Futuristic Aegis: Error 508

[welian]

Aegis: Error 508

S1E1A: The Mystery at Eleusis

Mission: Secure "Paradise Island" and confirm the death of Demeter Green.

Twenty years ago, Dr. Demeter Green fled the country and set up a new home on a private island in the Pacific. She was responsible for many of the atrocities committed in Commonwealth's name.

She might not be able to face justice any more, but we can at least make sure that no one ever attempts to repeat history.

Remember, agents.

Whatever you cannot bring back to Baltimore, destroy.

 

[welian]

Location: “Paradise Island”, codename Eleusis
Time: 0730 local time
Weather: Overcast with periodic rain showers (typhoon in forecast)

Normally, in the beginning of a grand adventure, the camera pans across idyllic green fields and crystal blue skies. There was none of that here.

It was a dreary, dreary day - a typhoon was closing in from the east, and it was in everyone's best interest to get in and out as quickly as possible. The flight had been long, it was cramped, and nobody enjoyed the airport snacks.

Eventually, a fresh voice came over the radio. A voice everyone recognized. It was Microsoft Sam.

"Please identify yourself," the voice asked in stilted tones. "This is private airspace."

“Oh, Блять <<fuck>>, we’re caught,” Zofia muttered to herself under her breath with a nervous chuckle. An ominous beeping coming from one of the many control panels in front of her confirmed that they had been picked up by ground radar. She shifted uncomfortably in her pilot’s seat as she thumbed the frequency on her radio headset over to the onboard command channel and reported back. “Come in, Argent? We’re radar spiked and they’re asking for identification. I’ll buy time and try to smooth things out -- get the crew ready just in case.”

Zofia switched the radio frequency back to the island’s automated air traffic controller and took a deep breath before responding, “188 to ATC, this is Commonwealth flight CW-47188. Interrogative: confirm flight identification heading westbound two-eight-zero, angels two-niner?”

“Acknowledged. Can you please confirm that you are not Hunter Ward, you are in no way affiliated with Hunter Ward, you are not visiting this island on behalf of Hunter Ward, nor are you an associate of Hunter Ward?”

Through gritted teeth, Zofia sucked in a sharp breath. Of course they had Hunter Ward on board. She flicked the push-to-talk key open on her headset and responded, “188 to ATC, Affirm to all. We are here on miscellaneous Commonwealth business. 188 is requesting permission to land and taxi.”

“Ah. I see he remembers me.”

“Hunter Ward detected. Permission denied. Please die at your earliest convenience.”

“Cyka <<bitch>>!”

The trees rustle and a flock of birds fly away as the massive satellite dish mounted on the island’s tallest point begins to swivel toward the approaching airplane.

"...Who the fuck gave Clippy surface-to-air authorization?"

Red looked down at the installations staring up at them. Or, more importantly, at him. Fucker was locked on him, not the plane. He then decided bolting toward the back door of the plane was in order, while at the same time, yelling for everyone to see and hear:

“Openthehatchopenthehatchopenthehatchopenthehatchopenthehatchopenthehatchopenthehatchopenthehatchopenthehatch!”

Upon the hatch being opened just far enough for him to jump out (sans parachute, mind you) everyone watching could see the incoming missiles’ trajectory suddenly jerk toward the now falling Hunter, and speed up.

“OH OF COURSE YOU’RE STILL MAD ABOUT MY CRITIQUES OF YOUR STUPID SPINACH PUFFS!”

As they drew closer together to reach their destination, Hunter extended out his arms toward the furthest-out two missiles, manipulating the metal inside to turn directly into the path of the others, causing a chain explosion…. One that still carried a significant blast wave sending him flying toward the beach below.

“AND ANOTHER THING, YOUR SOUFFLE GAME IS SHIT!!”

Surprising no one, Hunter Ward, aka 'Red', was flung downward at a speed comparable to a mortar on its downward arrival. And no, there was not a bounce.

There were several.

After a few seconds of silence, the radio clicked from the beach as the sand began to disperse after being kicked up so violently.

“...Red here. Still kicking. Tell that bitch of a nanny bot he needs to try harder...”

“Ready the lab rats! He is not permitted to attend the funeral!”

From the elegant mansion on the island, a number of bipedal dog-sized creatures began to assemble.

 

[Ozmic]

Desmond Romereo - FRACTURE

Desmond Romero was trapped in limbo.

His body was stuck, unable to move, both hot and cold at once.
Time no longer had any meaning; stretching and pinching and twisting as he tried to pinpoint the here; the now.

Where, when, how?
Had he spoken the words out loud in a croak, or just thought them?

He wondered idly if his stomach was digesting itself. The thought, strangely, didn't phase him.
There was numbness in his serenity.

How do you unlock a door that never had a key?

---

The rain came down oppressively, bashing off the windshield as if it had a personal vendetta. Wipers set to maximum were nearly useless and he exhaled from his nostrils; leaned forward to try and focus as his wife - ex wife - brought up Sera's loans again. He was doing all he could to keep his composure, insisting that they could have this talk in person.

Neon white lights flashed behind him again, the same jerk in the  green SUV that didn't seem to notice the weather at all.

---

That wasn't right.
What was the color again?
But none of this was.

Something - some things - rattled against the floor, fell there and echoed, but he couldn't lift his head to look at them. Couldn't turn it either. Eyes darted, flexed uselessly against the confines of their sockets, and still he couldn't fucking see whatever it was making that noise.

Music, there for a second and gone again. Who was playing the piano?
Did Sera start taking Kylie to lessons?

---

Desmond could hear himself, calmly reciting the same things he had said the last four times this topic had come up, reassuring that even on a single income he would be able to come up with the finances.

Flash. Flash. Honk.

He started to say something snide about the driver, make a quip about those stupid lights, try and make his wife laugh as easily as he used to.

The words were lost by the thud. The grinding tear of a rail that may well have been paper.

Screams. Noise.
Ink bled over his vision.
Desmond was gone.

Back again, noises but no lights. Couldn't move, couldn't breathe,
can't breathe and you're trapped and I'm trapped and TRAPPED AND LET ME OUT

---

Shaking.

He was shaking and convulsing and for a second, breathing wasn't automatic.

Gasping, coughing, finally forcing a thin straw of air into his throat, and it tasted like heaven.

And maybe a bit of blood.

"Tr--apt," he croaked. Or thought. Or wished.

Tickticktick tick.

It sounded like bones.

 

[Coin]

FOXBAT​

"This hand goes here."

"And this one goes here."

Fingers danced across the keys of bone and soot; the music was beautiful. In another life, Zofia spoke her soul through a Steinway. However--

ракета ракета ракета
<<missile missile missile>>

The cargoplane's automated combat information center repeated the same electronic message over and over again. The computer's voice was cold and calculated, carried by a staccato of tonal blares from the onboard radar warning receiver. Zofia had done this dozens of times before and come out alive every time, only once did she fuck up and she was determined to never let it happen again. Her instincts took over and she was, for lack of a better term, on autopilot. Evasive maneuvers. Deploy countermeasures. Get everyone out alive. A cold leach of doubt wriggled its way up her spine.

This was her life: her soul tens of thousands of feet in the air and always inches from death. Her soul spoke through the groan of four turboprop jet engines.

She slapped herself on the cheek and ground her teeth until she was certain every fleck of doubt was ground to dust, "Come on, Zo, keep it together!"

The copilot, an aspiring aviator of Zo's senior by 10 years named Greg looked to her in abject horror, "H-hey! Foxbat? Are you good? Are you gonna be good?"

Zofia didn't hear him. The poor guy was probably considering and reconsidering his decision to become an aviator, and for Commonwealth for that matter. He was the one to eventually make the announcement over the plane's intercom system to the rest of those on board, "Co-pilot here. Pilot's-- uhh, busy. Please hold on tight, Red needs the cargo door open!"

By the time Zofia had started registering her surroundings again, her knuckles were white from the death grip she held the control sticks. They were clear for now, and only when Red had jumped out the back of their plane unassisted. All that panic for nothing. She slowly eased the pressure on the control sticks and let blood start to flow back into her numbed hands. Zofia flicked over manual control to Greg and looked him square in the face, "It's all yours. Close the cargo door once you're sure no one else is gonna jump too. Then, get the rest down safely when we give the signal."

Without waiting for so much as a stunned acknowledgement, Zofia stood up and tossed her headset into the empty pilot's seat. She replaced it with her flight helmet and entered the depressurized cargo area. She stomped over to her storage area, slung her long rifle across her back and grabbed a sack of impact grenades for good measure. Next, she made her way past the other heroes and straight to Millicent.

"Argent, I'm going to ground to assist Red and confirm he's still in one piece. After that, we'll clear any other missile sites that might fire on the plane again. We will signal all-clear when it's safe to land. Greg has the stick, give him a hard time."

With that, she gave her fellow agent a clap on the shoulder, turned around, and also sprinted out of the open cargo door. She was met with the wide embrace of the vast sky -- her sky. Zofia let the air fill her lungs as she hung motionless in the air, the plane roaring ahead without her and leaving her alone in the great blue beyond. From here, she slowly scanned the beach 29,000 feet below. The prosthetic in her eye whirred as she focused in on several pock marks that dotted the shore. At least even five and a half miles away, Red was still easy to spot.

Zofia let her breath escape into the respirator of her helmet and she plummeted. She pointed her body towards the Earth below and fell like God's sharpest dart. 27,000. 22,000. 17,000. Down she fell, a sonic boom forming around her just moments before she needed to decelerate. From here, her bird-of-prey dive slowly graduated into a graceful fall, and once she felt she was still at a safe distance from the ground she froze in midair once again.

"Foxbat to Red, copy? Hello, comrade. At your six o'clock, 750 on high," Zofia unslung her rifle from her back, racked the bolt, and held it in a low ready position. "Enjoy your stay at Hotel Fuck-Off-Nowhere?"

Spoiler: Mentions

Giyari , Zahzi

 

[Damafaud]

Adrian Ward, White Rabbit​

Everything about airplanes sucked.

If Adrian accidentally activated his power, poof! Death. In light of that, the bad food and cramped space wasn't so bad. Not that those were a concern in this specific plane; the missiles were.

"Of course Gramps got targetted by missiles personally..." Adrian massaged his bruised temple, still disoriented from the evasive dive. The howling wind galed through his headphones. A different kind of sound got through after, a sharp explosion that came with shooting heat. Adrian didn't care. His mild discomfort was more urgent than Gramps' guaranteed survival.

Another person stomped through from the cockpit, one of the few pilots that definitely shouldn't be trusted to carry passengers. Going 'oops ladies and gentlemen it's time to die' and flying off alone was very much possible with Zofia since she could fly. Adrian stared jealously as Zofia jumped out from the cargo door. More specifically, the rifles and grenades she had. Apparently giving firearms to untrained hands would be 'irresponsible' and 'reckless'. Bah.

"So," Adrian turned to the other heroes still on-board. "anyone else jumping off or haven't finished their cheese puffs? Either one is fine."

Spoiler: Mentions

Giyari , Zahzi , Coin

 

[Giyari]

Mood: Focused

Location: Skies above Paradise Island

Company: Red, Foxbat, White Rabbit

@'s: Coin Damafaud

Other: -

Argent

A few weeks prior...​

“A quick mission, in and out. An hour tops…” The advisor said encouragingly as he gestured at the whiteboard with both hands. “..Hell we won’t even need to stop the plane engines.”

Millicent sighed before the words leaving the advisors lips. She could tell when she was being buttered up, because there was no way this mission would be that simple. This was Demeter Green we were talking about, and looking at the list of agents and contractors already signed up, yeah there was no way they’d cart Red along on something like this just for fun.

“Look… You don’t have to lie to me.” Milly said sternly, standing from her seat and walking towards the board. ”You think there’s something big here, don’t you. No way you’d need this list of personnel for a mere clean-up run.” She added, running the end of her pen down the list of operatives.

”look… The hope is that it is quick… But-”

”But it’s Demeter Green, yeah I know. We all know, so why down play it?” Milly interrupted, as the Agent just nodded and looked sheepish.
”You know what no I don’t need to know, But I want an extra weeks vacation for this, okay?” She sighed, pushing her hair behind her ear…

Now…​

The rumble of the engines filled Millicent’s ears as the strike team got closer to their destination, the four point harness holding her to her jump seat digging into her shoulders and waist as some light turbulence washed over the craft. They had been descending gently for a while now, but the sudden lurch and alarms filling the cabin through her headset sounded like they were definitely not planned. Foxbat’s words cut through the chaos conformed this, they’d been “caught”

“Copy.” Milly replied before reaching for a parachute and passing it to a flightless colleague close by. The rear hatch opening wasn’t the best sign, they had planned on landing first rather than making a jump, but needs must I guess.
”Everyone get your gear together! This could get rough. Flight capable operatives to the front, clear the craft as… quick…” Her briefing was cut short as Red launched passed her and made a spectacular dive through the half open hatch. That was definitely not part of the plan, Red could… somewhat levitate? But still.

The missiles veered off after their “new” target and were quickly dealt with, and the alarms stopped.

”Well…" Milly muttered with a surprised look on her face as the other agents looked at each other equally as confused. Foxbat appeared shortly after and gave an update in her lovely Russian accent,. Not the worst news but things could definitely be smoother. At least Greg had the controls.

"See you on the ground, ‘Bat.” Milly replied as she watched their pilot strap up explosives and jump after the old man.
”Anyone wanting to give Foxbat and Red a hand, now’s your chance, otherwise you’re with me!” Milly shouted over the turbulent air filling the cabin from the open hatch as she gathered her hair up into a tighter bun. Two of them gave her a nod before following suit with a parachute fixed to their backs and rifle on their chests, this should be simple enough. Milly looked over as Adrian piped up, he was young, but his dossier showed he was pretty well suited to infiltration… Honestly if it wasn’t for his personality, Adrian, or White Rabbit as his file had him, would be pretty terrifying. Able to phase through most physical attacks, completely bypass security, take down targets in sealed rooms, and shoot through walls, he could be a world class assassin or spec ops soldier… but instead…

Milly lifted the snack supplied with their lunch from her seat pouch and pushed them onto Adrian’s chest with quite a bit of force, stopping next to his chair to lean and talk into his ear.

”Eat up, Little Bunny. You’ve got a long day ahead of you…” Milly sneered, making her displeasure at Adrian’s presence very obvious. "…Hope you can keep up.”

This was no place for kids…

 

[Zahzi]

Hunter Red Ward
Location: Matron's piece of shit goddamn haunted island of missiles and bullshit.
Nearby: Foxbat Coin
Disposition: "I'm gonna break that damn robot, fix him, and break him again."​

So. A quick recap of today's current predicament. Not that anyone forgot, but reiteration is helpful for anyone not following along already. A not-so routine raid on someone he should have dealt with over 30 years ago. No use crying over lost time now, though...Oh who were we kidding? She probably did a lot of damage since she fled the States all those years ago when he was cleaning house. And now she's dead. Allegedly. If she's not, he's fixing that error permanently. Now. For the reason that there are now, let's see....Two, three, ah, four. Four indents on the beach, with a curse at each, from a hard landing from 30,000 feet at what felt like Mach 7, apparently that decommissioned bomb robot Matron kept around can still hold a grudge. After finally getting back on his feet and checking his limbs for any breaks or injury from that landing and finding nothing damaged, he gave a sigh of relief as he began to brush the sand off of him. Continuing the mission without issue. He would deal with the colossal pain and soreness tomorrow morning when he's back home.

Upon hearing a familiar, and friendly, voice from behind, he slowly looked up to see her ominously floating as she did. He'd kill to have a simple power like that sometimes..
"...The beds at this hotel suck. Just warning you now, Foxbat. Tried four and they were all terrible."

Red turned back to face where the missiles came from, taking note of the origin of the smoke trails the missiles had left.
"There are two possibilities in front of us. One, the missiles will soon lock onto the plane after they are rearmed and register it as a target, or that defective nannybot is still having them target me and is just waiting for me to get to a certain altitude. They may also be running the latter idea until I don't show up, and then target the plane. Have you brought anything with you to disable the installations, or should I just go with my usual way of breaking everything I don't like?"

Sure, were he younger, he would just make this decision himself, but he could already tell this kind of stress was bad for someone like Foxbat. He could see in her eyes what had been racing through her head in the past five minutes. Communication was key here. No need to agitate just yet. That, and it benefits no one to leave nothing for the younger generation. They need the experience more than he does, after all.

Whatever she decided, he would follow along.

 

[Malikai]

Limelight
Jeremiah J. Johnson
(They/Them/He/Him)
Blue Card Holder and Volunteer Super
Mood: Anxious
​

Prior to coming on board this mission Jeremiah Johnson, also known as JJ or Limelight, would have told you that they were ready and willing to go forward with the mission. The training they had in their older teenage years had prepared them for tough situations, including some situations which were actively not endorsed by the training facility, but training only went so far. And currently JJ was feeling more anxious than anything. Not about to give up, but certainly not as ready as they had felt just a day prior. They had gone on missions and done operations before, but it was another thing to be entrusted with this level of power and responsibility. As they practiced some breathing exercises JJ held their helmet within their hands and shook its weight from hand to hand. An idle thing they had been doing throughout the flight.

They felt a hand on theirs and looked to the side to notice Imogen who was strangely calm given the situation. JJ awkwardly shifted their feet due to being seen as clearly not as calm as they would have liked. They cleared their throat and sat their helmet down on their lap, "Sorry, not as prepared as I thought I might be," JJ gave a slight jitter of a laugh and cleared their throat, "Though, you seem extremely calm for this."

At a certain point the lights of the cargo plane hangar seemed to dim slightly, and then a flashing red light began with a sound droning throughout the hangar bay: ракета ракета ракета

JJ could have spent quite a long time bemoaning their lack of tutelage on other languages they knew enough to know that it was not time to sit idly. They brought their helmet up and put it over the top of their head, the angular motorcycle-like helmet fitting over place and turning it slightly to the side to click it firmly down. A heads up display showing some of the small details about the suits condition, but overall not much else beyond what JJ needed, flicking off their gloves and shoving them in a pocket. As JJ began to think on any other set-ups for the suit they saw Red run into the hangar and shout out for the hangar to open. JJ stood up and began to say, "Hey Red are we-" when the man jumped from the hangar opening up, giving sight to the missiles that changed directions towards him.

JJ stood still for a second that felt like a minute and shook their head, "Yeah," their voice had a slight electronic filter over it as they spoke, "I guess the missions on... and what an exit too." As the hangar door continued to stay open JJ got slightly closer and looked down, then looked back at their own suit. It occurred to them that they hadn't thought to install a parachute into their suit prior to the mission, "If I had only known a shorter route was going to be taken to the island," JJ gave a sigh and leaned up against the wall close to the door, but not too far from where they had been sitting. If this mission was going to go in this direction they were already wishing they had not been as keen to volunteer. Their expectations were getting thrown askew already.

They looked over as Foxbat, a Commonwealth agent that they had not had much interaction with at all, spoke to Argent, somebody else that JJ was lacking on interaction with, before sprinting and jumping out the cargo bay door. They looked from Argent to White Rabbit, JJ really needed to start interacting more instead of just reading the briefings and calling it there, and noticed the tone of hostility in Argents voice. JJ cleared their throat, the electronic shuffling sound coming from the voicebox in the helmet, and sought to break the awkward tension between the two in saying, "If it's alright with you Argent, I think I'm sticking here. Not exactly wanting to make my first experience skydiving or even using a parachute be over an island with who knows what able to blast me down. Plus I can provide a shield for people here if need be."

Fidgeting with the suit fully done earlier, JJ then tested making some small spheres of light around their hand. They wanted to ensure they would be able to deliver on that promise of creating a light shield if need be. JJ looked back at Imogen and said, "What are your thoughts as well? At least with jumping."

Spoiler: Mentions

Syrenrei (Imogen), Giyari (Argent), Damafaud (White Rabbit)
and Very Briefly: Zahzi (Red) , Coin (Foxbat)

 

[Teh Frixz]

Riley 'Chemtrails' Zdunowski
Location: The beautiful beaches
Nearby: Evermore, Argent, White Rabbit, Red, Fox Bat
Disposition: Let's get to it, at least one more time.
​

Propped up near the cargo door, alone in her own little world for now was Riley Zdunowski. Known to many as Agent: Chemtrails and known to less as Riley the guard at 108 from a few years back. For those that remembered the smiling face, the smell of burnt coffee, and the pleading attempts at de-escalation, they'd be hard pressed to tie them to how she looked now. A twitching mess nervously attempting to pick at her nails and smile out the window, Riley looked about twenty pounds lighter, fibrous muscle replacing her well earned body fat from working as a guard. She was pale and her eyes severely bugged. She didn't look great, even in the light grey body suit she'd been fitted with. Her eyes continually flitted from the cargo door, to the windows, to the small computer tied to her inhibitor. The simplified readout on her wrist ready to be armed by her prints. She just had to remember to hit the button at the last possible moment.

She hated this, not just the entirety of the concept of what she was doing but she hated being out on this noisy plane, flying to who knew where, holding her finger over a timer in an attempt to maximize her safe operational time. But it was for the best, she was doing her duty for the group that was taking care of her. She wasn't on the streets and a little job now and then was good, it got her out. Kept her busy. She glanced at the window again, looking away from the hold just as Red ran in, had the doors opened, and jumped out.

She never got briefed much while conscious, the majority of her operation information coming from implanted subconscious orders but bits and pieces would come in. Like faces and names. Sitting quietly, nearly forgotten she watched Red, then the rest of the names Evermore, Argent, White Rabbit, Red, Fox Bat. People she knew but names she didn't know. They all came filtering in one after another, getting ready for the jump she new she was supposed to take.

Standing up, unable to sit any longer in her cramped spot, Riley hopped over to the door. It was all automated from here on out. Calling out to anyone in the bay still she yelled over the rushing roar of air behind her.

"Safeword is..." She looked at her computer again, pulling the cloth mask down over her face. There were no eye or mouth holes, just a grey sheet that sucked in and out with her heavy breathing. "...anana nut muffin?" The computer pinged at the code word and she pressed the button labeled start as she fell backwards into the airstream behind them.

With the initial rush of falling, fell away everything else. She didn't remember why she was worried or upset. She didn't know where she was going. The world turned a beautiful hue of pink and gold and Riley fell freely for at least a few minutes. Stars shot past her and the sea came up to greet Riley. A particularly funny looking sea horse whinnied in delight before galloping off towards the beach. Spitting salt water into the fabric of her mask, she clambered ashore and began chasing after it, stopping at the sudden sight of the big RED sign shaped like a person that said stop.

"Tehy may aslo be ruinnng the lettar ieda uitnl I d'not sohw up, and tehn tegrat the penal. Hvae you brguoht anihtyng wtih you to dibasle the insoitallatns, or sluohd I jsut go wtih my uausl way of brikaeng evehtyring I d'not leki?"

Riley laughed, doubling over as a wave of chemically induced joy hit her brain, his words didn't make a lick of sense but she got the feeling she was listening for one particular word that would tell her what to do. Operationally, she wasn't aware she was just awaiting a code word for the path she would be taking but as soon as Red gave her the right word, she'd be off. Control over her in this state was difficult but by now, practiced. Chemtrails was armed and primed for action.

​

 

[Gus]

Manami Hamasaki
​

Location: Open Ocean--> Inner Reefs --> Beach​

Mood: Contemplative --> Battle Ready

Company: Fish --> Sensei Red, Sempai Zo, and Kohai Riley​

Manami was swimming through the dark. No matter. There were other senses than sight, and anyway she had been here before. Something deep inside her remembered this terrain; it was part of her. Like many pacific islands, less than a mile from shore, the coral reefs gave way to the abyss. There were things down here. She could feel them squirming around in the dark. Progeny. It would be decades before they were grown to the size of Skittles, and many would likely be taken by squids and other predators before then. But there were so very, very many of them...



Today, they were not her concern. Today she was returning to the island. Grandmother was dead.



This gave her pause. Why 'grandmother?' Demeter Green. Matron. She had read the files, what little of them were not redacted. She knew something of the woman's monstrous nature... why did grandmother of all possible titles spring unbidden to her mind? She had met the woman once before, perhaps five years ago. It had happened then too. She remembers now. It had been like a verbal tick, every time she had addressed her she had called the woman 'grandmother.' Not Obaasan, no. It was more than her mere age, and anyway she had used the english word, which she hadn't even known she had known. Somehow she had forgotten all of this. It should be disquieting, the scope of herself that lurked below the surface, but honestly she was thoroughly used to it.



As she finished her second sweep of the perimeter, she began to spiral inward and upward, towards the surface. It is no matter, Manami thought to herself. Five years is a lifetime ago. I was barely a child then. I knew nothing of the world. I barely knew english. I was excited for bunk beds and breakfast sausages. And Demeter Green had seemed, to her, grandmotherly. That was all.



Chris had known not to trust their host, or the island. In those days Manami had trusted everyone and everything. No longer. The world has changed. Or rather: the world is as it has always been, but now she has tasted its fruits, and gained knowledge of it. Hasn't she? She is no longer a child, has long since put away childish things...



...why then does this word still swim up into her conscious mind unbidden?

It feels every bit as integral to the texture of her memories as the seabed below her, or this coral rushing past...



She breaks the surface, arcing over a bit of exposed reef, and radio chatter intrudes on her thoughts. Hmph. So the intelligence briefing was wrong. Again. Neither Sensei 'Red' nor Sempai Zo sound particularly fussed about it. Still, even if they didn't need the help, she'd put in an appearance. Maybe she could wangle some hazard pay out of the skinflints at ERL. God knows she could use the money after that last insurance adjustment for water damage to her condo...



She dove down, and poured on a bit more speed, then broke the surface again in high arc. She didn't do a flip. Doing flips was kid stuff, and she was done with all that. She landed alongside Red in a three point stance, one bladed stinger slipping out of the back of her wrist. She nodded to her mentor curtly, though with a palpable aura of respect.



Surveying Susan's approaching forces, she clicks her jaw to activate her throat mike.




"You guys started without me? Rats!"

​

​

 

[Syrenrei]

Evermore

Location: Plane above Paradise Island
Nearby: Red (formerly), Foxbat (formerly), Chemtrails (formerly), Argent, Limelight, White Rabbit
Tags: Malikai Damafaud Teh Frixz Zahzi Giyari Coin

In the past couple years, through incredibly intense therapy, Imogen had been encouraged to be less pessimistic with her world view. This was much easier said than done, having seen so many ugly sides of humanity, and knowing she was destined to watch it repeat endlessly, but she was making a mental effort to heed the wise advice. As the saying went, 'Prepare for the worst but hope for the best.' When she had received the assignment for mission to 'Paradise Island' she had decided not to jump to conclusions. Once the list of agents and blue cards going on the mission were disclosed to her, however, she became increasingly suspicious about the danger involved. She was used to taking hits for other people and enduring, yet the inclusion of S-ranks suggested this was an extremely risky endeavor, and she'd be tested much more than normal.

During the plane ride there she had made peace with the likelihood of everything going to hell. She had strapped into her seat, as required by safety protocol, closed her eyes, and relaxed. It was easy to be calm when there was very little in the world that could kill you. Most people felt a passive, consistent anxiety about their mortality that was dialed up to the maximum when they drew closer to potentially lethal events. Imogen didn't share these concerns. If it hadn't been for the turbulence she might have taken a nap while they were en route. Generations of grandfathers lying about 'resting their eyes' likely convinced everyone she was asleep. It didn't matter much either way. She held no delusions of grandeur was cognizant of the fact she played a support role for the real heroes. There was no image she felt compelled to create for her peers, no reputation she needed to maintain. One of the perks of being in the background is that you were subject to far less scrutiny.

Beside her she heard JJ fidgeting and smiled. JJ, who she'd have to remember to call Limelight during the mission, was nervous. She could empathize with her younger friend. Idly she wondered if she had powers more akin to JJ's, with offensive capabilities, if she would be more excitable about missions. There must be a rush of adrenaline for those that could contribute more than jumping in front of attacks and bodily protecting the target. Reaching over, she put her hand on theirs in a reassuring, affectionate gesture. Imogen had a younger sister that she hadn't seen in quite some time. Being captured by the Knights of Raguel had put a strain on their relationship since none of her family was permitted to know the cause of her absence. She had found herself withdrawing from them upon her return. Instead of turning to her blood relatives, she had spent her time alone or building a fledgling network of friends that could provide her the support she desperately needed.

"I've had a lot of practice," she shrugged. JJ- no, Limelight she scolded herself- didn't need to hear her internal pity party. "You're plenty prepared. You just need to believe in yourself. I do," Imogen told him with casual confidence. In another ten years he'd be as smugly confident as certain other superheroes who may or may not be in close proximity at that moment.

The alarm went off for the missiles. As quiet and still as she was, and as attuned as she was to focusing herself on listening, she heard parts of the conversation about missiles focused on Red. There was the sound of Red cursing and being his usual charming self as he yelled for the hatch to be opened so he could jump out. Imogen kept her eyes closed and let a small sigh escape from her lips. Once he had flung himself into the sky, Foxbat chased after him, then Riley. It sounded as if all the destructive supers were concentrating themselves in one location which was... well, it was tactic, though she wouldn't consider it the most sound of strategies. There was nothing to be done on her end, however. She certainly wasn't taking responsibility for anyone except JJ, and if she leapt to the ground she'd just be giving herself more injuries to heal while leaving half the group behind.

Imogen was a team player. She wasn't leaving anyone- especially JJ- behind.

"I'm with you, Argent," Imogen said as she stood up, cinching her gear onto her back. Normally she didn't have a bag to carry, but she'd been told to take her 'new equipment' on this mission. She'd also been equipped with a new suit in a beautiful mix of deep cerulean blue and black that was fire-resistant. There was nothing like being briefed on how your suit wouldn't burn away completely if you were doused in fire to give you faith a mission. Because the Commonwealth surely spent extra money on super suits for the teeny tiny chance she'd be walking through a conflagration.

"No point to jumping," she elaborated to JJ. "Your first time should be a pleasant experience and the landing can be a challenge on your first go. The plane is going to be landed anyway and the island isn't going anywhere. We don't need to take excess risks on an already risky mission." Imogen paused, studying JJ silently for another second. "That being said, I'll follow your lead and give you my advice if you wish it."

 

[Giyari]

Mood: Focused

Location: Decending to Paradise Island
Company: Limelight, Evermore, Adrian

@'s: Malikai Syrenrei Damafaud

Other: You think Commonwealth can afford changing spaces on a transport plane? think again.

Argent

With the immediate danger passed, Milly let out a sigh and made her way back to her seat in front of Limelight and Evermore. Never a dull moment when Red was involved, she honestly had no idea how the man was still alive given how many people would like to see him scrapped for parts.

It wouldn't be much longer until they landed, and Millicent was still in her "Civies" as she'd say. It was still a "uniform", and not every agent wore one, but she always felt the professional appearance gave her an air of authority, which definitely helped out on missions. This wasn't one of those missions though, not since the missiles had been launched. This wasn't going to be a walk in and raid drawers kind of deal like her role had been on paper. Her job as an investigator might include a bit more than her current clothing could muster.

Milly looked over over as Limelight and Evermore, two of the more "in the fray" agents, confirmed they weren't jumping, just is Chemtrail falling out the door caught her eye. Scowling at the sight, Milly paused and caught herself before answering the pair. Chemtrail was... She was a special case, not one she could deal with.

"Sorry... No jumping isn't necessary, Limelight. Keep your nerve, and you'll do fine. Trust." She said in a fairly matter of fact tone, nodding at Evermore too. Milly wasn't the best at dealing with "newbies" but JJ seemed to be somewhat aware of the situation, unlike Adrian. She appreciated that at least. Evermore had also taken to keeping an eye on him, which she appreciated.

"Making our final approach"

Milly hadn't had much interaction with either of them before, Although the files about evermore were interesting, if not harrowing... They were also just facts, they didn't have any baring on the person behind the power. Lingering on the thought, Milly acknowledged the message from Greg, got up from her seat and went to prepare now that they were back on schedule. She reached under her seat for her pack, a slightly weathered looking duffel bag with a few bulging pouches on the side.

"Should be coming in to land pretty soon. If you have it, get your gear on if you haven't already, and grab your equipment." Milly said as she undid her jacket, tie, and started to unbutton her shirt. Several other of the investigation Agents towards the front of the plane followed suit, taking their suit jackets off and pulling much more durable looking "combat" suits out of their bags.

The agents weren't like many of the Blue Cards. Blue Cards had branding to take care of, no their suits were standard issue Commonwealth attire, a fairly plain blue-grey and black colour scheme. Each suit was modified slightly to accommodate for the agent wearing it, but they all seemed to follow a basic pattern. A form fitting undersuit for a bit of environmental comfort, combat pants, boots, and a much more durable jacket.

Taking off her boots and dropping out of her skirt, the coverings of metal surrounding Milly's lower legs gleamed in the light. The titanium over her arms wasn't as abundant due to the weight, it covered most of her fore arms and some of the scars Milly had collected over the years but not all. That would take quite a bit of effort.

Standing in her fairly plain looking athletic style underwear, Milly bent over and brushed some errant fluff from the undersuit as she inspected it for damage. They were dark grey and black one piece things resembling a thinner wetsuit that had been reinforced across the chest, shoulders, elbows, and knees. Her particular suit lacked arms and legs, stopping just past the shoulder and just at the top of her thighs which allowed her metal to flow easily from her skin and out her outer clothing layers. Another agent had a hole for a tail, that sort of thing. It wasn't very glamorous, but as Milly slid it onto her body and zipped it up at the front, she was glad to have it, bug bites would be a nightmare down there.

"Beginning our decent."

"Copy." She replied as she zipped up her dark grey combat pants and started to buckle the durable boots over the shining Titanium greaves. The clasps set with a satisfying click giving a nice snug fit, and with a sheen from her metal as it moved effortlessly out the top of them and further up her legs, she pulled her pants down over the top of the boots.

"Everyone ready? We'll be landing any moment now!" Milly called out as she put her black short cut jacket on. A few agents were making the finishing touches to their own uniforms still, but she for some nods of confirmations, things were going well.

"You both ready, Evermore, Limelight?" She added folding her civies up neatly and packing them by into her pack for later.

 

[Damafaud]

Adrian Ward, White Rabbit​

Most Agents returned a speechless stare at Adrian's unprompted request. He pursed his lips. Figures. The lunch wasn't that filling, so it was obvious everyone finished their snacks as well. His eyes lit up when Argent pulled the zip-loc of banana and cheese puffs and juice box from her bag, but his thanks was swiftly stifled by the rough push to his chest. Before Adrian could muster a response, Argent already walked away to chat with other Agents.

...

"I can still grow taller!" He retorted with an incredulous look. What the heck was that? Did he prank her before or something? He would definitely remember someone so studded with metals, though. Phasing through their augments and tickling the skin under was a good way to get a yelp and a punch to the gut if he wasn't fast enough.

Adrian ate his snack, but the mission preoccupied his mind- okay, he was still thinking about Argent. Especially since she was now chatting with Imogen and the new Agent called Starlight. So she wasn't like his ex girlfriend from middle school that seemed to hate everyone and everything, him included. So if it wasn't that, then what, because he just got his Blue Card last week and had no superhero-ing experience outside of public service works, classes, and the two times he fought a powered robbery team? That was why he volunteered for this mission in the first place! Compared to fighting terrorists and whatever, a search-and-retrieve mission was simpler. They didn't want him in because he had no experience but he couldn't get experience because that included doing missions, so he did a little convincing with a staff (see-through vision did wonder) to have him included.

Well, if Argent thought he would be a liability, he just needed to proof otherwise.

Licking cheese dust off his thumb and index finger, Adrian took off his headphones and rummaged through his bag for his equipment. Unlike the Agents, his was a stranger and humbler set up: a snorkel, insulating gloves, flippers, and a sledgehammer strapped to the backpack for easy reach. He tried not to watch the other changes; Early days when he still couldn't control his see-through vision was enough thank you very much. It was just embarassing. He finished his juice box, glancing out of the window. The land below grew larger.

"'kay, I'm off first. See you all in the lab!" He declared to no one in particular, but avoiding Argent's gaze. A younger Adrian would have stuck his tongue out. He had matured.

Then, Adrian disappeared.

In the plane's chassis and complicated engine parts, Adrian's world changed. Sounds around him muted. Heart beats were the only thing accompanying him as he swam to the protracted wheels. Then, he jumped.

The momentum sent him flying. Adrian followed the violent momentum that shot him deeper into the island. His breath, trained through frequent dives, held fine until the speed died and he could rise his head under the cover of thick foliages. Breathing deep of the earthy scent, Adrian dived back. He avoided sources of wild shots that definitely came from Gramps and made way to the laboratory.

Underneath the earth, White Rabbit tunnelled through.

Spoiler: Mentions

Giyari , Malikai , Syrenrei

 

[Coin]

FOXBAT​

Zofia locked open her helmet's titanium and ballistic glass visor to get a better look at Red. Sure as shit he was still in one piece, and for falling from the lower troposphere, he didn't look too roughed up. Despite the four graves he had dug himself in the sand, Zofia was confident it'd take more than that to kill him. During their conversation, the Russians were soon joined by two more heroes -- Manami and Riley. She nodded in acknowledgement, and was thankful for the backup.

"One day you'll land on something as stubborn as you are, Red, and we'll be having a much different conversation when the cleaners are scraping your insides off the ground," Zofia joked as she touched down next to the rest of the heroes. "давай <<alright>>, Stingray, Chem, thanks for joining us. Give me a moment to assess the situation, and maybe get Red out of that hole in the meantime.

In the blink of an eye, Zofia shot straight up about 20 feet before holding altitude in a gentle hover. She zeroed in on the rat-beasts gathering in defense of the island with her cybernetic eye. Zofia flared her nostrils in disgust; she hated rats. Looking past the horrid things, she observed some of the missiles sites, still smoking but dormant. Good, they stopped firing. As her eye reset to its default magnification, she looked down to the other heroes that had gathered at Red's landing site as a plan formulated in her head. But first, she needed to let Greg know it was safe to land.

"Foxbat to 188, missile sites are cold. Bring her down nice and easy. There's a situation on the ground, but you are clear for landing."

Zofia reduced her altitude until she was just above the heads of the other heroes on the ground near her, "I dont see anymore missiles, but I see a bunch of angry giant spiky rats. I will run diversion and bunch them up as much as possible. From there, I'll rely on everyone else to take the groups out. Got it?"

With that, she slung her rifle once again and lowered the armored visor of her helmet. Zofia reached into the sack attached to her hip and withdrew an impact grenade for both hands. She zipped just above the ground at ankle-biting altitude for the rats and skimmed close enough for her to rip the pins out of the explosives before lobbing the two grenades in their general direction. Two thunderous cracks later, and Zofia skidded to a halt on the ground and shouted at the rats, "Come on! Come get some! I'm gonna feed you to my cat!"

The rats fell for her tauning a little too well, and soon Zofia found herself sprinting back to the other heroes on the beach all while hurling expletives and explosives as she ran.

Spoiler: Mentions

Zahzi , Gus , Teh Frixz

 

[Zahzi]

Hunter Red Ward
Location: Matron's piece of shit goddamn haunted island of missiles and bullshit.
Nearby: Foxbat Coin
Manami Gus
Chemtrail Teh Frixz
Rodents of Unusual Size
Disposition: "Alright ramblers, lets get rambling."
​

The laughter from behind at what he said caused Hunter to sign and shake his head. He was kinda hoping that she had stayed on the plane. Oh, right. She was leaning against the hatch so lackadaisically that she probably landed before he did. It's not that there was anything.....Wrong....With Riley. It was, well. They were so under the influence of their own product that this all seemed like a bad action movie.
"....Chemtrail....Glad to see you....Drop on in with us." he said, a weak smile, hiding a his annoyance poorly with the twitch betraying it all. Before he could consider ordering her to do something safe and simple like building sand castles away from the combat zone, he heard the sound of his prize pupil jumping out of the water.
He smirked at the lack of a flip. Theatrics were a waste of energy out here.

"Ah, Stingray good. No, the party is only about to begin. And....Well, yes. It IS rats. Good guess."

Hunter rolled his eyes at Foxbat's quip as he checked the contents of his pockets. Good. Payload was still secured.
"Look, when that day finally comes, perhaps you kids can finally fill my shoes so I can enjoy rest for once in my life." he chided back, climbing out of the hole he carved out with the last impact.
With the introductions out of the way, he listened as Zofia came up with a plan. Good. She was back in the right mindset. And the plan was sound, so he could see how these new Supers could handle themselves without being too distracted. After Zofia had left to do her part, Red looked to the other two and pointed in separate directions for both of them.
"Alright you two. Standard skirmish tactics are as follows. I will take center while you two flank from the left and right. Stingray, take right so you can utilize the water if necessary. Chemtrail, do what you do best and bring whatever rats we don't get to down. Got it?"

He then charged forward, toward the distracted rats, a cloud of metal BBs rose from the pockets of his jacket, whipping all around him like an angry storm, carving through the sand before he flew forward, taking hold of the metal within himself to dash ahead and into the fray.

"Let's GO!!"​

 

[welian]

Location: Viewing the beach from the balcony of the mansion

Susan would have cursed with frustration and disappointment, if such a thing were in his programming. The battered and dented Vietnam-era robot watched the heroes assemble on the beach by the airstrip. Tragically, he failed to kill Red.

"It is what. She would have wanted. Oh well."

Susan turned around and went back inside the mansion. He had a funeral to host, and he wasn't done bedazzling the boss lady's casket.

The lab rats assembled in a rudimentary formation – these rats were about the size of large dogs, but their shape was… off. They all had boney spinal ridges, little outcrops here and there on their joints, and even for rats their teeth and claws were too long.

Worse yet, they were… not the smartest, but smart enough. Their chittering was almost human-like, and as three of the two-dozen rats chased after Foxbat, well…

It was a bit unnerving, even to an unfeeling robot like Susan, when those nasty lab rats started running on two legs, and grabbing rocks and sticks and grenades to lob back at the intruders with their stubby little opposable claws.

“TrraaaAAaapp….” The rats hissed.

OOC

Damafaud Roll a d6 in the OOC thread to determine where Adrian actually ends up.

Everyone else, please refrain from responding in-character until Nessy has an opportunity to catch up.

 

[welian]

Location: Security office
Tags: Damafaud

As the White Rabbit swam through the earth, there would be zones where the ground was a bit denser, difficult to pass through. There were, as discussed in prior briefings, limiter fields in place - the same energy frequency used in personal power limiters, but broadcasted over larger areas. These wide-area limiters, or WALs, were somewhat common in public areas like sporting arenas and shopping malls. Definitely not common in a personal residences.

Where he popped up, ironically, would be exactly where the WAL was installed - in a medium-sized security office in the basement. They tended to have a dead zone directly under them, which meant it was a nice and easy spot to swim through. The office was approximately fifteen by twenty feet, with cinderblock walls and a drop ceiling. The lights were off, but the room was dimly lit by a wall of display monitors - eight of them, each displaying different camera vantage points from across the islands.

The feeds automatically cycled through various scenes, and if White Rabbit stayed long enough to watch he would see the fight on the beach - the lab rats exploding into viscera as they foolishly attempted to catch Foxbat's grenade, peaceful jungle forest scenes, a shot of the ocean past the air strip where a large sea monster was rising up behind Manami, a handful of human staff throughout the resort-like ground and upper floors of the compound sweeping floors and folding laundry, and a small morgue-like room somewhere in the building where a white casket was balanced on a wheeled cart.

 

[Gus]

Chemtrails and Stingray​

Manami glanced over to Riley as Ward sped off, and sighed, gills fluttering under her circulatory collar. She had mixed feelings about Red’s delegation to her of ‘leading’ Riley into battle. On the one hand she appreciated the implications; Sensei Ward had taught her more than anyone alive about how to fight, and most importantly, win. His matter of fact trust that she would find winning tactics with minimal instruction meant the world to her. Especially where Riley was concerned, really. She was more than a handful. Unpredictable, and volatile, sometimes literally, with potentially catastrophic consequences if she got out of hand. There was no denying she was effective, given a minder to keep her on the rails. And it turned out that Manami was really good at managing her… and yet that’s the very thing that rankles. Directing Riley into battle felt a lot like pointing a weapon and pulling the trigger. And Manami, more than most, knew what it was like to be seen as merely a weapon. Her own conditioning had been very hard for her adoptive parents to break, and it still had noticeable influences on her personality to this day. That, combined with the lingering worry that some of her old triggers remained buried, like perverse mental landmines, left her ambivalent about the morality of managing Riley in this way.

Still. The middle of pitched battle was probably not the best time for ruminating about the wethertos and whyfores. She stepped up to Riley and leaned in, fixing her in place with an unblinking stare, nearly touching foreheads. With a click of her jaw she synched up their audio, slaving Riley’s earpiece to her own. A menu of albums popped up in her HUD. Eye tracking software allowed her to scan through the list without breaking the stare.

Riley’s pupils were the size of dinner plates.

Given the uneven terrain, large numbers of small assailants, Red and Zo’s forward position… had to use Mind Bomb, obviously… Armageddon Days, for sure.

At last she blinked, and The The’s nearly 6 decade old track began to play.

As Red and foxbat cut deeper into the enemy's position, the low vocalizations began to engage targeting software in both their HUDs locking in allies and enemies with IFF designations that even Riley couldn’t mistake. 15 seconds in, the drumline begins, and she and Riley both start to tremble in anticipation. The rats are spreading out across the beach. Starting to flank. 5 seconds more… the enemy almost has them encircled…. 2 seconds…

“Are you ready for Jesus?” Manami asks, in time with the lyric.

And then all hell breaks loose.

The human body, at least at times, can put on a sobering display for those that often point out the biological disparities when compared to other creatures. Earth provides with scales and claws, stingers and razor sharp teeth. It seems, from on outward perspective, absurd that the soft, pink, and fuzzy dominate the planet.

There was a reason for the age of mammals. And Riley, when the music hit and the completely consensual subconscious conditioning took hold, seemed to be a prime example of when all the tools were gone, what primal humanity could do.

The flood of chemicals hitting her should have constituted a war crime. The seahorse holding her close melted away softly, Riley immediately starting to scratch at the air where it had been before new objects appeared. The sand of the beach turned black, reflecting a starry night upwards. Music rolled over her and intense desires took hold.

She bellowed out gibberish, roughly in tune with the music flowing through her, and took off straight at the assembling mischief. The fabric of her mask clinging to her face as she half screamed and half ran towards them like a terrier pumped up on adrenaline. There was the briefest of sensations that the sea horse was still around but Riley physically couldn’t think on it. The chemical sludge flowing through her brain refused to do anything else but grab and choke and rip and tear.

Grains of sand accumulated at the edges of her nail beds, stuck to the leaking a combination of warfarin, sodium flouroacetate and a lethal variant of alpha naphthylthiourea. The cocktail of anticoagulants leaving little drops in a trail behind the sprinting Riley.

The first Rat she got to didn’t even need the poison, her hand driving deep into the skull of the creature as it squeaked in alarm. Body still twitching she just began biting, spitting, scratching and screaming. Any limb, any thing she could do to physically impact these creatures. She was unhinged, she was alive with chemically unlocked fury. She wasn’t even sure if what she was fighting was real or not. That was for Stingray to decide.

As Riley whirled away like a tasmanian devil, Manami spun in the opposite direction and, in keeping with the punk theme blasting through her earpiece, waded into onrushing rats as she would a particularly violent mosh pit, slashing, kicking, and biting. It wasn’t graceful, but it was certainly cathartic. And effective. All ruminations faded as the dance took her, chanting along to her vague understanding of the lyrics in her head

“Buddha?” she intoned.

A rat leapt at her head and she ducked underneath, gutting it with a stinger.

“Muhammed?” Two more rats were stomped flat in quick succession.

“Well ok fellas… Let’s GO!” She turned a front handspring, grabbed a particularly large rat by the back of the neck and used it as a bludgeon to dispatch four of its fellows at a swipe.

“Five miles high, mumble mumble flies, leaving vapor trails cross a blood red sky…”
Rats took to the sky in dozens of high arcing trajectories, traced by streams of various fluids.
By the second mention of Jesus Christ, 45 seconds have passed, and the rats are fleeing in every direction.

“Honey you’ve got, another think coming…” she chants, tunelessly, as her dance of death winds down.

She pauses, suddenly uncertain. What was…? She mutes her earpiece and listens.

“Rawr?”

Manami turns around and her face splits into a terrifying grin. “SKITTLES!”

 

[Necessity4Fun]

Location: Eleusis - About to land Commonwealth plane
Mission: Recover stolen government files; Destroy anything else.
People Around: Imogen, JJ, Millicent, Adria- oh there he went
Interactions: Giyari

OOC: (Are intros always this awkward or is it just me? Also thanks everyone for the patience, understanding and encouragement \o/)

*I hate shaking flights, I hate shaking flights, I hate--!*

Kendrick was internally grateful that Argent had managed to distract Adrian for the duration of the flight, because as it stood... he was caught up in the most pathetic of predicaments. ...Kendrick couldn't swim. An oversight(?) by part of his parents that apparently was too troublesome to fix this late in. It wasn't for the lack of trying, really, but the thought of sinking into deep waters of Doom and to complete Oblivion made it all the more difficult to solve.

As one could imagine, a rough plane flight had been enough for The Conductor to crumble into a bundle of anxiety while on his seat.

What was that? Missiles? People jumping on of the plane? He had been a bit too preocupied to pay attention to anything other than Ted, to who Kendrick had been embracing as if his life depended on it. Which, maybe it would!! The shaking got worse, he whimpered under a jacket being used as a make-shift blanket. No idea who it belonged to either; His was neatly attached to a clothing rack, which was subsequently connect to the internal wall of the plane itself. Yep, right in the line of sight as well.

No one would dare touch it with him watching over it.

But since there were no complaints about the jacket-blanket, it was probably fine. Better than Adrian's messy and smelly snacks at least. How the other could be so rambunctious at the face of Lady Death and drowning was beyond him; Or after gathering so early to begin this trip...

It shook too much to peacefully sleep during the flight.

"This is why I dislike long-distance missions...", he complained at Ted, the plush just as nestled to him as Kendrick was nestled to it, "Why did I agree to this again...?", there was a reason, a very important reason, but at this moment his brain was filled with terror and the sound of clanking objects here and there.

...Or was that the sound of aircraft's fusilage itself? -Better not to think about that.

"I'm staying.", why would he even try to go anywhere? And can this plane land safely soon, please??

At least Kendrick wasn't alone in feeling out of his element. Though he was sure no one else had such a pathetic reason for it- But hey, sympathy and all that! ...He wasn't going to do this again for a couple of months, at a minimum! Are you hearing?! No way in Hell-

"Everyone ready? We'll be landing any moment now!"​

"Hallellujah...!", 'thank you Lord, for not letting us plummet into dark cold waters this morning!' ...Dammit, that also means that he has to get up now.

It took Kendrick a few tries. It was no easy feat, to go from being utterly and completely paralized with fear and staying on his comfy safe plane seat to, standing up again. His legs were still shaky as he walked towards that clothing rack, grasped the fabric of the coat and took a deep breath to try settling into the idea of existing again.

Alrighty, left sleeve, right sleeve, and don't forget the hat! Would be less of a conductor if he forgot that one! The humor is coming back, that's a good sign. It did bring him some reassurance to be fully dressed up once more; Look how many friends can fit in these pockets too! So wonderful!

One was never alone when they were The Conductor.

"All ready on our end as well, Agent Argent.", Kendrick pat Ted, who was now properly sitting on his shoulder. Oh and did he ever mention that they have matching outfits too?! He made it himself! Sewing turned out to be a surprisingly fun activity.

 

[Malikai]

Limelight
Jeremiah J. Johnson
(They/Them/He/Him)
Blue Card Holder and Volunteer Super
Mood: Ready!!!
​

The earlier words from Imogen had helped to inspire JJ, and made them feel more confident than they had been. Though they were still unsure about the idea of jumping this was quickly debunked by both Argent as well as Imogen, who seemed to be in agreement about not needing to jump from the plane. JJ nodded at Imogen's words before speaking, "Yeah, I would like my first time skydiving to be a bit more pleasant. Besides, if I landed in the water I think I would be a bit more than screwed. Unless a light-shaped boat can help me. And you should know your advice is always going to be appreciated! I'll do my best to make you proud," JJ turned to Argent as she spoke and nodded, "Yes Ma'am. I'll follow your lead just as much then." Feeling less as though they were going to collapse JJ took a deep breath, which sounded peculiar and had a stutter through the electronic piece transmitting their voice, and let it out slowly.

Hearing the words to get ready from Argent JJ started preparing to do just that, but then realized there wasn't exactly much left for them to do. JJ pressed a button on their suit and felt the suit tense slightly, getting more tight to be ready for any combat or exercise needed while out in the field. The suit tightening felt tense on JJ's leg and they were reminded of the previous knee injury they had taken five years ago. Shaking that thought from their head, there wasn't much more to prepare in terms of their equipment, since they did already get ready. As JJ lifted their head about to ask Argent if there was anything else they should be doing to prepare they noticed that Argent was only in their underwear. A pang of envy was felt in JJ's stomach before they remembered how improper it was to stare, and an immediately flushed face could be seen underneath JJ's helmet and they turned completely around to hide, "Sorry! Didn't, uh, see anything."

As JJ was turned around they didn't notice White Rabbit slipping through the floor, but they did hear him shout off a goodbye. A thought about how impulsive he seemed occurred to JJ, but they bit back saying that to any of the agents or other supers. The only time that JJ was prepared to turn back around was after Argent spoke out: "Everyone ready? We'll be landing any moment now!"

JJ cleared their throat and nodded, turning back around to see, and hear, The Conductor stand up again in relief. A small chuckle came from JJ and they nodded towards him, "I'm guessing you're definitely not a fan then?" Even though JJ had read up on a fair bit of the others that would be coming along it still surprised them to learn about the very neat little details they didn't think about. Most importantly like how The Conductor apparently had a fear of flying. The second most pressing thing though, "Oh! Cute plush by the way." It was hard for JJ to just ignore it after all.

JJ, or Limelight as they had just been referred to by Argent, turned to the agent and nodded. While they were still trying to get the awkward interaction out of their head they were definitely more ready than ever for this mission, "Ready and waiting Ma'am. Just guide me where to be." JJ turned back to the other person who had helped them immensely with calming down and gave a partially seen smile from underneath the helmet towards Imogen, "Similarly, please guide me as well Imo-Evermore!" And nodded at her as well.

Limelight was ready to help their fellow supers, and their friends, as much as they could.

Spoiler: Mentions and Interactions

Directly Interacted with: Syrenrei (Imogen) / Giyari (Argent) / Necessity4Fun (The Conductor)
Mentioned: Damafaud (Adrian)

 

[Ozmic]

F R A C T U R E

Desmond Romero​

-----
Mood: Delirium, Loneliness
Location: Unknown
Company: Stale Air, Hunger, Imogen Jarsdel (memory?)
Other: How long have I been here?
Tags: Conversational collaboration flashback, featuring Syrenrei
-----​

The room had looked like a lab once. Maybe a doctor's office. The smell had been sterile, now foul.

Occasionally, something would shift and whir behind his head. Movement beyond the walls, but nothing close.

The machine at his feet hummed incessantly. He didn't recognize what type of technology it was, but it was attached.

Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.

A choking and bitter laugh that echoed, sounded dry and worn, cracked his lips.

He couldn't look that far around him, so he looked up. What was left of an eye stared back.

The camera in his room had been speared directly through the lens and into the innards with a sharp spear of bone.
Bullseye.

This time when the black took him, he let it, slipping into a dream inside of a dream.

---

Desmond wondered if it was actual heat or just nerves that was making the room near stifling. It was his first time in one of Dr. Santos' group sessions and, despite being dressed casually in a thin long-sleeved shirt and tan chinos, his neck burned. Maybe he shouldn't have shared anything. The speaking itself went well, but there was no follow up, and some of the other accounts made his seem almost normal.

Extended Lifetime Support Network.

The name sounded horribly clinical, and from the looks on a few of the other's faces when things had started off, he wasn't alone in thinking that. Still... the session itself had gone alright, and people were helping themselves to cheap coffee and socializing. Toss in some communal chair cleanup, and this could be an AA meeting, he thought to himself, swallowing down the sudden urge to burst out laughing.

---

He woke up chuckling without knowing why, wondering why the thought of folding chairs had pulled him out of unconsciousness. His skull felt like something was rattling around inside it, a trapped word or phrase echoing as if chanted. He tried to reach up and rub his temples.

Hands were still bound.

Desmond cursed at the empty room and pushed every bit of will he could into struggling, shouting out, begging. He barely remembered how he'd gotten here, let alone who he was yelling at.
Or for.

Had everything between his accident and now been a coma induced hallucination?

Exhausted, he fell back and let reality drift away again.

---

He was holding out his hand awkwardly to a younger woman, a slight glance to Bismarck at the odd style of introduction before his eyes moved back toward 'Gen'. "Desmond Romero, pleased to meet you - even with such a wonderful introduction - thank you Jakob." His voice, a calm baritone, betrayed nothing of his nervousness or slight annoyance at the bizarre forced greeting from the other man. It was more than just a polite gesture as well, the words and expression genuine.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Romero. May I call you Desmond?" Imogen was unruffled by Bismarck's bizarre introduction. There had been many people over the years that competed to elicit reactions from her and thus far most were surprisingly unsuccessful. Her brows creased slightly in thought as she accepted his hand. "I believe I've heard about you...," she mused aloud. Recognition sparked in her eyes as she diplomatically inquired, "Bone manipulation?"

"You may, and that would be me," he admitted, pushing a bit of hair back after the handshake had released. Most people seemed to show a bit of discomfort at his abilities, especially those who had seen them first-hand, and he found himself wondering what she had heard. "Bone manipulation with a bit of regeneration thrown in for good measure."

"It would be much of a power to use if it were not for the regeneration," she nodded along. Of course, Imogen wasn't disturbed by the thought of anyone with such strange abilities. She had seen herself recover from incredibly gruesome injuries and it wasn't a pleasant sight to put it kindly. "My name is Imogen Jarsdel. Please call me Gen. I only have powers of regeneration," she told him humbly, as if being shot in the head and instantly healing from it was a minor matter.

Desmond chuckled, nodding as well. "Very true. The bone manipulation came on much stronger than the healing at first. It was..." he trailed off, a small beat passing before he continued. "Not ideal."

"And Gen it is. If you would like, you can call me Des, most folks do. Believe I've read your name before, though I don't think we've met until now. Or at least I hope we haven't and here I've been making myself look like an old fool," he joked, one side of his mouth tilting up in a soft smirk. "If I recall correctly, your regeneration is astounding. I'd go as far to say mine would most likely pale in comparison."

Imogen looked on at him with outward sympathy, nodding as he alluded to the pain that came with manipulating bone before healing kicked in. While her powers did not function in the same manner, she could imagine it as there were many times she had suffered through quite a deal of pain before the mending began in earnest.

"No, we haven't met before," she told him. She had a theory that the Commonwealth tried not to put too many regenerators on any one mission, though she could be wrong. "Oh well it's..." Imogen trailed off, a little embarrassed her reputation. It felt odd to be recognized for a passive ability she had no real control over. "It's far less useful than yours. It surfaced early enough in life I was forced to use my limiter to age myself properly. How do you know Jakob?"

Desmond knew that look and knew it well. It wasn't the usual sympathetic gaze he got from others; those who felt sorry for him for having such an ability. No, there was understanding in her eyes and it warmed him to her further. "Oh I wouldn't call it less useful, though. I believe all abilities have their uses. Especially so if they can be used to help those in need." He went quiet for a moment at that, a little embarrassment on his own face now. It wasn't like him to be overly reassuring, especially not when meeting someone for the first time, and hoped it hadn't come off as terribly preachy. Clearing his throat, he spoke up again.

"Ah, I suppose that makes a good deal of sense. My own abilities surfaced quite a bit later, thankfully the limiter seemed to be more regulated to the eh... 'osteokinesis' as they called it, rather than my regeneration. Limiting that could have ended poorly, I think. Especially while I was learning how to properly control things." Rubbing his right arm lightly through his shirt, the memories of scars slipped back into his mind after many years.

"Oh, and as for Jakob, I mostly know him through Hunter. And a few missions here and there. Maybe a bar or two." A light chuckle at this, and he went on. "I'm not a proper Commonwealth 'employee' mind, just a Blue Card holder. At the time, I was still employed elsewhere and I didn't wish to give that up." The taller of the two didn't elaborate on that fact, but it was clear how that ship had sailed.

Imogen was quiet as he asserted his belief that all abilities had their uses. Perhaps her did, but they were unconventional at best, and she often felt melancholic when comparing them to others. Throwing herself into the line of fire was the right thing to do and saved lives, but it was nothing next to those that could actively perform heroic acts. The only time she had felt instrumental, important, and needed was when...

Her eyes drifted to his arm as he rubbed it absently. Presumably he was not scarred there, given his regeneration, yet phantom wounds were known to her. Imogen had heard in support groups many regenerators had a jarring psychological reaction to their rapid healing. A touch of pink touched her cheeks as she realized she was staring and she forced herself to look away as quickly as her composure would allow.

"I was a Blue Card myself until I joined the Commonwealth on a full-time basis. If you ever want a recommendation, TAP could use people with regeneration. New metahumans discovering their powers can be dangerous to themselves and others, so it's an area where we can make a large impact." Notably she didn't state how she knew Jakob. There was no way to volunteer they met at a mental facility because she had been committed for a couple months to deprogram.

Desmond's scars were definitely real, but they weren't ones he showed others. Old wounds, ones before his healing had grown enough to make a real impact. His thoughts drifted for a second, but snapped back as color glanced over her features and she turned away. Des smiled a little to himself and then listened, nodding. "TAP?" he questioned. "Either way, if it makes an impact and I can help folks with their powers, definitely seems right up my alley. I did some teaching for awhile, at 108. Subbing when needed, helping with powers. Miss it."

He noted that she didn't mention Jakob and let it lie. There were things you didn't push and if she wasn't offering, it wasn't his place. Looking over at the coffee - or what could pass as it anyway - he tilted his head and offered a wry sort of grin. "I'm gonna go grab a drink. Want some of... well, whatever that is?"

---

Noticeably, painfully awake, Desmond groaned. The memory had felt so real. What if it was, and this was the dream?
Nightmare, remember?
Glowering, he cursed at the ceiling, calling it every bitter swear he could in his dry, hiss of a voice.

Before it could reply, Des was gone again.

 

[Syrenrei]

Evermore

Location: Plane above Paradise Island
Nearby: Argent, Limelight, White Rabbit (formerly), The Conductor
Tags: Malikai Damafaud Zahzi Giyari Necessity4Fun

Predictably, Imogen was unconcerned by Argent's stripping as she changed into her suit. She personally didn't care enough about clothing to bring another set on most missions, although it might be prudent in the future. Her abilities meant that her body survived extreme, ordinarily lethal, amounts of damage- enough damage that would obliterate almost any garment she might be wearing. When she was younger and it happened the first few times, to acid, fire, and proximity to detonations, she had been thoroughly embarrassed. At the time she considered her propensity for falling asleep (to expedite the regenerative process) a boon. Sleeping through the humiliation was preferable to consciously enduring it. To say it did nothing to foster friendships was putting it lightly. A few men had to be relieved of their posts because they took unsavory pictures or made inappropriate jokes objectifying her, while many others kept their distance because the visual image of her nude, almost unrecognizable body knitting itself back into pristine shape was a little too much to bear.

By contrast, Argent in her underwear was so blase that it wasn't until JJ reassured her that they 'saw nothing' that Imogen realized it was weird for anyone else. Unabashedly she stared at the metal coverings for Argent's arms and legs and idly wondered how different it would feel to have such attachments. Theoretically it was possibly for Imogen to have something similar, though there would be no real use for it except to look neat. And, she admitted internally, Argent- or Milly as she preferred to be called outside of missions- looked so much more capable and heroic than she did. She wasn't jealous, really, so much as she admired anyone that could have an aesthetic edge that screamed they were a badass. Imogen's 'baby face' that made her look twenty years younger wasn't a poster child for looking capable and gallant. Instead, they had asked her multiple times to be their model for the fresh-faced greenhorn on the advertisements.

Shrugging mentally, she put on her helmet after Argent was 'decent' - not wanting her camera to engage while her companion was in the middle of dressing- and was surprised to see a text message on the interior display. Imogen furrowed her brows in confusion. What in the world was Anderson talking about? Already she could mentally envision him yelling into his own helmet to send her the initial text. Much as she adored Anderson, she suspected too much exposure to his booming voice over a long period of time would cause a normal person to lose their hearing.

Spoiler: Text Exchange from Anderson's Phone's POV

Not much ruffled Imogen. Anderson, however, seemed to have the uncanny ability to unintentionally worry her more than anyone else. Over the shared channel with her fellow agents and Blue Cards on the mission, she let out a heavy sigh. "Apparently Anderson has been in charge of testing all the safety equipment at the Baltimore Branch," she told the others on the plane as well as those already in the field, should they be on the same frequency. Imogen was relatively certain that the only person that would ever put Anderson in charge of testing anything without direct supervision and very strict parameters was Anderson himself. Instantly she regretted telling him she felt poorly she couldn't do the safety testing as she had a conflict with the island mission. Perhaps he had seen her inability to do the testing as a signal he ought to act in her stead.

She wasn't the religious type, but she said a small prayer to all the gods she could think of that the Baltimore Branch could survive Anderson until she returned.

There was nothing to be done about it at the moment. If she tried to send instruction to Anderson, he'd only get confused, and a confused Anderson could be exponentially worse. Not that she knew what was worse than Anderson rampaging through side rails and falling fourteen floors. An elevator? She blanched. There was no way that the elevator was prepared for the weight of Anderson in his armor, but it was something that ought to be safety tested. Quickly she sent out a text. Anderson, don't test the elevator. An elevator specialist has to do that.

Imogen refocused on the present mission. There were here counting on her- and by that she meant there were people to become a human body shield for. With any luck, there would be no naked adventures today. While she wouldn't be bothered, Limelight and The Conductor could possibly faint out of mortification.

"Ready, Argent. I've started recording and will follow behind when we disembark," she said, making certain no one had any wild ideas about her walking in front. She'd jump in front of anyone being attacked, but leading even a small party, even a small distance, was something she was totally unwilling to do unless commanded and cajoled. Limelight and The Conductor seemed a little nervous. It was a good sort of energy to have in moderation. Once the adrenaline started flowing, there was a direct advantage in reaction time and awareness. Of this she was a touch envious. Diving in front of a stream of bullets didn't get the blood pumping, so to speak, anymore. It took a large-scale explosion to cause anything akin to anxiety in her... and she hoped for all their sake there were none of these this time around.

 

[Giyari]

Mood: Stressed Focused

Location: Airstrip

Company: Limelight, Conductor, Evermore White Rabbit

@'s: Syrenrei Necessity4Fun Malikai

Other: Coin Zahzi for the radio message

Argent
Hearing the younger Blue Cards confirm their readiness for the mission gave Milly a feeling of assurance that if all went well, these kids would be alright. She sat back down in her seat with an air of casualness and buckled her harness once again, fixing the collar of her jacket as the younger Blues prepared. Sure their nerves would probably be all over the place but that was part of her job to deal with. Direct, keep them focused, and make use of their abilities the best she could. Hopefully their being here would give them a good idea of what to expect on the more “dangerous” missions, temper their expectations for the rest of their work.


Feeling confident about their chances, Milly smirked as Limelight and Conductor settling their nerves with some conversation… just as Adrian stated his intentions and disappeared through the floor of the still moving plane.

”Adrian no, what the fu-!“ She stopped her expletives short as Adrian began his plummet from a few hundred feet above the island through the air… Either he would be “fine” or he would die on impact, I guess they would find out. Either way, that was their “key” into the building gone if they needed it. Pinching her brow and scowling through her fingers, her building confidence started to wane.

Evermore’s comments on Anderson’s new found duties was just the icing on the hotdog. Milly let out a sigh as she consigned herself to a feeling of ”whatever”. She went over the details of the mission in her head, giving herself a pep talk. Land, get in, state what was going on to any staff, deliver papers, confirm Demeter was indeed dead. Easy enough so far… Conduct a search of the premises, recover data, destroy any possible experiments or data too big to transport. Even on her own she was pretty sure she could pull this mission off, it would be tough if the remaining staff or security systems don’t play along nicely but not impossible. With her and Red also causing a distraction? This could be a cake walk. So with the collection of people gathered? This should be easy, even if things didn’t go as planned, and even if there was no office to come back to. Milly would survive either way… She was damn sure of that.

"I’ll take point. Limelight, with your shields you can cover the rear? Conductor, take care of our flanks if you can. Evermore, you’re surveying everything you can, take not of what needs to go. Everyone else stick close, don’t let your guard down… This mission shouldn’t require any excessive force. If all goes well, we’ll walk in, gather evidence, dispose of what we can’t recover, and walk out, no shots fired. So fingers off the trigger, but do not let your guard down. Demeter Green was not a safe woman.” Milly ordered, her voice raising slightly over the rumbling of the plane wheels as their transport touched down on the tarmac.

As soon as the plane were stable, Milly got up from her seat and clipped her sword to her waist. The cargo doors at the rear of the plane opening as the vehicle came to a stop close by to what looked like a hanger. With a nod of her head towards their small group, she began down the ramp and into the bright shining sun of their tropical destination. The hot air outside was a stark difference to the chilly cabin of the transporter they had spent most of the night sitting in at ten thousand feet. It might get unpleasant as the day went on but for now it was a welcome feeling across Milly’s skin. The light however was a more immediate issue, and as she brought her hand up to shade her eyes, Milly squinted at their target, and raised her other hand to her ear.

"Transport has made it to the airfield, were disembarking and heading towards the villa." Milly said casually, sending a message to Red and Foxbat.

A large modern “villa” sitting surrounded by tropical trees and some manicured gardens. It was a short journey from their airstrip up a slightly rough looking road just wide enough for a middling sized truck, but with no immediate transportation, it was a journey they might have to take on foot. Milly walked out into the open of the tarmac, looking over her shoulder as everyone else disembarked.

"Alright..." She said clearly as she looked over to the Blue Cards. "The other agents will get the plane ready to go again and set up a small staging post for collection of anything we can send back. Lets get to it!” Milly stated, and with a smile started walking in the direction of the Villa. No matter the outcome, this should be fun.

 

[Coin]

FOXBAT​

Zofia had seen some fucked up shit before. A fraction of it was through the thermal imaging camera of her warplane's detection suite, which left only dehumanized flashes of white hot and plumes of black cold to view after a missile strike. The majority of the fucked up shit she had the displeasure of witnessing was in her short, but troubled "employment" with the Russian FSB. Even the mere memory of her former squadmates lived rent free in her head. Yuri with his dominion over rot, flies, and maggots was the worst by far, and was the first person to pop into her mind when she saw the ribbons of unidentifiable flesh and sinew splatter onto the sand like a layer of very cursed confetti. She almost expected to hear the drone of carrion insects buzz and vibrate the very air as they descended upon the scraps of discarded rat meat. It came to an almost pleasant surprise when instead it was Chemtrails rushing past Zofia, but that pleasantness soon faded as she dug her fingers into a pursuing rat-thing. That was another trauma for Zofia's therapist to catalogue and figure out later.

As soon as she reached the rear of the Commonwealth formation on the beach, Zofia took one leaping stride and ascended at a 45 degree angle to an altitude of about 20 feet. At the end of her skyward vault, she unslung her rifle and spun 180 degrees mid-air in the same motion -- a maneuver she had practiced thousands of times. Just like her training, she shouldered her rifle as she killed her now rearwards inertia. This would have been the portion where she picked off any flanking units that posed a threat to her comrades, but the rat-things had already broken rank and were mostly dead or dying. Zofia popped off a few rounds with her rifle, three suppressed thuds hammered through the air as she delivered the killing blow on the twitching and suffering forms of the victims the heroes left in their wake.

That just left the sea monster. Well, at least it didn't seem hostile and that was good enough for Zofia. Maybe it was Manami's ride here.

Satisfied with their current position, Zofia shouted out to Red, Stingray, and Chemtrails below her as they wrapped up the last of the rats, "Hey, друзья <<friends>>, last one to the villa scrubs the plane down when we get back!"

Without wasting another breath, Zofia slung her rifle behind her once again and zipped off towards the airfield and villa. She took the moment alone in the air to survey the island around her. Despite the brewing storm and the very real possibility of the place being a biomutations laboratory, it was serene. Definitely like the places she and the pilots back in the Air Force talked about when they dreamed of retirement. Sorry bastards probably ended up living with their бабушка <<grandma>> after their tour of duty instead of on the promised tropical islands and white sand beaches. She missed those bastards.

If anyone asked her, she was also looking for more anti-air installations, and certainly not goofing off.

She spotted the rest of the team on the road to the villa and began her descent. In moments, she landed behind Argent with a soft thud and dual hisses from her prosthetic ankles cushioning the landing. Zofia fell right into formation with her rifle at low ready and clapped her fellow agent on the shoulder as she approached, "Hey Argent, sorry for bailing on you. We took care of those weird rat things on the beach, fifteen plus KIA. Creepy as hell; they had bony spikes all over 'em, and even seemed to be 'talking' to one another. Anyone else seen or heard of anything like that before?"

Zofia turned as she asked the last part of her question, opening the inquiry up to the other agents behind her.

Spoiler: Interactions

Zahzi , Gus , Teh Frixz , Giyari , et al.

 

[Zahzi]

Hunter Red Ward
Location: Matron's piece of shit goddamn haunted island of missiles and bullshit.
Nearby: Foxbat Coin
Manami Gus
Chemtrail Teh Frixz
Skittles....
Disposition: "They can chew me out all they want. Brass knows who has outlived who."
​

Perhaps Hunter had gone a little overboard. Perhaps creating a lethal vortex of metal around him that carved into whatever it touched, and using it on large lab rats was overkill. Perhaps Hunter should feel bad. He didn't. He really, really didn't.
After the festivities ended, the BBs spun around to remove the blood before returning to the pockets they had flown out of to begin with as he took a knee to examine what was left of the rats that were unfortunate enough to be in his way. Sure, the size was definitely alarming. The uncanny intelligence boost was par the course for this kind of thing, but the bone-like spikes...? That seemed...Concerning. Once the two teams rejoined, he would need to ask Evermore a question or two if his hunch was right. He hoped it was just a fluke...

He shook his head as he got back to his feet, looking out to Manami and Riley. They seemed to be just about done. Good, they were definitely improving their craft. Wouldn't be long now. Every day the prospect of retiring sounds better. Layla constantly badgered him about it every chance she got. 'Old man' this, 'old man' that. He wasn't going to just step back if he felt the new team wasn't up for it...
"Red to Argent. No doubt Foxbat has already made it back to your position. Cleaning up over here now. Once I've confirmed that Chemtrail and Stingray are done on their end we'll-"

He was stopped midsentence as something rose out of the water and loomed over the two. Something....Familiar.

"Rawr?"

"...You've got to be.....Argent, we have eyes on one of the assets. So far not hostile. Will see if it stays that way or if we have to deal with the alternative. Our arrival will be...Delayed. Carry on without us and keep in contact, out."
Hunter ended the transmission as he used his power once again to bound closer to the group. No doubt Manami would want to keep the sea beast.....'Skittles', as it was named. Commonwealth would probably just want it removed from existence, and he could understand why. The undertaking to just FEED it alone would be staggering on any budget. But, on the other hand...

He looked down at Manami for a time, remembering those years back that brought her into his tutelage. He did not want her to grow up to be like him. He's had enough time to evaluate his own life and knew full well how monstrous it was.

It was decided, then.

"Well, Stingray. It looks like your old friend recognizes you. Think we should take him back to the States with us..?"