Realistic or Modern CLOSED AND REBOOTED

[BittyBobcat]

Heroes. Brightly colored graphics of their costumes decorated billboards alongside branded advertisements, their voices rang through screens as they starred in various public service announcements, plastic figures made to mimic their features could be found clutched in the hands of children- they were everywhere. And -behind the replicas- the real thing patrolled the streets, handing out autographs and beating villains with a smile.

You would think, from their prevalence, that their disappearance would be a city-shaking event (and, perhaps, that would eventually prove itself true). However, on the morning of July fifth, life went on as it always did. People woke up to go to work, children were dropped off at school, and the slow hands of bureaucracy turned to sweep the newest mess under the carpet. It would be a week before they finally took transparent action.

Of course, some took note of the heroes' absence, but -by the time any widespread alarms could've been raised- a group of replacements had already been gathered and prepped for their debut in the backstage of an open-air theatre with crowds of reporters and cameras waiting just beyond the curtain.

~~~

A tongue of flame flickered to life against the dull white backdrop of a gauze-wrapped hand. For an instant, it reached an inch past the fingers it glowed at the center of, and then -just as quickly- was crushed in a clenched fist (there was no room for accidents, especially not now).

Peter winced only slightly at the muted hiss it made against his sweat-soaked palms.

The PR agent frowned -not with her mouth (he'd never seen her frown outright), but with the rapid glance-and-squint look that his teachers always did when they thought he was about to interrupt. Seemingly satisfied with the state of his mask's straps, Claws (the unfortunate nickname Peter had been mentally calling her by) finally lifted her sharply manicured nails (the reason for the name) from his face. "Relax. It's the same as always."

If he had the words, he would've listed every way it wasn't.

Buzz wasn't here. He knew it, she knew it, this entire press meeting was because of it. His hero was gone, and for some stupid reason Peter -the complete and utter fuck up- was chosen as their replacement. How in the hell was that the same?

"It's not," Was all he managed.

Claws patted him exactly twice on the shoulder -a stiff, but practiced motion that took the minimum amount of time it needed to be considered 'plausibly comforting'. "It is," She insisted through a grin so wide that Peter was forced to wonder if it hurt. "Just do what you do best. Play the rascal."

(Really? That was his best quality?)

He shrugged, hoping it would be close enough to an agreement for her to lay off, and refused to meet her eyes. Instead, his gaze danced nervously across the room. Inspecting his fellow... heroes (he held back another flicker of flame at the thought of grouping himself under that name). In all the chaos of acting coaches and script-memorizing, Peter hadn't learned much about them aside from their names (not their real ones, of course). Were they nervous? Excited? Silently contemplating the fact that they hated him already (okay, that one was a bit far fetched. That wouldn't happen... right?-

"And that's why I am pleased to introduce our newest heroes!"

Claws, rather uselessly, reminded him in a hissed whisper, "That's your cue!"

Peter was already moving. His mouth was dry, his heart pounding. One foot in front of the other, through the navy blue curtain.

Matchstick took the stage.

A sea of eyes watched as he followed the motions that had been drilled into his head over their rehearsals the previous day (something that he, in the moment, thought was boring, but now found himself grateful for). He snapped his fingers and a small ball of flame leapt to life in his hands. It shot upward, performing a few tricks and spins to entertain the crowd (no, don't think about them. Focus on the fire) as he sauntered across the raised cement platform and took his place at one of the pedestals set out for the heroes.

The announcer (what was his name, again? Johnson? Jameson? Something like that) spoke with an excited energy that spilled into the people below. "Your favorite scrappy sidekick following in his mentor's footsteps, Matchstick!"

Gray entered in the kid's wake. With powers that weren't really meant for display, ARC sought to draw attention away from his apparently boring reveal to give him a more 'mysterious appeal' (which too the cake for one of the most ridiculous things he'd ever heard), so he had the luxury of slipping behind his microphone stand without much fanfare. At least he didn't have to smile.

John, the announcer, introduced him in much the same way that he had entered the stage. He yelled a simple, "Nine Lives!" and then it was onto the others.

 

[Tapfic]

The last step to the completion of the " Guardian Angel " costume was removing the colored lenses Lan Clementine wore while in "civilian mode"; by far one of the most unpleasant experiences he'd had with directly being a hero- the other being the original costume design that had been picked for him.... Actually no need to get caught up in the past right now. No one needs to be reminded of that incident, especially not Lan, considering he already seemed to be at his wits end failing to get the last contact out before the press conference started.

" Stop... fucking...blinking-" the annoyance was obvious in his voice.

" Do you need help?" Lee asked from where he stood in the doorway, looking in.

Lan paused a moment to look at his brother/personal pr manager like one might view a particularly dumb fly that had been running into the same window for the past hour. It was a brief moment before he went ack to struggling with the lens.

" No I don't need help. I'm not five," He grumbled the response, finally managing to nab the evil little fucker and get it out of his eye.
Sadly there was little time for him to relish in his victory. With few words exchanged his brother led Lan backstage, where he waited. His permanent frown deepened as he glanced around the room; arms crossed and foot tapping.

There might have been some worth in trying to recognize some of the faces and costumes that dotted the area, but Lan didn't care to see it. As far as he was concerned this was and in-and-out sort of deal. Step one; be a hero- step two; find out what happened to Karma- step three; quit forever and never so much as glance at a costume for the rest of his life.

" Just- smile, try and look angelic, don't curse- and don't hit anyone, please," Lan tuned back in to reality as Lee spoke, his voice was soft even through the strain of well. Being Lan's PR guy, but judging by the expression his brother already knew that his requests were useless.

" Show me an angel and I'll show you a smile," Lan replied, the sarcasm lacing his voce dripped more like poorly made Jell-O than venom, but he did not attempt to smile, or lessen his scowl to any degree. Lee sighed heavily.

"And that's why I am pleased to introduce our newest heroes!"

A few heroes stepped onto stage before Lan. He recognized none of them.

" Okay okay, just don't curse and I'll buy you that fancy tea from the-"

" Deal," Lan was usually too proud to be bribed. When it came the specific tea Lee was referencing however; well. It was like thirty dollars for a jar of it- and he'd have to drive all the way across the city to get it ( well, take a buss actually because he still didn't have a car ) which was way harder to do. That is why the hero Guardian Angel decided to suck it up and keep it clean for however long this...thing was going to last.

He stepped onto the stage.

" The kind and selfless healer - a promising new comer to the hero scene- a beacon of justice, and the son of the Legendary Divine Knight; Guardian Angel!"

The annoyed glare Angel shot the announcer was nothing short of comical when juxtaposed with his description.

---

Nikias rubbed his eyes drearily. What time was it?

He checked his watch. He was not wearing a watch. Why did he do that? He had never worn a watch in his life. Except the SpongeBob one when he was nine, but that was more of a fashion statement than anything practical; considering it was too broken to actually tell time.

He checked his phone. Oh damn- he was like. Super late to that thing he was supposed to be doing.

" ...Eh, I'll go to the next one.." he mumbled settling back into his napping chair, until something smacked him over the head.

" The hell you will; you get out of that chair and get your butt to the conference before I write you up for napping on the job," Arinya stood over his chair, holding her cane like a weapon in one hand, the other rested on her hip. Her eyes stared passed him from behind the blue hexagonal glasses she always wore.

" Nya...Were you watching me sleep?" Nikias asked slowly.

"I'll give you a second to think that one over, Null."

" Nya... were you listening to me sleep?" he corrected, with the exact same tone of voice.

Arinya bopped him with her cane again.

" No I wasn't listening to you sleep, I just got here. Incase you forgot; in addition to doing your job- you're also my ride to the hero conference! I'm gonna miss half of them at this rate you jerk! What kind of hero fangirl misses half the new heroes? What about my blog!"

Nikias stood slowly from his napping chair, and looked at his phone again.

" Nya- don't worry about it my dude, we got plenty of time," the statement seemed sinister, despite his innocent tone.


Sometimes, the fact that Arinya couldn't see was a blessing. Both in landing her a job at Sincerity, keeping track of the hero no one could remember- and in keeping her blissfully unaware of how fast Niki was currently driving.

Sure it was illegal, but to be perfectly fair; hardly anyone used these streets; and Niki took extra care to keep an eye out for pedestrians.
Besides that; what would anyone do if they were caught? Arrest him? Hah! Good luck to whatever cop tried to remember what it was they pulled him over for in the first place.

The banged up car reached it's destination without so much as a (new) scratch, and they were out.
After a bit of sneaking past security and rabies ridden reporters- Arinya got herself a nice spot in the crowd; and the No Name hero made it up the stage; still dressed in crocs and his panda hoodie.

" The kind and selfless healer - a promising new comer to the hero scene- a beacon of justice, and the son of the Legendary Divine Knight; Guardian Angel!"

And after angel boy, it was his turn.

He stepped onto stage, hands in his pockets, and dark glasses sat over his eyes.

" The hero- Uh- this- this is a hero right? Where- Oh! Yes! The amnesia inducing hero..... why are there so many names? Oh-ok, so I just pick one then? Uh- the amnesia inducing hero, Liminal! "

Niki bowed with a flourish, before taking a sour gummy worm from his pocket, and sticking it in his mouth. Confused mutters drifted up from the audience; until he removed his glasses.
And just like always, Niki's antics were quickly forgotten, and he ate his pocket gummies in peace.

 

[Nephalem]

Sentinel stood, watching the backstage screens as they projected live feed from the stage just a few feet away from her. A few heroes had already been introduced and made their way up front, some with impressive displays of power, others much more subtle. If she could sweat, Sentinel was sure her body would have been drenched by now. She had been suffering from Imposter syndrome since she was invited to become a hero, but the feeling had never felt more real than at this moment. Sentinel's courage slowly began to dissipate. Her PR representative seemed to notice the wide-eyed horror on her face and placed a firm hand on her shoulder, turning her slightly to face him.

"Hey," he said, forming a gentle smile, "you were made for this."

It was a common phrase used to motivate and inspire, but it only made her feel worse. "Yeah, I was. Literally," she thought.

Hemmingway, her PR representative, glanced at his watch, which lit up with a notification. Before Sentinel could try to make out the text, he grabbed her arm and pulled her towards the entrance to the stage. "Alright Sentinel, you're up. Remember, you are our new, fresh, beautiful face. No one knows you yet, so there are no expectations. You don't have to do much, everyone loves the newbie, especially the pretty ones, just give them a little show."

The sound of her heart filled her ears as she turned away from Hemmingway and peered out onto the brightly lit stage. Sentinel closed her eyes and exhaled slowly. This was it, her moment in the spotlight. The Creator didn't want it, she wanted to hide in the shadows of her peers forever, but Sentinel did. She was made to be seen and admired.

"Next up is a recently discovered talent, but make no mistake, our hero is a fierce and dedicated protector of the people. The beauty, the brains, AND the brawn, Sentinel!"

"I wish they would stop using the beautiful thing," Sentinel thought as she broke away from the dark backstage and into the light.

Sentinel's usual costume was slightly modified to fit the occasion. Instead of just the usual large opal stone in the center of her chest, lines of the same opalescent material branch out from it and design the entirety of her suit in geometric patterns. Her hair was stark white today and tied into two large, perfectly puffy buns atop her head. Several strands of hair framed her face. A dainty golden chain sat atop her head, encircling both buns and coming together to form a triangular shape on her forehead, where a small opal was attached.

Her fear melted away the moment she hit the stage. Semi-familiar confidence flourished in its place. A genuine grin stretched across her face as she waved at the audience, just as a trained celebrity would. As if passing through a prism, the light hitting Sentinel's suit shimmered with a spectrum of colors that changed with each step.

"What a pain in the ass this was to make."

Sentinel blew a two-handed kiss towards the crowd before taking her place amongst the rest of the heroes.


Meanwhile, the real person behind the charade was still sat backstage. Ophelia, dressed in a black sweatshirt and cargo sweatpants, reclined in a plush leather chair in a particularly dark corner. Her hair was gathered in a lopsided, gradually falling bun. As usual, her pockets were stuffed with all sorts of writing and drawing utensils. A small notebook was stuffed in one of her many pants pockets, but her main, larger pad, was tucked in between the cushion and arm of the chair. Her face rested in her hand, which was propped up at the elbow by the arm of the chair. This position was purposeful, as someone was bound to notice her opened, unblinking eyes after a while. People were much less likely to bother a napping person, especially when they had their own tasks to focus on.

Her PR rep was instructed to stay far away from her, as to keep her identity and power completely hidden. As he spoke with others he would cast a rare sweep around the room, but would never fixate on her.

 

[ScatheAriiasqDrayceon]

Flashbang stood in a quiet waiting room in silence, feet rooted to the ground in an inconvenient plantigrade position, something she recognized distantly as pain curling around her legs and up her bones, winding up and around like the heavy, humid scent of bile and oil. Her tail twitched idly behind her, the familiar clicking of her armor steadying her form even as a sharp, short knock came through the wood of the... "dressing room", Flash believed they called it.

"Out. It's starting." Handler called. Which one of them, Flashbang didn't know; it was hard to tell, since the suits they wore all smelled the same and the half-masks obscured most of their faces.

"Yes, Handler," Flashbang replied, turning—unsteadily—on her heel and walking toward the door with steps quieter than their shadow. "I will return immediately." The responses were almost robotic in tone; lacking the good-natured spunk of her usual persona. ARC would not tolerate that. Not in their work environment.

Flashbang opened the door, light taking over her eyes in a harsh contrast from the purposefully-dark dressing-room. She couldn't see, but she could recognize shapes fine, and a human in a dark suit with a mask sat in one of the plastic chairs just outside of the frame. The dark eyes of the mask immediately looked up to her, a disdainful scent trailing up to her face. "Follow the line," Handler commanded, voice almost a drawl, as it always is. "Behave."

"As I am expected to," Flash replied. "Efficient and without flaw."

Handler nodded approvingly, waving her off in the vague direction of the line of new heroes awaiting their debut. "Efficient and without flaw."

Flashbang joined the line at the tail-end of "The Amnesia-inducing hero's" introduction, vaguely recognizing the scent feeding in through the vents in her mask. Male. Tall, but not a threat so long as she don't lose track of his scent. Then there was the new one. their scent was strange, and they walked with an odd gait.

Flashbang made a note to look into them, when she could.

A few more new heroes stepped out and soon, Flashbang joined them, walking up to the stage with her head held high. She added some swagger to her step, projecting through the suit as she neared the edge of the stage.

"Introducing a new face that might be familiar to you nightclubgoers; The Stealth Hero, Flashbang!"

Flash fell off the stage.

Purposefully, actually, but the point still stood as she flirtatiously blew a kiss with no actual emotion behind it, vanishing in the same moment she lost her footing and appearing upright at her spot in line, her cheeky grin showing through her body-language.

The acting came as naturally to her as stealth, imbued in her being at that point.

~~~~~~

"Are you sure this is okay?" Platinum asked for the fourth time in as many minutes, stroking the scales along Jet's neck carefully. "It's kind... kinda..."

Jet tilted his head with a soft croon, plating smoothing under his husband's touch easily. "Dehumanizing? Love, you and I both know I couldn't pass for human if I tried," he replied, voice a little unsteady as he got used to speaking again in the form he was in. It was odd; like something was trying to poorly mimic another's voice, crackling and airy. Not to mention the muscle control needed to make the movements. "Not like this, anyway." He trailed a hand—talon; that's a talon—through Platinum's hair carefully. A deep hum followed, the sound rolling in a way comparable to distant thunder. "I'll be okay."

He got a Look in return, Platinum looking over his glasses in That Way that makes him look like he's about to whack someone with a shovel. "Bullshit."

With a long sigh, Jet unraveled himself from the dressing-room's chair, tail sliding across the floor in a careful movement to avoid objects. His wings lifted off the floor and stretched slightly before folding as he lifted his head off of Platinum's lap and rested his jaw on his partner's head. "Either way," he said, voice lowering to a thick rumble, "it's too late to change it, now."

The sigh from his husband butchered Jet's willpower, prompting another croon. This one, however, was softer; sad. "I'll... I'll fix this," Platinum murmured, letting his hand fall from Jet's neck to his shoulder. "I'll make them fix this."

"You don't have to," the new hero replied, dipping his head down to press his muzzle against Platinum's neck. "I'm gonna be okay. It's just for a few hours per day."

The knocking drew him away not a moment after they shared a breath, and Jet stepped out into the much louder backstage area. His new work associate—Handler, they called him—stood in front of him, mask in place and holding a steel muzzle that—to Jet—looked quite easy to break. The man was a little thing, not quite as small as Platinum was, but certainly nowhere even near Jet's height. He wasn't even up to the Seraph's sternum.

Nevertheless, Jet ducked his head and allowed the cold metal to be placed against the back of his skull, rough, unsteady hands fumbling the latch once or twice before it finally closed around his mouth. While it was humiliating, he understood why they wanted to keep it there. He knew better than most how objectively terrifying Kadoshi Seraphs appeared.

"You walk up on that stage and give them a nice, loud roar at my signal," Jet's handler—Jeremy, he believed—said. "No talking; look as much of a well-trained dog as you can."

Jet tilted his head, but only chuffed in reply, as if to show that he understood and wouldn't be trying anything; so long as they didn't try and feed him anything weird. He'd tolerate many things, but that was a tad too close to the line for his liking. Messing with his body was one thing, and his food was another; simple.

The click of the halter-lead being snapped into place drew him back to the present, ears twitching in mild discomfort. It was loud enough that he couldn't hear Jeremy's heartbeat over the din, and to a Seraph's sensitive ears, it was nearly deafening, moreso as he was tugged in an uncomfortably rough manner toward the massive curtain separating the backstage and the audience.

Jet took a long breath, dorsal plating flaring as he did so despite that he wasn't really using that side of his respiratory system. He drew himself up until the lead stopped him and straightened into the perfect example of a "well-trained dog", eyes forward and face blank (not hard when it wasn't really built to emote in the first place).

"Introducing Tamer; the animal whispering hero!"

They stepped out onto the bright stage.

Jet made his steps louder purposefully, massive hindclaws scraping (without doing any real damage) on the wood. It occurred to him that he wasn't familiar with the "signal" Jeremy was supposed to be giving him, but upon the lead tugging sharply—twice—he cracked his mouth open, an airy hiss seeping into the air and flared his wings.

He wasn't used to making loud sounds as a Seraphim... but if asked to roar, roar he could.

It was a roar that built and bubbled in his throat, starting with a deep rumble before peaking into a sharp, overly loud snarl that took the acoustic design of the building and amplified it, the sound of the crowd almost drowned out by the lengthy sound.

Another sharp tug had him abruptly snapping his already-beginning-to-hurt mouth shut, the emptiness left from the previously-oppressive sound until the person announcing the event took it upon themself to introduce him.

"And his well-trained companion, Night Owl!"

He almost expected "Six", but he supposed they needed to keep his numerous other identities under wraps for the moment.

Jet settled down in line, rumbling faintly to try and return his dislodged-feeling larynx to its proper position. Loud. Painful and loud, but a good crowd-warmer.

 

[Space_Kaiser]

Alex stood backstage, ready for his cue to walk out. He was nervous more than anything, and not necessarily because of stage fright. He had been shown off to the public before, albeit never in this capacity. No, he was nervous that his past would be outed. His visor was covering his distinguishable features sure, but the chance for someone recognizing the former thief wasn't zero. A bead of sweat flowed down his face until he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"You good kid?" A voice behind him said. He twirled his head around to see who it was. For a second he thought it was his former mentor but quickly realized that it was only his assigned PR manager.

"I'm fine." He said as he yanked his shoulder from her hand. "You guys know I'm not one for public performances like this."

"Even so, if you want to be a hero you're gonna have to do things like this. Columbia had to do it." His agent rebutted.

After a few seconds of silence, he finally replied. "I know you're just doin' your job Delilah, but I ain't Columbia." Alex said as he adjusted his visor.

"Well then, you better make sure you live up to the name." She said as she put away her sunglasses. "She had high hopes for you ya know?"

Alex lifted his hand and just stared at it. It had only been a week, a single week has passed since Columbia's disappearance. It had only been a month since he was about to quit, a month since Columbia asked him the most important question in his life. Even now, he still contemplated going back to his old ways.

That's when he remembered his answer. "I want to protect people from harm." Even though these were basic words for a hero-to-be, they represented his deepest desire. His failures from when he was younger, from that night, and from that moment up until he met Columbia all culminated into that one single wish.

"And now for our next hero! Some of you have met him before, but for most this is his debut! The protege of Columbia, Wire!"

Alex clenched his fist and looked up towards to stage. "I'm ready." He said with resolve.

He then walked up to the stage only to see the flashing lights of cameras, making him wince a bit, followed by a crowd of people behind that light. He remembered that at the rehearsals ARC told the group to do a few tricks to dazzle the crowd. Sure his powers could be spun as being like Spider-Man's, but bottom line they weren't. So, he had to improvise something that was somewhat dazzling.

His eyes wandered around the crowd until he saw a reporter taking a sip of water. "You sir! Drinking the water bottle. Mind throwing that up in the air for me?" The reporter looked surprised but nevertheless shrugged and tossed the bottle up into the air. Alex then released a single thread and, upon contacting the water bottle, it quickly flew towards his awaiting hand.

That garnered a few ooh's and aah's, but he knew he had to be flashier if he wanted to make an impact. He tossed the bottle back to the reporter before speaking again. "Alright, since some of you weren't impressed by that, how about all of you reporters toss up your drinking bottles if ya got some." The group of 30-50 reports looked at each other before eventually complying and, almost in unison, they all tossed up their bottles in the air.

He wasn't quite expecting that literally all of them would have bottles to throw. Nonetheless, he was committed now. "I hope you wrote your names on them!" Alex stuck out his hands and the next moment, all of those bottles began to fly towards Alex. Now, this was the hard part, how in the hell was he gonna catch them all? Right before the bottles would contact him, he used more threads to suddenly send most into different directions.

Two by two he would catch, fling out, fling back in, and catch the bottles before they all had a chance to touch the ground. The little spectacle lasted a little over ten seconds, but every bottle was neatly placed on the floor around him at the end. Now that, that got the crowd's reaction. Pretty proud of himself for that improvised stunt, he began to walk off before he mentally apologized to the guy that had to pick them up.

 

[Davod]

The harsh whites of the LEDs in the waiting room reflected off the polished granite table almost directly into Felix's eyes. That, combined with the fact that his, as he was starting to realize, real asshole of a manager, Bill had been giving him a one-sided lecture for the past half-hour (consisting mainly of criticism, the thousands of things he shouldn't do, and to not tarnish Infiniums brand) was really pushing the limits of his patience.

"Listen, kid, you should be on pretty soon so I'll end with this. Above all, don't fuck up. The bottom line today is that we—no honestly, you, are in real need of some good PR. With you as our only hero, that shitshow from your sidekick days is gonna be common knowledge real quick, and public perception ain't gonna be good. In their eyes, you're gonna be the coward kid who got his cousin messed up and they're gonna be wondering why the hell we pick—"

That had crossed the line, and Felix was out of his seat in an instant, Bill flinching at the scrape of metal on the floor.

"Got it. Thanks for the wisdom," he managed to squeeze out, the restrained anger in his voice making his manager's hard demeanor falter. Sensing this moment of fear, Felix took the opportunity to make his way to the door. As he reached for the handle Bill, in a noticeably less aggressive voice, let out one last remark.

"All that said," there was a tense pause as the two made eye contact, "just make a good impression. Infinium has a lot riding on this.'

Felix got a few odd looks from staff nearby as the door slammed behind him. It was one thing to rub in the fact that his agency had completely derailed any chance of him becoming more than a vigilante (until now of course) but then having the audacity to tell Felix that he should do all he can to make them look good was too much. After taking a moment to compose himself, he began making his way towards where he would be introduced. Felix reflected on his manager's last statements as he walked. As much as he hated to admit it, the guy was right: Felix would be an underdog here, at least as far as gaining trust from the citizens. The more he thought about it, Felix decided his original entrance plan of a simple power demonstration wouldn't cut it, and took a moment to devise a more exciting one in the hopes of receiving some positive attention.

While walking, Felix released as much smoke as he could from any exposed skin. He was going to need quite a bit for this to work. However, instead of the usual large clouds he fought with, Felix tightly packed around him, outlining his body. The silhouette of gas would make Felix appear quite a bit larger, filling out his lean build and giving him a more imposing figure. He made care to keep his modified gas mask uncovered, as 'smoke monster' is probably not a great first look. Once at an acceptable size, Felix didn't stop releasing his smoke. Instead, he compressed it as tightly as possible, darkening his smoke the more he added.

"Hey! Haze?"

Felix turned his head to the voice, laying eyes on a small, business-like woman with a lanyard and clipboard. "Uhh," shaking his head, Felix cleared his throat and put on his best hero voice "Yes, that would be me. Is it time?"

She scoffed. "Uh, yeah. Like, you're gonna be late if we don't speedwalk. You guys had the farthest waiting room" Finding it humorous that for all Bill had spouted about making a good impression, he had nearly screwed up Felix's hero debut before it even began. Moving briskly, Felix continued compacting smoke around his body. As it approached a deep black color, they reached the edge of the backstage to clapping and cheering, just as the hero before him took his spot. Felix immediately noted everyone's position: Other than the announcer, and the numerous heroes at their podiums, and a stagehand hurriedly making his way to the exit on the other end, The stage was clear. Perfect.

"Now folks, while this next brave hero may have had a tumultuous past, his agency has assured us that through hard work and dedication, they are more than proud to introduce him here. Taking over for his extremely accomplished family, I am happy to present, the smoke hero Haze!"

While he had expected them to be brought up, any mention of his missing family hurt Felix's heart. Now wasn't the time for that however and, bracing himself, he entered the view of the crowd. Walking at a pace slightly slower than walking, he made his way to the center of the stage. As he did, Felix made his smoke swirl around him while keeping shape. The closer he got the faster he made it move, until it looked as if he was encircled by strong winds. As soon he reached his destination, he stopped the effect abruptly, simultaneously activating his thermal vision, his eyes now glowing. Turning to directly face the crowd, he nearly set it off right then but realizing he may look a little more intimidating than he liked, gave a friendly wave.

Then, he promptly exploded. Gases naturally expand to fill their containers, and uncontrolled Felix's smoke is the same. By tightly compacting it around his body, he created a very large amount of gas that really wanted to get out. With the guidance of his power, the smoke filled the stage nearly instantly with a woosh and gasps from the audience. Felix took extreme care to give plenty of space between his smoke and the others onstage, as that would be disastrous. By looking at the heroes' heat signatures, he quickly made his way to the border where his smoke ended. As soon as he reached it he began sucking his smoke back into his body as fast as possible, then took his spot. after about a minute, the smoke was now swirling around him much like before, but now in an amorphous not a bed. When it was thin enough, he sucked the last bit all at once revealing his true form and costume, to the crowd's praise. It seemed whatever they knew about his sidekick incident, Felix had managed to distract them, at least for now.

 

[Monagale]

Hurricane waited backstage for her cue as the other new heroes waited for theirs. She rocked back and forth from her heels to her toes, fidgeting with the fabric on her costume.

"This is it, isn't it? Finally becoming the hero I was always meant to be," she said to no one in particular. Cyclone once said that dramatic effect was important, and with a situation as dramatic as this, it was basically mandatory.

"Not yet, you're not. You still have to go up on that stage and make it official." Her PR Manager, Alex, pulled her hands away and straightened out her costume. "Do remember what you're supposed to do?"

"I think so." She shrugged

Alex frowned. "Do you at least know how you're gonna present yourself?"

"Superhero doing super cool super stuff!"

"Hurricane," Alex said sternly

"I'm kidding! I'm kidding!" She waved a hand. Well, half-kidding.

"Remember, you're working hard to inspire others the way Cyclone inspired you," Alex corrected.

"Can't really say I'm working hard though, I just wanna kick villain ass." Hurricane's gaze quickly drifted off to the curtain. She couldn't see much from where she was standing. She tried to lean over but was interrupted by Alex.

"Hurricane." She pulled her back into place. "You're a hero now, do you think Cyclone would want you messing around like this?"

"Yeah, probably." Hurricane shrugged. "Fun fact: Cyclone's actually pretty chill."

"Well, she isn't here right now. This is about you and your future."

"You were the one who mentioned her in the first place." She pushed her away, her cheeriness not budging for a second. "Relax, it's gonna be fine!"

Before Alex could respond, the announcer's voice cut in. "And that's why I am pleased to introduce our newest heroes!"

"Wish me luck!" Hurricane said.

She pushed passed the curtains and jogged up onstage.

"A sidekick-turned-hero who's faced a whirlwind of odds to get here, introducing: Hurricane!"

As she walked in, she spotted a bunch water bottles that were strewn across the floor. Huh, Alex didn't mention water bottles. Taking advantage of it anyway, she kicked one up into the air. The cap fell off, but before the water could hit the ground, it quickly evaporated it into a small cloud. She flicked her arm towards the audience, the cloud following, rain letting out over the crowd. As they cheered and laughed, she couldn't help but take it all in. This was it, she was finally becoming the hero she was meant to be.

 

[BittyBobcat]

Gray resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the frivolity. Displaying their powers in such a public way was a stupid idea at best; granted, they'd eventually have to forfeit the element of surprise in that respect, but that didn't make it any less useful for the time being. Still, it wasn't as if he could blame the heroes themselves for that. ARC had a penchant for demanding useless effects like that (though, if rehearsals were anything to go by, he was fairly certain that at least a few of the short acts he'd seen hadn't been planned for). At least it was over with quickly.

He turned his attention back to the announcer (not that it had ever been off him for long -the obnoxiously bright blue suit he was wearing was almost as loud as his voice) just as the last introduction ended.

"Take a good look, New York!" His hand swept in a grand gesture toward the assembled heroes. "This is some of our finest!" What they were the finest of exactly, he didn't elaborate, but the statement prompted a roaring cheer from the crowd. A few cameras flickered among them, (thankfully) tinted dark in Gray's vision by his helmet. The announcer waited patiently for the noise to die down before going on as if he had never been interrupted. "Now, I know you're all absolutely bursting with questions, so it's about time we allowed our reporters to ask away!"

Interview questions. The part ARC had spent the most time prepping them on (all with ridiculous 'suggestions' like "Don't lie, just pad the truth" and "Don't say 'classified', use an alternative").

Reporters raised their hands and microphones, half of them speaking over one another. Notably, the announcer (John, his name was John. He really needed to start remembering that) was the one picking and choosing among them rather than the heroes themselves (ARC wouldn't want them to land on someone who had an actually important question, he was sure).

"Olivia Bergeson, Badger News: There are some new faces here that haven't yet been seen in action. How are we to be sure they're prepared for a hero's duties?"

A miniscule frown tugged at the end of John's mouth (too risky a question for his tastes, Gray assumed), but turned to let the heroes answer anyway.

"I've been working with ARC for around four years, now," Gray answered. Technically not a lie considering he got paid for it (though, he would hardly count being a research subject in exchange for parole as 'working with'). "Unfortunately, most of these jobs aren't available for public record, but I can assure you, I am fully qualified for this position." Once again, a technicality (the jobs really had nothing to do with his preparedness) and yet a truth nonetheless.

"Cooper Esquivel, DC Post: Some of the new heroes haven't yet performed power displays. This is a question to all of them; what exactly are your abilities?"

Now John was shooting him a knowing side-eye. They'd gone over this earlier at rehearsals, apparently 'dying' wasn't a proper answer.

Gray crossed his arms over one another and leaned forward on the pedestal -playing up the whole 'aloof persona' (the PR department's words, not his) for the cameras. "Only one way to find out." Hopefully that was a good enough answer for ARC (the following lecture if it wasn't was sure to be annoying as hell).

"Candor, General Eyes News: It was mentioned earlier that investigations for the missing heroes were underway. Are we to assume that, because replacements are being introduced, that they will not be returning soon?"

Oh. That question.

Peter had been dreading that question. It was inevitable, but that didn't make answering it any easier.

He piped up before anyone else could, just as Claws had told him to do once the question came up (she never did explain why). His grin broadened (another one of Claws' lessons, "Smile. They can't see your mouth, but it shows in your eyes") as he forced a teasing tone to his voice (which, even with the microphone, sounded horribly small to Peter). "What, don't like me?" ("Make a joke, it helps ease the tension") "Kidding, kidding." A chuckle, just as fake as the smile, wove its way out of his mouth.

Now he turned serious ("Lower your voice, it makes it seem more sincere"). "But... uh, as Buzz's... well, we always say apprentice, but I think of them more as a sibling," Though the words came out smooth, they burned on the way up. He was the one who said it, and yet it somehow felt like a violation of privacy. As if he had told a secret to a gossip column for a little 'sympathy' (as Claws called it). "I can assure you," Peter forced himself to continue, "That we're dedicating any resources that can possibly be spared to this investigation, and we're expecting a swift and safe return." Was that a lie? He didn't let himself think about it log enough to know for sure.

"In the meantime, we're here." Matchstick stood a bit taller now ("It's all about the delivery. Posture's important"). "New York is protected."

 

[Tapfic]

Lan watched the displays of power with little interest. As it turns out, growing up surrounded by heroes takes the dazzle out of seeing their flashy powers up close. Instead he searched around the room- dreading what he might find.

One brother was enough for him to deal with today; god please don't let that stupid jackass be here -all of the fancy tea in the world couldn't keep Lan from blowing a gasket if that guy opened his mouth-
The boy's thoughts were interrupted by the start of the interview avalanche.

"Cooper Esquivel, DC Post: Some of the new heroes haven't yet performed power displays. This is a question to all of them; what exactly are your abilities?"

Lee had instructed him to be "open, honest, and optimistic " when describing his powers; so of course he would do none of those things.

" Wouldn't you like to know, weather boy," he nearly replied, because though he wasn't one to quote memes-the opportunity was really perfect. Sadly and or thankfully, Lan held his tongue. He didn't want to turn into the type of person that quoted memes in every day life.

"Only one way to find out," one hero replied, and yeah, that was a good enough answer for Lan too. He simply gestured to cat boy Nine as his response to the question; a signal clearly meaning " what he said "

"Candor, General Eyes News: It was mentioned earlier that investigations for the missing heroes were underway. Are we to assume that, because replacements are being introduced, that they will not be returning soon?"

Oh Lan did not like that question. It made his brows knit together, his frown deepen, and his nose wrinkle. Partly because he didn't want it to be true, partly because he knew it was. But mostly he hated how detached it sounded.
As if the hero's disappearances were a nuisance, rather than a tragedy.

Lan wasn't completely unreasonable though, he knew these reporters were reading off pre-approved questions; doing their job just like everyone on the stage- he tried his best not to hold it against them. Outwardly at least. He still repeatedly called the guy a motherfucker in his thoughts, as another hero began to answer the question.

"New York is protected."
Angel re-entered the present around the end of Matchstick's response- zoning back in with little change in facial expression.
Applause rippled through the crowd as the last line was delivered, they must have liked the answer. Lan bet ARC spent quite a bit of time writing that little number, making it sound natural enough that it could pass for the hero's own words- and professional enough to inspire.
Lan gagged internally.

" Kai Clementine, Grand City News! " Oh fucking fuck. It was him- of course it was him- the stupid jackass. Lan should have known he'd be here- ARC always has him show up when they're looking to make light of a situation- have him write some optimistic feel good bull shit that no one in their right mind should ever give anymore merit than a poorly written children's book.

" This question is for anyone who wants to answer by the way: so, what are your personal goals in becoming heroes? "

The question didn't really matter, what mattered was the fact Lan may as well have been foaming at the mouth with the vicious glare he shot towards the reporter. He had to have been a saint in a past life with all the restraint he showed in not leaping off the stage and clobbering the guy.
He'd probably get in trouble for what he was about to do, but really- what could ARC do about it? Fire him? Yeah right, cutting one of the new heroes loose a day after introducing him would be a bigger PR disaster that anything Lan could do short of physical assault.

" Oh I don't fuckin' know, Kai Clementine, Grand City News," Lan answered his oldest brother, a murmur floated up from the collective at the vulgar language, or maybe the seething tone; one of those things probably
" Pretty safe to assume most of us are here to save people huh? Y'know, like heroes are supposed to do," He made eye contact with kai who was actually way better of an actor than Lan was, because that stupid " im a friendly dude, you can talk to me" smile never left his face. It was infuriating.

That dick knew why Lan was here. Karma was Kai's brother too- so why was he acting like everything was just fucking peachy?

" This is stupid. Why the hell do heroes need press conferences? How the fuck is the public knowing Super-Dick's favorite underwear brand gonna do jack shit for crime fighting-" Lan was interrupted by Lee grabbing the hood of his cape and yanking him back behind stage before any further damage could be done.
---

Where was the hero No Name now, anyways?

Well, you see; he had left to use the bathroom some time ago- and got distracted by a vending machine on the way back. That vending machine happened to get his chips wedged between the glass and a shelf. This obviously led to Niki sticking his arm in to get snack out, but it was still out of reach- so he had to put his shoulder in- but. You know. Still too short.
So that is where the hero was, somewhere down the hall with his head and two arms stuck in a vending machine, eating chips.

 

[ScatheAriiasqDrayceon]

Flashbang watched the interactions in silence. "Matchstick" carried the smell of ash and did as Handler told her would be expected. He stood straight but was wearing a mask that she assumed was only obvious to herself. It was too stiff to be anything else. She noticed a few of the heroes beside her stiffening at some of the questions, but she didn't find anything really wrong with them.

Strange.

She put a pin in which question set of which hero, just in case.

She let her gaze wander as the small one started speaking, eyes lazily sweeping over the people around her and analyzing them. All of the new heroes were threats, that was a given, but the reporters wouldn't be an issue.

And then the short one went off the rails. Threat. Not a large one, considering, but a threat. She stepped forward and lashed their tail the loud clacking drawing the attention of the heroes' audience as Short was pulled away.

Flashbang raised her voice so they could hear. "Apologies; a few of our heroes are still a little shaken at the disappearance of the others... but he is right. Heroes are here to save people. That is our purpose, our duty, and our honor. Yes, we may be new to you, we may be unfamiliar, but that does not diminish our effectiveness. We are here to protect."

It was enough to soothe the crowd after Short, at least.

She slipped easily back into her spot, the black beast beside them turning its head to look at her with an odd sense of... something. Its face didn't make expressions too well, that was obvious, at least.

 

[Space_Kaiser]

Alex stood in line with the rest of the new heroes, arms crossed. Some he had seen before in passing or on the news, others he hadn't even heard of nor recognized. While ARC had prepared all of them for questions and statements, Alex would rather show them instead of answering some questions. Although to be honest, it's more likely that he is just camera shy and nervous after doing that display with the water bottles.

"Kai Clementine, Grand City News! This question is for anyone who wants to answer by the way: so, what are your personal goals in becoming heroes?"

After the volatile and tame responses from the people next to him, Alex felt like he sort of had to answer that question now. "Kai, was it? Sorry for the crassness you heard earlier." Keep it polite and simple, just like Columbia taught him. "As the person next to me said, I think it's pretty safe to say that our general desire is to save people." Alex said, pointing to Flashbang with his thumb. "That being said though, I have more of a personal stake. Nothing like a revenge-fueled crusade or anything, just want to be a better man than who my father was."

That response actually got some of the crowd to cheer for him. A bit of him felt happy, like that little moment made him forget and forgive himself. Holding back some tears, a bodily response some of the other heroes might have picked up on, he was ready to answer the next question.

"Ivara, Guardianship Press: This one is more directed to you Wire. Ever since Columbia's disappearance, crime has risen in the agency's area and many doubt your capability of living up to the name. Do you think you will be able to continue her work?"

Ah, a hard-hitting one. Makes sense, after all, Columbia was a well-respected hero and a well-known one at that. He expected that a lot of people would have their doubts, reasonably so. So, he took a deep breath and answered honestly.

"To be frank, I'm not sure if I can. Don't get me wrong, Columbia held a special place in my heart, but my goal isn't to replace and surpass her. I think this goes without saying, but none of us here should be shackled by who we used to work under." Alex said as he looked around left to right to the heroes next to him. "Be inspired by them and follow their example sure, but we right now we have a golden opportunity."

He then looked at the reporter directly, eye to eye. "So to answer your question more directly, I don't plan on becoming the next Columbia or Buzz. My plan is to become the first Wire. And to those of you who have doubts: Just watch me." Even though he made a pretty badass statement, he was ready to collapse then and there from nerves.

 

[Nephalem]

Sentinel remained relatively quiet during the questioning stage of the conference. As the questions became increasingly more difficult to answer, she was thankful for maintaining a low profile amongst the other heroes. She kept her best award-winning smile plastered on her face, despite the ruckus that the hero Matchstick made. “What the hell is his problem?” Sentinel thought, casting a quick glance at the empty spot where he had previously stood. Thankfully, two other heroes, Flashbang and Wire, jumped in for damage control. Their answers seemed to satisfy the audience, yet Sentinel couldn’t help but notice a speck of emotion slipping through Wire’s heroic exterior. “This must be a pretty big moment for him,” thought Sentinel, turning back to stare into the crowd.

She could barely make out the crowd as more than just a sea of blackness. The lights of the stage, coupled with the flashing lights of cameras, all but blinded her. Sentinel tried her best not to start squinting. Suddenly, a voice rose above the chattering audience.

“Amelia Richardson, Lake City News: Sentinel, I’ve heard you were just recently recruited into ARC forces as a hero. Do you believe you’re less qualified than the other heroes due to having no prior experience as an ARC agent? “

Sentinel tensed from the unexpected question. What kind of question was that? "A horribly intrusive one," Sentinel thought. Her management prepared her to answer questions, but advised her to attempt to remain out of the spotlight for now. It was hard enough trying to keep Ophelia's identity unknown.

"No. After all, there is a reason they recruited me as a hero," Sentinel winked playfully, sounding confident in her answer. Ophelia mentally gagged at the arrogant answer. The truth was, Ophelia did feel less qualified. Her powers were great for staying in the shadows, where she felt most comfortable. However, she was now willingly forcing herself into the spotlight. She had never even trained as a hero before. Her whole recruitment process was just a big damage control operation.

 

[BittyBobcat]

Peter allowed himself to relax an inch as the crowd's attention turned away from him. Claws had predicted something like this; the newer heroes were more of a mystery to the general public (and, frankly, to himself), so it was to be expected that they'd receive more questions. Still, he couldn't help the flickering sparks of nervousness in his chest. Every question was
another flare of flame that would've come to life had he not stamped it down by restlessly tapping his fingers against the podium. First impressions were everything, and if they messed this up... better not to think about it. That is, until his antsiness proved not to be unfounded.

What the hell was Angel thinking? Any wrong move they made here—in Claws' words, any trust they lost—would turn the results of possible future mistakes ten times worse than they needed to be. And that was assuming the public had a good idea of you from the start, which was hardly their reality at the moment.

He couldn't pay the unprofessional hero much mind, however, because too much concern would be noticed by the crowd. Matchstick's grin—which had fallen slightly during Angel's outburst—was quickly plastered back onto his face as the interview segment rolled onward, unhindered.

Soon, the press meeting came to a smooth end (just as ARC had planned). Interview questions were closed, the announcer began some closing-statement spiel, and the heroes were ushered back behind the relative shelter of the curtain. The instant Peter disappeared from the crowd's view, his posture dissolved along with the rest of the Matchstick facade.

"Fucking hell," he groaned, shoulders dropping as he fell onto an empty couch with an exhausted sigh that made the sides of his mask pinch. Without a single moment's contemplation, he tugged at its straps and yanked it off, revealing a rather young-looking face with unnaturally yellow eyes (he was tempted to fish the contacts responsible for the color out of his eyes, but even he hadn't taken those off in front of other heroes and sidekicks before—excluding Buzz, of course). "I would rather be set on fire than do that again."

From where he stood off to the side of the couch, Nine Lives snorted (whether out of amusement or annoyance, Peter couldn't tell). It was hard to read his expression through the helmet, but he guessed that it was somewhat bored by the way his arms crossed as he leaned against the wall.