[System]
Age: 18

Gender: Male

Race: Human

Weapon: The Ampere, a unique polearm with a wide, flat blade rather than a spearhead along with a gray steel pole. It has both range and lethality, keeping most melee fighters at a range safe for Abel but devastating to them with a tempered steel point, as well as channeling Abel's natural aura far better than he can do by himself (Inside the the Ampere's pole is a thick mesh of silver and copper wire). The Ampere has a single alternate mode that splits the wide blade into four parts and reverses their direction, creating a vaguely mace shape. In this mode, the Ampere can release bolts of lightening that travel impressive distances instantly.

Specialty: Abel fits best into the role of guardian, fittingly enough. His size, range, and defensive characteristics make him good at intercepting danger coming for his teammates, and he can certainly throw his strength around at close range, armed or not. Using his lightening bolts, he is able to paralyze if not flash-fry a single opponent at long range.

Semblance: Surge - This ability allows him to project electricity that can manipulate the Ampere at short range without touching it and summon it back to his hand when disarmed, as well as channel electricity to shock anything the weapon touches. By using Surge to rotate his staff quickly at very close range, he can create a sort of shield. When he focuses his power sufficiently through the Ampere in staff mode, he is able to fire a bolt of lightening that takes several minutes to recharge.

Personality: Abel is proud and gruff, very serious and totally without humor. For someone who appreciates the creativity and technique of both weapons and battle so thoroughly, he ironically is without creativity. Instead, he tend to go about his business by the book, a principled young man of habit and routine with little to no capability to think outside the box. While he is dependable, he is not flexible, and can respond to bullying, injustice, or even plain teasing with sudden anger. While not antisocial, he sticks with only a few friends at any given time, concentrating on strong bonds rather than many bonds. He loathes popular culture and those who overtly subscribe to it. The Grimm mask he carries makes him upset and angry, more at himself than anything else, but as it reminds him of his brother he cannot let it go. Deep down, Abel is a severe defeatist.

Color: Azure

Emblem: An azure lightening bolt, naturally.

Appearance:
When reading, he is forced to put on glasses.

[User]
As the team was debating their next move, something happened to the forest. For lack of a better term, the ground opened up underneath them and swallowed them whole. Which wasn't entirely untrue: the ground underneath the team did indeed open up, and from the hole came thick, sticky web. This web not only was nearly impossible to escape by brute force, even for the students, but was as hard as cement. Worse still, this web didn't come from a single grimm. It came from hundreds of them.

As the team fell into the dark hole, they may catch a glimpse of beady red eyes staring right at them. Thousands upon thousands of arachnids, some as small as a car tire, others as big as a semi truck. And behind the ocean of broodlings was their queen, their mother, the Ariadne. She let loose an ear piercing scream that signaled the entire nest to descend onto the hunters, ready to tear them apart even as they were strapped in the web.

@Onarax@Crimmy@Sho Minazuki

On his way to the dorms

It had been a long day, and after the mission Gren wanted to do nothing else but eat. Sure he didn't need to, what with being a cyborg and all, but eating was catharsis for him. He tasted the delicious food and empower himself on their life energy. Or at least that's his excuse for scarfing down so much cheap fast food. He had went to town and hit up the first MkRonalds he could find, spending quite a large amount of Lein for essentially fifty pounds worth of fries and chicken nuggets. He didn't care though; he just wanted to eat. By the time he was done Gren went back to Beacon, if only to continue his culinary adventure (I.e. eat everything he could get his hands on). He stopped by vending machines and got salty peanut covered caramel nougat and powdered doughnuts, washing it down with cherry flavored soda and ginger ale. Then he went to his garden to water the flowers as well as grab a few ripe vegetables from the community garden, giving them a slight wash as he ate a variety of cherry tomatoes, egg plants, and collard greens. All of it raw. He was starting to debate if he should start looking around for birds nest to eat their eggs and chicks when the endless hunger received a text from Shiro.

He wanted to go out for pizza.

"Pizza... Pizza sounds good." Gren wiped the juices off his face and body and looked towards the dorms. If he was going to go back to the city he'll need to put on some casual clothing. Right now he was still in his armor, and in fact hasn't really showered. Now that he thought about it, he was totally disgusting. "I should take a bath..." Hopefully before anyone spots him while he was still filthy, Gren went over to the dorms to shower and change. All the while he send Shiro a text back.

[Assistant]
Diamond - Cafeteria
Diamond was actually a bit surprised the tiger boy bothered to recall manners before answering her - pleasantly surprised mind you. "Quite so... angry." she explained, "Forgive me but you seem rather like the carefree and a little bit air headed type. It's depressing to see people you assume to be as such as anything but. Now you're the second in the span of an hour, right after Emerald." she said with a little frown. "Rough time on the mission as well or did someone specific rustle your jimmies?"

Her gaze shifted to the blue liquid before she answered the other question. "But whatever the cause, people usually go for alcohol alongside and after the meal rather than that. It tends to actually take your mind off of things. Either that or make you wallow in self pity and stuff. I could point you to a couple of good places." she offered. Just make sure not to say anything in front of anyone if you get hammered.

[User]
Beryl Harken-Infirmary

"Did you bite off another person's head, Gratia?"

The flowing tone of the words revealed their speaker even before anyone turned to look at her. The new B of Vignoble was walking towards the pair, having just stepped out of the way of a rather upset looking catboy.

Her cheerful gait soon brought her over to Bianca's bed. Caring eyes floated above a small smile. Below that the faint tones of some sort of energetic violin music floated out from the earphones settled around the otter Faunus' neck. Loud enough to dispel any depressing vibes trying to get near but quiet enough to settle into the subconscious after a couple seconds.

She held up a small vase filled with purple irises.

"Hey Bianca, I figured you could do with something colorful to look at while you were in here."

[Assistant]
Kuhaku Shiro - Cafeteria

Shiro tilted his head. "Well, yeah I'm angry. You would be too if you just had to deal with someone like...that," He thought to himself. Shiro waved his hand at Diamond, ignoring the light insult to his personality. It wasn't like he disagreed with her, there were quite a few things that just flew straight over his head he knew that much about himself. He frowned when she mentioned that seeing him in his current mood had depressed her. That wasn't his intention. He only wanted to chow down before pounding in some training dummy's face. He'd shower then go to bed and wake the next day with no hard feelings reserved for whomever that headphones-wearing girl was. He'd just be mindful of being around her or ever speaking to her ever again. Ever. He didn't like profane and vulgar speech. He even hated using the words himself, even if he couldn't help himself at times. "No...my mission went alright. Well, it would've been a 100% clear if I hadn't gotten bitten by my own..." He shook his head. "Ah, never mind that. But yeah, someone did kind of bother me a little." Shiro drew circles on the table with his finger as he looked boredly at it. Maybe he had over reacted? Again, he hardly knew who the girl was so maybe that was just part of who she was and he was being a little baby about it.

Shiro's ears twitched upon the mention of alcohol. "Uh...I don't know about all those other things but...I don't really like the stuff. I mean, I tried it once and it tasted horrible. Burned my mouth and nose too and I felt funny afterward, getting a little sick. Plus..." Shiro's blue eyes shifted around, "I don't think you should be talking about drinking. I don't know about you but I'm a minor. I don't think I'm supposed to drink." It was true, he had only tried a sip of some rotgut he found somewhere once before out of curiosity. Immediately hated it. Immediately swore it off for life after how badly it had affected him. "I mean, I appreciate the offer to help me feel better but I'll get better on my own with time. Just...be careful about the things you talk about. I wouldn't want you to get in trouble..." he then frantically waved his hands at her. "N-not that I would ever tell on you! I'm not a snitch, so don't start thinking that! What you do with your life and your body is your own business, not mine. So long as it doesn't affect anyone else around you..."

He turned back to his food to slowly resume munching, with much less anger and intensity from before.


[System]
Appearance: Valian is the shape of your average human male, barring his below average height. His hair is dark, and his complexion fair—but you are far less likely to notice any of this than you are his eyes, which are blue. That is to say, that he lacks sclera and his eyes are a solid, pale blue all throughout, barring his pupils—the lack of sclera marking them as prosthetics. If you catch him at a time when he isn't wearing his flight suit—a dark blue affair with a silver-colored alloy covering the seams at his neck, shoulders, and waist, and a helmet made of the same alloy—you'll doubtless notice that his right hand is mechanical. His sense of dress is ostentatious, consisting of a mix of purples and blues, including a dark blue waist-length mantle that he is rarely seen without. Occasionally, you'll catch a glimpse of his grey prosthetic legs at his ankles, as legwear meets footwear.

Race: Human-Cyborg

Gender: Male

Age: 34

Background: Valian had a normal childhood, as they go. His family was of modest means, but made more than well enough to get by. He was born in a settlement on the moon of a gas giant just as it was starting to really expand. His father was a contracted pilot, flying people and cargo that, while not important enough to be afforded their own personal shuttle, still needed to get around. Valian was well-educated growing up, and very sociable. Time passed, and eventually Valian grew to adulthood. Since he had spent all of his young life around pilots—his father and his father's cohorts, some of whom were fighter pilots—and spacecraft, he had more experience with them than most non-professionals. As such, it was only natural that he took up a job as a career pilot. Specifically, he signed on with the Starfire Company.

His father had run some more illicit flights, so Starfire's less "moral" jobs were not an issue for him. Over time, this brought him into personal conflict, and he developed what skills he has in combat by necessity. His skill as a pilot led to his continued survival, and no insignificant renown within the company. He stuck by the company even when the odd offer came to turn over to the side of a competitor, seeing it as good business to stick with his path. He didn't know how right he was.

When Valian was in his late twenties, an act of sabotage in a Starfire hangar severely damaged Valian's ship and grievously wounded him—costing him his right arm, his legs, and both of his eyes. Valian was not irreplaceable, but he had a few friends on the station's medical staff, so they began operation. He was outfitted with cybernetic replacements for what he had lost. While there were a few people at the corporate side of Starfire that threw a hissy-fit, he was seen as a beneficial enough asset to be worth the cost. His ship was ultimately unsalvageable, but he was able to pick up the tab on a new one without taking too big of a loan (which has since been paid off). He wouldn't be alive without the cybernetic work, and he remains staunchly loyal to Starfire because of it—now out of a sense of obligation rather then business sense.

Personality: If there's one thing that Valian has leaned in his time in this galaxy, it's that there is nobody more important than whoever has your back. He is loyal to a fault, and will stand by his comrades no matter what. That said, he is rather jaded. While it didn't have a specific inciting incident, he has lost the belief that there is such a thing as a "good cause." As he would put it, "While there are people who support a cause out of selflessness or idealism, there are just as many—if not more—who would persue it for their own selfish gain. There is no such thing as a virtuous cause; a cause is only as good as those who pursue it, and any cause will have plenty of pursuers in it for themselves and in it for the cause's sake." This, in turn, has made him apathetic towards the conflict between the Xenovian Empire and the Revolutionary Front. In truth, he sees the whole war as rather morbidly comical, due in no small part to his tendency to find the humor in most things.

Gear:
* One High-Powered Energy Rifle, capable of the sustained firing of multiple blasts, and continuous fire for short periods of time. (Model: Class-8 Jovian Powered Beam Rifle, manufactured by the Jovus Industries Arms Manufacturing Corporation)
* One Cybernetic Arm, capable of more precise movement than organic arms, though of somewhat lesser strength; Right side. Linked Directly into his nervous system, operated without computing technology. (Model: Class-12 Neural-Motive Prosthetic Arm, manufactured by the NMS Corporation)
* Two Cybernetic Legs, capable of more precise movement than organic legs, though of somewhat lesser strength. Linked Directly into his nervous system, operated without computing technology. (Model: Class-9 Neural-Motive Prosthetic Legs, manufactured by the NMS Corporation)
* Two Cybernetic Eyes, capable of seeing over longer distance in sharper detail and overlaying information in his vision, as in a typical HUD. Linked Directly into his nervous system, operated without computing technology. (Model: Class-23 Neural-Sensory Prosthetic Eyes, manufactured by the NMS Corporation)
* A Flight Suit, capable of protecting against radiation exposure and planet-reentry/launch forces when in ships which are ill-equipped to handle such forces on their own. Also capable of defending against individual blasts from most energy weapons—but all but useless against sustained/continuous energy fire, and completely useless against ballistic arms and other non-energy forms of weaponry. (Model: V-Type Kalstein Flight Suit (Blue-Silver), manufactured by the Kalstein-Rothera Corporation)

While not possessing the hold size of most other cargo ships, the Agile Variant of the MK-III Stellas Cargo Ship's lower mass and higher number of Rotation Control System (RCS) Thrusters give it a maneuverability and agility unmatched amongst its ilk. While it came with a pair of low-caliber ballistic repeating guns, Valian replaced them with High Energy Sustained Beam Generators—capable of producing a continuous beam indefinitely so long as the ship is powered—and added a medium caliber ballistic repeating gun just under the nose. Additionally, the ship came with standard shielding technology, which Valian has upgraded.

[User]
Johanna gritted her teeth, she knew something like this had been bound to happen. She checked her rifle once again to make sure it was good and ready. The Babylon shook as the anchor's impaled it's hull. They were gonna have a hell of a fight on their hands shortly, if the size of that pirate ship said anything, it was that there was a lot of pirates heading their way.

"Hey big guy, you ready?" She called out to Krull, might have seemed like a pretty stupid question, but maybe seeing just how ready the big guy was would psyche up the rest of them. Gods know they needed it.

[Assistant]
<You as well, John Mason.>

Take off went without a hitch and Deraen settled in to wait out the journey. They weren't even out the system yet, passing below an asteroid belt, when the pirates appeared. Their attack was sudden and the Alamo had very little time to react thanks to the asteroids interfering with the ship's sensors. The ship trembled with each anchor lock-in. The Andalite remained at his post, waiting.

Deraen reached into one of his pouches, pulling out a piece of equipment and fastening it over the slitted nostrils that made up his nose. It was a gas mask of sorts. As predicted, it wasn't long before the pirates located the bridge and made it their target. A swarm of them appeared at the end of the corridor and Deraen sidestepped behind a bulkhead as they began shooting. When they were halfway there he tossed two canisters in their path, which rolled across the floor for a few seconds before spitting out a toxic red vapor. Caught off-guard and temporarily disoriented by the smoke screen, the pirates faltered. They gagged on the air and some of them pulled their own gas masks on, but the disruption was a large enough window of opportunity for Deraen to step into their line of site and mow them down with an automatic weapon. A human-made gun called a P90, as he understood, that propelled small projectiles called bullets at such a speed that they tore through flesh and bone alike. It was heavy, but the shoulder-strap helped him to hold it steady while two slender fingers activated the trigger.

The pirates screamed and fell bleeding on the deck. Deraen noticed they were all humans, but it wasn't unusual for pirates to go marauding in groups composed exclusively of their own kind. As he stepped over the bodies one of them rose up behind him, and must have assumed that since Deraen was facing forward that he could sneak up on him. Of course, it's impossible to sneak up on an Andalite since their stalk eyes allow them to see in all directions at once. Without so much as pausing mid-stride Deraen whipped his tail back and stabbed the pirate through the chest before he could think to fire off a shot.

<Be advised: air contamination in Sector 2.> He broadcast his thought-speech for his crewmates, if any of them came to help him they would know what to expect. Deraen put another canister in hand and continued down the corridor. Another wave came at him shortly and he gassed them like the first group, slaughtering them at his leisure. The next wave was ready for him however, almost all of them wearing their own masks and all of them firing at once. He ducked into an adjoining passageway, pulled the pin on a plasma grenade, and threw it around the corner, counting each second until detonation. Before the explosion had cleared he was out again to finish off any survivors.

[User] Jay's had drifted his ship into a patrol pattern around The Alamo for the more peaceful part of the trip, when the large pirate ship appeared, anchored both the Babylon and the Alamo, deployed upwards of ninety fighters, and sent over a massive boarding party he just sighed and murmured "of course" and turned his ship to head behind the Alamo to avoid the fighters. He powered the shields on his fighters ram and as he maneuvered behind the Alamo and came around he ignited the afterburners and rammed strait through at least seven of the anchors connecting to the Alamo, making sure he kept closer to the Alamo using it's guns for cover from the fighters. Several of the pirate's fighter were tailing him as he came back around toward the cruiser aiming to take cover in the range of the Alamo's guns again.

[Assistant]
On boarding the Alamo, Valian went to his ship to make sure everything was in top shape. Checking the controls, engine, weapons systems, shield, and other myriad of finicky bits that go into making a ship operational. Normally the sort of thing you want done before you're put in a situation where you might need to take off at any moment, but Valian saw himself first, not as a contracted employee of Starfire, but as a pilot. It was a matter of pride to him that he would notice if something was wrong with his ship. The only reason he was checking was because he'd learned the hard way that it's best to be careful.

Much to his surprise, Valian had finished checking his systems before anything happened. It stayed that way, until the one of the ships' pilots decided to pass by a large asteroid. How large? After practically leaping into his ship's cockpit, Valian pulled up some pictures from the Alamo's outer camera feed, and saw one large enough to hide a ship bigger than the the Alamo or the Babylon. Alright, what's the deal here? Even if we were trying to avoid standard flight paths, what idiot chose to pass so close to an asteroid that big? There's so much empty space out here... That train of thought died as soon as he saw the ship that was hiding behind it. When he did, he couldn't help but break into hysterical laughter. "That is the silliest fucking thing I've ever seen!" His mic was off, so his team-mates wouldn't have heard his outburst unless they were passing through the hangar at the time—he wasn't that loud.

His laughter ceased as soon as he heard the anchors hit. The fact that the pirates, idiotically silly carrier ship aside, hit him like a freight train. His grin did not leave his face, but it turned from one of mirth into one of malice. "Alright. So, ninety ships? Could be worse. Wonder how many of them will be dead before this is through." Wasting no more time, Valian brought his ship out of the Alamo's hangar. Since the pirates were still a good distance away from him, he whipped his ship around with his many RCS thrusters to take aim at one of the anchors on the Alamo with his energy beams. He didn't get the chance to see if he hit his mark though—the pirates had arrived, specifically a group of three.

Damn, they're faster than I thought. While he may have tried to get in an attack of opportunity on the anchors, John was right—they wouldn't be letting him cut those anchors. He dodged around the enemy fire, and took shots of his own at his assailants, the flash of his ballistic gun visible just under the Starbolt's nose. One pirate took a hit in the cockpit—taking the pilot out and sending the ship spiraling out into the void—and another in the wing, rendering it largely inoperable. Prioritizing speed over shields? Interesting. Might even be a pattern. Sure would make my job easier.

Valian glanced down at the anchor he'd shot at, and it was severed, the pirates already in transit tumbling out into the void. He looked towards the pirate carrier, only to see more ships heading his way. Well, let's see what this fleet of eighty-eight's got any more surprises for me.


[System]
Epic Identity: Finch

Age: 26

Faction: Epic Villain

Ability: Drake has the ability to manipulate glass at a touch. He can't make it spring into existence from nothing but he can make it change shape and composition to some extent, giving him considerable versatility

Weakness: Sufficient loud noise/vibrations can knock out his ability to manipulate glass. That and the stuff that usually knocks your standard Epic unconscious. Approaching that vibration threshold can cause him to lose control to some extent, though not completely.

Personality: Drake is as you might expect. When the mask is on he is confident to the point of being cocky, with a slight penchant for the dramatic and putting on a show. Needless to say he loves making an entrance, or an exit, He also likes taking valuable things, or at least making the Epics work to stop him from taking those things so they have to earn a days pay.

Outside of public appearances he is more...hostile, jealous to some extent of him being the villain rather than the Robin Hood-esque hero. And yet he can't stop himself either, not with the allure that comes with it and the possibility of the big score. He just can't sit back and let himself relax for long, not with the hope that one day he will succeed in a big way, and leave the entire city shocked at his success.

Appearance: Drake usually wears casual clothes such as polo shirts and jeans, nothing too flashy that would make him stand out, while not looking like a total slob. He has close cropped brown hair and a light tan to go with it, and an above average muscle build from the work that he does. His costume is a bit more on the practical side, with a leather trenchcoat, a fedora, fingerless gloves, the obligatory mask, and specialized pants and shoes. Stylish yet practical, just what a villain should have.

Background: His beginning was unremarkable, with his childhood fairly obscure by city standards. Was one of several siblings, had a mediocre education, with nothing outstanding about him.It was only when his powers developed that things changed. But by that time he had separated from his family, striking out on his own to earn his own path. In doing so he had fallen in with the wrong crowd, and that maintained itself even after he had gained his powers.

Inevitably he came into conflict with the Epics that ran and oversaw the city, with a rough contact. Drake's powers seemed to have aspired him to rise higher, and he grudgingly accepted a role as the 'fall guy' to enforce the rule of the city. Which is the general status quo that he has settled into now. His efforts allowed him to obtain his own crew and network of individuals, while he gets to steal things and is occasionally stopped so the government can look good, or something like that. He lives with it for now, but someday that will change. He's sure of it.

[User]
"And it's over!" Idonia shouted, as the camera filmed the Rat King's demise. "After that massive strike from Vice, leaving the monster hurt, the combination of Traveler's portal and Stark Crusader's strength and toughness destroyed the beast." The camera switched back to her, leaning back in her chair with her white-blond hair almost but not quite obscuring her Greek-goddess looks. "That's it for this battle, our Epics triumphant once again! Remember to stay tuned for an after-action analysis with Gecko and Jason, and our update of the ENTV Epic Points Table for this year. Tomorrow, ENTV's Annabelle and Jason host an exclusive interview with the Teleporting Trickster, Traveler, tomorrow on our Spotlight interviews, exclusively on ENTV.com!" She did some movement that drew the eye down into her blouse without actually changing position, somehow highlighting the fact that one or more buttons had come undone during the stream. "Until the next Field Day, this is Idonia!"

---

Spectrum's legs folded, and the emotional and physical exhaustion left the armoured hero lying face-up on the street as the ECPD moved in for clean up. A few medics stopped nearby, only to be waved away. Stark Crusader had been the one to finally take the Rat King down, after Traveler'd finally figured the monster out. She was smart like that, and Spectrum was happy to count her a friend. It helped Spectrum to get used to the city, having a friend like Alex. And maybe a boyfriend like Dragon, the thought made a smile appear behind the helmet.

After a minute or two of getting breath back, Spectrum sat up and looked around for Traveler or Dragon Heart. The latter knelt next to Spectrum, asking. "Need some help?"

"You could take me to bed," Spectrum replied without thinking. When what was actually said sank in, Spectrum blushed a bright red and the suit went white brightly enough to make Dragon Heart shade his eyes. "Sorry, not like that."

He laughed, helping Spectrum to her feet. "Don't worry about it," he said, and Spectrum felt a rush of relief. "I might do it anyway, but date first. Friday, seven o'clock at Hero's Bistro. Don't forget." He leaned over and kissed near the cheek. Despite the armour, it felt to Spectrum like he'd left a mark there just with that touch. A hand put over the spot, to protect it, Spectrum flared bright blue, and shot six stories up into the air just on sheer joy.

[Assistant]
After a long day of fighting crime and dealing with people, Comet decided that the best course of action for now was to stop being Comet and go back to being Edward. He arrived at home still in uniform, stripped down and climbed into bed, lounging for what felt like hours before finally falling asleep.

Edward!

Edward shot awake, the room was dark and suddenly smelled of burning plastic. He frowned in confusion, sitting on the side of his bed and yawning. He furrowed his brow and scanned. It wasn't the same room he had fallen asleep in, it was near-black, but a light orange light creeped in from under the door. He looked down at his hands, still covered in burn scars, so that hadn't changed. He stood up and immediately collapsed on the ground, his legs in incredible burning pain. It was like every wound he had ever taken had opened at once.

He growled and pulled at the ground, his entire body in searing pain. He kept going, pulling at the ground, but he never got any closer to the door, the light only getting stronger and blasting at his eyes. He wasn't moving, he was stuck, and he had never felt this feeling before, all throughout his life he had never felt stuck, he could always move fast enough to escape before, but not now, now he felt like he had been crippled.

Like he was broken.

His ears began to ring in his ears, louder and louder until it hurt, he could always run faster than sound before, was this some sort of ironic hell?

The room was fully lit up now, a diploma on the wall, flowery wallpaper, a perfectly made bed and a pair of bunny slippers on the ground.

He knew this room, this room meant something to him, back in Wales, he had been in this room more times than he could remember, this was James' room.

Edward!

He recognized James' voice now, he was terrified, his voice breaking in terror. From the other side of the door he heard thumping feet and screaming from the other room. The door crashed open, and the light blinded Edward as two figures burst in, one holding a knife. They fought, poorly, like they had both already been hurt. The man with a knife finally stabbed the other man, who fell to his knees. The man with a knife slit the kneeling man's throat in an instant. The man's blood splattered on the walls, on the floor, everywhere, and in a way oh so familiar to Edward.

The man fell, and Edward saw his face. James spoke despite his ravaged throat.

I'm sorry, Eddie.

---

Edward shot out of bed, holding his head in his hands and sweating. He took a few deep breaths and stared at the floor, he'd had this dream before, the dream that was more than a dream, it was truth. He hadn't seen it, but this was how James died, murdered in his room by that same bastard who Edward once thought was his friend.

But that was over now, he had to get over it, there wasn't anything he could have done. His first love was gone, but he still had a life of his own to live.

"Edward?" A female voice from the living room yelled out for him, obviously he had made a little bit of noise. He threw on a pair of jeans and a tank top in around two seconds and then appeared in the middle of the apartment.

"God, wait a few seconds before you yell at me," he responded to the red-haired woman. She chuckled and gestured to a seat opposite her, a meal already prepared. Maria was still in her pajamas, a long t-shirt over her underwear. He didn't mind, hell, she could walk around naked for all he cared, he paid the rent, she provided him with company, something that was hard to get when you were a giant asshole who got off on other people's suffering.

"Good morning, how was your day yesterday?" She asked, ignoring his snarky comment.

"Fantastic, I punched a giant rat in the face," he responded before beginning to eat at least fifteen spoonfuls a second.

"I saw, I thought you missed and the other guy did it." He snorted in response.

"Your brother got anything going on?" he asked hopefully, her brother was really cute.

"He's not gay, Edward, even if he was he wouldn't go for you," she said, insulting him playfully.

"Yeah, yeah, don't you have a whole football team to be having sex with?" he said as he stood up and tossed the bowl in the sink.

"Ha ha..." she laughed sarcastically. Suddenly she stopped talking and gave a sad, contemplative look. Edward tilted his head and gave her a confused glare.

"What?"

"Oh, it's nothing," she lied, poorly. Edward sat back down and looked at her.

"No it's not, tell me," he almost begged. "I am your only friend, right?"

She laughed again, but it felt fake this time.

"No... I know you had that dream again, I heard you talking in your sleep."

Embarrassing, but whatever, at least it wasn't last night's dream, now that would have been mortifying.

Edward frowned and looked closer. Maria attempted to evade his eyes and look out the window.

"I heard rumors... about your friend from Wales,"

Edward immediately knew what she was talking about.

"The one from my dream?" he attempted to clarify, and she gave him a nod in confirmation. His stomach dropped and he felt angrier than he had felt in the last few years. "What about him?" His voice dropped an octave and he almost growled. Maria dropped her head in response.

"I heard he's in Epic City."

Emotions welled up through Edward's entire body, his hands shook on the table. He sniffed and stood slowly. His mind was filled with rage-fueled thoughts of revenge.

"I'm leaving."

"Wait, Edward wai-" Edward threw on a jacket and left the room.

He ended up on top of the building, sitting and staring out over the city. He was calming slowly, though his hands still shook with both shock and anger.

I'll find him, I have to find him.


[System]
BASIC
Goes By (Nicknames): None currently available.
Age: 26
Gender: Male
Race: Human

APPEARANCE

Face Claim (Actor/Actress They're Played By): TBA / I've yet to find an actor for this character.
Hair Color: Black
Eye Color: Blue
Skin Tone: Slightly pale.
Height: 6'2
Weight: 170lbs
Build: Lithe, somewhat muscular.
Weapons: Twin swords, multiple daggers and knives hidden on him.

Overall Appearance:

Dark features, Visible, jagged scar that runs down his right eye. Various scars are hidden underneath his clothing.

Ghent is often clad in black or dark grays.
Most of his clothes are made from black leather; his cloak has a hood and a mask to cover the lower half of his face if needed. He has various weaponry concealed; he often wears fingerless gloves, laced up bracers, and boots.

PERSONALITY

Likes: Gold.
Dislikes: Talking, poverty, people in general.
Strengths: Picking locks, leadership, agility.
Weaknesses: Stubbornness, Greed.
Fears: Loss, failure.

Overall Personality:

Stubborn | Calculating | Complicated | Quiet | Incredulous | Shrewd

Ghent's family was very often poor and lived in a lower part of a small, poverty-stricken town. His mother passed away shortly after giving birth to her second son, Garth. Ghent was ten years in age when she passed.

Ghent's father turned to drinking heavily and he came to blame his children for the loss of his wife. Fearing for Garth, Ghent took matters into his own hands; at the age of thirteen, he took his younger brother and left home, never once looking back.

Life on the road was not an easy one, but Ghent was determined to tough it out so that they would not have to return to their father. At first, Ghent began with petty theft; he stole what was needed in order to keep them alive, they took shelter where they could and lied whenever questioned. As the years went on, they moved up in the world. After years of practice, Ghent became a highly skilled thief. This was the start of a life he would live well past his teenage years.

* * *

Ghent has an eerie calmness about him and his emotions are seldom ever shown. Because of this, he is very difficult to read -- almost impossibly so. Ghent handles matters in a diplomatic way and doesn't often resort to violence unless necessary. For the most part, he is quiet and reserved, therefore much of his past is unknown.

Deep down, Ghent does have a heart, though he does his best not to show it. He'd be the last to admit it, but he has a soft spot for those in need.

BACKGROUND

Date of Birth: ? Have to calculate that. ,_,
Place of Birth: Outskirts of Laketown. Not quite within the town, though close.

Family Relations:

- Garth (younger brother)
- Lydia (Mother; deceased)
- Vincent (Father)
- Kaiden (cousin)

[User]
When she felt Kili pull away a bit, Saeril showed a face of the same: concern and worry. For him to face Thorin alone, that only brought her worry, for him, his uncle, and even Fili. She wanted keep him safe, but there was a part of her where Kili would have to figure things out himself. It was partly the reason why he never fully matured in the first place. He lived, what you could say, a very "sheltered" life in the Blue Mountains, a few years after his birth in the Lonely Mountain. Ever since the dragon attacked, as far as the she-elf learned, Dis grew protective of them in Ered Luin, becoming wary and cautious for their safety, if they ever chose to go exploring at night.

From that moment on, Dis sealed them and herself inside their home, away from the outside world. But as they grew older, they were determined to see their precious "Delva", once the gifts started to come. Through those years, Saeril was always out there, watching them grow and smile. Yet, here they were; face-to-face, hand-to-hand.

The she-elf understood him, though, remembering what she just recently thought of; that he would have full-reign. He choses, she obeys. With that afterthought, she finally, and reluctantly nodded. She'll hang back, but she will listen in. Closing her eyes, she responded softly. "Very well", Saeril's wings finally folded back into her cloak.

[Assistant]
"You're certain that you're alright?" Kili was hardly convinced. Saeril wasn't herself. There was plenty he did not know about his godmother, or her past, but none of that had mattered until now. Something felt wrong; her outburst was not quite natural, and he feared he'd done something wrong to trigger this.

Carefully, Kili rose, and he offered her a hand up even though while seated, she was practically his height.
"Perhaps I can talk him out of searching," the youngest decided, determined to set things right once again. If he could get Thorin to see sense, they could focus on rebuilding their kingdom rather than focus on what was missing from it. "It's worth a try. Fili and I are his closest of kin."

Offering a smile of reassurance, Kili found himself feeling more determined than ever before. Saeril was trusting him with this task, and he was determined to do a good job, though her current condition was troubling to say the least. "Are you sure you wouldn't rather rest, Delva?"

[User]
Honestly, at this moment, Saeril felt herself being a child again; sitting on the floor in tears, and with Kili present, it was like their roles have been switched. This time, it was him that was giving her comfort, showing affection in his caring nature for the she-elf's wellbeing. Inside, Saeril somehow felt safe with him. Again, it was like their roles were switched, but in reality, it wasn't to be, naturally.

Feeling the youngest carefully retract himself from their embrace, the she-elf willingly gave him her hand, and allowed him to help her stand. Though Saeril was really pulling herself up, even though she felt Kili's effort to help her stand, regarding their significant height difference. With him to even recall confronting Thorin alone, Saeril was about to protest, but she remembered her promise to allow him to make his own choices. With a sigh, Saeril eventually albeit reluctantly nodded. "Very well. Just...be careful, young Durin."

Speaking of rest, the she-elf didn't remember the last time she had a break. With everything prevailing, it was like "rest" couldn't be reached, not rig everything and everyone in such a dark situation. But Kili preferred it for her, and Saeril figured that perhaps now was the time to get it. "I will", she, once again, reluctantly nodded while slowly seating herself on the bed, and carefully laying herself down on the comfortable side of the bed. Not bothering to cover herself, it truly has been years since she slept/rested in a proper bed.

[Assistant]
"Good." Kili grabbed hold of the corner of the heavy blanket that covered the bed, and from there, he covered Saeril up and pat the pillows behind her so that she could be comfortable.
"You've cared so much for Fili and I, Delva...it's time we help take care of you, too." At that, he smiled at her, then leaned over to kiss her forehead. For a dwarf, Kili showed more emotion than most, and he was rather astute when it came to the feelings of others. Kili was usually upbeat and optimistic to a fault; he wanted those around him to be happy, not sad. "I'll be back soon."
Shutting the door behind him, Kili left Saeril to rest, hoping to find his uncle in better spirits than before. The chances were slim, but he needed Thorin to hear him out. There was much to be said, and much to be decided.

Each hall seemed to mirror the next, and every stairway seemed to go on forever. It didn't take long for Kili to become impossibly lost; the rooms were large and impossibly bleak.
Kili wasn't worried, however. This gave him plenty of time to think and plan what he would need to say to his uncle.
Just as Kili began to plan his next course of action, he felt a shadow overcome him. Turning, he was met with the king. "Thorin -- I didn't see you there," he was mildly alarmed, and taken aback by the suddenness of his approach, yet he recovered swiftly.

"I take it you've rested." Thorin was impossible to read.

"I did, yes." Kili watched him closely, his godmother's warning echoing in his ears. "What have I missed?"

Thorin moved a step towards a window, one that overlooked the collection of stone they'd used to block the entrance. "See for yourself."
Unsure what to expect, Kili stepped alongside of his uncle, taking a look for himself as suggested. As soon as he Kili saw the stone and heard Thorin's explanation for it, he took on a look of absolute disbelief. Slowly, he turned to Thorin, angered by what he had learned. "You've locked us in...and everyone else out."

"I've done what was necessary. No one is to be trusted." Thorin's answer was clipped, his gaze cold. "One day, you will learn to understand, and you will see what I have sacrificed for you and our people."

Kili shook his head, unwilling to accept this answer. "This isn't right, none of it," he spoke with more bravery than he'd expected to, and he kept eye contact, even with Thorin's penetrating stare. "We can't shut everyone out! Your desire for the Arkenstone has made you this way."

Thorin rounded on his nephew, the words hitting a nerve. "What has that she-elf been putting into your head?" He snarled, gripping his nephew's forearm with violent force and pulled him closer. "She's poisoned you against me, hasn't she? She's filled your head with lies, and you're foolish enough to believe them."

Eyes wide, Kili pulled away from the deranged king, angered by the accusations. "She hasn't poisoned me against you! She's only tried to help!" This time, he raised his voice, the empty chamber filled with his words. "You've lost sight of what is important! You have no right to..." The sentence was never finished, for Kili was struck across the face with so much force that he fell.

"I have EVERY right!" Thorin bellowed, fists clenched at his sides. "I am your king, and you WILL show me respect!" From there, the king took a threatening step forward, though he made no move to strike him a second time.
"You have forgotten your place -- and if you speak out of place again -- you, and she, will be banished from my kingdom."

[User]
Fili was walking about the desolated, bleak halls. For a few minutes, he's been waiting for his brother to return to the treasure room to help their search, but with his prolonged absence that lasted for an hour or two, the blonde was starting to worry. He tried to convince himself that Kili was resting, but no doubt he would be looking for Delva. The youngest was attached to their godmother by the hip, it would seem. That gave Fili an amusing feeling, but he still worried. With Thorin getting impatient, at each and every minute, Fili just realized that they were not safe. It didn't feel like wonder in this mountainous structure; it only felt like an unsettling anger thriving in the stone walls. Something was terribly wrong...he could feel it.

Just before he could take a left at an intersected hall, the blonde could hear voices; they sounded hushed, so his instincts told him to turn right, right towards the source. He kept his footsteps light, and the voices got louder, getting clearer, as it seems to sound more like an argument when he got closer. He heard his uncle's voice, then...Kili? What was he doing talking to Thorin? Now the brotherly impulses took over, already becoming worried about his little brother being in his deranged uncle's presence once again. His thoughts were cut off when he heard a slap, right before Kili could even finish a sentence! Fili actually despised the dwarves who belittled Kili when they were younger. They lead to the blonde getting involved in fights to cover his little brother, and the aftermath resulted in the eldest also getting hurt, just with minor scratches, cuts, and bruises; Kili looked no better.

But this was Thorin doing the belittling, and Fili felt conflicted for the first time whether to cover for him or not. However, he wouldn't allow his uncle to furthen the damage already done, so he advanced into the room, towards his uncle and brother. "Stop it!", he shouted, coming in between them, and running to his brother's side. Seeing the bruise on the youngest's face made the blonde feel betrayed. "Oh, Kili", he breathed in a mix of anger and sadness. "How could you?", he asked his uncle. "Striking upon Durin flesh and blood; answer me!", Fili was angry; his voice was reverberating off the walls. He couldn't imagine how Saeril would react if she were here.

[Assistant]
Banished. Being struck was nothing compared to that.
 Before Kili might muster a response or take action, Fili showed up, just as he used to when they were young. The eldest must have had a sixth sense when it came to Kili being in distress; he always seemed to arrive no matter what the situation was.
 As Fili looked to him, Kili swallowed hard, turning his head in the opposite direction in an attempt to hide any evidence of being hit. He was humiliated to have been struck by their uncle, and devastated by the threats made towards he and their godmother. As Fili came between them, the youngest regained his footing and grasped for Fili's wrist. "Fili, don't!" Kili didn't want the same to happen to his brother; he knew how loyal Fili was to their uncle, and he didn't want to be the cause of further conflict between them.

 Thorin's jaw was set in a grim like as he faced his eldest nephew. "Your brother has spoken out of turn," he snarled, enraged that both of his sister's sons were against him. Fili's tone of voice did nothing but agitate him; he now found fault in him, too.
 Every thought that entered the king's head was askew; he was constantly defensive and casting blame on the ones closest to him. As the days dragged on, Thorin became more and more unhinged, consumed by his desire to have the Arkenstone returned to him.
 "The she-elf has turned him against me, Fili..." The king observed his nephew, his eyes lacking their normal shade of blue. "Has she turned you against me as well?"


[System]
Face claim: Logan Browning
Note: Paint is always in gold or white.
 (Note: Facial paint is customary for the royal family in tribute to their Gods. It's akin to wearing a crown.)

Age: 20
Sex: Female
Orientation: Bisexual
Height: 5'6"
Weight: 140 lbs
Scars: Linear scar from right shoulder to upper-mid back; small line on left side of chin

Brief overview of....
Personality: Restless, excitable, reckless, stubborn, motherly, spoiled, naive, impatient
Skills: Horse riding, hand-to-hand combat, small knives combat, minor healing, lying, harp playing (has a horrific dislike of it)
Miscellaneous: Mother was killed when her ship was overtaken in an ocean storm; Namyna herself can't swim; Namyna is the "younger" twin by 21 minutes

Reputation: Namyna is relatively sheltered, giving the false reputation that she is the King's delicate Afaedian flower. The only reputation that has been widely known is her temper and her stubborn nature. She has little interaction with her people, and is regarded as little more than the jewel that adorn's her brother's future throne until he is wed to a wife.

Prince Brelan Terralence

Face claim: Nate Gill
Note: Paint is always in white or gold.

Age: 20
Sex: Male
Orientation: Heterosexual
Height: 6'3"
Weight: 210 lbs
Scars: Large scar from left wrist to elbow

Brief overview of....
Personality: Diplomatic, patient, protective, quiet, decisive, steely
Skills: Sword fighting, leadership, war planning, diplomacy, persuasion
Miscellaneous: Brelan and Namyna have always been very close, especially after the death of their mother when they were 10. He takes it upon himself to become the leader his people and his sister needs.

King Sevaun Terralence

Reputation: Brelan is a fair prince, and many look forward to the day of his rule. He has a silver tongue and a steady hand when in battle, but lacks the strong will of his father. Some fear that his rule will lead to a fall in the kingdom's strength.

Face claim: Dennis Haysbert

Age: 52
Sex: Male
Orientation: Heterosexual
Height: 6'2"
Weight: 230 lbs
Scars: Various - too many to count

Reputation: The King in recent years has progressively earned the fear and loathing of many of his citizens. While he leads with a strong hand, his methods have become increasingly harsh, especially on his lower class citizens. Some speculate that he may be turning mad, especially as he continues to relinquish his throne despite the fact that Brelan should have inherited the throne at 19.

[User]
She wasn't sure she had seen the first blade correctly until the second embedded itself mere inches from her, into one of the stone pillars. Whether he was missing on purpose or just an incredibly horrible shot, he was throwing his weapons with purpose. She flinched instinctively as she ran, hoping he wouldn't have many of the blades left. He didn't seem to want her dead, or she would have been long before she would have had the chance to fight back. No, he was here for something else. She pushed the thought away as she ran.

Suddenly the dress she loathed so deeply caught behind her. Though the light fabric tore with the weight of her forward movement, the hiccup in her momentum still left her stumbling to the ground. She gasped painfully as her side hit the smooth stone with a resounding thud, pain spreading through her side. Giving herself the smallest moment of hesitation, she rolled onto her back, heart dropping with how close her pursuer still was. Scrambling forward, she made to grab for the blade he'd thrown, before a familiar voice rang through the hall.

"Myna!" Brelan's voice called out, still dishearteningly far from her. She could hear the panic in his voice.

Namyna opened her mouth to call out to him before the sudden flash of steel entered her vision. Her assailant was even more armed than she had realized, the large blade held threateningly in his grip. The princess faltered. Not for the threat of her own safety, for she would have gladly continued to struggle with a blade now within reach. But she had made a terrible mistake. Brelan would be upon them in a matter of minutes even if she remained silent, and she would bet more than her fair share of her father's wealth that he had not grabbed his own weapons in the short time he'd been gone. Her attacker didn't seem to want her dead just yet, but how concerned would he be with others?

Brelan's voice seemed to get closer, a fact that would not have escaped the man standing above her. Acting quickly, Namyna pushed herself away from her attacker's blade, her eyes piercing into him with as much deadly hate as she could muster. "Leave him be," she snarled beneath her breath.

[Assistant]
Nothing was ever easy, was it?

The prince's voice echoed down the hallway as Gareth's target stumbled to the ground. If he were an assassin, it would be time to flee already. These were the first pair of unwanted eyes to catch sight of him tonight, and already it was one pair too many. He could escape now before the other man got too close, but keeping his identity a secret was not the priority here. What was a priority was the girl, and fortunately for him, it seemed like she might have unwittingly revealed an achilles heel. As she bared her teeth to him, she may as well have been baring her neck at the same time. What was important was not that he get in and out unseen. The only important thing was that he was to leave with the girl. And if she cared what happened to her brother, she wouldn't leave the two men alone.

After he finished his quick analysis, Gareth placed his second hand on his sword in a fighting stance. He waited for the prince to draw closer before speaking again.

"Welcome, Prince Brelan, to our little quarrel. I'm not a man for words, so I'll keep this short. Unless you've brought your whole army with you, there's only two people walking out of this room tonight. I'll let the two of you decide who's leaving with me. Whoever's left behind gets gagged and tied to a post. Or killed, for all I care." Gareth shrugged casually. "It's up to you. But now that you're here, if you try to run... well, just don't try to run, alright? Make good life choices."

Gareth's expression might as well have been carved from marble, his gaze remained measured and fixed on the two siblings. Saying he would kill either of them... well, it was a bluff, but one that should be impossible to discern from their position. It was true, however, that he was ready to spring back into chase if either of the two attempted to flee and call for backup. This wasn't like before, he wouldn't be caught off guard again.

[User]
Brelan looked like he had been punched in the stomach when he rounded the corner, faced with the large stone-faced man looming over his sister, the man's large sword pointed in his direction. A scowl just as deadly as his sister's darkened his eyes. Glancing at Namyna to check for signs of blood, he was relieved to find none, before turning his attention back to the man. The prince inwardly cursed at himself for not finding help first, or for having his sword on hand. Stupid, stupid move.

Putting his hands outward in a disarmed stance, Brelan spoke evenly. "If you're here for us, I'll go with you," he offered. "Just leave her be."

Namyna's eyes widened with shock. Was he that dumb? He was the future king, for the Gods' sakes! She moved to stand. "Brelan--"

"Don't," her brother's voice came out icily, eyes staying locked on their assailant. "Stay. Put."

Namyna stilled, her jaw clenching. She had yet to see Brelan this way, had yet to see him face dangers as strongly as the king he was meant to be. Even so, surrender should not have been an option. She mentally noted to punch him in the jaw when given the opportunity. Still, she had little power in their current situation - if she attacked the man above her, there was a decent chance that Brelan would be placed in harm's reach. Her jaw worked again, waiting for the man's response. If he so much as touched Brelan...

[Assistant]
Gareth took one hand off of his sword, stroking his chin in contemplation. He was glad to see that the prince did not want to engage in any pointless fights. He had no idea how competant the noble was at fighting, but unarmed and unarmored, such a thing would be a death sentence even if he was a grandmaster.

The man's fortitude and decision-making was commendable as well, Gareth had to give him that. It's true that I would probably get a fat purse for his ransom... Weighing that against what he was promised, he came to a firm conclusion. That wasn't good enough. He came for the girl, he would leave with the girl. But he couldn't just come out and say that, either. The chips were still on the table and he still held the advantage. If things were to go as cleanly as possible, he should be able to press his advantage a little further.

"I appreciate your offer, young Prince, but you should know that my initial target was the lady here. I could settle for you but..." He trailed off, leaving the end of his sentence hanging in the air.

"It's a rough world out there. I can't guarantee your safety if you come with me. And if we get mobbed by wolves, and I can't protect you, what will Afaede do without their future king? Perhaps you should consider the grand scheme a little more carefully.

"If, however, I leave with Princess Namyna, as was initially planned, my own head rests on her safety. She won't come to any serious harm, 'least before I do. I'm no politician, but if you ask me, it would be best for your kingdom if my plan goes off without a hitch, and you let me tie you up to that pillar there for the night."

As he finished speaking to Brelan, Gareth turned his head to face the Princess for what was, hopefully, the last nail in his plans. "Maybe you see reason, Princess? I don't have reason to hurt your brother if you come with me."

[User]
"And if I refuse your offer?" Brelan snarled. His fists clenched, clearly torn. He wasn't about to let this man just waltz out with his sister, no matter the threats he managed to give. Part of him hoped that the longer they kept him occupied, the better their chances of being found by any of the guards. "Who sent you for her?"

Namyna on the other hand, felt her worry and impatience growing in equal amounts. Did it matter who sent him? Fear settled in her gut, but it did little help to think of the intentions of who had sent for her if it meant sending someone heavily armed to the castle. They were without help, and running out of options. If nothing else, getting the man alone would give her additional chances for escape without fear of her brother being harmed.

"I'll go with you," Namyna suddenly blurted out, making her brother go wide-eyed.

"No, you aren't," Brelan growled, taking a sudden step forward, prepared to attack.

[Assistant]
Damn. I was so close to getting out of this clean. Nothing is ever that easy.

Wiping his free hand wearily down his face, Gareth sighed. "Alright, kids. I'm short on time and short on patience. If you can't come to an agreement nicely, then I have to make the decision for you. Young Prince, if you think that you can keep me busy long enough for your sister to escape, you're making a mistake. But... if you insist on trying to fight me, well," he turned to Namyna before continuing, "it might do the lady well to stick around and make sure I don't do any lasting harm. Broken bones and a cracked skull is no joke, I hope you know. You probably don't believe me, but I really don't want to hurt you any more than I have to."

As his second hand returned to its place on his sword, Gareth bent his knees, ready to pursue Namyna if she tried to flee, while simultaneously preparing to deal with Brelan if he charged forward. Of course, the former was his priority, and he was confident in his size, enough to bowl the prince over if it turned out that he had to chase the princess. In this low stance, Gareth began slowly advancing forward. His goal was to separate the two siblings if possible, or at least to get within arm's reach of Namyna. If he had to incapacitate the both of them, he could, but either way, it was clear that he needed to get out sooner rather than later. If they wouldn't act, he would force their hand. And if they did act, he would react. It hardly mattered which came first.


[System]
Alias: Supergirl
Age: 24
Personality: Quirky on the outside. Emotional and concerned on the inside. Wise, yet still having a lot to learn. Self-sacrificing.
Archetype: Half-alien, half-human
Powers:
- Flight
- Superhuman strength, endurance and speed.
- Super hearing is still only a fracture of its full potential.
- Heat vision
- Tactile telekinesis. The ability to enhance the powers of her Kryptonian heritage. Whether it's her strength or speed, she can boost her own philology and abilities. Besides that, she is also able to create force fields around people and objects, as well as lift things with her mind. However, her telekinesis has fail in certain instances, as it is powered by her feelings.

Weaknesses:
(X-ray simply never blossomed ☹ )

- Kryptonite. It will leave her much more vulnerable. And yet: Since Lara is only half Kryptonian, it does not have the same crippling effect on her, as it did her farther.

- Since much of Lara's strength comes from her emotional state, messing with her mind can result in her only having her core strength.

Appearance:

Wearing a smooth, white, sleeveless shirt that visually resembles the surface of a drysuit. However, in actuality it's Inertron, molded into a rubber-like substance. On her chest she now sports a golden S . The same molded material is used for her form fit pants. Having embraced more of her alien heritage, she now wears neither socks nor shoes, as cold does not affect her much anyway.

Character Evolution: Lara has accepted her role as Supergirl, and the fact that normality is not a luxury she can ask for. However, that urge for normality will still show itself from time to time, and Lara still has room to grow in that department, before she is complete. A fear of hurting those she care about (or the entire world) is a fear she has had to juggle, since the first time she experienced her telekinesis failing her. Because if her powers can fail her, they can also backfire. Trusting her powers completely and rising up to take her father's place will be part of her journey. Since his death she has been hesitant to let people get close, as she feels she needs to focus on being a strong leader. Lowering her guard in that department is yet another chance to evolve, but she would need someone very special.

Altered History: In this version Lara has only called herself Supergirl after her father died. And has only worn the S on her chest since then also. This version has also carried a wig her entire life, just in case she would need to get into the crime fighting business some day. Also made her a bit older.

Recommended Background Leaguer:  J'onn J'onzz

BRIEF Bio:
Lara's birth was long and difficult. In fact, doctors weren't even sure Lois Lane was going to make it. For the first time ever, the Man of Steel was helpless to save the woman he loved. Yet in the end she pulled through and gave them both a beautiful, little girl.
There was no disagreement on how they should raise her: First they taught Lara to be human. Then they taught her to be super. This initiative carried over to her teen years, as she would go to great lengths just to feel like everyone else. Though her parents did their best to teach her to respect, but not fear her powers, they ultimately failed.
Her telekinesis, and how she was able to develop it, was a mystery to everyone. In time, they came to accept that there was no other explanation than the conditions were right, and it happened. It stands as proof that even after aliens have visited Earth there's still some mystery left. Lara Kent is simply a force that just is.
Like her farther, she can wear nice outfits and still not be afraid to get her hands dirty. And like her mother, she can enjoy the simple things in life.
Though really smart, she never had many friends. It was as if everyone knew she was a little different. Her occasional awkward behavior reflects her lack of social skills, but then again: Sometimes her one-liners are spot on.

When Lara learned her father wished for her to join the Justice League, she threw aside all dreams and desires to live a normal life. A choice that caused her great dread. However, in time – when she saw the tears of happiness on people, she'd saved – she came to appreciate the difference she was making.

One day the seas were a stir, and the earth shook. Then the world ended. At least for a moment it did. The man, Lara had loved and admired her whole life, was killed right in front of her. She hadn't even been there and only managed to show up to see him die. Her own father, the Superman.
The entire planet mourned, but none more than Lara. Each day the world would cry out that it needed another Superman, and each day Lara stayed indoors. Until she didn't. Until she mounted the stage before she was ready. Rebelled against all the caring people that asked her to grieve. And she told the world that Superman's symbol would yet again be shown and bring hope. And only the daughter could rise to take her father's place. With the weight of the symbol placed on her shoulders, she might never experience the normality she ones strode to achieve, and the world is all the better for it.

A few weeks ago, Lara experienced one instance where her telekinesis completely failed her. Yet having the occurrence repeat itself is not what she fears most. No, if her powers can fail because of a lack of confidence, they might also be able to backfire, maybe tenfold. How many people would be hurt if that ever happened? How many cities? How many countries? These concerns only feed her doubts and the growing nightmares she had experienced since the Superman fell.

 Sample Post:
A musty smell of wet concrete spread across Lara's room. Even after 15 minutes of digging, she was still finding new gravel to remove from her hair after her fight with Solomon Grundy.
Sitting there, with her muscles aching and her heartbeat drumming in her ear, she almost didn't register J'onn entering. Even after having been trapped in a burning building, he still carried himself with a certain smoothness and dignity. A true member of the Justice League.

"Here to check up on me? Doctor already cleared me. Peek condition, I believe he called it." Lara put on a smile that she already knew wouldn't be convincing.

"I know. But I thought you might need a friend to have a look too," J'onn explained, his cape flying gracefully even without wind.

"Pretty sure everybody, including Grundy's nose, would say I won the fight."

"Indeed you did. Yet victory is not what I see when …" He stopped, cleared his throat and gave a look of embarrassment. "I am sorry, Lara, I shouldn't pry. Forgive an old-"

 "No, no, I value your council," she interrupted.
Though flying was faster, she always preferred to use her body to stand up in these situations. The human way to move, like her mother did.
"Please, go on," she asked J'onn, now standing up and showing a more honest exterior.

"Every day I see you hurting, and I wonder: Is that truly what your father would have wanted?"

"What do you mean?"

"You carrying a reminder of your loss around. His mark, the S. You already carry so much. Would Clark have wanted you to force such a heavy burden onto your shoulders also?"

Looking down on the symbol on her chest brought all the memories back of that frightful day, yet Lara did look as she spoke: "Dad would have wanted to live. To experience me growing up."

"And you have. Maybe too soon."

"Doesn't exist. There is no too soon. Not in this case."

"Why not?"

"Because someone needs to wear this. To do what he did. Inspire like he did," Lara argued. Not with hostility, but passion. She pointed to the symbol, that had been past on to her. "This… This makes a mugger think twice before he acts. This keeps the robbers away from wherever the sun touches. This makes the scared stand up and be brave. It keeps the doomed holding on to hope when all seems lost, and it keeps the corrupt looking over their backs."

[User]
Warden takes a break from his computer, wheeling his chair so that he can look out the window. It was endless, the cascade of tragedies - human and environmental. He could only do so much. He was proud of his most recent ventures - he was truly coming into his own as an agent of the Justice League. After solving a string of murder cases in Washington State (some guy merged with an alien symbiote - fortunately, it was sound sensitive, otherwise he would have had no real way to stop it), he traveled to the amazon, and worked on taking down some of the illegal logging operations. He felt kinda bad doing it - these men didn't have a lot of other choices for their lives - but the life of the planet was worth even more than theirs were. Besides, it's not like they'd be in jail for long. Or at all. He grunted in annoyance. He really needed to start going after the corporations; they were the ones encouraging these violations most of the time. Problem is they had protections. Protections that might involve ...extralegal methods... to ensure that they didn't just get right back off stock free.

Sometimes he understood the villains...

His alarm went off, shaking him from his thoughts. Pulling out his phone, he enjoyed David Bowie's "Fame" for a few more seconds before shutting it off. He had gone over Negative Man's list, but it was, as usual, marginally useful at best. The sugar supply was far from the most important issue they had going on. He was far more concerned with the fact that the bots they use for training were dangerously vulnerable targets in the event of a breach of Tower security. It was a weird thought for him to have - usually not that tech minded - but he woke up the other day fully convinced of it. He sighed, grunting as he got up. It was nice to take the morning off after being back for the first time in a few weeks, but it'd be good to get back to business.

He wandered down to the meetingroom, glad to see that near everyone was already there. He leaned against a wall and took up his usual place; on the edge of conversation, listening. He was especially interested in how the new members integrated themselves into the group.

[Assistant]
Aurora belonged to the city. She acknowledged and understood the benefits of living with other heroes, but she refused them. The benefits existed, that much was sure, but she believed that her time would be better fit living among civilians. Within the city she could go on patrol whenever she could, planting fear in people who dared to even think that she wasn't there. Not one to look a gift-horse in the mouth Aurora still accepted the free room.

This particular day, the same day that the heroes are to have their weekly luncheon and meeting Aurora was already in her room. The day before, she and her husband had an argument. Beloved and awe-inspiring as they were as a couple they still needed their independence and days away from each other. Some nights are better than others, yesterday was bad. Healthy is what she thought about last night, couples fight.

Aurora's night post-feud was filled with booze. Requesting a boom tube right after buying a bottle of wine, which disappeared soon after she entered her room in the Metro Tower, her night turned into day without much effort. One moment she was in her room with one glass, next she was puking up and hungry for something greasy, a hangover she figured.

Hunger was well on its own way to ravishing her body by the time she was presentable enough for public viewing. Her destination was the meeting room, but on the way she'd stop by and get some food, something greasy and filling. Something she hoped would not feel too bad in the event that she had to puke. Hope was also something attached to feelings and thoughts related to shame over the fact that she had a hangover in the first week of work.

Aurora was still new, she didn't want to be "That Girl"
TM
, but the heroes inclined towards detection would know. The young hero's self-esteem wouldn't be affected by what's happening, but at the same time she believed that first impressions are important and a hangover version of herself wasn't as appeasing as her normal mode. Nonetheless she'd have to deal with it, and so did everyone else. She was here to stay and prove herself, and that means working with someone who has a hangover.


[System]
Age: 9
Gender: Female
Appearance: "Can we do something fun now? My bunny has seen more interesting things then this, and he's stuffed."
Personality: Cynthia is very easily bored. As such, she prizes new and unusual things, eagerly seeking them out whenever she is able. Unfortunately for her, she is rarely allowed out to find such things. She is a very stubborn girl who dislikes listening to others and refuses to pay attention to them if they have annoyed her, or if they're preventing her from seeing something fun and interesting. She is highly impatient, and at the same time dislikes doing things unless they're fun for her. However, she is very capable of being friendly and kind to others, as long as they are friendly and kind to her. That said, she is just as prone to pouting and refusing to do anything with someone if she feels like they're just being annoying. It takes a lot to convince Cynthia to do anything with someone she's been annoyed by. While Cynthia is perfectly fine with small spaces, small dark places frighten her and she does not like them. Darkness in general makes her nervous and uneasy.
Backstory: When Cynthia was very, very young, something happened to her parents. She doesn't remember what, but she remembers being in a small, dark place, and that her parents were gone when she was finally taken out by her uncle. It was only later that she learned her parents had most likely been killed. While she did have attachment to them, she was very young and does not remember them well. Much of her life has been spent with her Uncle and his wife, in their estate. They have been quite caring but very protective of her given what happened to her parents, and Cynthia grew more and more irritated with being left locked up and barely allowed to go outside. This has resulted in her bored attitude and interest in new and exciting things. She has managed to lockpick her way out of her home several times, but she always gets caught.
Skills: Cynthia can pick locks and she is rather good at hiding. That is about it.

[User]
VV

The moment the words left the nun's mouth, VV's lips spread into a wide grin.

She let out a small laugh. There it was. The completion of their deal. The seal that would confirm the nun's nature as her anchor. Now, they had forged a contract that could not be broken, at least not without certain extreme circumstances being met. VV was in the human world, and she knew there was nothing that could take her out. "Contract accepted."

The Marionette had evidently gotten over his shock, one fist lunging towards her, towards her at an impossible angle. That wasn't right at all...! It was then when she noticed, the coiling shadow that was the Puppeteer wasn't inside the man's body, but to the side, to the right of him. So that was it...

Moments before the fist could connect, VV's fist lashed out! It struck the air beside the Marionette's head, and there was an ugly crack as the image of his body snapped to the side, relocating to its appropriate location. He reeled back, clutching his nose as he fell backwards, toppling off the balcony and to the ground below. He hit the ground with a thud below. Idiot. Didn't he know anything about dealing with Dolls?

Placing one foot on the railing, VV looked back over her shoulder at the nun. "Now don't do anything stupid."

With that, she sprang off of the railing, landing boots-first below on the cobblestones. They cracked beneath her from the impact, dislodged and kicked into the air, several cobblestones clattering across the ground as she straightened. The Marionette was back on his feet already, both eyes fixed firmly on her. His body was already to the right of the shadow within again. Placing one hand on her hip, VV laughed.

"Really?!" she began, "Do you seriously think that's going to work? I can see you inside him. Twisting around like the parasite you are. You can't solve that, can you?"

The Marionette's hands clenched into fists. "Doll... I'll butcher you and that bitch!"

"Pffftahahahaha wow, you're funny," VV wiped a mock tear from one eye. This idiot seriously thought he had a chance? That parasite was going to learn a whole new world of knowledge in a few moments. Well, before dying. "But there's no more time to mess around. Come on out, Calamity Edge!"

VV outstretched her right hand. The air seemed to warp and distort, as red sparks materialized from nothing and gathered in her palm. With a flash, an immense pair of gold-and-silver shears had formed. The center of the handles was held tight, shut so that each blade formed a single double-edged sword. The metal hissed as VV swung it into the air, red sparks still raining down from the pristine metal that composed the massive shears. There was no further hesitation, VV's crimson-clad body blurred as she suddenly charged towards the Marionette! The sheer speed, the speed of a Doll and even moreso, dislodged cobblestones from the ground with each step.

The Marionette attempted to use his distorted image, pushing himself to the side harder than before, but really it was useless. VV's free hand latched out and caught his shoulder with an ugly crack. Well, something near it. It was hard to tell where it had hit, but wherever it was had sent the bastard stumbling!

She wouldn't use Calamity Edge to inflict lethal injury, especially not now. Not until her real target was exposed. The red-headed Doll's hand blurred, and with a thunk slammed directly into the spot that was occupied by the Puppeteer. The Marionette let out a stranged cry of shock as his image once again returned to its proper place, and it was now clear what was going on. VV was reaching inside, a shimmering light around her wrist as her arm sunk in deeper, grabbing for her target. The parasite was about to get just what it deserved!

There was a hiss of metal through the air, and VV barely snapped Calamity Edge up in time to deflect it. It was, apparently, the Marionette's hand, reshaped into a metallic blade. He was already preparing to lash out again, but...

"There. I've got you now, bastard!"

VV's fingers wrapped around the coiling darkness and began to draw it free. The Marionette's hand returned to normal and he staggered, letting out a gurgle as VV began to pull the parasite from his body. Finally, his eyes glazed over as he passed out, his body going slack. VV wrenched the monster free as he collapsed, and tossed it down onto the cobblestones! It was human-like in shape,though it lacked most features beyond eyes and pale skin... and its hands were simply sharp edges. No wonder it had wanted a human body so badly.

She could already see its shape shimmering! But it was disoriented, she wouldn't let it get away!

Calamity Edge slammed downwards. There was a wet thunk, then a crunch as it pierced all the way through and cut into the stone below. The Puppeteer's body ceased to shimmer and returned to its natural place as blood sprayed from its chest, splattering across VV's clothing and across the ground.

"Like I said, not your lucky day, is it?" she commented as she drew Calamity Edge from his body. The shears faded into red sparks as she straightened, standing over the monster.

The parasite's body went limp, collapsing onto the ground as blood continued to spray from it, coating the red-headed Doll. But it was starting to vanish, the blood seeming to seep into the girl's body. Indeed, the body was dissipating into a red mist too... all of it flowing into VV. Soon, the blood, and the corpse, was gone, the only remains of a battle being the unconscious former Marionette and the damaged cobblestones.

"Sheesh, he wasn't even very filling," VV stretched, "Oh well, he's dead now."

[Assistant]
Ah, there it was. She'd found her Alice. With the acceptance of her help, the anchor was formed and the Transient Princess was here to stay as she turned her head to the side and smiled at the fearful being behind her. A peasant before a Queen, challenging her domain, her rule, and her beloved Alice...? What an insult to royalty. A snap of the fingers and the creation of circles in the ground behind him -- ones that held large spades within -- bought life to two Pawns of her army. The metal clang of two halberds crossing against one another to block his way of running followed the Transient Princess picking up her Alice with both of her arms to let her rest on her shoulder. A draw of the snowflake hairpin from the side of her hair and those silver eyes of hers focused on the corrupted being before her. The mist that escaped him, the evident lowering of temperature around...

Was he expecting her to be scared from the weak display?

"I deem you under the highest of treason for your actions. Hurting my dear Alice is a crime that ends in death."

The mist concerned her not -- her only concerned dealt with keeping her Doll Master on her shoulder and away from this man's reach as the flicking of the hairpin's clasp opened it up all the way and allowed the snowflake to converge into larger, brighter snowflakes and extend out the shape of the small adornment. With a sound akin to the cracking of ice, the hairpin had forged itself into a scepter fit for a Queen with that snowflake decoration at the top of it, bladed for the sake of combat and ready as the Doll grinned at the events to come. A wordless command, and the two Pawns -- human-sized beings dressed in shimmering white armor -- charged at the peasant -- the putrid Marionette -- that she'd given the penalty of death for. With halberds stretched out, they'd aim for the shoulders -- trying to avoid lethal wounds as she took a single step forward and aimed for the midsection of the mist-breathing antagonist herself.

"Hang on tight, Alice.~ This will only take a moment!"

The peasant knew what she was, and he showed the right kind of fear for it -- but he had stayed. And with his stay came her need to end his life. Not like her big sister, no, but sometimes a bit of red had to splash into the white in order for things to be completed.

[User]
Alexander

Alexander brushed his clothes off of any dust and smoothed out any wrinkles he had. He smiled, glad that he had Matthe on his side.... sort of. Time to defuse this situation here if I want that dessert, Alexander thought.

Putting his best innocent face on, he said, "Come on, Matthew, don't threaten me with that. You know I love your desserts." Bending down to collect the money the goons had failed to collect, Alexander continued, "Besides, if you really were watching, you would have seen those goons threatening me and pulling out weapons. They were trying to rob me." After straightening out the bills and placing them back into a fold of his clothing, Alexander asked while raising his hands in an "I don't know" gesture, "What was I supposed to do, let them take my hard-earned money?"

"It was entirely self-defense," Alexander reassured his faithful Doll. "Besides, I'm a priest. I have no reason nor intention to initiate meaningless brawls with people I don't know."

Megumi
Megumi pulled herself up into the window, performing a flip through it and landing silently so as to not alert Annalee's parents. Megumi looked at Annalee and nodded, then leaned against a wall and sat down crosslegged, placing her hands on her knees. She didn't like to waste words when they weren't necessary. Still, she sighed. The Puppeteer was stronger than she had expected, and it took quite a bit of effort to defeat it. However, the deed was done, and that was one less threat against her and Annalee. Now was the time to rest while she could. She would need her energy if she was to perform her duties as best she could.

[Assistant]
CLACK!

The plastic ball rolled its way through one wicket, smashing into the blue ball, and entering another wicket.

"Good show!" A series of claps followed as Shane watched the game of croquet play out. He looked at his watch. It had been a few weeks since he became a Hunter, and yet outside of the training, he hasn't gotten a true hunting opportunity. He sighed.

"Something the matter, son?" His father asked him.

"Eh, Not much. I'll get a big break soon." Shane got up from his seat and left. "Tell me who wins, okay?"

"Where are you going?" His father asked.

"Well, I'm not just gonna wait for the prey to show up, right?" Shane said. He walked out of the small gathering. He only knew a bit of details over what he's looking for. He took out his Doll Hunters Guide and began to read about things like tell-tale signs and how to effectively fight a Doll.


[System]
Nickname(Optional): Pfft, no.
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Physical Appearance: Of Average build with short dark hair, Neil isn't exactly the most unique specimen. He is fit but not noticeably so. He isn't big at all, but he is also not small. He has a face girls can find cute, but not exactly dreamy. Tanned skin and a ruddy complexion from all of the machine's he's worked on, coupled with the calluses on his hands gives him an experienced look despite the very youthful appearance he has. All in all, other than the twinkling of his eyes and the trademark grin, he is essentially average. He has dark eyes and very dark brown hair, enough to be considered black under most light. He's about 5'10 and 165 pounds.
Clothing: He often wears baggy pants, mostly military cargo. He likes to wear single colored T-Shirts. Usually he wears red.
Personality: Oh, now that is a question. To say Neil is eccentric is...well, that hits the nail on the head. Very good with hand-eye coordination, competent combatant, good engineer, and a daring pilot. But prone to sarcasm, snide remarks, unorthodox behavior, and just good old fashioned explosions. He's a born jokester, though behind his charming yet insufferable demeanor belies a certain intelligence, and to those he enjoys, he does tend to have a big heart.

[User]
Junebug watched in amazement as the door irised open before them. Inside was a strange swirling opalescence like the surface of a soap bubble but opaque to the eye. She looked dubiously at the holographic line that her helmet had projected as the limit of the shield. She moved forward cautiously while the Terrans hunkered down pointing weapons at the building, though what threat they thought would emerge from it she had no idea.

Reaching the projected limit of the shield she took a small ultraviolet marking beacon, a flat cylinder the size of her palm and tumbed it on before tossing it like a discus. The plastic unit bounced off the wall of the newly risen building and fell to the snow. A continual strobe of ultraviolet light pulsed from the unit, clearly visible to her helmet which was set to carrot such things.

"Looks like the tech shield is down entirely," she called back to the Terrans and without another word stepped across the threshold. Absolutely nothing happened, whether temporarily or permanently, it seemed that the defences that had protected this place were down. She trudged the thirty meters to the wall and retrieved the beacon, turning it off and clipping it to her belt. The rest of the party was moving cautiously forward, even Sven who had more reason to fear technological disruption than the rest of them.

Junebug moved to the portal and unslung her Terran plasma rifle. Holding it by the grip like a vast pistol she slid it into the opalescent portal so that the rubberized eyepiece of the optical sight was on the outside but the end of the lens was on the inside. Rather than crouching down to look through the sight directly, she touched a button on the stock of the weapon that remoted the sight picture to her helmet. It was a technique which was occasionally useful for shooting from positions where you didn't dare stick your head up, but more frequently used by command staff to view what their troopers were seeing. The sight picture opened in her helmet in a small window in the upper right corner.

"Whoa," she breathed and stepped through the portal vanishing from sight.

Junebug stood at the edge of a vast city of bone white monoliths. At least her mind told her it was a city even though none of the 'buildings' had any recognisable function. The portal still shimmered behind her, set into a large lintel of the same cream white material. Here and there ancient and twisted trees coiled towards the sky in odd spiral shapes, their bark curiously rough in a place where everything was so smooth. The air above her head was filled with hundreds, or thousands of what appeared to be floating leaves of pale blue, though they bore no resemblance to the foliage of the trees and were completely independent of any kind of support. The volume of space here couldn't possibly fit into the entryway she had come through. Looking up she saw that the sky above was completely black, lacking any visible stars.

Curiously she flicked her helmet selector to through its various modes, thermal revealed nothing other than that the place was of an unusually uniform 25.3 degrees but the return on the lidar was so chaotic and fragmented that the helmet display crashed back to regular viewing with a trailing stream of red error messages. The movements sensors too were going crazy. Although the blue leaves, or whatever they were, appeared stationary they must have been moving enough to trip the motion detection program. The atmosphere sensors reported breathable, if slightly too oxygen rich, air so she pulled off her helmet.

There was a slight movement behind her as one of the Terran commandos stepped halfway through the portal. The man, Rosenant she thought his name was, paused halfway through the portal, giving the distinct impression of being cut in half. He stuck his head back through the portal and then stepped fully through. A moment later York appeared, snowflakes still decorating his hair and an irritated expression on his face.

"Captain Cyckali, did it occur to you that the environment here might be animical to human life?" he asked acidly. Junebug shrugged her shoulders.

"The bunker wasn't and nothing in the old records suggested humans and ancients had different metabolic requirements," she said her smile hardening as she continued to speak. No doubt the Terrans had drones and other such equipment which they would have used before sending anyone through the doors.

"Besides you can fuck around on your own time, the sooner we are done with this the sooner my crew and I can be on our way."

[Assistant]
"You are on our time until we see your service through." York reminded her.

Neil poked his head through next, looking like a body-less head floating in the iridescent portal. York thought it looked very much like Mr. Edwards on the chopping block, and judging by the way the Captain Cykali had been angered earlier, he did not know if it was an echo of things to come. Neil moved his hand through next, and then his entire body. He grinned at himself, feeling, knowing he was completely fine. He poked his head back out to tell Taya and the others, and soon the rest of them stepped through.

Tentatively, they moved forward, spreading out in a loose, skirmish formation as they lowered themselves into the sloping 'jungle' of whatever these constructs or materials were. Even Saxon stepped with caution. His race was older than that of the human's, and though they did not know the Ancient Ones well, they were recorded in their histories from antiquity, rather than being cordoned off as myth by the younger races. He was now stepping back in time, to those who had integrated and mentored his Ancestor Gods.

Neil watched Sven run his hand over one of the monoliths, a very human gesture, though no doubt filled with calculations beyond measure. "Harder than steel," he croaked, examining the material. "Less ductile, and lighter, if my scans are correct. But far harder, and able to..." He stopped, and blinked, as if he what he was going to say, but he had run into a mechanism that blocked something harmful or overwhelming to his senses.

"Now what?" Woods asked, her gun up and ready. Her team's locations were on the HUD of her tactical helmet, spreading out further as they explored the vast room. There had to be an end to it, but it already defied physics judging from the space they now traversed. What if there was no end?

"Mr. Edwards, if you would kindly step forward with me." York said, hailing Neil to him. Taya stuck close to York and Sayeeda already, and Neil moved from his examination of the monolith with Sven to report for duty. Though as he approached the center lane, his hand began to pulsate feebly, and he felt strange. A sensation he had felt before but...not like this. He suddenly felt as if he had a biological need to move forward, not by York's orders. But something greater. Deeper. Like a hunger, or even a sexual appetite.

He moved forward then, his irises growing larger in his dark eyes, unable to pull himself from the teasing call he received in his mind. York began to speak to him, and then attempted to halt him. But Neil could no longer hear him. Instead he moved forward, enthralled to the call that flowed through his very being, the catalyst of which was his hand.

It was at that moment, that Woods noticed two of her men had disappeared from the HUD.

[User]
"Cambre? Khan? Report," Woods called, every member of the small team paused and scanned as if expecting to see the two men even though they had vanished from sensors more advanced than human eyes by an order of magnitude. Woods scrolled back throught the sensor logs before looking at York with a worried expression.

"Nothing, it looks like they were there one minute and gone the next..."

Junebug moved closer to Taya, as though by her presence might protect the girl. Taya wore borried body armor but it clearly had been intended for medics or other support personnel rather than front line troops. A side arm was belted to her hip but right now all she was holding was a multiphase scanner unit many times more powerful than those that the helmets used.

"I dont see anything but there is an odd... disturbance in the air flow," Taya reported glancing skywards at the odd floating leaves. Junebug tracked the glance with her rifle but saw nothing to alarm her.

"It looks as if they should be moving, but they are not..."

"Sir," Woods called, "We need to search for our people." York looked around as though vexed.

"Ok everyone stay in visual range, skirmish line with five meter intervals, keep everyone in visual," he commanded. The soldiers spread out as best they could into a ragged line.

"Are we just going to wander blindly or..." Junebug began but York cut her off.

"Previous ancient sites we have surveyed tend to be organized around a central hub. The curve of the wall here can be used to suggest the center," York explained. Junebug couln't imagine he was much of an archaeologist but he had clearly read the field reports of those who did have the specialist knowledge.

"Mr Edwards will lead us with his magic hand," York added as he fell into his own position with the line. A directional line appeared on Junebug's helmet, leading deeper into the strange cityscape. She gudied Taya next to Neil, reasoning his presence was the best gaurntee of safety they had.

"Lets move out!"

[Assistant]
Neil moved forward inexorably, no longer aware of his companions around him. Taya, having noticed that nothing witty or silly had come out of Neil's mouth for more than a minute, waved her hand in front of his face. He gave no indication that he saw her, still walking forward with his hand out, as if to grasp something that was always just beyond reach. Woods squinted and looked at Neil, noticing Taya's concern. "Pretty boy?"

"Captain," Taya said, drawing Junebug's attention. "I think there's something wrong with Neil..."

Junebug looked at him, shaking his shoulder. When he didn't respond, she barked. "Edwards! Front and Center!" But it was to no avail. York shrugged, only glad the pilot was still walking. Junebug sighed, shaking her head at their predicament. Saxon and Sven walked behind them, silently moving and observing, with little interest other than what lay ahead.

Another dot on the radar disappeared. Woods spun, her gun trained on where O'Bannon had just disappeared. She could see nothing. Only the ghost-like monoliths standing erect and silent. York spoke over the comm. "I ordered all eyes on everyone" he lectured. "What is happening, Lieutenant?"

Woods shook her head, full lips parted and blue eyes searching for any sign of the soldier. "Everyone close in." she ordered, and the men began to form up in an archaic, closed formation one might expect from a las-lock world where soldiers used single shot volleys against locals. The leaves still hung above them, silent yet somehow exuding a sense of watching the group as they moved. At the fore, Neil suddenly halted, and his fingers began to twiddle in midair.

Taya shook her head, confused. It took a moment, but a holograph began to form. It took the shape of a console, smooth and advanced, with dimensions that seemed somehow off. A certain wrongness to it that annoyed the eye, and yet remained elusive to its shape. Neil's hands intricately pressed the various buttons on the console, as if writing a 'code' or an algorithm as he often did on the Highlander.

Without warning, the monoliths began to shift. Stone-like material grinded against the smooth structures as they began to turn, lifting up to lay horizontally rather than standing vertically scant seconds before. Somehow, the room seemed even more silent than it had been when they had first entered, as if the very movement of the monoliths caused a silence before the storm. Junebug grabbed Neil, shaking him. "Neil! Wake up!" she called to him.

Hesitantly, Woods approached one of the monoliths. She wanted to help Neil, but she was married to her job first, and she needed to admit she had a rapt fascination with what these structures could possibly be for. Her gun pointing upwards, she lay a strong hand on the smooth metal, suddenly realizing there was a small pressure button near the top of this particular piece. Her slim fingers merely brushing it set it off, and a small portion of the metal 'slipped' open at the top.

She gasped, stepping back, unable to process what she had seen through the glass opening. Junebug noticed and approached too, stepping forward and peeking over to see a Xenos, though one unlike any she had ever seen. Its head was tall and nearly pointed, with large eyes and two slits that no doubt served as a nose. The mouth was covered by a mouthpeice, and its skin was leathery. If it lay in the monolith, it must be tall, albeit lithe.

"What in Gideon..."