back to face Phoenix Crimson just in time to see the ITSDA agent take to the air with an explosive hop and drive his knuckles into Zeniths jaw with a savage right-cross.
"PHOENIX! -PUNCH!"

---

Phoenix Crimson sat outside the warehouse, and it's burning husk cast his shadow far across the street as he made an urgent call to his ITSDA handlers. He'd dragged the still-unconscious Roman Galvez out of the building with him.
"Crimson, reporting in." Daniel rubbed a grit of ash from his eyes, now that his adrenalin had settled he realized that his fights had taken more out of him than he'd expected. Perhaps exhaustion was his body's way of telling him to take a few hours break between life-risking heroics.
"I have the primary target in custody, request prisoner transport. Secondary targets also encountered. Defeated."
"Good work, Phoenix. Ash and Zenith will require specialized prisoner transport- do you require a second police carrier?"
Phoenix looked back to the burning warehouse. Ash and Zenith were still lying unconscious inside, and even as Phoenix watched a section of roof caved in and scatted flaming debris throughout the building. He could leave them to burn; it's not as though they'd have shown him any mercy if the situation had been reversed- and the thought of running into a burning building to save his would-be killers really didn't appeal to him. Hell, in the long run it even made logical sense- how much suffering could the pair inflict if they ever escaped ITSDA custody? How much suffering had they already caused? What were the odds Phoenix would just get himself killed in the attempt?
On the other hand, the sense of duty that'd been drilled into him ever since he'd become Gifted flared up again. 'No one else is going to save them. It's up to you.'
"Send the second wagon... yeah. Maybe send a medic as well, everyone's taken a beating."
"Understood. Hold position, transport will be with you in ten minutes."
Daniels mask clicked quiet as the line disconnected. He stood and started walking back to the burning building as he committed himself to yet another act of selfless, stupid, valour.

ITSDA vans rolled onto the street exactly ten minutes later; as the paramedics, police officers and military personnel accompanying them secured the area they found the unconscious bodies of Ash, Zenith and President Galvez piled by the roadside being watched over by a singed and very-much the worse for wear Phoenix Crimson.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:02, Sun 02 Aug 2015.

Glitz was good at his job...ex special forces, on duty with some of the first police squads to handle Gifted incursions...and then he'd been turned into a Chicken by the Barn Raiser....he'd been a chicken for a full year, wandering back and forth in front of pen in animal control until Limrick McFabisham had finally found him, never did say how, and had another Gifted turn him human again.

And for five years, Glitz had done some really weird but generally rewarding things for his new boss.  The police had considered him unfit due to insanity, but McFabisham and his benefactor hadn't batted an eye.  He'd saved lives, and often had intel he would have killed for as a cop.

He'd taken down drug lords, wall street kingpins and weapons dealers.  While he had taken um-bridge at doing illegal things at first, it became clear his employer could see the thin veneer of legality that the people who really ran the world maintained in their corruption.

It became easy...especially when he'd saved his first thousand people. When they stopped total economic collapse in Burma he knew two things; McFabisham's boss was a Gifted, and a very powerful one, and that he was a good, if not slightly paranoid guy.

So Glitz just could NOT understand how he'd been asked to sit there and watch servers in a basement not one block from where the hell had gone on in downtown Chicago.  How could he know the things he knew and have this not happen? He was armed to the teeth and he knew that the other three members of his cell were too.

Worse...worse still, there had been a very specific body count...a contingency plan was in place to drop guard duty and help snipe for the good guys from the shadows...but not now.

What fucking accountant thought like that? But worse, worse still was that now that he'd had to put up with all that, he was being asked to WAIT on site now that the Namidians had gone.  Why? What the hell did it all mean?

IN any disaster, whether man made or natural, there is a fortune to be made. IN such an event as the Chicago attacks, the stock markets around the world reacted instantly to the news of a Namidian attack. Futures markets rioted, companies went bankrupt, companies boomed, and chaos ensued. IN such chaos, the cunning and adept individual stood to make a fortune. The disreputable stood to make even more if they were willing to risk it all.

Still, there was one person who stood to gain the most. That was the man who knew the disaster was coming. Dieter had been planning the attacks for months and he had also been planning how to reap the benefits. Schwartze Augen had its fingers in pies all over the world. It owned several companies directly, was a principal investor in several, and have influence on many more indirectly.

One of the more direct reapings was in the casinos of Las Vegas. As soon as the first televised coverage of the events occurred, the morbidly obsessed world wanted to bet on Chicago's fate. It just so happened that some establishments got the minutest of drops on the competition offering odds on the best fights, which buildings would be targeted, etc. The house made a killing.

But the indirect money was the real windfall as investments made days and months before hand began to return at remarkable rates as the events unfolded. Companies went bust, companies made fortunes, and some companies just did what they did best. Dieter made billions once all the trails and all the traps had been triggered. Oh, a few gambles lost here and there, but the vast majority of chickens came home to roost and the bankroll capacity of Schwartze Augen was increased several-fold.

Dieter was paranoid though and had covered his tracks; even if he was certain those tracks were not capable of being followed. Dummies companies, impenetrable firewalls, multiple routing, various shell and dummy corporations. In fact, a vast majority of the money stayed put and was just reinvested but a small percentage was filtered through the black net into the most secret of accounts around the world. Even then, much of it was invested into real estate, jewels, commodities. But a small trail of it led back to accounts no one would ever be able to find unless they were the Economy itself and looking. No one would be even capable of noting the tiniest of crumbs he had left as he cleaned the financial house around the Chicago incident.

Gates had been calmly observing all the destruction and chaos with satisfaction as he made his way through the city. Suddenly his phone went off again. He reached into his pocket and fished out the small device. "Gates....Yes Sir." this time there was a bit of a pause as though he was computing what he had just heard. "I understand. I will proceed to my nearest upload point. Time is approximately 13 minutes and 42 seconds. I will have the information as soon as possible." He hung up and immediately made his way to a very specific abandoned building in Chicago. He walked towards the door which automatically opened for him and quickly made his way to the basement. He found the chair he was looking for and after strapping himself in plugged a large cord directly into the base of his neck. A few moments later and he had uploaded himself to his true home...the net

"He may deserve it, but I cannot allow his death. By order of the ITSDA, and for the millions of men and women you buried, I'm bringing you in! All of you," said the Crimson Champion as his eyes drifted from the shivering President, to the twitchy, giggling Ash, and the laser-focused Zenith.

"That's quite alright. I had no expectation that a simple predator such as yourself would surrender his prey," Zenith said. Phoenix Crimson scoffed at the common crook calling him a simple predator, then noticed that the man was tilting his head toward his partner. Phoenix tapped the flight mode button on his chest, jumped, and caused two small explosions that launched himself and the president straight up into the air.

Phoenix shielded President Galvez and stared down at his targets as his head crashed through the warehouse's concrete roof. Just as he thought, the wall he was standing in front of morphed into a massive wildfire. The dossier on Ash was right; the man was nothing if not predictable and insanely aggressive. As Galvez let out anguished cries of fear and pleaded to be let go, Phoenix Crimson circled the roof like a helicopter monitoring a battlefield. As he stared through the massive hole in the roof, he saw the wildfire swallow up the entire room. Shit! Where did they go? He waited. One second, two, three. They had found a place to hide by now. But if he baited them...

Phoenix landed, planting President Galvez down right in the middle of the warehouse roof. The struggling, kicking, weeping man was now right where he'd be most visible. Phoenix Crimson hid himself in the tower of smoke nearby, waiting to deliver the knockout blow on anyone who came to attack the corrupt politician. He stepped out of the thickest parts of the smoke and took careful, deep breaths whenever he could and laid in wait. When about two minutes had passed, the disgraced representative snapped out of his stupor and raced across the roof, gasping all the while as he ran for dear life. Effortlessly, Phoenix Crimson jumped in front of the man and kicked the air in front of him with irresistible force, knocking the President back until his head slid back into the roof's wall.

"What right do you have to call yourself President of one of South America's greatest nations?" said the young agent. The smoke particles whirling around Phoenix Crimson suddenly rose up into the air. Phoenix leaped back, fired flames out of his feet, and shattered the bones in Ash's back with a single, rocket-powered somersault kick!

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" a blood-curdling, howl-like scream pierced the night. Ash's head hit the concrete and bounced. Blood poured out of his back at an incredible rate, never even slowing down enough to form a pool.

"Murderer! By what right do you call yourself a hero?" shouted Zenith. The career criminal raced toward his partner, dripping the sweat from his hands into his crying protege's gaping maw. Liquid painkiller, most likely. Or perhaps a sedative that would keep him from squirming...

"His internal organs weren't critically damaged. He'll survive... if he gets attention."

"So that's your game, is it? Surrender, or lose my associate?"

In truth, Phoenix hadn't planned for that. His kick was just designed to take Ash out of the fight without killing him. However, the man had an interesting idea. No! He was a hero, he wouldn't succumb to such horrible tactics!

"No. Scum like you would never put a comrade's life ahead of his own success."

"You know nothing!" Zenith cried. With one quick motion, the drug warrior's one long fingernail sliced open his arm as he charged his opponent. As he neared Phoenix Crimson, he splashed the ITSDA warrior, who blocked it with perfect efficiency. Zenith smiled, slid down between Phoenix's legs like a baseball player nearing a base, and hocked a ball of spit at the bottom of the agent's helmet. Phoenix jumped back and hurled his fist at the ne'er-do-well beneath him, but Zenith rolled out of the way at the last second. Phoenix felt his pulse quicken; now the combat high was beginning! The hero spread his palm wide to unload a stream of fire, but one of the thug's knives sliced through the air in front of it. Using little more than a wave of his hands, Phoenix caught the dagger out of the air and slammed it down in front of the prone criminal's body. Even Zenith's eyes widened in shock.

"I know enough about you," said the gloryhound with a note of cockiness in his voice. Between desperate gasps, Zenith counted upwards.

"15, 16," said the prone drug lord under his breath. Phoenix stared blankly at the man as he counted. Was he poisoned? In desperation, Daniel Hunt tore his helmet off, ridding his exterior of the last of Zenith's spit. "18, 19."

Nevertheless, blood came rushing into Phoenix Crimson's ears. As soon as he stopped to take a breath, Zenith charged at him once more. Phoenix stepped aside and threw the man to the ground with a thunderous tackle!

"24, 25" whispered Zenith.

The once-mighty Prince of Flame staggered around like a drunk as he tried to hold himself up. His palms began to drown in sweat, a strange tightness gripped his limbs, and his heart very nearly exploded out of his chest! As the world blackened around him, Phoenix realized what Zenith had done; a powerful stimulant was coursing through his veins. He needed to calm down; he needed to end this, now, without exerting himself!

And just like that, the ITSDA's great martial artist, the legendary hero who'd been fighting for most of his young life, dropped himself to the ground and played possum. He squeezed his palm together, readying his suit for one final flamethrower attack. Like the sinister wolf he was, the wounded Zenith slowly approached the downed president, keeping his eye on Phoenix Crimson the whole time. But Phoenix stayed smart and didn't move a muscle when Zenith picked up President Galvez and started toward the hole in the roof. The moment after the drug lord eyeballed him for the final time before entering the hole, however, Phoenix let loose. He simply lifted his arm, unfurled his palm, and fired away. With flame consuming his back, Zenith had no choice. He stopped, dropped, and rolled, giving Phoenix enough time to stand up and stomp on his stomach.

Phoenix took several short, shallow breaths as a desperate, but defeated Zenith tried to worm his way out from underneath his conqueror. He then knocked the old drug lord unconscious with the hard side of his metal boot. Finally, he opened a communications channel with ITSDA HQ.

"HQ... I need... immediate pickup for our three, main, targets.

"Transport on its way," said an authoritative, yet somehow casual male voice.

"And bring--" Phoenix Crimson wheezed loudly as his lungs suffered a spasm. "--Medics."

"You got it,"

As he desperately awaited the ITSDA's planes, Phoenix never bothered to look down at the faint smile that decorated the half-dead Zenith's face...

In reply to Scripts (msg # 72):

(As the ITSDA)

ITSDA headquarters, having already sent out the vast majority of its backup in the Americas region to Chicago, only had to make a simple call to redirect a small squad to Frank's position. It took them around ten minutes to collect the supplies they were told to, and then make their way to the Morgue. The squad Captain, Juniper Hall, had had previous experience with Frank and didn't even bat an eye at him being in a morgue. She set up the other two agents at the doors and walked in, staring at Frank. "Why do you even bother wearing clothes?" She asked, tossing him a bag of carefully folded clothing. "You obviously make a better impression with them off." She sat in a chair that had obviously not been there before, and put her feet up on a stool that also seemed to come from nowhere. "Looks like you had fun. I'll definitely be asking for a copy of your report." She was silent for a moment before she stood, the chair and stool disappearing. "Headquarters has us rendezvousing with Phoenix. We're part of the guard duty that's been placed on Sherry. You're welcome to join us. Or you can run off and do some more of... whatever it is you do."
This message was last edited by the player at 18:31, Wed 12 Aug 2015.

Phoenix Crimson winced as the president struck him, not in pain but in pity: The poor bastard didn't even know how to throw a punch without breaking his arm, and now he was apparently on his co-conspirators hitlist. Despite himself Daniel felt his suicidal sense of duty to 'help the helpless' barge past his other motivations, motivations such as 'self preservation' and 'rationality'.
Pheonix hoisted Mr Galvez to his feet by his unbroken arm.
"That's a very reasonable suggestion. It's a win-win- and hey, it's not as though I owe this sonofabitch anything; The opposite in fact!"
He twisted the Presidents arm hard enough to elicit a whine of pain before moving to stand protectively between the man and the Namidian agents.
"It's not going to end that way, though. I'm bringing him in and you as well, for the millions of men and women you buried."

The Crimson Champion's eyes drifted from the shivering President, to the twitchy, giggling Ash, and the laser-focused Zenith; both known Wave members revealed wickedly malicious grins. "That's quite alright. I had no expectation that a simple predator such as yourself would surrender his prey," Zenith said. Phoenix Crimson scoffed at the common crook calling him a simple predator, then noticed that the man was tilting his head toward his partner. Phoenix tapped the flight mode button on his chest, jumped, and caused two small explosions that launched himself and the president straight up into the air.

Phoenix shielded President Galvez and stared down at his targets as his head crashed through the warehouse's concrete roof. Just as he thought, the wall he was standing in front of morphed into a massive wildfire. The dossier on Ash was right; the man was nothing if not predictable and insanely aggressive. Phoenix Crimson circled the roof like a helicopter monitoring a battlefield. As he stared through the massive hole in the roof, he saw the wildfire swallow up the entire room. Shit! Where did they go? He waited. One second, two, three. They had found a place to hide by now. But if he baited them...

Phoenix landed, planting Galvez down right in the middle of the warehouse roof. The President had a broken arm and was howling in pain from several fresh injuries- deafened ears, a dislocated shoulder and burns down one side of his body. Daniel was immune to his own explosions, but other people flying 'Air Phoenix' tended not to enjoy the experience. The struggling, kicking, weeping man was now right where he'd be most visible. The warehouse itself was ablaze, the previously dark and empty space was now brightly lit as Ash's flames spread themselves over the walls and crowded the scorching air with plumes of thick black smoke. Phoenix Crimson hid himself in one of these nearby, waiting to deliver the knockout blow on anyone who came to attack the corrupt politician. He stepped out of the thickest parts of the smoke to take careful, deep breaths whenever he could and laid in wait.

The smoke particles whirling around Phoenix Crimson suddenly rose up into the air. Phoenix leaped back, fired flames out of his feet, and shattered the bones in Ash's back with a single, rocket-powered somersault kick!

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" a blood-curdling, howl-like scream pierced the night. Ash's head hit the concrete and bounced. Blood poured out of his back at an incredible rate, never even slowing down enough to form a pool.

"Murderer! By what right do you call yourself a hero?" shouted Zenith. The career criminal raced toward his partner, dripping the sweat from his hands into his crying protégé's gaping maw. Liquid painkiller, most likely. Or perhaps a sedative that would keep him from squirming...

"His internal organs weren't critically damaged. He'll survive... if he gets attention."

"So that's your game, is it? Surrender, or lose my associate?"

In truth, Phoenix hadn't planned for that. His kick was just designed to take Ash out of the fight without killing him. However, the man had an interesting idea. No! He was a hero, he wouldn't succumb to such horrible tactics!

"No. Scum like you would never put a comrade's life ahead of his own success."

"That might hold true for the 'mundane variety' supervillains you're used to fighting, friend, but about me you know nothing!" In truth, Zenith had grown protectively attached to his young protégé, and the thought of something happening to the boy somehow filled him with a dread that he never felt for his own wellbeing.

With one quick motion, the drug warrior's one long fingernail sliced open his arm as he charged his opponent. As he neared Phoenix Crimson, he splashed the ITSDA warrior, who blocked it with perfect efficiency. Zenith smiled, slid down between Phoenix's legs like a baseball player nearing a base, and hocked a ball of spit at the bottom of the agent's helmet. Phoenix jumped back and hurled his fist at the ne'er-do-well beneath him, but Zenith rolled out of the way at the last second. Phoenix felt his pulse quicken; now the combat high was beginning! The hero spread his palm wide to unload a stream of fire, but one of the thug's knives sliced through the air in front of it. Using little more than a wave of his hands, Phoenix caught the dagger out of the air and slammed it down in front of the prone criminal's body. Even Zenith's eyes widened in shock.

"I know enough about you," said the gloryhound with a note of cockiness in his voice. Between desperate gasps, Zenith counted upwards.

"15, 16," said the prone drug lord under his breath. Phoenix stared blankly at the man as he counted. Was he poisoned? In desperation, Daniel Hunt tore his helmet off, ridding his exterior of the last of Zenith's spit. "18, 19."

Nevertheless, blood came rushing into Phoenix Crimson's ears. As soon as he stopped to take a breath, Zenith charged at him once more. The ITSDA agent took to the air with an explosive hop and drove his knuckles into Zenith's jaw with a savage right-cross.

"PHOENIX! -PUNCH!"

"24, 2..." whispered Zenith as the harsh blow interrupted his count. He dropped and rolled from the force of the impact, giving Phoenix enough time to follow up and stomp on his stomach. Phoenix looked down as a defeated Zenith twitched underneath his conqueror; he then made sure the old drug lord was unconscious with the hard side of his metal boot, better safe than sorry after all.

It was in that moment that the once-mighty Prince of Flame staggered around like a drunk as he tried to hold himself up. His palms began to drown in sweat, a strange tightness gripped his limbs, and his heart very nearly exploded out of his chest! As the world blackened around him, Phoenix realized what Zenith had done; a powerful stimulant was coursing through his veins. He had to admit it was a really good idea, only a few ticks short of succeeding.

---

Phoenix Crimson sat outside the warehouse, it's burning husk cast his shadow far across the street as he took several short, shallow breaths. He had managed to get all three men safely off the roof even in his hindered condition, yet it was nowhere near easy and honestly he was not sure if he could even explain to himself how he had managed it. Finally, when he had calmed down from the dosing well enough to clearly speak slowly enough to be understood, he opened a communications channel with ITSDA HQ.


"HQ... I need... immediate pickup for our three, main, targets.

"Transport on its way," said an authoritative, yet somehow casual male voice.

"And bring--" Phoenix Crimson wheezed loudly as his lungs suffered a spasm. "--Medics."

"You got it,"

As he desperately awaited the ITSDA's planes, Phoenix never bothered to look down at the faint smile that decorated the half-dead Zenith's face...

"What I do, June, is save lives and protect people. It's what I was doing well before you were born, what I did when governments said super heroes were just villains in disguise, and what I'll still be doing when I have this conversation again with your great great grand daughter instead of you."

The man was quick to eat and dress, a testament to his time as both a soldier and police officer as one in either profession never knew when they'd be called upon to act, or when they're next meal would be.

"As for my cloths, I'd rather not have to stop to give myself a ticket for indecent exposure or constantly explain to people why outside of a nudist colony I find it necessary to run around in the buff. Also, you ever gone eighty miles an hour on the back of a bike in winter? Not fun, trust me. As to tagging along with you, sure why not? Nothing more I can do here, and most likely all I could do on my own about now is mop up some non-Wave lootings and such. Better chance for some action if I stick with you, though I have a question of my own; why use your powers when there's a perfectly good chair right there at the desk?

Jackson gave the woman time to answer, while he checked out his guns and made sure they were fully loaded and in perfect working order before sliding them back into their holsters.