Alexander Dalton's Story

Jemma was… aware of being trapped in a space that she couldn’t escape, as much as one can be aware of the blood in their veins. She knew that she was in that strange {SPACE} that she entered when she consumed powered things, and she knew that {TIME} was passing while she waited. Her mind was reeling from the abrupt change. She hadn’t been expecting the flesh she had consumed to hold power, and she was further aware of another {POWER} that she had consumed. Part of her was worried, and rather abruptly, she noticed that she felt… full.

Overfilled, even, as if she had finally- FINALLY- eaten too much to be comfortable. The space that she associated with ‘stomach’ felt full, overstuffed, over indulged.
And before she could try and understand what that really meant, there was a snap, a crackle, and a P O P!
And she was blinded by a sky blue light that surrounded her on all sides. There was a brief flash of rainbow light, a prismatic gas that vanished as quickly as it appeared… And an intense panic sparked the moment she recognized what had happened, pangs of fear that pushed at the relatively confused calm that had suffused her before. Her eyes, were they eyes? The portions of her body she was using to see flickered about wildly, her lungs were filling and then emptying of air with an urgency she had no control over. Jemma kept herself from panicking for but a moment longer, and felt some pulse of power, and bore witness as she felt something… Pull. She slid her eyes to Sairyn, only just now noticing that The Scientist was still there.

And a bolt of crackling light, splitting the air of the lab with a sharp sound, slammed into the dome-shield that surrounded her. Alex poked his head in just as Jemma opened the human-form mouth to scream happily, her legs and arms moving about in a wild manner that simply exploded with joy from every motion. Another bolt of lightning leapt from her body, from her mouth this time, and screeched across the surface of the bubble. It arced and raced about as it struck true, sliding too and fro upon the bubble with no sense of urgency. It was blinding, it was loud, and it was so. Fucking. Exhilarating.
She whipped her head towards Alex, baring her teeth in a smile that could easily be mistaken for a snarl. “I. Am. So fucking COOL!” She whisper-hissed at Alex, slamming her hands against the edges of the bubble. “Now let me out! I HATE THIS. I want OUT. Please? … What happened while I was uh… Indisposed, hm?”

Sairyn was becoming increasingly fidgety as he watched the drone telemetry and listened to the commentary from warehouse investigation. He flinched when Alex came into the lab, and drummed his fingers on the workbench for a long few moments as he observed the man with a note of new suspicion. He clucked his tongue thoughtfully and Volta dissolved out of his other hand with a hiss.

He'd need a bigger gun for that anyway.

He'd already come to a pretty well realized conclusion based on the data that had come through to his array of slates floating above the workbench. It was all being downloaded to an encrypted thumb drive which would get spirited away to the Emporia where nobody but him could touch it. Insurance. The question was WHY? Just to flaunt their power over him?

He couldn't let them find out that he knew though or... his eyes flicked to Silver Fang's damaged suit components, then to Jemma and Alex. He swallowed dryly and then cleared his throat softly, materializing the special phone into one hand and tapping out a message on it discretely before letting it vanish back into his temporary pocket. Even highly sophisticated government shenanigans wouldn't be able to spy on that message, though... it wouldn't keep them from knowing he sent it, just not what and to whom.

"Feeling better then?" He chirped to Jemma with a smile on his face. Best not to involve them yet. "I was afraid I may have made you sick," he said with a note of relief.

Elsewhere, a certain someone's phone chirped. Not their usual phone: the phone that only reached one number.

Nebulae blinked at the woman as she turned to leave, chuckling softly and speaking up to her back in response. "Oi, oi, oi. I apologize. Look, 'm just a curious sort of person, aye? How 'bout I buy you a drink? I was thinkin' of headin' in for one myself." He paused, tilting his head as he fired off another question to the red-headed woman's back. "I'm assumin' you don't work here though... But since you're in the alleyway smokin', and you uh... Look like hell put through a speed washer, I'm gonna start assumin' you do?"

His HUD flashed an alert as he spoke to her, a brief text message from a sender named 'Ashanti'. His eyes rolled, and with a mild twitch of the head, the message collapsed and vanished away from sight. Hm.
Ah well. More important things to focus on. Like the woman who appeared to want nothing more than to walk back inside. And... Who's hand was fucked. Up.

---

Jemma raced through the skies ever so high above the highway, following the black, asphalt path back to Atlas City. Two pairs of wings beat in tandem as she flew, the 'back' pair smaller than the ones in front. Her skull was in the shape of some bird of prey, perhaps an eagle- perhaps a falcon- and though she should have feathers, her body was coated in chitin that was ever so thin. Her body was a sleek, powerful thing, and even if her body had no feathers, her wings certainly did. She was just barely bigger than a Mastiff, though she was certainly leaner in this form.

She flew onward though, tracing her thoughts back to Alex and Saiyrn in the lab. They had filled her in, and told her what she had missed in quiet sentences. Alex had barely dropped the bubble before Jemma was in his face, hands and claws and tendrils slapping, scratching, and tugging on his unaffected body. "I'm so going! I have to! I can't stay here one second longer! I. Need. To. See. Our. HOME!" She had practically screamed at Alex, her form shaking with just barely restrained energy. He had only gotten the 'Okay but-' of his sentence out before she had turned and bolted off. Ink swelled around her form as she moved, and the moment her body was outside, she launched into the air with no hesitation.

And so, she flew, screaming her delight happily into the wind for absolutely none but herself to hear. A pair of eyes on her underside blinked, tracking the stretch of roadway beneath her before closing tightly as she dove into a cloud.
Jemma spun, tucking her wings tight against her body as she dove towards the ground. The eyes upon her skull darted about as she took in the sprawl of Atlas City before her. With a mighty screech, a spray of spittle, and the pulse of joy in her body; Jemma's wings flung themselves open. She was moving faster now, far faster than powered flight could take her, so she glided forth on her own momentum. The eyes on her underside flicked open once again, and as she coasted around Atlas City for a bit, she caught sight of a few familiar bodies and faces.

She was glad for the eyesight of an eagle, and oh so happy that she had four pairs of eyes looking in four separate places. Though she was also partially sad that none could see her, not really, as she had a pretty strong feeling that the movement of the eyes would be... Unnerving for most.
Regardless! There! Was the one named 'Silver Fang'. She was... Familiar, at least, sort of? Ah, who cared.


Not but fifteen feet behind Yue, a massive, five foot tall shard of bone, meat, and metal slammed into the pavement with all the forewarning of an assassination. The shard cracked on impact, pulsed with ink, vanished in a blink, and revealed the shape of Jemma's humanoid form.
She flashed a smile with a maw filled with shark-like fangs, and let a long, black, forked tongue loll out and taste the air. "Hello! I am here to help!"

Club Shapeless: Atlas City
Maxwell chuckled slightly at Scourge’s response, nodding in affirmation. “I have every faith you’re all the most capable people that could be put to this task. Just ‘pull carefully’ with this one. Weeds can grow back if any root is left behind. We need to make absolutely sure we get every last root in our grasp first. Then we can rip them out, and toss them in a bonfire.”


Things began to near their end, with Gideon making his final remarks. “Thank you Mayor Gauss, I’ll be sure to put this to good use.” Maxwell said in regards to the automaton his cousin had leant to them. As Gideon’s form disappeared, the others began to ready themselves to leave, with Maeve leading the way.


After his chair lightly shook from the press of her finger, The Shape rose a hand to stop her. “Hold on, there’s one last matter I need to address.” He swiped across his phone again, pulling something else up onto the wall screen. An email this time, one that appeared to have been written for quite a variety of recipients.


The sender was a corporation called Menagerie Tech.


“Apparently this company, Menagerie Tech, has had an issue lately with a ‘lost asset’. They’ve requested assistance from just about everyone they felt was safe to ask in this matter. The asset they’re looking for in specific is some kind of shape shifter.”


Under his mask, Maxwell allowed for a slight smirk. “There’s no doubt of quite a handsome reward for helping reunite them with their lost ‘property’, but businesses like ours have more things to consider than money. If you come across this shape shifter, I ask you to do what you can to ensure it ends up back here at Shapeless instead.”


The Shape looked to all others present. “That’s all from me for now. If you need anything else feel free to ask now. Otherwise, you can head to the warehouse now.”





The Memorial


Before leaving the resort, George had made sure to get Devon’s ‘blueprint’ put into a secure area where it could be researched later. The object was strange, something he’d never encountered before. But based on the discussion of the strange interdimensional travel, he was allowing himself to have a small amount of optimism that this could be a potential breakthrough in their fight. It would remain to be seen, but hope was an important tool, one they were all in need of.


Atlas City finally came into sight again, striking George with a strange sense of foreignness, but also nostalgia. It had only been a few days ago, and yet it felt like years. The old man continued to gaze out through the window of the 2025 Rolls Royce Limo he and Richard both sat in the back of.


Richard adjusted his tie while taking a quick glance at George. The old man seemed deep in thought, understandable given the circumstances. The White Death was also in a slight trance, thinking back to the day the ‘Beast’ had attacked. Standing on the balcony, looking out at the ocean, seeing that towering mound of death… It was like it had never even happened, like it wasn’t real. How could it have been? And yet, here they were, going to a memorial for the people who died from it, the ones that couldn’t be saved.


“How does the suit fit ?” George asked quietly of Richard.


Richard nodded an affirmation before he spoke. “Quite well actually, little surprised you had something in my size.”


George chuckled slightly, trying to keep up a positive exterior, hiding the sense of melancholy growing as they drew closer and closer to the memorial area. “Actually we just work quite fast. Some things can’t be anticipated for, so the only alternative you have is to reach a solution as quick as possible.”


Richard smiled in agreement, but said nothing more as the car pulled up to the memorial. All the passengers inside stepped out and made there way to find spots to sit. Richard had hoped he and George might sit a little closer to Henry. He wanted to be close to someone he knew, and someone he felt could offer some more immediate assistance if any was needed.


White Death had already spotted some familiar faces, a few quite famous, including the briefest of glimpses of Cannonade. Seemed they’d arrived earlier, and were already busy being adored by the crowds.


George and Richard finally took their seats near the edge of the crowds, hoping to avoid being clustered too close together with anyone, and wanting easy access to be able to stand up and leave their seats if it became essential. The old man had noticed plenty of familiar faces, but what caught his attention most immediately was that Henry had gone to join what appeared to be a family, possibly his own relatives. It was touching, but he had some concerns as well, primarily for the safety of the two adults and their children.


“You know George, I think we should come up with a team name at some point.” Richard stated nonchalantly.


George, a little surprised, cocked an eyebrow at the comment. “Really? And what do you suppose you should all be called?”


Richard shrugged. “No idea, I kinda thought that was more your department, speaking frankly.”


The old man’s mouth perked up at the corner as he shook his head. “No, while I might be your ‘boss’, I think you’re all much more qualified to come up with that sort of thing on your own. Besides, builds some camaraderie with each other, and lets me avoid being criticized over choice of name.” He chuckled slightly.





Start of the Memorial


As everyone took their seats, or found a place to stand and watch, a deafening quiet came over the crowds gathered in Atlas City. All eyes turned to the stage, or the screens, whichever they had easiest access to view. After a few moments of silence set in, a projector screen lowered at the back of the stage, and on its left and right side two banners unfurled downwards, decorated with the stars and stripes of the American flag.


Images began to fade into view on the screen, and the televisions across the city, country, and world. Pictures of men, women, children; they were of homes, parties, happy times. Hearts broke and tears began to stream as the pictures became accompanied by the sounds of Lee Greenwood's “Proud to be an American”. Those who tried not to cry struggled, some failed. They leaned on shoulders, tried to give comfort where they could as they watched images of their happy loved ones pass by.


After a while, the song finally came to its close, and the screen faded to its blank, white color once more. The first speaker came to the front of the stage, slowly, almost cautiously. Once he was at the podium, Captain Valor took a moment to compose himself. The hurt was clear in him to the crowd below, but he maintained his composure as the screen behind him flickered with color once more. Now images of Lonestar faded in and out, introducing various glimpses of the hero’s life and adventures.


“My fellow Americans, people of the world. We all lost loved ones on March 12th. For me, it was my fellow hero, sometimes rival, and always good friend; Lonestar. We had…” Valor went quiet a moment as his eyes glistened, two tiny trickles of tears making their way down his cheeks. “We had a lot of adventures together. Saved a lot of people. Saved each other even a few times.”


The hero continued on, regaling the crowd with a few tales of the adventures the two heroes had had. Of course, this was all mostly known to the public. There were many ‘adventures’ they hadn’t heard of though, the kinds of which Valor and Lonestar would both ensure were taken with them to the grave…


“All I want to say now is thank you everyone, America and the whole world, for all your continuing support. And to Lonestar buddy, we’ll meet again one day. Till then, know that you’ll always be in our hearts, a true American hero.” Valor began to exit the stage, wiping away a few tears as the screen continued to show a montage of Lonestar, before slipping into images of more of the heroes and soldiers that laid down their lives to fight the Beast. As America’s heroes passed by on the screen, they were accompanied by a favorite song of Lonestar’s, Toby Keith’s “Courtesy Of The Red, White And Blue”.


While the crowd was hit by a wave of emotions, the sadness had begun to subside near the end of the song, giving way to a roar of cheering and applause. They could be proud of those who sacrificed so much for them, and honor that freedom by continuing to fight this fight for their families, friends, and America itself.


As the song subsided, other speakers had gone up to the stage, survivors, family members of victims, heroes. Once they’d said their piece, it was time for the message they all really needed to hear. Gordon Ford, President of the United States of America, stepped up to the podium. Near the back of the stage, stood near other speakers, the Secdef and Attorney General both stood by, looking on and hoping Gordon knew what he was doing.


“My fellow Americans…” he started. “This has been a truly, truly painful time for us all. Our country has suffered a grievous injury like never before. So many lives lost, families torn apart… We’ve never seen anything like this.” There was a pause as he sought for words to give power to what he was saying. “But we are a strong nation, a strong people. We’ll rebuild, and fight this fight to keep our free nation as free as it ever has been. You can all sleep soundly at night, knowing we’re working tirelessly to keep you all safe, and to give you the answers you deserve. The people who did this will be brought to life, this I promise you. And to help keep that promise, your government is starting new initiatives to try and fight this menace, including a new team we are calling F.I.S.T. And to speak more on that, I’d like to introduce our Secretary of Defense, Victor Covistic.”


There was some cheering for the President as he stepped away from the podium, though the message he gave perhaps didn’t have the amount of impact he’d hoped for. Victor, for his part, smiled at the President as he went to the podium himself, but inwardly thought very lowly of everything the President had just ‘attempted’.


Once Victor took the podium, he also allowed for a brief pause, a moment of quiet, as he went over everything he would need to say. “Thank you Mr. President. Ladies and Gentlemen, people of America, citizens of Atlas City… Before I say anything else, I need to take a moment here to apologize. As Secretary of Defense, I’m partially responsible for the response we gave to the monster that attacked this great city. We believed we were ready to take this thing on, that we had everything we needed to destroy it. We were wrong, we underestimated the Beast, and we need to take responsibility for that. Myself, my colleagues, and everyone in your government takes responsibility for our handling of this attack.”


There was silence in the crowd as they took in what he had to say. “As the President said, we are all working tirelessly to strike back against our enemy, and while I cannot, for security reasons, tell you everything you deserve to know, I can tell you that our enemies are not long for this world.” He took a pause, hands pressed firmly on the podium as he squared his shoulders and looked directly into the faces of the crowd before him. “Again, I cannot say much for security reasons, but what I can tell you is that the military is developing a team called F.I.S.T. First Initiation Strike Team. They will be instrumental in allowing us to deal with these threats in more precise, fast, and tactical ways. We are also developing another team, known as Bulwark. This team will differ from F.I.S.T. as it will be the newest American Hero team we put together, designed for the specific purpose of ridding us of monsters like this Beast. We will have more details on this team at a later date. But for now…”


Another moment of silence. It stretched on for a second as Victor held his gaze with the crowd, letting them have a moment of anticipation. “For now let me say this. America, today is a day for mourning. Feel this grief, this sadness, this hurt. Let it all go through you. That’s what we can do today. Tomorrow? Let these feelings embolden us. Let it steel us, our resolve. The ones who did this to America, to the American people, they want us to be afraid. They want us to live in fear of them, to put us on edge. But our men and women in uniform, our Supers, our best and brightest minds, are all working in unison in this fight. One people, one purpose. They crave justice, to bring retribution down like a mighty storm. Our enemies have caused us to be afraid long enough. It’s time for these cowards to TRULY be afraid. They’ve awoken the Beast of America, and we are ravenous.”


With that, Victor stepped away from the podium as a roar of passionate emotions erupted from the crowd. The cheers were near deafening, filled with a sound that could be described as sorrow burning up into righteous rage. America had been struck a heavy blow, but it would strike back with a million times more force.


Once the crowd had let that wave of emotion pass through it, other speakers began to take the stage…