Multiple Settings Heroes of the New Age: The New Wardens [CLOSED]

[Breadman]

"She's just like you." Dove commented as Avery went around the room to meet and talk to everyone.

"Excuse me?" Knight tried to protest, but as soon as he saw the look she gave him, he capitulated "I guess."

"Right, hero names." Dove turned to the others in the room "I'm Black Dove, he's Knight. Yes, I am related to the original one, she's my mom. I've been patrolling the streets for a couple of years now and he's new-ish to the whole hero deal, so we're partnered up. As for real names, call me Sam."

"I'm Kevin. Kev will do fine." Knight added while awkwardly placing his hand in the back pocket. He looked around again to see the others in the room to see just what he was getting himself into. Dove seemed pretty calm despite being in the same boat as him. He looked at Panzerfrau again and managed to state the obvious. "Wow. You're big."

 

[Infab]

There were quite a few people already gathered here. Certainly enough to make the team that Sentinel wanted, that was for sure. Felicia moved in a little closer, making sure to remain out of the way for those entering or exiting, or even just moving about. Eventually, she found a spot to simply kneel down. Of course, one of the others decided to speak to her after looking up at her for a few moments.

"Do you have a big laser cannon on you?"

Felicia gave her a smile. "In a way." she responded, reaching up and lightly tapping on her chest plate. "Its a last resort weapon, as it drains a lot of power."

She then showed Avery her palms, revealing the lenses built into them. "Smaller scale cannons, which I use far more often to simply disarm opponents... I prefer non-lethal fighting over lethal." she explains, looking between her palms and Avery as she spoke.

Then, one of the males that had entered just before her spoke up.

"Wow. You're big."

"Eight feet tall, or two hundred and forty-three point eighty-four centimeters, to be exact." she responded, "I weigh around one thousand pounds, or about four hundred and fifty-four kilograms."

 

[simj26]

KisaraShe was suddenly overcome by a wave of lethargy when the brunette started speaking. She hadn't even had the opportunity to answer before she disappeared to interact with another. It wasn't the lass’ energy that drained her of hers, though. It was the questions. It was the people. It was enough that with every new arrival, she was beginning to feel more and more out of place. If the sounds of her landing weren't enough, what detritus on the most recent arrival’s thighs and shoulders implied that she had flight capabilities. And the questions the hyperactive ball of energy asked. Cut too deep, some of them did. She wasn't just ‘not a hero’, but she was also just some unknown. Even after all her work, she was just some nobody. There was some solace to be found in that, at least. She didn't know about her past, exposed for all to see on social media.

Her shoulders slumped, and she, very slowly, began to sink in hers seat. This definitely wasn't her scene. They had an AI. If they had that, what else did they have? Her eyes drifted over the rest of the group. There was no way they weren't close to the same level as the robots capabilities. In any case, she was practically useless. What's an upstart P.I. with nothing to her name going to achieve here?

Again, she wasn't getting paid. It would be a net loss for her to participate in the shenanigans.

She pushed herself back up her chair. This wasn't time to be playing nice. “Pardon me for cutting in, but, what’s the dance here?” She leaned forwards, steepling her fingers. “I know you're looking for heroes, but,” she nodded towards the robot, “you've got Inspector Gadget over here, so it's apparent to me that the others aren't that far behind in terms of utility and powers, and all that jazz. All I'm asking is ‘why me?’. I can't do cool stuff like them. Probably.” An unfounded theory, but, for some reason, she felt like she had to gamble on it.

What's the point? She wanted to add, but held that back. A rumination for another time, for when she was alone again, splayed across the couch like discarded trash. She was no saviour, she was a destroyer, playing at detective, because she knew, in her deepest parts of her heart, that her powers could never truly save anyone. At least, on the streets, pretending to be someone else, she could do more.

“It just seems almost like you're fully staffed on all fronts, s'all.” She levelled her gaze at Sentinel.

She respected the man, truly, for all that he had done for the people, but that did not mean she was about to mince her words with him. At the very least, that was the best way to give him the respect he deserved.

 

[Infab]

Felicia glanced up when the pinkish-purple haired woman spoke, referring to Felicia as 'Inspector Gadget' as she spoke to Sentinel. Felicia raised an eyebrow as she listened. I understood that reference!

Once she finished, Felicia spoke. "...I am actually a rather outdated artificial intelligence, made purely for combat purposes. A few simple routines were programmed into my core for other things, but nothing even remotely on the same level as more modern systems. My last firmware and software update was on September 21st, 1989." she explained.

"...I attack what needs to be attacked, defend what needs to be defended, and protect those who need protection. I was built to fight... not investigate and think. That falls to you all. A machine that relies too much on cold logic isn't the best when it comes to some situations. I would love to... well, become 'more human'. If that makes sense. Or at least understand human concepts better."

 

[WhiskeyMarten]

[HECTOR PROLOGUE]​

Red West, Jacksonville, Florida​

Red West neared capacity by this point in the night, as it did every night it was open. The stream of people trying to gain entry never stopped but had slowed to the point Hector could lean back against the wall and listen to the conversation of the regulars who had to take frequent smoke breaks. It had taken him time to get to the point where he was acknowledged beyond grunts, but now he had gained enough trust where they occasionally offered him a cigarette.

The club had an interesting reputation. Founded in the 90s after its owners saw potential in a dilapidated factory, it had become a hub of trashiness and debauchery. Most of its reputation came from the high-crime neighbourhood it stood in, not helped by the clientele it enticed by having the cheapest drinks in the city. Anyone with money or sense to go somewhere better usually did. Up until recently, they also had very lenient security. If you went to Red West, you knew the risks, and that anyone giving you trouble would be allowed back in next week.

Hector was hired as a bouncer shortly after arriving in the city. He lacked qualifications and experience, but the guy who owned the couch he had been sleeping on dragged him there on a wild night neither of them remembered. He woke up with a new uniform and a text of his starting date, so they must’ve been desperate. On his first day, he attended a meeting about all the changes to come. Red West was going to rehabilitate its image, and suddenly the job seemed a lot more serious.

The gossip wasn’t too interesting tonight, but it took Hector’s attention away from working. Lit cigarette between his lips, he glanced at each patron, cross-checking IDs with little scrutiny. The only time he took a little longer was if a woman was particularly good-looking, which they often were, but he knew if he ogled for too long he’d be creating too many problems for himself. He had already endured a year’s worth of drama in his first month, after the regulars outside found out he was single and attempted to aid him on his quest.

As he waved one group inside, a truck slithered into a gap on the pavement, not far from the line, and five men stepped out. Their night had already begun hours prior, as they all displayed an unnatural confidence one could only gain from drugs. One who was obviously the leader of the group walked ahead, and the others trailed behind, more like bodyguards than friends.

”That who I think it is?”

One of the regulars looked up and stood up straight.

”Stop staring. What do you care?”

As another regular replied, the first realised his mistake and looked down at the ground.

”He got banned last week is all. I’m glad I’m not the guy lettin’ people in.”

Hector was oblivious to the danger approaching until the bouncer on duty with him tapped him on the shoulder.

”Gotta go piss. Back in a few. Good luck.”

”Aight-” Hector responded, but he was already on his own. The regulars had backed away from what might soon be the splash zone as the group approached the entrance. Finally, Hector noticed as 8 feet of trouble stared him down.

”I ain’t see you queue.” Hector looked up with no sign of fear. ”Starts over there.” He nodded to the queuing patrons behind him, one of which shook their head rapidly. There was a sudden stillness in the air, except for the hot breath Hector felt snorting down at his forehead.

”Funny.” One of the lackeys behind the leader prompted the group to progress forward, shoving Hector aside. The push finally kicked the gears in Hector’s brain to motion, and he realised what was going on. Against all instincts of self-preservation, he positioned himself back in front of the group, slamming the entrance shut.

”Yeah, no. You’ll need to find another place to spend your night.”

He hadn’t been on duty the night they were banned, but he had been briefed, which was a shame for Hector as he paid little attention to these briefings. Trevor and his men were drug dealers, and probable murderers, but stuff that happened outside the premises was not the concern. The concern came after Trevor threatened to murder a waitress during his last visit after she refused to serve his table anymore. He was inebriated enough then to be pried from his table without him fighting back at full force, but now he had a week to mull things over, and unfortunately for Hector, he was the only one in his way.

In an instant, Hector felt his feet lift off the ground as he was grabbed by the throat. He wanted to continue speaking but found himself unable to take in any air, and he scratched against the grip. At this point, a few opportunists had their phones out. A beating like this was sure to go viral.

Focus, Hector.

He looked Trevor in the face. His foe’s sclera darkened and reddened, seeming to change as he became more fuelled with anger. He looked downward at his stubble, and his sharp teeth, and further down to his fat neck, on which was a thick golden chain. Up to this point, Hector had refrained from using his abilities. As much as it could’ve helped him on many occasions, he was hesitant to show everyone his cards the second he landed in a new city. That’s why it was surprising to onlookers when Trevor’s grip loosened as he became occupied with something else.

The chain around his neck was pulled back by an unseen force, and the tables were turned. With his spare hand he tried to readjust it, but then the rings on his fingers fought against him with enough force to snap one finger back altogether. The ring freed itself and went flying to the floor. Hector hadn’t intended to break his finger, but it was a time-sensitive situation, so the only thing he certainly wanted was to get this guy off of him. The man threw him to the ground, and Hector tumbled a few metres before landing in a heap against a streetlight. The rough pavement had grazed his limbs enough to draw blood, and his head swam from its collision with the ground.

He looked up after a moment of disorientation, to see Trevor point a gun down to him. The crowd at this point hadn’t comprehended Hector’s actions, but they all knew the sight of a gun. It was time to get out of here. The ones who foolishly kept looking would suddenly see Trevor struggle to keep his aim. It was as though someone invisible was trying to disarm him until the weapon was pointed at himself. He struggled to regain control, but then the gun fired and was dropped to the floor. The bullet had gone straight through the man's shoulder which now spurted dark red blood. He let out an inhuman roar that shook the ground as leathery skin grew over the wound, tearing away the fabric of his clothes.

”...Boss?”

His lackeys kept their distance as the man- no, monster? Continued to roar in pain and fury. This didn’t seem to be part of the plan. The monster charged forward as his sharp teeth grew in size proportional to his also growing jaw. Hector pushed back against the ground, hitting the post he was backed up against. Manoeuvring out of the way, he had barely a second before he would be attacked again.

Thunk!

Maybe you’ve once walked through a forested area and found your path blocked by branches. You’ve pulled one out of the way to get past but had to be careful letting go as it would easily hurt someone as it swung back to its natural shape. As the monster charged, his face met the streetlight which suddenly swung across his path, taking out a fang. The bulb in the light went out, dimming the area to only the neon lights emanating from the entrance. Hector continued to scurry backwards, panting. It wouldn’t buy much time.

The monster was deterred for only a moment. With his able hand, he grabbed the streetlight, tearing it from its foundation. With as much ease as though he were swinging a bat, he launched the post down at Hector. With Hector’s likely concussion doing him no favours, moving the post again seemed like too tiring a task this time, but still, the autopilot keeping him from being crushed to a pulp sent the post’s trajectory askew, and it cracked the pavement inches from his face, breaking apart at the top to expose a jagged end. Trevor dropped the pole and smiled.

”You messed with the wrong man.” Despite his failure to strike the bouncer dead so far, the monster felt assured enough in his victory to start gloating, spitting on Hector’s face before continuing. ”Should’ve minded your damn business. I mighta left the rest of you alone, but now…” Hector glanced at the few people who were still gawking at the fight, including the dumbfounded lackeys. Man. I promised I’d stay outta this shit. ”I’m gonna burn this whole place to the-” There was a brief pause. ”-Ground.”

The monster stumbled back, but he couldn’t move far on account of the pole suddenly embedded in his abdomen. He pulled it out and fell to his knees, and then flat on his face as his innate healing abilities kicked in again. He would be fine, but it seemed like the injury was severe enough to prevent any more retaliation as the monster went into some sort of recovery mode. The fight was over... for now.

Hector rubbed his bloody forehead, getting back to his feet to assess the damage. It began and ended so quickly, but he felt like he had been fighting for an hour.

”I’m gonna get fired, aren’t I? This is complete bullshit.” He mumbled to no one in particular as he looked at what he had done. Time to get out of here… Not yet. A familiar sound rang out, another gunshot. One of the lackeys ran at Hector, feeling bold enough to finish this himself. The first shot missed, and without thinking, Hector raised his arm in defence. A sudden pain nearly collapsed him, but he stood strong. It wasn’t from a gunshot, but rather from the metal erupting from his arm, creating a barrier a few inches in thickness, which protected him from a second bullet.

The lackey who felt confident in finishing the weakened bouncer realised his mistake and tried to slow his momentum before reaching Hector, but as he came to a stop, Hector swung the metal, knocking him unconscious only a few metres from his boss. The remaining three lackeys had already fled to the truck they arrived in but found that they didn’t have the keys, thus initiating a retreat on foot.

At this point the bouncer who was supposed to be on duty with Hector returned with some of the security guards within the club, fearing the worst had happened. Inside, the party had stopped and the lights were turned on. The patrons within knew little about the situation and didn’t know whether to be scared for their lives or annoyed at the interruption.

Hector leaned against the wall, confident that this time the fight was definitely over. He looked at the metal attached to his arm. He’d never done that before. Taking a few steps forward, he realised it was probably time for him to leave while his coworkers assessed the damage.

 

[dikdik]

It felt like a million eyes were staring through a body that had just been undone and reknit while hurled through the Passages of Space-Time, but it simultaneously felt as though Otis was perhaps too normal and boring to be worthy of anyone greeting him back. A short and quiet sigh of defeat laced its way through and out his lungs, but that sigh quickly redacted its action and sucked right back in with a gasp as surprised hands shot to cover his mouth and a behemoth of a being landed on the fucking sidewalk. The person-robot-creature was so tall that it had to bend over to fit through the door of the restaurant. In response to the giant arriving, someone who looked distinctly younger than the others in attendance began to bounce around the room and spout question after question after question at the others, until, finally, it was Otis’ turn to be bombarded by her.

She said her name was Avery? Ok, Avery. Hi, how’re you, Avery. Weird day we’re all having, Avery. Nope. None of that. None of that, because this teenager saw one of Otis’ shades and his stomach all but buried itself in the floor and descended through the earth until it found a sewer main and flowed to the ocean, never to be seen again. Otis was utterly dumbfounded and a rising panic threatened to turn his voice into a sad little squeak, and so he cleared his throat and crossed his arms and tried to play it cool. “O-oh. Oh, so you?” Well, fuck. It still squeaked a little. “You saw that? What did you see? How did you see that, I’m the only one that can see those? I mean… No one else has ever seen those.”

After their conversation, the girl, Avery bounded away as quickly as she had arrived to the giant in the room. Supes are cool? Supes like superheroes? Oh, did she think Otis was a fucking superhero? Nope! Nosiree! He just had little outbursts of shadows and mist that were more of a bother than anything, but occasionally helped him pick out the better outfit choice in the morning.

The Dove lady and the Knight guy introduced themselves to the class. She was the daughter of a superhero? And had actively been a hero for a few years? Oh, hell-to-the-fucking-no. This was absolutely a mistake. All Otis had done was save some guy from a car accident. And who knows if he even saved him! There were intergenerational superheroes present in this restaurant and the only thing Otis could think of was how fucking sweaty his armpits were threatening to be if he didn’t leave immediately. So, he slipped out of his black denim jacket and flung it over his shoulder. Maybe that would help?

It didn’t help. And that robot lady was as heavy as six Otises and that was mortifying. What if she accidentally backed into him or stepped on his foot? What would happen then, hmm? Maybe, hopefully, she wasn’t as clumsy as he would be if he was that tall, or as clumsy as he already was. Oh! Oh! But one of the other people in here just said out loud what he had been thinking the entire time! Why her! Why him! What’s the play! Otis really did want to say something to her, or in general, about how he’d like to escape whatever this was while he still could. But he shouldn’t. He couldn’t. Sentinel, like the real life, incredibly, amazing Sentinel believed him able to help people. And that’s what all this was for right? He was guaranteed to float through the universe as a glimmer of nothingness after this life. He needed to do something with it. That’s where all of this started. Right?

A shade attempted to escape, peeling out of his body in the vague form of his reflection made of black mists only he, and apparently Avery, could see. And the horror that gripped his in-the-ocean stomach was enough for him to convince it to stay inside. Had he just done that? Successfully? He’d never been able to hold a shade inside before! They always just sort of exploded out of him! Well, he didn’t quite convince it to stay hidden. He sort of willed it? Maybe he was capable? Certainly not a superhero, but maybe capable? Otis took a deep breath again, as someone with horns seemed to be upset with the energy radiating out of Avery. Her distress snapped Otis’ concentration and the shade slipped out of him, slinking away with a guilty little grin like a child who snatched an extra cookie out of the jar might look back at their parent while they stuff it in their mouth. The shade bounded away, puffing through the door, and once again being hit by a city bus.

“Fuck.” Otis quietly sighed in disappointment, his posture sinking slightly. He really thought he had something going there.

Interactions: joshuadim
Mentions: Breadman Lady Moldoma Infab

 

[Roda the Red]

A steady pace moved Derby through the streets of the Bronx, each step subconsciously avoiding the thin gaps between the varied tiles adorning the sidewalk. One arm swung enthusiastically back and forth, while the other gently cradled a paper back against his lemon-padded chest. The boy's face was stiff, a his brows heavily furrowed, and his leeps deeply pursed into a wide, thin line. While his intense expression may lead you to believe he'd been holding in a big shit (a thought conjured by more than one passerby by now), the delinquent's mind was actually drowned by a specific scenario, one that replayed over and over, with slightly variations everytime. It was a sight most shameful, Sentinel's teeth sparkling as he welcomed crudely-drawn and slouched Derby with a smile, his arm guiding the boy's sight towards a league of similarly muscular and tightly-clothed superheroes, all of with neat combed hair down to the cowlick. Their smiles progressively disappearing as they became aware of the grape-head's prescense, staring down in reject and disgust in equal measures.

He stopped on his tracks, his mid-step leg held ninety-degrees upwards in the air. A quick twist of his ankle rotated his entire body the opposite way, "Ah screw it, nope, I'm outta here." And thus he spoke, but his legs refused to follow up on his inverted decision. A second twist brought him back to his original position. "Oh come on, ain't no harm in checking out!" But thus, he remained still once more, the sole of his shoe silently weeped as it was rubbed against the coarse concrete of the sidewalk for a third time. "Fuck that, got better things to do, so long, losers!" So he spoke, but you might take a guess as to what he did immediately after, especially after catching a glance of passing onlookers. Having lost the fight with himself, Derby sighed deeply.

Pale fingers gently wrapped around the handle of the familiar door, eyes too focused on shamefully looking at the ground to propely take a peek as to wait lied beyond these walls. Taking in a deep breath of low-quality New York air, he opened the door and stepped inside. Within his many mental rehearsals, Derby pondered upon several ways to make a dramatic entrance, first impressions can be vital, after all! But when it finally came the time to act, he walked forward with the confident gait of a liberal arts student in a frat house.

The forced smile he had shaped before entering slowly morphed out of existence, his tiny pupils bouncing from side to side like a pair of matching games of Pong as he scanned the people inside. He had to do a double take, thinking for a moment that perhaps he chose the wrong building, maybe he had stumbled into a lair of criminals by mistake? They would've certainly fit the criteria a lot better that way. However, Tyrell's unmistakable frame was in view, and if he wasn't beating them all to a pulp, then this must've been the right place after all.

Huh, they're just a buncha freaks? Lotta chicks too, and here I was thinking this was gonna be a sausage party.

"...'Sup?" He spoke drily, the shopkeeper's bell having brought more attention towards him than he would've liked. "...Brought some snacks." He declared with marginally higher energy, thrusting his arms forward, holding the bag with a couple cans of half-priced Prongles (not like the needed to know that.) All the while he maintained a cautious distance with the bulk of the group, just a couple steps away from hugging a corner.

 

[AriAriAbabwa]

Zeynep bint Ahmed - Upiór
EdwardDewey98 joshuadim @peoplz​

So that was his goal. To find many a do-gooder to create his own team of heroes. Perhaps he was tired of the industrialized corpa heroes everyone knew of—who could blame him? He really was a big blue jester... Still, it was a pleasant change of pace. Someone who saw a vampire and did not immediately conclude they were in trouble. In all her years, the amount of people with a similar mindset were only a handful. They were pleasant while they lasted. But rarely did they have the power to take on the world.

Sentinel?

This was someone who had power. Had the means, the mind, everything. Perhaps not the capital, but that was likely for the better.

"Mm." Zeynep dusted herself off, not entirely satisfied that the interloper escaped with his life. Ordinarily she'd have brushed her would-be rescuer off and return to the depths of her precious nightclub. But now it seems there was something more to be had. Something undeniably fun. Curling a toothy grin, she answered, "You have yourself a deal, Monsieur."

***​

"Il est encore difficile de croire le chemin parcouru par les colonies..." (It is still hard to believe how far the colonies have come...) The door chime rang shortly after Derby. Strolling in after him was a woman clad in black, the wide rim of a Garbo hat hiding the upper half of her face. "About 200 years ago, this New York was all poor roads, rickety buildings, and smelled like a farm," she remarked to nobody in particular. "Though I suppose that hasn't changed in a few places..."

Zeynep adjusted her hat, revealing sharp, yet relaxed eyes. She hung her coat on a nearby hook as if already familiar with the place, scanning the room and its individuals. And it was a fortunate thing she changed her mind on bringing the 1945 Bordeaux; most of them appeared underneath drinking age. And what a crowd it was. Horned folks, and 8-foot robot, and the more usual ilk of people. Sentinel really scrounged together what he could find, much to her amusement.

"Salut, my friends!" she greeted amiably. "I am Zeynept bint Ahmed. I hope I am not too late!" Zeynep grinned, knowingly baring her fangs. "It's a pleasure to be here."

 

[joshuadim]

“You saw that? What did you see? How did you see that, I’m the only one that can see those? I mean… No one else has ever seen those.”

Avery could only shrug to Otis' questions: "Dunno, I saw some weird... dark, floating blobs? Like shadows! But I didn't get a good look." she said, tilting her head. "That's why I thought you were like Shadeling..."

But before she could continue her train of thought, Avery's attention was distracted by Derby, then Zeynep's, arrival; the former, to her, seemed to be so... normal? Save for the long hair and his affinity for off-brand chips, he didn't particularly stand out as being what a supe looks like - at least, in her mind's conjured standards - while the other made her eyes grow wide at the reveal of her vampirism. "Whoa." Avery managed to get out, glimpsing at Zeynep's fangs. For the first time she really was speechless, considering that her experience with vampires was through shows like Buffy or Supernatural... she had never met a real vampire before.

Sentinel turned his attention to the newcomers and waved to them with a maintained smile: "Zeynep, Derwent, good to see you both." He was especially happy to see the latter, as he had been one of those that had shown a lot of hesitation and general reservations towards the concept of being a hero. There were still some others that had yet to arrive that were similar in thoughts, but with Derwent's presence it made him all the more confident that the others would show up at the very least.

Avery moved her gaze between Tyrell and the newcomers for a moment before approaching Derwent with some meekness: "...do you got any barbecue flavoured ones?" she asked politely.

 

[joshuadim]

[HECTOR PROLOGUE]​

As Hector left, he could only faintly hear the surprise and concern of what had just transpire as both club-goers and his decidedly now former co-workers audibly mulled over the aftermath of the fight. And just before he rounded another corner to be completely out of earshot, he could even hear someone announce that they would be calling the cops. But by the time any patrol cars would respond, Hector would be long gone from the scene and found himself walking the streets of Jacksonville. The state of Florida was no stranger to the criminal element, but in the past few decades it found itself caught at the epicenter of all manner of criminal elements. From the Miami drug trade and associated cartels to the Gulf Coast presence of the Black Line from Baron Kriminel's network and the state's north being riddled with the Golden Knights, Florida was a perpetual warzone between major and minor criminal factions that even the American Ten had difficulty responding to. When one head was cut off, another would take its place.

Jacksonville was no stranger to this, as it was an open secret that the city served as a forward operating base towards Atlanta's criminal organizations that sought to carve out their own territory within the sunshine state. And as a result, much of Jacksonville was in a state of disrepair with trash littering many of the streets that Hector walked past and with homeless encampments taking root at almost every overpass. Only the city center had any semblence of order, and the police usually kept to that quarter and its outlying areas. The city was among the worst in the states, and although it was not without its fair share of vigilantes they could only do so much when the city was festering from what seemed to be an incurable rot. The foreclosed homes, empty businessfronts and decrepit buildings only added to the image of a city in a neverending spiral downwards - with the people themselves slowly abandoning ship when they could.

That was why it would be a great surprise for someone like Sentinel to appear, as Hector would find out as he turned into another empty alleyway only to find himself practically face to face with the greatest hero. His presence alone seemed entirely out of place, with his friendly demeanour providing safety and radiating stature practically scaring off any criminal elements within a few miles.

"Hey there, sorry to barge in uninvited." Sentinel said, maintaining a smile. "I was tailing the guy you beat up earlier. I wanted to talk to you about that."

 

[WhiskeyMarten]

[Hector Prologue]​

---

Hector wasn't walking in any particular direction, just away from the club, and thankfully it seemed like nobody at the scene was following him. What now? The people still on the streets at this hour minded their own business as the man hurried past with a bloody head and metal arm. Soon, Hector stopped to get his bearings. He'd need to get home, at least to grab his things. He hadn't figured out his next steps. Did he still have a job? Were the police going to come knocking? He didn't kill anyone, right?

Turning a corner, he walked down a dim alleyway, tripping over some cardboard boxes of abandoned junk lying around. Hector looked to the ground as he stumbled, regaining his footing before he fell. Looking back up, he nearly jumped straight out of his skin. That's... But why? Hector briefly glanced behind him. It just was him and Sentinel. He briefly considered running, but he knew it would only embarrass himself to try outrunning the strongest hero. He never watched the news or read a newspaper in his life, but Sentinel's reputation was known nonetheless.

"I don't know what you're talkin about..." Hector looked at the metal. Who was he kidding? He quickly dropped the facade. "Look man, you don't know what happened. Shit's different here. Would've been a lot worse if I wasn't there." Were things really this serious if Sentinel was going after him? Ah well. Maybe a few years locked away would do him some good. Three square meals a day, and a prison bed couldn't be worse than the couch.

joshuadim EdwardDewey98

 

[Roda the Red]

Derby stood still for a moment, it didn't seem like he was making the best of impressions already, that is if he was even making any impression to begin with. Arguably, that was probably a better outcome, a street kid like him needed not shine bright amidst heroes, lest his unsavory spots were put under the limelight. The bell ringed once more shortly after the young man's arrival, looking over his shoulder, he got a glimpse of the newcomer: A smokin' hot babe with glowing red eyes and long fangs, he turned forward once again, not paying her apparition much attention at first, but his eyes went wide, turning back to look at her, glowing eyes, sharp fangs...

It REALLY was another hot babe! Was this Sentinel guy trying to build himself some kind of hero harem of young chicks? "Mhm, good to see ya too, big guy." Well, it was true that such kind of behavior was common practice among celebrities, but Derby wanted to believe the big hero man was above that kinda crap.

His thought tangent was broken by the words of a girl who at some point had slithered right in front. "Huh? oh, uh." He reached for the inside of his bag, pulling out a mahogany colored cilinder, waving it around lightly as he held it on his palm. "Sure I do, got some sour cream and onion, too." He remarked lifting the bag slightly as if to point at its contents. "With this brand any flavor other than those two kinda tastes like shit, really-" Were he to have an available hand, he would've slapped his mouth shut. Oh well, there goes the somewhat-but-not-really self imposed rule of no swearing.

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[Breadman]

Things moved quickly with some faces. Sentinel had clearly searched all over the place. From horned women that look like they are straight from a fantasy novel to street level crusaders like Dove and Knight. They even had a giant robot. Well not giant, but she was pretty tall as Kevin managed to ascertain. Yet there were more who would join them. As soon as Derby entered the front door and introduced himself, Dove would respond with a light wave. He was..dorky. Now was he more dorky than Knight? Tough for her to say, but the Prongles put him ahead of the game. Next was Zeynept. She did not care for subtlety like some others she knew about.

"Its impolite to stare." Dove chastised Knight.

"Huh? What are you talking about?" He indignantly raised his voice

"We are in the presence of a vampire, aren't we?"

"Yes, but I wasn't...You're really calm about this." His tone shifted to a more curious one "What gives?"

"Oh I'm a ball of anxiety right now, but I learned how to hide it." She patted him on the shoulder and gave him a smile. "Hey, new guy." She addressed Derby as she walked closer to that group "Give some of the Prongs here, I skipped breakfast." This left Knight on his own for the moment.

"So..." He turned to talk to Zeynept proper. "Are you actually a vampire or is my friend making bad guesses?" A thought crossed his mind as soon as he asked that. That's probably a really rude question to ask someone. Too late to turn back now. All he could do was scream internally about it.

 

[Elenion Aura]

Nikandros of Pallas - The Scion of War [Prologue]
EdwardDewey98 joshuadim​

Nikandros swapped his gaze from the packed street before him to the crinkled sheaf of flimsy loose leaf he had pinched between two fingers and back again.

"Hm… Where could you be?"

He asked of the crude drawing of a man in a strange, body-clinging suit with the words Sentinel and Strongest messily scrawled in blue crayon across the bottom margin as he adjusted the grip of his spear.

This place is strange, Nikandros thought to himself as he walked, the flow of bodies walking the wrong way (opposite him) parting for him like waves. Some of them stopped and stared, but when he stopped too, responding to their challenge in the affirmative, they would always hurry quickly away. Strange, indeed, he concluded with a shake of his head.

It was all the same, truth be told. He sought only the strongest, and godly thanks to that random child he had found, he knew who to look for.

Every so often a particularly uproarious commotion would pull his attention away from his singularly straightforward path, a feat that not even the compact metal horses could achieve, as he strode straight across the black tar rivers, deaf to their shrill cries of protest as he crossed in front of their angry glowing eyes, undeterred.

And yet, every detour thus far had proved unworthy. He left each scene as he had found it. A ruffian absconding with a stockpile of jewels. A large, scaled creature assaulting a contingent of soldiers in blue, who brandished sparking sticks whose smell crinkled his nose. A battle between two costumed figures… This one gave him pause, but upon close inspection of each, he concluded that neither was the one he sought.

The Sentinel.

Until…

A crack like thunder pulled his focus. That was when he saw him, soaring overhead. The Fates must truly be on his side!

Without delay, he leapt into the air and issued his challenge, excitement crackling like red, angry flames across his broad, bare shoulders.

"The Sentinel! I am Nikandros of Pallas! Fight me!"

No words had ever flown more freely from his throat.

 

[joshuadim]

[HECTOR PROLOGUE]​

"I agree, it's a good thing you were there." Sentinel reaffirmed with a smile, "And he'll be fine... hospitalized, but fine. I overheard the commotion." The hero then approached Hector calmly, maintaining an outwardly friendly demeanour, "But that's not particularly what I wanted to talk to you about, mostly. Rather, it's about what that man does and why I'm here." He then motioned Hector to follow along into an abandoned building, climbing up to the roof so as to get an even greater amount of privacy from the potential of any prying ears at street level. The distant towers of Jacksonville's downtown district appeared like candlesticks in the dark, surrounded by voids of chaos and destitution; the city itself - from even the most cursory glance - was sick to its core. It was something that made Sentinel frown when he looked at the horizon. Things were bad here, more so than in most places, but the thing that always kept him hopeful was the idea that things can get better. And they usually did, in his experience, as he turned back to Hector and smiled again.

"That man, Trevor. I was tailing him because he's associated with the Black Line. Helps make drugs - meth and other bad stuff - right here in this city and helps move it across the country. Another facet of that syndicate's poisonous reach..." He returned his gaze back to the distant skyline and sighed: "Fortunately, before you managed to incapacitate him, I overheard his conversation with his lackeys about where its all produced. Can get it shut down soon enough. But that's just the problem isn't it?"

Sentinel straightened his posture and looked back to Hector again: "He was able to run amok so freely for so long without anyone to stop him. And he's wasn't the only one. There's dozens of these kind of things every day that fly under the radar, because the police are too busy or that the heroes - the American Ten and Wonderful Eight - are stretched too thinly to deal with the things that fall between the cracks. And so many vigilantes that try to take up to the task are... well..." His voice trailed off, leaving his words hang with what he meant being as obvious as it could with regards to his feelings on the matter.

"But, just as is so happens, I'm looking to change that by looking for people I think can help fight the good fight."

---

[NIKANDROS PROLOGUE]

Moments Earlier...​

"Reporting live from Baltimore, a major fight has broken out in the greater downtown area as Madame Midnight of the American Ten has engaged what appears to be a fire wielding villain of some kind! Property damage so far has been extensive and firefighters have worked to contain the spread of any flames, while police have cordoned off several blocks..." a news reporter shouted into the camera for CNN, pointing behind him towards the near distant chaos. Baltimore was no stranger to action from super-powered beings, though this commotion in particular was unusual in terms of its ferocity as the villain in question seemed to be more explosive and powerful than anything the city had faced prior from a single man. He was a figure perpetually encased in flames, though wore a costume underneath that seemed to resist the heat despite the temperatures.

These two were, indeed, not what Nikandros was looking out for considering that Sentinel wore a blue suit and neither Madame Midnight nor the villain she was fighting were. And thus he left, disinterested, while the rest of the city watched with abated breath. Madame Midnight was an experienced fighter, and a capable improviser in a sticky situation and so many didn't worry for her safety. Sentinel wasn't worried either, but he was still nearby just in case for a friend. He figured he could help out with the firefighting efforts, as the flames were vicious and hungry. But his attention was caught by a booming voice that made him stop in mid-air, darting his gaze towards its source. He raised an eyebrow - partly from confusion but mainly from intrigue - as he floated down towards Nikandros and put his hands on his hips.

"Not every day someone seeks a fight with me." the hero stated with a smile, "...why? Don't get me wrong, I like a good fight everyone once in a while. But what's it for you?" He asked with a genuine curiosity, keeping his friendliness high to this mysterious challenger. At least on the outside, this large man didn't seem the type to go around causing trouble like that pyromaniac further in the city.

 

[Elenion Aura]

Nikandros of Pallas - The Scion of War [Prologue]
EdwardDewey98 joshuadim​

Pointing the tip of his spear at The Sentinel’s chest, with a free hand he pounded his own.

"Because you are the strongest!” He shouted, like that should suffice for an explanation.

"Now! No more talk!”

He sank into a crouch, muscles coiling like steel cables, sinews rippling with potential energy, his chest rising and falling in a measured rhythm, the calm before the storm.

”Prepare yourself, here I come!”

Then, like the ignition of a star, he sprang forward, the air crackling with the sheer ferocity of his lunge, his form a streak of raw energy hurtling toward his destined foe.

 

[AzaleaWonderland]

{Gemma}

{Karma}

​

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She wasn't fast enough. That's the lesson she repeated as she looked at the fresh hole in her wall, and then her gaze wandered towards the device left behind. Taking a moment to study it, she realized this must be the transportation Sentinel insisted she'd use. So that shadow must've been Sentinel Mailman, it might've been a good thing that she was too slow to make contact with their head. As much as she wanted to be early, she had a few things to finish up on this coast just in case the teleporter mangled her body or some other consequence for messing with the fabric of space. Gemma turned to her duffle bag, Karma's clothes, spray cans, and scythe were all shoved inside as she zipped it close before hoisting it upon her shoulder. Gemma stumbled from the sudden weight shift before readjusting herself. After quadruple-checking, she did not forget anything, Gemma started her moped's engine.

The motor slowed as she reached her destination, squeezing the break before tearing the key from its ignition. Her foot came down, its heel hitting the kickstand as Gemma climbed off. Here she was, Riverview. Pretty fancy place for the person she was visiting, they would've hated it. Gemma moved through the grounds with ease, having made this trip multiple times before stopping at the stone with their name on it. Her eyes fixated on it, the world around melted away as her mind retreated into itself, spiraling. She shook her head, trying to ground herself and focus on the reason she was there. Gemma's mouth opened, but as usual, no words could escape. Words were always so damn complicated, she turned away, leaving the stone with nothing. This happens every time, it infuriated her that she could be so pathetic. Gemma couldn't understand how she could face monsters daily but it felt impossible to speak to a grave.

She was going to finish it today. The agitator rattled inside the can as Gemma shook. The paint shot from the nozzle onto the building's decaying walls. Gemma's world once again melted around her but instead of spiraling into herself, she let everything inside spray out onto her canvas. She used everything in her mind as building blocks to create, it was an outlet, far easier than words. She tossed an empty can of red, before rummaging a new can from her bag with her paint-stained hands. For a moment, she paused to look back and appreciate the wall art, her smile told it all, this was one of the best she'd made in a while. The scene was from her nightmare just before she turned around to see the jaws that hung just above her. And that's when a drop hit her forehead. Frankly, it made her jump, she quickly dismissed the paranoid thought of her nightmare coming to life as she realized it was something much worse. She'd forgotten to check the forecast. Rain was coming.


~~


Gemma scrambled, she searched around to see if any unlucky camper lost their tarp nearby but no such luck. The drops started to become more noticeable at this point and Gemma thought about it, running the numbers in her head. Even if she left now she wouldn't be able to get back in time with a tarp set up. She glanced back at her creation, seeing it slowly melting before her eyes. Gemma rushed back to the duffle, ripping the zipper open and yanking the cape from the bag's grasp. Gemma then threw herself into the wall, pressing the cape up using it and herself to shield the image. She knew it was stupid, but maybe the downpour would only last a minute, the graffiti can last under drizzle long enough for her to protect it. But despite her best attempts, the rain persisted through her efforts of preservation. All she did was get a closer look at it melt before her eyes. Gemma took a deep breath before letting out an infuriated scream.

In retrospect, that felt like an overreaction. Gemma pondered as she ran her fingers across the bloody knuckles of her right hand. She took shelter under a nearby tree. The wall art was right in front of her, or what remained after the rain finally let up. She hadn't looked at it, she didn't want to acknowledge what it'd become. After all, by now it was just another creation she ruined with her ignorance. With a heavy sigh, Gemma got up, pulling out the different parts of her hero costume, most of it soaked or damp but it was not like her civilian clothing was much better. Gemma took the duffle bag and her clothes further into the forest and changed into Karma. She scoffed as she realized some of the paint from the graffiti had rubbed off onto her hood. It's a good thing one of the primary colors in that picture was red. Karma tried pressing her thumb to rub it out but that likely only set the stain more. Gemma will have to fix it later, after all, she'd been stalling for long enough.
~~


O!O!OO!O
~~~~~
O!O!O!O!
~~~~~~
O!OO!!!O

It was almost like sleep, one minute darkness would be surrounding you then suddenly it's light and you're groggy as your alarm rings. New York's skies were bright blue with scattered cirrus clouds, the sound of raindrops was replaced by jumbled city noise. As for that grogginess, now that was far worse. Her vision made everything look like her washed-up graffiti. Karma lost her footing, slamming into the side of a dumpster to keep herself upright, her ears were ringing like school bells and her vision was failing her. Karma's body felt like it'd just been spun on an infinite carousel. Breathing was a laborious task and it wasn't helped when she started returning her breakfast to Mother Nature.

After what felt like forever, Gemma wiped her face. Most of the symptoms had cleared up, but dizziness and general discomfort remained. "Teleportation can go to hell," Karma coughed, pushing herself off the dumpster. Gemma thought it best to enter through the backdoor. But the handle wouldn't turn. An infuriated sigh leapt from her as if she needed more annoyances. At the very least, Karma's appearance was known by very few, and by nobody in New York. Karma crept to the alleyway entrance, peering out from the shadows. The streets were less crowded than she imagined but not as desolate as the suburbs. On the bright side, New York is packed with crazies so no one should look twice at her outfit. At least, that was the hope.
A knot of anxiety grew in her stomach, this was not her scene. She could be home working on leads but instead, she's in a back alley of New York about to enter a restaurant filled with Sentinel's handpicked team. Gemma thought about trying the device again to see if it'd return her home. But then she'd have to deal with that hell all over again and there was also that other matter. Karma's eyes drifted to the wound she got on the island. She knew it was only a matter of time before her enemies would hit something vital and she was nowhere close to her goal. Her foot rapidly tapped on the ground as she debated her options. "Tch, why does everything always have to be so complex," Karma groaned before throwing her hood up and leaving the alleyway.

Swinging around to the front of the restaurant, Gemma wanted to wait to enter but it was better to rip off the bandaid. Throwing the door open, the soaked hood slowly moved across the restaurant. Gemma was still plenty dizzy so deciding to move slowly was to ensure she didn't trip over herself, this also allowed her to observe each member as she moved, silver eyes darting around, dissecting them within her mind. First, she noticed the man of the hour, Mr. Sentinel T. Williams, or whatever his real name was instead of that fake name she just now bestowed upon him. Near him was a woman dressed in a stunning ensemble, it reminded her of some graffiti art of candy skulls she stumbled across one day. That piece was killer, she honestly couldn't understand why that corp repainted the wall but that's probably a good thing. If she ever started thinking like corporate execs, she'd want to take a long walk off a short pier. The horns undoubtedly came from their power, likely a physical powerhouse. There was also a game of shogi in their hands, Gemma had fond memories of that game but they were overshadowed by how cruddy today had been. It looked like the candy skull woman's day hadn't been much better.

Karma's silver eyes moved onto others in the room. A person with short black hair and brown eyes looked defeated as if they'd just lost their child in the McDonalds play place for the tenth time this month. He also looked nothing like someone who'd be in a superhuman team. He was the picture of a mundane civilian. Though, looking around, Mundane didn't seem alone in his choice to wear casual wear. What a joke. Next, she saw someone who fit the bar, at the very least their tattered outfit gave off vigilantee vibes. Either way, it confirmed that Sentinel honest to god found these people on the streets. What an odd recruiting strategy. This one looked like it'd break her scythe if she swung it at them. Tatters currently looked a bit drowned in her thoughts though. Across from Tatters stood the tallest member by far. Upon looking closer, it seemed like they were sentient robots. Whoever created them must've poured lots of blood sweat and tears to get it running. And they must've had way more money than Gemma does. She could only wonder what she could do with that budget, though that kind of stuff never comes without strings attached. Gemma wondered if the Machines creator figured out a way to evade those strings. She'd have to ask later. There was another group of two, one was a tall blonde who looked like they were heavily fumbling whatever attempt at socialization he was having with the lady he was speaking to. She had a big hat, Gemma could not imagine fighting in such a thing, it'd probably just fly off. Their sharp red eyes gave Gemma chills, something about them didn't sit right. It was the same feeling she'd get playing a horror game late at night. Karma's silver eyes also picked up on the fangs peaking out. Nonhuman but Gemma wasn't experienced enough to pin which type.

Gemma's eyes finally turned their attention to a group of people, all wearing casual clothing. She sighed internally, if not for Sentinel it'd be hard to tell this was the right place. The guy had purple hair and pretty respectable street fashion, he was extending a can of prin... Gemma's eyes narrowed as she realized the can said prongles for some reason. Well, they probably aren't any more disgusting than the on-brand ones. The other two seemed to have taken an interest in the forbidden fruit. Gemma envied them, being able to eat anything without being bothered by quality. Not being a picky eater would make life so much easier, especially now that she had no food in her stomach. But alas, she'd probably gag if she put that stale cardboard in her mouth. One of the two was an older person with beautiful blonde hair and brown eyes. Gemma couldn't gather much else, they seemed calm but something felt like it wasn't right about that analysis like finding an egg but no bird nest, something off but she had no idea where to start looking to fix it. Gemma moved on to the last person. Surprisingly, they looked to be around the same age. Though, this one looked as though they were treating this like an afterschool club. To be fair, nearly half the people here were doing the same.

Karma let out a small sigh as she carefully leaned against a corner in the back, allowing her to watch the entire room. Sentinel's parting words echoed in her head "I think when you come on over to New York, you'll see that for yourself." So far, she wasn't impressed. Though, being honest with herself, Gemma doubted she would be impressed this quickly. Oh well, it likely won't take longer than an hour and then she can be done with this and never look back. On the bright side, thanks to the free trip, she might be able to visit her Grandma after this. Though, she'd likely need a change of clothes.
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[WhiskeyMarten]

[HECTOR PROLOGUE]​

Hector took a step back as Sentinel approached, but stopped after processing what the hero said. So I'm not in trouble? "Oh... You can ask anyone here, we all know he's bad news." He tried to cross his arms, but the metal got in the way. "But, I'm glad you understand." He wasn't the most thrilled to follow Sentinel further from civilization, fearing that he may not be off the hook just yet. But he had never heard of Sentinel toying with anyone like this before arresting them, so he lowered his guard just a little.

"Hmph. More of a big shot than I thought." Hector almost felt proud of himself now, but his eyes trailed to the roof's edge, onto the grim sight ahead of them. It was lonely out here. He stared out, only half-listening to Sentinel for a moment. What am I even doing here?

"Oh. Right." He snapped back to attention, realising that he had missed a chunk of the conversation. "Yeah, I mean..." Hector lifted his arm out, and the attached metal gleamed under the moonlight as he moved. "Aren't there more willing candidates? I don't know if I wanna make a habit of pissin' off guys like Trevor... This was meant to be the fresh start. Guess that's gone out the window." Maybe this is why you're here? "Y'know what. I'm gonna make enemies no matter what kind of fight I'm fighting. Might make more sense if I'm doing a bit of good while I'm at it."

He showed the faintest semblance of a smile. "So, what's the deal anyway?"
joshuadim

 

[joshuadim]

"Sure I do, got some sour cream and onion, too."

"Ooh good flavor choice!" Avery said as she took the can of BBQ Prongles and shook out a few crisps into her hand. "Though I think barbecue still takes the cake on that-" Avery stopped her train of thought and blinked, realizing just how stupid of a conversation this was considering the circumstances. These are *supes*, do they really want to talk about chip flavours? she asked herself as she scarfed down a few pieces quickly to give herself a distraction from speaking. In the brief moment that followed, she chewed on the chips that she had collected as a means to buffer between the original point of conversation and to redirect it towards something else. She figured that the best conversation was about *them*, or rather how they got here... after all, the way she had gotten involved with all this was one-in-a-million.

Avery looked between Derwent and Dove for a moment before clearing her throat: "So... how'd you get here? I mean like, with Sentinel... and everything." she asked nonchalently as she took another chip and chewed on it while still speaking. "I uh, I'll be honest, I'm here because of a complete accident... but Sentinel helped with all that!" She motioned her thumb over her shoulder to where he was before continuing to speak: "I was just hanging out with my friend, playing hooky from school and all, and got caught up in some gang war! Then a truck crashed and it was holding this weird energy thing and... well..."

She didn't want to divulge the worst details of it all, and so glossed over those points with a nervous chuckle: "Anyway, it kinda... merged? With me? I dunno how to describe it, Shadeling knows how to explain this stuff better than me. It almost blew up Philly but Sentinel flew me up to stop that! Then he brought me over to Shade's place to figure what's up with me and now I'm here."

Breadman Roda the Red

 

[joshuadim]

[HECTOR PROLOGUE]
​

Sentinel chuckled softly as Hector went from questioning to accepting towards the premise put before him, pleasantly surprised considering how difficult it was to convince some of the others he had managed to persuade thus far. But the man in front of him seemed genuine with regards to the venture, and so Sentinel continued: "I've gathered a few folks so far, and I'll probably pick up a few more still. They're from all walks of life and backgrounds, but I think they all bring something to the table." Sentinel looked at Hector again and grinned: "And I think you can too. You're knowledge of how people like Trevor - and others - work will really be helpful, along with your own skills and abilities. Especially since we'll be dealing with organized crime and the like."

"The deal for this is we'll be working to fill in the gaps that have gone unchecked for too long. The holes that both the Ten and Eight are too busy to plug, or care too little to do so. That way, we can help the people who have for too long been left behind by the way things have worked for so many years. And deal with those criminals that have gone under the radar for too long." Sentinel then extended a hand for a shake, maintaining his smile: "If you're up to it, then I'll have a friend get you an easy way over to New York when the time comes. In the Bronx, there's a restaurant that's important to me - De Barahona al Corazon - that I'll have everyone together in for you to meet and greet."

---

[NIKANDROS PROLOGUE]
​

Sentinel did not try to evade the lunge from Nikandros, allowing the tip of his spear to hit his chest. But while Nikandros was able to pierce the material, his spear stopped short at his skin - not causing even a scrape on the heroes' body. "Quite the attack, I actually felt that a bit!" he said with a smile, studying his newfound opponent some more. "Custom made... Greek spear and aspis, right? Are you an Olympian?" He pondered the question rhetorically before shaking his head. "No, you couldn't be. Never seen you during Palaestra at Olympia. You're new..." Sentinel deduced, crossing his arms. "Well, my friend, you came here seeking the strongest... and I'll show you why I am!"

He then quickly disappeared from Nikandros' sight before appearing right behind him with a raised fist. "My turn now!" The Scion of Pallas would then feel a strike with tremendous force, though nowhere near at his full strength, which sent Nikandros flying back into the rear end of a parked truck. Were this on any lesser man, they would have been utterly devastated - but Sentinel knew he could go harder than usual without breaking anything important. "Damn it..." Sentinel muttered, cringing a little on seeing the destruction he caused from this escapade, but was relieved to see the Psion emerge from the vechicle unharmed for the most part.

However, during the chaos happening in Baltimore, it wasn't long until the local police force would involve themselves and Sentinel watched with concern as several police cars made another cordon on the street with service weapons pointed at the challenger. Unable to understand the danger the Psion of Pallas posed, as they simply saw a young man donning a strange costume, a couple of police officers would begin shouting conflicting orders at him to the point where it was impossible to understand what they were trying to command. And soon enough the situation escalated harder as the police then began to fire and peppered Nikandros with bullets that would fall on the ground after making impact with his shield, armor and skin.

On seeing that, Sentinel smiled as he observed the innate strength of this fresh face; perhaps, he thought, this would be yet another soul willing to be a part of his venture? The cops meanwhile looked to one another in shock before quickly backing away from the scene, not wishing to risk their well-being over dealing with a super-powered being. Sentinel floated in the air a few meters away from Nikandros and shouted boastfully: "Well, I suppose it's your turn now. Unless you want to give up?"

 

[Elenion Aura]

Nikandros of Pallas - The Scion of War [Prologue]
EdwardDewey98 joshuadim​

Nikandros pushed himself out of the crumpled wreckage of the truck, brushing shards of glass and twisted metal from his broad shoulders as though they were mere cobwebs. His eyes gleamed with unrestrained exhilaration, and a grin, sharp as a blade, split his face. Sentinel’s strike had sent him flying—him! He could not recall if he’d ever felt something quite like this. He rolled his neck, a satisfying crack echoing as he locked his gaze on the floating figure above him, utterly ignoring the panicked police officers and their useless weapons. In truth, they didn’t even exist to him. Only Sentinel existed now.

His fingers curled tighter around his spear as he replayed the moment of impact in his mind, savoring the rush of resistance when the weapon struck but failed to pierce. The Sentinel’s flesh was impenetrable—invincible, perhaps. Good. It would make this all the more glorious. He could feel his blood burning, the divine fire roaring louder in his veins. The warrior in him—the Scion of War—awoke fully now. His lips parted, and he laughed, a booming, joyous sound that echoed across the street and sent shivers down the spines of anyone watching.

“You ARE strong!” he bellowed, elated that the young oracle had not led him wrong. He discarded his spear and shield, planting them roughly into the cracked asphalt with a satisfying thunk. “Strong enough to face me as I truly am!”

The air around him began to shift, shimmering with an unnatural heat. His muscles tensed, veins pulsing like rivers of molten metal beneath his skin, as a crimson mist coiled upward from his shoulders and arms like the smoke of a battlefield pyre. The mist rose higher, twisting and curling, almost alive, as his body trembled with the sheer force he was summoning. His bare chest heaved with deep, measured breaths, each exhale sending the red mist swirling faster, brighter, like a storm gathering its fury.

And then, without warning, he moved.

In an explosion of motion, Nikandros launched himself skyward with the force of a cannon, a shockwave rippling beneath him and sending dust and debris scattering in all directions. The crimson mist trailed behind him like a comet’s tail as he soared higher, higher, until he was above Sentinel. For a brief moment, he hovered there, silhouetted against the sun, his wild, bloodred eyes glowing like embers in a furnace. Both hands clasped together, fingers locking tight, his entire body tensed for the strike.

"COME THEN, SENTINEL!" he roared, his voice shaking the air itself.

And with that, he hurled himself downward, bringing his fists together in a massive, hammering arc aimed directly at his foe. The mist coiled thickly around him, now streaking like flames, and his teeth flashed in a feral grin. A war god’s fury made manifest, carrying the weight of his bloodline, of divine wrath, of an endless hunger for battle.

The world held its breath as Nikandros came crashing down, fists blazing, eyes burning with a singular purpose.

 

[WhiskeyMarten]

[HECTOR PROLOGUE]​

Hector nodded, wondering what this entailed. He hoped he wasn't the only one with no experience, but at the same time, there had to be some competence in the group. If they were all like him, Hector pitied Sentinel.

"Organized crime? We really are gonna make some enemies." So I'm the organized crime guy? If only he could be the jaywalking guy, or the traffic offences guy. Hector hoped he wouldn't end up forgotten at the bottom of the St. Johns River.

Nonetheless, he answered the outreach of Sentinel's hand, shaking it firmly. "Course." When the hero finished speaking, Hector's hand froze.

"All the way up there, huh?" He guessed he shouldn't have expected a fully local operation, but there was a major complication to the idea. "Y'know I'm not paying for airfare... But I'll be there if I can." It wasn't so much a matter of not wanting to, but the fact that Hector was nearly broke. He could always try and drive, but it would be his first time out of state regardless. Hector retreated his hand back to his side.

joshuadim

 

[joshuadim]

[HECTOR PROLOGUE - END]​

Sentinel smiled at Hector's acceptance, but also chuckled at his comment about air prices. "The people I've gotten so far are from all over the country, I wouldn't be able to pay for everyone's plane tickets." he joked with a silly grin, "Don't worry about paying or anything... my friend told me what he's making will allow for instant travel to New York whenever needed, something about teleportation or something... I'm not the technical engineering guy here." He gave Hector a pat on the shoulder before floating up in the air, "I gotta run now, but you can expect that delivery soon! Until then, see you later!" Following a wave from the hero, Sentinel quickly ascended upwards before flying off and away. And as Sentinel flew above the clouds, leaving Florida entirely, he felt happy knowing he had found another person he was confident in with both their abilities and their character.

---

[NIKANDROS PROLOGUE]​

Sentinel watched with joyful anticipation as Nikandros descended from the skies, his fist and body emblazed with mythical and divine power. The hero braced himself for impact, grinning as his eyes met with those of the Scion of Pallas. The strike connected with such a force that shockwaves broke the windows in the buildings surrounding the pair, and with the mythical energies of Nikandros flowing through his veins - and the hit connecting - Sentinel was pushed backwards by the strike. A tremendous feat for anyone to accomplish, to even cause Sentinel to flinch in such a manner, but he laughed. Not out of mockery, but out of joy! Seemingly unharmed, all Nikandros had managed to do was displace Sentinel a few meters away.

"Oh yes, you really are strong. I felt that!" Sentinel said with a smile, "Mythical powers are one of the few things capable of hurting me. Here..." he said as he tore off fabric on his suit from the hole left earlier by the spear, and Nikandros could see that a small bruise had been left on the hero's chest. Sentinel gave it a gentle pat before continuing: "But this is where this duel ends, my friend. I will hold back, for your sake and mine, but I'll give you what you want." he said, before disappearing once again from Nikandros' sight. And just as quickly as the man disappeared, suddenly, Nikandros was grabbed from behind and launched up into the sky at a speed he had never felt before. Nikandors could only watch, tumbling through the air, as Baltimore was reduced to a small concrete blob amidst a sea of green and blue.

Sentinel delivered another punch into Nikandros' chest, sending him even further into the atmosphere, before being stopped and grabbed in mid-air from above followed by yet another punch that sent him careening down towards Earth. He tumbled a few thousand meters, watching the skyline below grow closer, before he was grabbed by the ankle and thrown with such a force that he flew above the heads of Madame Midnight and the unknown fiery villain attacking Baltimore. For the Scion of Pallas, he would crash straight into the Patapsco River with enough force to shake a few boats that were some hundreds of meters away and created large waves. He emerged quickly, but watched as Sentinel floated above him: "Ready to give up? Or do you really want me to knock you out?" he asked, "I'd really rather not. I'd like to talk."

 

[Elenion Aura]

Nikandros of Pallas - The Scion of War [Prologue]
EdwardDewey98 joshuadim​

The waters of the Patapsco River began to bubble and churn, a furious roiling that sent shudders through the surrounding boats and caused waves to ripple violently toward the shore. Steam rose in ghostly tendrils from the surface, faint at first but quickly thickening, hissing and swirling in the air above. The onlookers barely had time to gasp before the river exploded outward in a cascade of mist and spray.

Nikandros erupted from the depths with a roar that rivaled the thunder. His entire body seemed to radiate heat, the crimson mist now blazing like fire along his shoulders and arms. The water that clung to his skin evaporated instantly, curling into steam that wreathed his frame like a cloak of fury. His chest heaved with ragged, exhilarated breaths, his crimson eyes glowing brighter than ever as his entire body shuddered—not from exhaustion, but from the glorious shock of pain. He had felt Sentinel’s blows, the sheer force of them ringing in his bones like the reverberation of a war drum. And yet, he stood unbroken.

To feel pain. His whole body quaked with the sensation. Magnificent. Glorious. Every fiber of his being was alive with the thrill of it, his divine blood roaring in his ears like a tempest. He threw his head back, his laughter booming across the water like a declaration of defiance.

“The Fates!” he bellowed, his voice carrying the unshakable conviction of a warrior’s oath, “Our duel ends one way, Sentinel! The Fates decree it so! And the Fates—” he slammed a fist against his bare chest, the crimson mist swirling more violently in response, “—have not whispered of my defeat!”

Without hesitation, without pause, Nikandros launched himself skyward once more, the surface of the river exploding outward in his wake. The force of his leap sent shockwaves rippling across the water, waves crashing against the shore and rocking the few brave boats still nearby. He closed the distance between himself and Sentinel in an instant, his form a streak of fiery red cutting through the air.

And then he unleashed his fury.

A flurry of blows rained down on Sentinel, relentless and unyielding. Each strike was swift, precise, and powerful, the movements of a seasoned warrior honed by divine blood. His fists were like battering rams, his knees like hammers, every strike accompanied by the crackling of the crimson energy that surged and danced around him. Nikandros moved like a storm, a whirlwind of raw, untamed might.

“You will NOT hold back!” he roared between strikes, his voice nearly drowning out the thunderous sound of their clash. “To hold back is to insult me, Sentinel! Show me your true strength!”

Even as his blows rained down, Nikandros’ grin never faltered. His teeth gleamed, his wild eyes never leaving Sentinel’s face, locked on with an intensity that could pierce even the strongest resolve. This was not anger—it was joy. Pure, unbridled joy. For in this moment, in this duel, he was alive.

And he would see it through until the very end.

 

[Roda the Red]

Derby's attention was momentarily robbed by the approaching blonde beauty, demanding her rightful serving of delectable budget chips. "Uh, sure, not gonna lie I wasn't expecting anyone to ask for 'em." He gently tossed the sour cream & onion tube at her, crumpling the now empty paper bag and storing it into his pocket (even delinquents can care about recycling, you know?) He then grabbed his own serving of the BBQ flavored ones, downing a whole three of them in one go. "Oh...abfout thaf..." he responded with a mouthful of potato. He wasn't quite sure how to answer the girl's question, just how much was he supposed to let out about himself? Mentioning his life of minor crimes and petty street conflict was probably a no-go, sure, he never was the one instigating anything at first, but an enabler is not spared from blame.

He went in for another handful of chips, politely letting Avery to go on herself about how she managed to end up in this very restaurant. Just as the chips were about to enter his mouth, his hand stopped. A weak grasp letting the snack slip through his fingers, his eyes open as plates as he stared into the not-so-normal-anymore girl. He gave one simple step back burying his head into his shoulders, the zipped collar of his jacket covering his mouth. "HOOOOOLD ON a minute, thanks for the layman terms but...yer NOT gonna blow up in any second, right? I didn't plan on coming here just to become space dust!"

Somewhat comforted by her reassuring response, he sighed. "If ya say so....Well, my story is nowhere near that crazy, ya know? Buncha ass-, cretins, a buncha cretins were slapping some old man and thought I'd stop that, it really was nothin' special." That much should be safe to mention, even if the narrative needed to be twisted a little. "The big pal here caught me red handed, thought I was gettin' a beating but instead I got the wonka golden ticket." He pointed at sentinel over his shoulder with his thumb, then continued. "So, Philly, huh? Guess he wasn't lyin', ya guys really are from all over, I'm just a local so if you guys need a tour guide, I can offer for cheap." He smiled, a light chuckle escaping his lips. "And what 'boutcha?" He turned to face Dove. "You guys actually look pretty well put together, hell, if you told me that buddy if yours was a silicon valley techbro, I'd believe ya."

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