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

[joshuadim]

[NIKANDROS PROLOGUE]​

Sentinel held a look of awe as his opponent emerged from the waves - fueled by divine ambition - and delivered a powerful display of his innate strength. Inexplicably, the clouds over Baltimore grew more intense and agitated as if a storm was about to break upon the city. Everyone looked upwards into the sky at the sudden coalescence of this tempest, confused as the weather had been only slightly cloudy for most of the day. But this was no weather event, but rather something else entirely and Sentinel knew what it was. In the clouds above, as Nikandros launched himself through the air, it appeared as though both the mentor and father both decided to look upon their child. The nearby sailors, boat captains, and passengers watched with shock as the Scion of Pallas descended with a flurry of blows - each more powerful than the last - onto the greatest hero.

Sentinel felt every blow, even as he brought his guard up to protect himself, and was taken aback by this rush of pure mythical strength. Bruises reminded him of his own mortality, and he was certainly bound to be left with many as a result of this, but he kept on tanking every single one of them. His eyes did not break with Nikandros' gaze, listening to his claim that the Fates had not deemed him a loser and that he - the strongest in the world - should not hold back. If only it were that easy... as with a single punch, if he were to cut loose, he could break every bone in Nikandros' body. If mighty Herakles of the Olympians lost an arm wrestling competition to him, then how could this brave boy stand a chance against him without limiting himself? But if there was something Sentinel could do, it was to let go just enough to make the Scion believe he let go of his restriants...

Right as Nikandros swung his fist again for another strike, Sentinel grabbed it in mid-air - forcing a shockwave to emanate in the area. "...so be it, Nikandros of Pallas."

Sentinel took a deep breath before delivering a counter towards the demigod with a new level of force - strong enough that Nikandros could feel his body giving up on him as a result with red ichor mixed with gold sputtering out of his lips. His armour shattered at the area of impact as Sentinel's bare knuckles connected with the mythical hero's chest, which in turn sent him up into the air with a force that he had never before experienced. So strong as it was, that he became engulfed by frames as his physical coil cut through the atmosphere with enough friction to ignite it around his body. But Sentinel wasn't done, as he appeared in front of Nikandros' trajectory and grabbed him by the neck of his armour before moving him further up into the stratosphere.

In a few moments, as a result of Sentinel's exertion, they exited the atmosphere entirely and flew into the final reaches of Earth's surrounding cradle. The curvature of the Earth became more pronounced, and Baltimore had been reduced to a speck amidst a sea of green and blue. Held by Sentinel's mercy, Nikandros was left alone with Sentinel who took a moment to look at him. There was something macabre about the hero now, as the light did not shine on his face. He then quickly delivered another blow onto Nikandros' face; the force of this strike was powerful enough that it would have killed most advanced life forms, and Nikandros was sent down again at a speed comparable to a meteor as he careened back towards the pale blue dot. Had he impacted Baltimore, a few blocks would have been destroyed or damaged but he was again intercepted by Sentinel over the Atlantic ocean, grabbing him by the ankle and hanging him upside down.

"...give up, because I won't kill you." Sentinel simply stated, watching how the wounds visible upon Nikandros regenerated - albeit at a slower rate than his own - as expected of a divine being. "As amusing as it was at first, I'd like to not keep hurting you. If you demand more, I won't give you that. Call me a coward, but I'm not a mythical warrior as some members of the Olympian Champions are. But killing is simply not who I am." He then straightened Nikandros, keeping a tight grip on the neck of his armour, and sighed. "You've proved yourself already - your strength is far beyond than what I thought at first. I'd consider you to be at an Alpha level, if we were to go off the government charts. But the more power that flows through your veins... you'll reach greater heights." Sentinel said with a smile. "You are strong, and I really would like to talk to you now. Preferably away from Baltimore now... don't wanna cause Madame Midnight an even greater headache. Wanna visit Greece?"

 

[Breadman]

Dove grabbed the tube Derby gave her, opened the lid and took a few chips out. While she ate her own, she listened to the other two explain how they ended up here. Avery sounded like she had a harrowing experience, but it was still something that happened surprisingly often if the different rumors are about masks and hoods are anything to go by. She'll likely be ok if Sentinel is there to guide her. Derby on the other hand- this guy had juvenile delinquent written all over him. A classic really. A good third of the street heroes probably can relate to him.

"Me and Knight? We did our first patrol last night believe it or not and despite looking like it, the only crypto he's into is history. His power source is magic. We were down at the docks looking to stop a Mazola operation when Sentinel shows up right as we are ready to call it a night after beating up some bad guys." She placed the lid back on the tube "We stopped by a gentleman's club to bust up the rest of the operation and now we're here." She was finished, but did add something after a second "I may or may have not added a few decibels to my sonic scream last night. You know, to land the part." A smile formed on her face.

 

[WhiskeyMarten]

Hector Moses, Florida.
​

Hector stood on the roof long after Sentinel had disappeared from view. It was all a bit... weird. If he were living a stable life, it would've been much better to brush the whole experience off as a fever dream. The truth was that it was all too real, and regardless of how weird it was, all he had going for him back home was probable unemployment. Might as well see if Sentinel keeps to his word.

The reception when he finally got back to his apartment was unexpected. Someone called someone who called Hector's roommate to gab about the incident, and so the living room Hector entered was filled with friends from the area.
"Are you okay?? We heard the news."
"Are you bleeding? Is that your blood!?"
"How did you even do that... That's fuckin' sick, dude."

They wouldn't let him retire to the couch until he had recounted the story in his own words, while his roommate cleaned the blood from his scrapes and cuts. Of course, certain omissions were necessary, but Hector himself had almost forgotten about Sentinel by the time his friends left him to rest. When he awoke in the afternoon, it took some time to figure out if it had really happened. A guy like me... and a hero like him. Fortunately, Sentinel did keep to his word.

---

Hector Moses, New York.​

It took Hector longer than he was willing to admit to confirm he was standing in front of the correct restaurant. He wasn't even sure he was in the right city at first, but had faith in the tool that had been delivered to him. He felt like this on his first day in Jacksonville, showing up with little else but the clothes on his back. In hindsight, he didn't do too badly for himself considering the cards he'd been dealt. Surely this couldn't go too badly, as long as he could get back home with no problems.

"Alright..."

Hector peered through the window, not caring much if he was being conspicuous. He frowned. Well, what did you expect? An assortment so... varied. It had to be real. Sentinel did say they all had different backgrounds. With that aside, Hector couldn't shake off the sudden feeling that he was being tricked. There was either cameras in the bushes filming his reaction, or this was some charity support group here to help him. He was ready to throw hands regardless of-

Just chill out, man. Don't be stupid.

"Hello?"

He walked through the door, cutting through the group with a loud greeting. Hector then paused in place, hoping for confirmation that he was in the right spot at the right time. He didn't realise how intensely he was looking at the team.

 

[Elenion Aura]

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

Nikandros dangled upside down from Sentinel’s iron grip, water still dripping from his battered frame, steam rising faintly from where the heat of his divine form had met the alien chill of the stratosphere. But despite his position, despite the bruises forming on his ribs and the golden ichor streaking from the corner of his mouth, the Scion of Pallas was not yet spent. He writhed and thrashed in Sentinel’s grasp, a defiant, wild grin splitting his battered face.

“Release me, Sentinel!” he bellowed. “I am not beaten! Do you hear me? I AM NOT BEATEN!” His limbs jerked as he tried to free himself, his muscles tensing as though he still had the strength to mount another assault. He was laughing again. “You will not cow me, Titan! You think this ends here? Bah! I could fight you for an eternity!”

His words echoed with confidence, but his movements were slowing. The fire in his eyes began to dim, his flailing arms growing heavy, sluggish. His head lolled slightly to the side, the furious crimson mist around his body thinning, dissipating like smoke caught in a breeze.

“You…” he murmured, his voice softening, the fire flickering in his burnished ruby eyes. “You… still haven’t… won…”

And then, like a switch had been flipped, Nikandros went still. His head slumped, his arms hanging limp. The roaring, defiant son of Ares had been silenced, his body now heavy with the toll of his divine exertion. The battle, the blows, the raw energy of his godly blood—it had all caught up to him. Despite his best efforts, his body could take no more. Nikandros was out cold, utterly and completely unconscious.

 

[joshuadim]

[NIKANDROS PROLOGUE]

​

Archaiopolis is better known as the City of Gods, since it serves as a gateway between the mortal realm and Mt. Olympus. Its iconic architecture was not different from the rest of Greece, but there were still several temples and pantheonic places constructed in the old ways through the surviving Hellenistic traditions within the last Hellenic city of the region. Archaiopolis had always held a glorious image, but it was one that flowed with the motion of time. Its citizens never demanded anything of those who came in control of the lands surrounding them, save for one demand: to leave them, and their worship, in peace or to suffer the wrath of Olympus. The Byzantine Romans refuse to capitulate to such demands, and their armies were destroyed; hundreds of years later the Ottomans tried their luck and were soundly defeated. When the Young Turks came into positions of power, they tried once more only to suffer an outstanding defeat. And when the fascists from Italy - and later Germany - moved into the region they were repelled, expelled, and humiliated.

The city of Gods has thus bred a hardy people, but it wasn't their bravery and faith that protected them all this time by their own. After all, mythical monsters continued to attack Europe even to this day - and could not be stopped with the sword and shield alone. That task thus fell to the champions of Olympus. Home to the greatest Mythical and Magical heroes of the world, the city is a host to recruitment of those who displayed mythical powers from Greece and the wider world beyond its shores. Its leader was none other than Herakles, the son of Zeus and Alcmene who ruled over the city with a mandate from the heavens above to keep the peace. While Archaiopolis was their home, the Olympians rarely left their headquarters as they were always training or honing their skills. But when the harvest season comes, the Olympians flood the streets to help with reaping the rewards of the spring and summer labours. The farmers burdens are eased as a result, and later come to celebrate with the townsfolk for another successful harvest.

As such, the Olympians enjoyed great popularity among their mortal counterparts - who came to see them as an integral part of the city as well as a source of income from the tourism it attracts. After all, who would willingly miss a chance to snap a photo of such amazing beings? Aside from the residents, a variety of travelers from around the world walked the streets to peruse the shops, eat classic Greek food, and to party with the various nightclubs operated jointly between Satyrs and the human citizens of the city. There was also a natural wealth to behold in the wilderness beyond the city, though it saw considerably less attention than the urban interests of many travellers. And considering the nature of Greek monsters that would occasionally trample through these regions, it wasn't all that safe either. Though that was less of a concern for someone like Sentinel.

Not far from the city, on the path towards the Olympian headquarters, was the Pigadouli Spring; Sentinel sat by the edge of the waters with an unconscious Nikandros resting by his side. He could see a Satyr with a pipe looking at him from the surrounding forest, whom he waved at before noticing that Nikandros was stirring to consciousness again. "Before you try to hit me again," Sentinel quickly spoke as the demigod roused from his slumber, nodding towards a Naiad poking her head from the pond, "Lythia here says that if we disturb the peace of her pond then she'll curse us both. I'd rather not deal with weird faefolk curses... so please, lets talk."

Elenion Aura

---

With the BBQ Prongles tube acquired, Avery began to snack from it as the conversation evolved between her, Derby, and Dove - only letting out a snicker after Derby's momentary panic had quieted down. Though there was a serious aspect to consider through all this, Avery did the reasonable thing of ignoring such problems for a later time as she simply enjoyed what was happening right now. Chewing on the off-brand chips while moving her gaze between Derby and Dove while they talked, the door's bell rang again - first for a newcomer girl, and then some guy who looked like he hadn't washed in a week or something.

Where does Sentinel find these guys? she wondered to herself as she scarfed down another chip before approaching the two of them, wandering off from her previous engagement with Derby and Dove in favour of introducing herself to these two. Without a care for her own appearances, she approached as she chewed and waved to them.

"Hey, we got chips here." she managed to get out before finally getting the snack down. "I'm Avery! We got all these other folks in here too." Wordlessly, she expected to hear what either of them would say as though it was self-evident what she was waiting for, an excited gaze shifting between the two of them.

WhiskeyMarten AzaleaWonderland

 

[AriAriAbabwa]

Zeynep bint Ahmed - Upiór
EdwardDewey98 Breadman AzaleaWonderland​

Zeynep turned her smile to Sentinel, walking at him with open arms. "Ah, mon chéri, you look very pedestrian in casual wear! Which I imagine is the point, hm?" Her hands settled on his shoulders, and she gave him a quick kiss on each cheek. "Love the place. Very homely."

She then turned her attention to Knight, who had been blatantly staring earlier. Who could blame him? It wasn't like Zeynep didn't want the attention. "Indeed I am. Have been for at least a few centuries," she answered with a chuckle. "But why ask? Are you curious of what I do? How I... eat?" Zeynep leaned to his ear. "The ways that I can... Suck. You. Dry?"

She pulled away with a smug giggle. What fun this gathering was! What an assortment of characters to play with! It also served as a funny reminder how average heights have risen since her time. Now, who else? There were plenty to choose from. How about... the young sulking girl in the corner? Heavens, she clearly didn't like being here! Naturally, Zeynep was drawn to her. "Well aren't you the cutest widdle thing?" she said with a coo. "Did that big blue jester force you to come?" She moved to pat Gemma's head, despite them only being an inch apart in height.

 

[Breadman]

"OH!" Knight responded nervously. "No, I'm perfectly fine without knowing about how your...vampire stuff works. You probably won't like my blood, I spend way too much time cooped up with dusty tomes and journals. If Dove hadn't picked up this hero business, I'd likely be coughing dust all the time." He tried to explain himself with more detail that was required, but he couldn't stop. Looks like it was fine as she had moved on to somebody else. Safe for now. 'Wait no, don't leave the girl with a vampire alone.' He berated himself as he stuck around that part of the diner.

"Oh hey, new guy!" Dove looked up as Hector's booming voice announced his presence. A lot of guys were coming in and either sounded nervous or unprepared. She couldn't blame them. Sentinel himself had come and invited them. This one tho could calm down with the stare. "Yeah, we got some chips. Get your handful and come in the circle, we're sharing experience and crime fighting stories."
AriAriAbabwa WhiskeyMarten

 

[AzaleaWonderland]

{Gemma}

{Karma}​

Karma's head rested upon her shoulder as she focused on listening to the conversations around the restaurant. One was a naive person afflicted with the side effects of experimental tech. Does she even know how to fight? Gemma noted she should inquire about where that tech originated at some point before leaving. While she didn't have enough resources to investigate such operations, she should still be on the lookout if there's a possibility of new weapons flowing into the market. Gemma was a bit disappointed by how little the junk food provider revealed. He didn't even explain how he took down the people. She wondered if that was on purpose. He's either good at playing dumb or...
The last one gave her something to work with, a hero with a sonic scream and another working with them with magical origins. However, it sounded like their fight was with a local problem, nothing that would concern Gemma. After all, Sentinel accomplished the only thing she ever cared to do in New York a few years ago. Her thoughts were interrupted by the defused bomb trying to introduce herself to Karma and another bloke. But she hadn't even finished chewing. Karma's face couldn't hide the disgust. Not talking with your mouth full is one of the most basic social rules ever. "God, didn't your father teach you not to speak when your mouth's full? Or were you raised by a pack of wolves?" Karma's words were harsh, and she even realized it immediately after they left her mouth. 'Urgh, what a joke,' Gemma's internal monologue sighed. It's whatever, Gemma likely wouldn't have to see these people after today anyhow.

From the corner of her eye, that woman with fangs approached. Karma adjusted her posture, using her left hand to lift the hood, allowing their eyes to meet. The terror's words were far more condescending than Gemma expected. Why would they say that? Do they enjoy seeing others in misery, feeling superior, or was that a genuine attempt at a compliment? Either way, a response was in order, "One must wonder what would compel a sane person to say such a thing," Gemma commented as if she were talking through Zeynep. The comment on Sentinel might've made her chuckle if not for the terrible day she'd endured. It also confirmed to Gemma this lady absolutely enjoyed making fun of people. Before she could say anything, a hand reached out towards her head. Her right hand gripped the collapsed scythe on her back, shifting it to point toward the offending arm and be visible to 'Fangs'. Karma moved her head back a bit, eyes watching the woman. Karma subtly gestured to the weapon, "I'd watch your hand. Things that wander tend to wind up injured."
AriAriAbabwa joshuadim

 

[EdwardDewey98]

[Thomas Darter Prologue]
​

Queens, New York City, State of New York • Sometime in August

Within the underbelly of the Big Apple, a conclave of criminality was convening - spurred on by the one motive that fueled most of those within the great game: greed. Money was the main driver for the daily violence committed by nearly all those in attendance, and it was this driving force that brought them to meet in such destitute conditions. An abandoned underground parking lot, mired with cracked concrete, leaky pipes, and darkness save for the headlights of their vehicles, served as the safe and neutral territory for a variety of factions to convene within. Two families of the Russian Bratva, two of the Irish Mob, the Armenian Mob and representatives of the United Blood Nation stood in a haphazard coalition spread around in their own sects.

A general air of nervousness pervaded the air, considering what this meeting entailed for all of them; the Black Line was making moves, and had approached all of them to incorporate their operations within their own web of villainy. It was the opportunity of a lifetime, to get them up in the big leagues like other criminal organizations had been already through the same avenue. It was something that none of them could afford to screw up, and that included holding off on shooting one another in the moment save for shooting glares and glances towards one another.

But every moment that passed raised the tension, considering that their contact was by this point 10 minutes late. One of the Bratva bosses muttered to the other, potentially wondering of whether or not this was a setup only for his fears to be alleviated by his peer. If this had been a set-up to draw them out and in turn kill them, something would have happened already. Yet nobody had made a move, which meant either this was genuine or nobody was brave enough to initiate. This uncertainty was the same among the other gangs that were gathered until, at last, the man of the hour arrived rather unceremoniously.

A figure draped in flashy green attire stepped out from the shadows, strutting along with all the confidence that one could be afforded given his position in the criminal underworld. His face remained masked by magic, but left the hair intact; he was also flanked by a woman, whose own visage bore an unsettlingly wide smile accompanied by vicious eyes that scanned the room. As dangerous as Meike Schlessinger, a Lieutenant of the Black Line, was her boss was the one everyone turned to in the moment. Killer Suit, the one who trafficked the most cash across the world for the organization's operations, stood before them.

He twirled a card in between his hands, its edges trailing with whispy green energies that came from his fingertips. From under his hidden face he observed all those gathered before speaking: "Welcome my friends. Let's talk business, and how you're going to make a shitload of money by working with us."

A series of chuckles and grins followed from the various gangs, and soon enough they began to talk. Terms were being dictated, egos placated, and business was smooth as it could be. It helped that Killer Suit had a silver tongue to go alongside his reputation, allowing him to a natural diplomat when it came to incorporating other criminals and bringing them into the fold. Though there was the obvious disagreements between certain sects, such as their representative slices of the pies, that was always negotiable to be acceptable.

Outside the meeting, at the entrance of the abandoned parking lot, two homeless men sat ignorant of what was happening beneath them in an alleyway across. They shared a bottle of alcohol wrapped in a paper bag, muttering to each other incoherently as they were positively wasted. The armed guards at the entrance paid them no heed, as they were basically harmless and kept themselves on the lookout for any unwanted visitors or attention.

But the vagrants also noticed a figure in their inebriation, watching from the darkness though it was hard for them to tell if it was real or not. However, this figure was as real as he could be - and was scoping out the area to see what he could do to stop this move from the Black Line from unfolding...

Interacting: Bingotron 9000000

 

[Bingotron 9000000]

Thomas 'Tom' Darter | The Titanium Man​

[Prologue]​

Interaction: EdwardDewey98 ​

───── ⋆⋅⌬⋅⋆ ─────​

Indeed, the two homeless men were not hallucinating, as there was a figure standing on a nearby rooftop. Despite the overpowering darkness, this figure was not so difficult to spot however, as there seemed to be a dull cyan-colored glow emanating from the figure, somewhere underneath his clothes, coming from both his chest, and his back. Likewise, the man that stood above them was dressed in a pretty average manner, save for one detail. He wore a pair of sturdy blue jeans, with a gray tank top, and some combat boots, and the most peculiar: a long, bright white lab coat that floated in the wind.

─────​

Over the course of the past year and a half, Thomas Darter, better known to the public as the enigmatic Titanium Man, had been gathering evidence on the maelstrom of crooks and organized criminals that were gathering inside that parking lot. Using both physical and digital means (aka, hacking into secure systems and smacking around street thugs for intel), he managed to piece together a rough but comprehensive outline of the Black Line's operations, and grown appalled by the monopoly of crime that had been forming under the careful guidance of Kork van der Bijl, also known as the Machine.

A cyborg, much like himself, Kork's organization had been able to dodge just about any form of justice and consolidated control over almost all major criminal operations worldwide, and Tom theorized that if left unchecked, they could become an unaccountable regime of criminals whose economic power and influence was enough to rival superpower nations. While not an existential threat in and of themselves, such a large conglomerate of organized crime to exist was dangerous for the long term survival of mankind. A stumbling block towards the unified front humanity would have to present if it was to survive in the vast and uncaring cosmos for the next 100 years. The calamities of the first and second Kilidian invasions had taken a heavy toll, and a potential third Kilidian invasion could spell extinction if humanity was not working together and prepared for it. All of this was something the Black Line would inevitably hinder. And knowing Tom? There was no way in Hell he was going to let that happen.

So, he made a plan. A long, rigorous, and systematic plan to take down the Black Line like a Jenga tower. He knew he could never get rid of crime as a whole, but fragmenting the global system of organized crime back into a more manageable state of smaller local gangs that heroes and law enforcement could handle with greater ease? That was his goal. However, just as Rome wasn't built in a day, it did not fall in a day either. So, foiling this one particular unification meeting was a good step to start.

And the Titanium Man had done his homework. He had meticulously researched the financial movements and alleged criminal activities of all of the groups involved: the Russian Bratva, the Irish Mob, the Armenian Mob, and the United Blood Nation. All while documenting a report that could be filed to the police on the few criminal activities he had been made aware of. However, their capture would likely be something he'd have to handle himself. And that was no easy feat.

He knew he could handle the hired muscle with ease. However, superhumans? They were the real challenge. He had managed to gather some intel on the two he knew would absolutely be present: Killer Suit, and Meike Schlesigner. He knew of their alleged crimes, from data he had compiled from movements and news reports he could vaguely link to them, but he could gather nothing on their actual powers, other than that they were reportedly very esoteric, and very powerful.

This meant trouble, as Tom's greatest weapon, information and a plan, was something he lacked here. Was it foolhardy? Was it suicidal even? To attempt to take down this meeting of dangerous criminals all on his own with no back up? Hell, was it insane to even dream of doing this plan to take down the Black Line all on his own in the first place? Maybe, but if Tom was going to die, it would be giving the world he loves so much the best chance at surviving. And he just might be able to pull it off...

─────​

And so, he prepares to plunge into battle. He cracks his knuckles and relieves some tension from his neck, before dropping down onto the alleyway where the entrance was. He lands onto the gravel paved alley with a loud thunking sound, as his titanium cybernetics seem to add nearly 100 kilograms to his weight. Then, he calls out to the homeless people standing a few meters away from him.

"Folks, you might wanna vacate the area..." He says, speaking in a gruff, New Yorker accent. The homeless men, scared by the sudden appearance, scram as quickly as their inebriated sense of balance will let them. Meanwhile the guards, a little bit surprised, take aim for the strange cloaked figure, as their fingers begin to squeeze the triggers of their assault rifles. However, before they can begin shooting, the vigilante had somehow sprinted at a frightening speed towards them, grabbing their rifles by the barrel and twisting them downwards with surprising force so as to safely re-aim the trajectory of the guns in such a way that they wouldn't hit the Titanium Man, nor the homeless people still fleeing down the alleyway behind him. And just like that, in less than the blink of an eye, two clenched fists hit their marks squarely on the guards' jaws. The force of these punches is tremendous, with enough power to make a heavyweight boxing champion blush.

The two men fall onto the floor, knocked out cold, and probably with the meanest concussion that they'll ever experience.

"Sorry fellas. Nothing personal..." He mutters softly to the two unconscious guards, and to himself, as if to acknowledge the misfortune in them choosing the line of work that they did.

However, before he could ponder too much on it, a shout came from inside the parking lot entrance, as some of the men inside have noticed him, and have begun to alert the rest.

"Alright, I 'spose this is it..." He says to himself, as his hand reaches for a holster, hidden underneath his lab coat, as he pulls out a large, sci-fi looking, futuristic hand cannon of a pistol. He takes aim, and the gun suddenly changes color, before shooting out a projectile towards the entrance, near a group of thugs. The 'bullet' hits the floor with a loud clink, digging into the concrete, before suddenly ejecting a large plume of smoke that fills the area and obscures the vision of everyone, at least nearby or looking towards the entrance.

 

[simj26]

Kisara McDowell
She'd handled bloodsuckers before. Well, no, not really. It was more of being manhandled by one. Just the memory of it caused the bruises to ache again. She'd like to think she was pretty tough, all things considered, so it was the one out of a handful of times that she had to have a serious reconsideration of her place in the pecking order. There were many, many, many things in the world that the best option for her was to turn and run away from.

Unfortunately for her, she was much too headstrong to let sleeping dogs lie. Thankfully, in that specific instance, things had ended in an amicable manner. A simple case of mistaken identity, and a reminder that she shouldn't be basing her hunches off stereotypes. The bloodsucker was even polite enough to offer her potent enough poisons to dull the pain from their altercation, alongside an extensive lecture with regards to their kind.

This one was different from him. Too human. Too comfortable in her own skin. She found her own eyes following the bloodsucker around the diner, more so than the others who had entered before and after her, the exact feeling burning at her insides not so unfamiliar to her. Monsters were attracted to other monsters, she had reasoned, But maybe that was simply a one-sided thing. A vile need to belong somewhere, a disgusting want to be recognised by people like her. She shoved that feeling further and further down into the pits of her heart. None of that mattered. She was here as a part-timer. A consultant. She didn't need to be here for long, if at all.

The deep desire to be alone, to drift in the empty space of stars by herself, was that what she really wanted? Or was it simply punishment for her sins, for all the wrongs she had done?

It didn't matter. She drew her eyes away from the rest of them, and turned her attention back to the notebook that she had produced during her time here, jotting down further observations of the group.

 

[WhiskeyMarten]

Hector Moses
​

“I see.” Hector wasn’t sure what he was worrying about. Definitely not her, the one who greeted him. He looked in all directions at the people who had already gathered. ”I’m Hector.” He hoped Avery was her real name and not an alias, else he’d already messed up. ”And… Thank you. For the welcome.” He smiled at the teen before glancing up at Dove.

The circle? No way it’s actually some kinda freak support group. And yet, rather than turning away in defeat, Hector walked closer.
”Okay. What have I missed?”

Nestling into the conversation, he began by grabbing a large handful of chips. It was a strategic move on his part to buy some time before he would have to speak up on his own past, as he kept his mouth dramatically full.

The mention of the word “experience” was of some concern. Did he have to come up with a fake history? He didn’t want to be the most lowly member stopping one measly crime. Hector deliberated this as he munched on the Prongles.

 

[gxxberkit]

THE AMETHYST FOX
Interaction: the people in the restaurant
Time + Place: NEW YORK, the city of BIG DREAMS and EVEN BIGGER THREATS! And it's BEAT-EM-UP-O'CLOCK!

“I’m llaaaAAAAATTTEEEEEEEE!!!”

Dirty gray bricks clattered around The Amethyst Fox’s feet as the rubber grip of her sword settled into her palm. She gave it a few experimental swings—gotta make sure it still works, right? It’s been a few days!—before turning to the newly created hole in the wall. Haha… wow, that thing stops at nothing, does it? Though, her awe about how undoubtedly cool she is was cut short by the shouts of, ehm, guards down the hall.

“HEY, get back here!”

“Don’t you dare escape!”

A soft huff of air betrayed her nervousness. “Uhhh, uhhh, uhhh… Don’t worry, I’ll be back! This is SUPER important Amethyst Fox business!” she yelled in response, giving her jailers a little wave of goodbye before taking a step—

“AaaAAA!” She hissed at the impact of a brick squishing her toes through her boot. “Sshsfffssshhhh wshhhfffshhh shhhhhh… !!!!” The girl hobbled out of the cell on one foot, praying the pain away. It subsided in a few moments (nothing broken, yippee!!) and, as her boot made contact with the concrete outside, she made her grand escape. No, wait, that sounds too villain-y! She made her… um… Grand Heroic Escape!

Did you know it’s actually a REALLY long run from between the jail she was stuck in and the restaurant they’re meeting at? Kingsley’s lungs stung, heaving deep breaths as she ran. But there— she could see it. The famed, destined, FATED meeting point. Right there! So close, she could taste it! Not really. But wouldn’t that be such a fun superpower? Tasting things from far away?

Kingsley’s pace picked up regardless of how much her legs wanted to give out right now. Page 15 code A:1 line 1 in her self-written Magical Girl Manual (also known as Kingsley’s strangely worded diary) said that ‘Magical girls never give up, even if they’re literally dying!’ So, obviously, The Amethyst Fox, Savior of the World, wasn’t about to give up from a little SORE MUSCLES! She was better than—

THONK!

Her face smooshed against the window pane (more like window PAIN… OW…), condensation from her breath fogging it up as she slowly slid down. Her back hit the ground behind her with a second, softer slam.

That was when a rational thought came to her head: ...I should’ve taken the bus…

She slowly pushed herself up, ignoring the way her body was complaining at her as she stumbled over to the door and pushed it open with her shoulder. The Amethyst Fox doubled over. Sword clattering to the ground, her hands gripped her knees a little tighter with every strangled inhale. “Ah… hah… hah….” she gasped. Then, she straightened up, pressing her hand to her chest with a few coughs. “I'm here! I'm here! The Amethyst Fox is here! I'm here to... save the world! Yeah! Um.. Am I late?”