Ezekiel "Zeke" Walker's Story

Fingers twitched. What was once cold and still jerked, once, twice. Bones were stretched to their limits and crunched. Muscles rippled beneath the skin. Veins bulged as they were flooded with sickly glowing green fluids. Light glinted upon dead eyes, and the flesh of brows and cheeks distended as the monster's growl crescendoed into a blood-curdling roar.

"GRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

Steel bent like butter against quintals worth of muscles. Shackles and chains snapped, and broken wires spat out sparks. The monster reached for the skies, his silhouette cast against the dark grey walls.

---

The metallic thud of the door seemed twice as loud inside Pyromancer's mind. It took him a second to process what had happened. Golden rings came alight in his eyes, and he glared straight at the closest intercom.

He reached for the lapels of his suit and tossed them aside. Embers came unfurled around his body, flying, swaying around him like a horde of furious fireflies. Before Kiran could continue on his overlong speech, Pyromancer pulled his arm far back, summoned a fireball in his hand, and pitched it, far, fast, and high.

"Lab Rat, you Son of a BITCH!"

Ka-BOOM!

The speaker shattered. The Lab Rat was silenced. Black and grey detritus rained from above. Pyromancer blinked, and silently hoped that the Shape would not take this out of his paycheck.

Silence ensued. Pyromancer bent his knees into a guarded stance and kept himself close to Vortex. His eyes darted left and right.

The floor erupted. A green arm burst through layers of concrete; resembling a man's, yet far too big and too long to be one. Dust and debris scattered towards them. A shard of rubble grazed Vicki Vortex's cheek at high speed. Pyromancer stumbled, and just barely secured his footing.

The rest of the creature emerged from beneath, like a zombie crawling out of its grave. He leered at them, with his pallid yellow eyes. He was a man, but not human. Not anymore. His veins shimmered in tune with his false heart. He took a step forward. A single footfall shook the earth beneath their feet.

"Well, well, WELL!" The monster remarked, with a voice that was boisterous yet mundane compared to his form.
"My creator has blessed me with such taut, succulent FLESH"

Pyromancer stepped back, and fires came alight within his palm.

The creature's mask obscured much of his face below the eyes, but Vic could sense his smirk. He looked straight at her. Hungry, eager, and undressing her through his leering eyes.

"I! Am! SCOURGE! Butcher, executioner, and DELIVERER of her will-"

A gout of flame struck Scourge in the face. Pyromancer held both of his hands forward, and maintained the stream. On, and on, and on, and on.

Scourge chuckled.

Then approached.

He lumbered with every step. A slow, yet steady advance.

"GYAHAHAHA! OHHH, HOW IT BURNS!"

Pyromancer widened his eyes. He halted his flames and hopped back. "Move!" He whispered Vic's way.

"Give me MORE!"

The monster swung, and a tentacle shot out from his forearm. The throbbing shaft shot out, gaining twelve feet of length in two seconds, and struck at both Pyromancer and Vic, hard.

"Hakh!" Pyromancer gasped out. His body was flung across the arena, then crashed onto the seats with a bone-shattering thud.

Scourge's brows knit together with a lascivious smirk."Yessssss…". His tentacle retreated into his arm. White fluid dribbled from the tip before it disappeared, sizzling as it stuck to the floor.

Pyromancer clutched the armrest of a seat with one hand, and his ribs with the other. He winced, and sputtered, and looked around for Vicki Vortex.

The ground quaked with Scourge's steps, like the slow and menacing beat of a war drum. His skin rippled and shifted. "Hiding WON'T save you! I'm not satisfied YET."

His eyes narrowed. "Not until I have YOU. Spent! Broken! On your knees, BEGGING, for release…"

Scourge's whip didn't throw Vic back with Pyromancer. It cut her in two.

At least it looked that way. Her halves disintegrated away into nothing as the whip swept through her. Then she was everywhere. And she would have been satisfied staying like this, if it weren't for everything about the enemy in front of her. His taunts had a flavour to them that had made her stomach knot.

Vic flew up as far as she could before she reappeared, her left hand still out of order. She raised her right, pointed at the back of the Scourge's head and blasted off her air cannon, furiously intent on sending him back to the Clive Barker novel he belonged to.

An invisible bullet struck Scourge's head, with the sound and fury of a thundercrack. The monster's head jerked forcefully forward. His skull rang, his eyes were filled with static. But his body stood tall and still.

Vicki Vortex couldn't see it, but the creases around his eyes deepened into deep and furious cracks. "Gyahaha! You wicked SOW!"

Scourge spun, and sent forth his tentacle. "GET OVER HERE!" The flesh-coloured rod propelled through the air, higher and higher - but not high enough. It turned turgid and motionless two meters from her body, and gave her more than enough time to evade.

The monster slammed his rod down with a furious grunt. A row full of seats were bisected in its wake. He bent down, braced his heels, and swung from the full force of his hips.

"GYAAAAH!"

In an instant, three rows of seats flew high into the air, spun and launched towards Vic. The bolts that secured them to the floor seemed like paper against the monster's strength.

"Show me a good time!" He roared, then violently wrenched his tentacle back inside his arm.

Boom

An explosion erupted over the monster's back. He did not budge.

Boom! BOOM!

Scourge turned his head to see. Pyromancer lobbed fireballs his way, from one hand, then the other, and again, and again. All of them exploded across Scourge's shoulder, and chest, and abdomen, and the monster didn't even blink.

"WEAKLING!"

The monster shot forth his tentacle. Pyromancer hopped to the side. The tentacle shot past him… then curved, under his arm, over his chest, and around and around, until he was completely wrapped within his mercy.

Pyromancer widened his eyes. He squirmed. The monster drew his tentacle back - and the captive super with it. The latter met his eyes with a steely glare. Embers gathered into his clenched fists. Brighter and brighter as he was pulled close, until…

BOOM!

Pyromancer's fist met his face. The embers that had gathered erupted into a bright, searing explosion. The monster's head recoiled from impact. His tentacles loosened, and Pyromancer landed on his knee, foot, and fist. He looked up, and met Vicki Vortex's eyes.

His head.

Pyromancer's eyes narrowed in realisation. It was the closest thing to a weak point for this creature.

"Good… GOOD!" The monster roared, undeterred even as its green flesh turned black and crumpled. A giant green haymaker launched forth. Pyromancer rolled away. Another followed. Too slow. The supervillain weaved, then countered, with a flaming fist to the monster's gut.

A loud thump. Embers scattered. The monster didn't even flinch. He leered at Pyromancer, his cheeks bunched with a hint of amusement. The Pyromancer followed it up with an uppercut, which the monster caught and stopped dead mid-way.

"Is this all you've GOT?!"

Crunch!

Pyromancer gasped. His knees buckled. Every nerve screamed, every bone in his hand crumbled within Scourge's fingers. The monster tightened his grip.

"Yessss… OH YES! ON YOUR KNEES!"

Pyromancer sank lower and lower, under Scourge's shadow. Embers danced around Scourge's grip, to no avail. The monster raised his other arm high, and drew it back for a finishing blow.

Vic reappeared at Scourge's side, swinging out a leg that never hit his head. Instead a wave of air pressure slammed against his face like a wall, sending him staggering at least a few steps.

"Fuck off, you big green rapist," she said, floating back to the ground beside Pyromancer nursing his broken hand. Despite her casualness, torrents of sweat were rolling down her back. A heavy force of air contested the abomination's strength to give her some time to calm her frenzied heart. Vic had no plans, nor means to gracefully execute one. "Do you want to die as BGC jerk off material?" She asked Pyromancer, extending her stump his way. "Get off your fucking knees. I probably need you."

"THATS ENOUGH." The voice of Kiran Commanded from speakers all around the arena that couldn't be seen. The sound of clicking heels heralded the appearance of a tall and lithe figure appearing at the uppermost seats of the coliseums stands. Glowing red eyes similar in appearance to the pyromancers glared down at the central arena. They eyes seem to travel over to Scourge first. " Did I say you could damage them my child?" Their head cocked to the side. " And I clearly didn't say that you could rip your way through the levels now did I? J̢u͞s͘t̨ a͏ ̷n҉ewb̛oŗn and̛ yo͡u tes͘t ̧m͟y p̡at͢i̷e͏n̴c͡e͘ ̛s̶o̸ s̀ǫon͢~" Their voice came out as a cold distorted growl that came off rather inhuman. The undead brute seemed to flinch back as if physically struck by Kiran's words. Good, just born but he does know his place.

They regarded the two "guests" within their domain. " Pyro, you really should know better then to try and come in here unannounced, especially with unexpected company~" Kiran was all too well aware that out of the two of the villains present, Kiran was the indispensable one in the eyes of the Shape. And they were all too happy to remind the injured pyrokinetic of that fact. Their usual playful tone returned as two beasts lumbered out of the shadows to flank their master. The monstrosities looked like a skinned bear and gorilla fused together then covered in bone plates and growths. the idea that either could have been human before was hard to believe unless one had been forced to walk through the nest of horrors.

" Vicki Vortex . . . . color me surprised that you decided to come back and seek me out." The beasts both growled and snapped their maws but remained still. " I should warn you, harming a tinker in their lair is a death wish. Even for someone that can become gas." A cackle echoed throughout the empty hall of blood sport. " Though to be fair . . . . even if you were to kill me you really should know that death is an inconvenience for someone like me and nothing more . . . . . . so by all means, do try something if you want. but you wont be getting whatever it is you came for if you do Little Rockstar."

Scourge didn't even hear Vic.

Until it was too late.

The wind that struck was a force of nature. And while he was not human, he was still just one man. One man who was swept off his feet, and launched far, far away, into the wall at the edge of the arena.

The resulting crash rumbled through the entire level. The wall caved in against Scourge's monstrous weight, and shattered concrete trickled upside his head.

The monster laid there, partially embedded into the wall. He choked and wheezed, the impact tilting his head too far from his neck. His eyes were wide, yellow, and staring off into the distance.

Pyromancer looked up with a gasp. He stared at Vicki Vortex, and for a moment, the pain in his hand felt so insignificant. Her words were vulgar, and devoid of compassion, and yet…

"You… need me?"

Those simple words gave such feelings to his chest. The ‘probably’ went in one ear and out the other. He looked at her stump. Then glanced at his own broken hand, now a shapeless, bloodied lump. And back to her eyes. He inhaled. His brows knitted into a determined glare, he took her stump with his good hand, and returned to his feet.

"HOW- uerfkh... TOUCHING!"

While their eyes were off him, Scourge had erected himself out of the hole. He stood tall, reached for the top of his head, and-

Crunch.

The monster winced. His broken neck straightened instantly.

Pyromancer drew a long sigh, bent his knees, and drew his arm back. He stared down Scourge. Tongues of flames erupted from his hand, which extended and coiled into a flaming whip. The Pyromancer cracked said whip, and a trail of fire danced from where it struck the ground.

“Hooooo…,” Scourge remarked, a hint of amusement in his eyes. The monster raised his arms high. His bloated muscles flexed naturally, the veins across his bicep threatening to burst through his skin. The slids for his tentacles parted with a wet sound. White liquid seeped from the tip of the purple rods as they emerged. He met Pyromancer’s unblinking gaze.

“Mine’s bigger.”

”THAT’S ENOUGH.”
A voice came in legion. The colour drained from Scourge’s face. Pyromancer’s gaze darted left and right.

Scourge turned cold and stiff at Kiran’s words, his gaze straight-on, his arms by his side. Vic and Pyromancer were too far to see it, but his hands were trembling. The doctor’s distorted voice sapped the warmth from his body, and the beat of his heart slowed to a crawl. It stirred something primal, something instinctive within him. This voice… was his God. They were here, and watching, disapproving. With a whim, the doctor could take back the un-life they had given.

Pyromancer’s glare burned with seething contempt. His good hand clenched into a fist which snuffed out his flame, then moved behind his back. He struggled to keep his eyes off the two aberrations that accompanied Kiran. His brows wrinkled in disgust. An expected reaction, but it wasn’t towards the creatures. Not entirely. Such cruelty, inflicted upon the pitiable souls which these creatures used to be… the mere thought turned his stomach, and brought the heat to his head.

“Degenerate,” Pyromancer growled. Orange embers floated down and settled upon Kiran’s shoulder. A tiny flame came to life behind Pyromancer’s back.

“You have no authority over me!”

Pyromancer launched his burning orb far, high, and fast, straight towards Kiran. The heat from the orb primed the embers on the Lab Rat’s shoulders, and-

KA-BOOM!

Yeah, the 'probably' went over Pyromancer's head. So did the expression of apprehension as she stared back down at him and it dawned on her that she'd triggered something icky and emotional and likely related to ones mother relationship with their mother. As Pyromancer reached out for her stump in an agonizingly slow fashion, an unconsensual Put Your Head On My Shoulder started to echo in the empty mall of her mind. The second he was up she jerked her stump right out of that moment.

She was prepared to send another unimaginative gust Scourge's way when Kiran showed theirself, wearing skin as pale and sterile as hospital walls or a freshly dry cleaned strait jacket. It was stretched tight over a Victoria's Secret mannequin - no matter how beautiful Lab Rat could make theirself, Vic couldn't see more than plastic. That creepy childhood doll you played with to appease or else it come at you in the night with a potato peeler. It was those glassy, rattling eyes. And did they ever rattle on. She tried to remind herself why she was there, that it was worth throwing away the free bone they'd given her their last encounter, but she couldn't feel it in her hand.

This was a womb. Kiran Kingsley reigned over birth and rebirth, and this depraved womb hosted all of its darkest aspects. She'd waded through creatures born from the sticky afterbirth left in the wake of Kiran's thirst for greater creation. Her feet had sunk into soft, spongy flesh and oozing toxins from its pancreas. She was fighting slimy, quivering protrusions that dribbled out stinking fluid whenever their master smelled blood. When Vic made the descent, her misery had accepted that death was worth such a risk. But she hadn't accounted for what really stung her nerves around Lab Rat. That if she were to die at their hand...

She wouldn't.

The disgusting feeling weighing down her stomach lifted the instant Pyromancer launched his attack. She shouted in alarm and launched herself at him. Her hand clamped around his wrist and thin arm struggled to stop his from shooting off another orb. Embers bit at her flesh and her skin flared up with little burns. Her other hand materialized, the chip in her palm, to help her wrestle Pyromancer's arm. That's when a fleshy whip struck her in the back and sent them both across the coliseum.

She was flung off the pyromaniac and tumbled across the ground with the grace of a barrel thrown down a really big fucking hill. She raised her fuzzy head, and before she could notice her wounds, the mind-numbing, heart-sinking realization struck her. She'd let go of the chip. Her hands frisked her immediate area for it. Nothing. Her head whipped up to the menacing form of Scourge hulking towards her. Vic saw red and scrambled into a sprint towards him. She went out of sight for only a second before she threw herself at him. The extensive list of deadly power applications at her fingertips went right out the window as her reedy legs wrapped over the freak's shoulders and her thumbs stabbed into his eyesockets.

"What's the matter?" She shouted over his guttural roar of pain, "Sounds like you've never been SKULLFUCKED before!" Her thumbs jabbed in deeper, the jelly oozing down his cheeks. "Yeah. I do innuendos too, motherfucker." She muttered, then pulled a hand back and started repeatedly punching him in the face, completely obliterating her hand in the process.

Vic and Zeke were very angry.

Scourge bellowed, with a blood curdling roar that betrayed more pain than pleasure. Black bile gushed out from his eye sockets. The monster waddled back and forth, his gorilla-like arms swatting the air in blind panic.

"GHEEEEYAAAAAAAAGH!"

His screams drowned out the sound of Vic's breaking knuckles, her pale flesh muddied by blood and bile.

Pyromancer struggled back to his feet. He hunched over, the pain on his back too much for him to stand straight. He glared down at Scourge, who reeled, and flailed, and screamed against the skinny woman's savage attacks. The monster's wretched voice rang loudly in his ears. A cacophonous sound that rattled his skull.

"Shut…," the Pyromancer grunted through gritted teeth. Tongues of fire burst to life in his hand. His skin took on a warm orange glow, which grew brighter, and hotter, and brighter, and hotter, until his very body burst into flames. "...The FUCK up!"

The Pyromancer bent back, held his hand forward, and blasted forth, with a rapid-fire hail of flaming bolts that assailed the monster. The heat from his body burned away at his shirt and pants, until there was nothing but ash scattered behind him.

The bolts struck the monster's body, over and over and over again. His flesh blackened from the impacts, but was otherwise unharmed by the lingering flame. A lucky hit tore open the suture across his abdomen, spurting out bile and exposing the organs clumped together underneath.

Pyromancer dug his heels and maintained his fire. The floors beneath his feet glowed a bright, hissing orange, melting under his rising heat.

A gout of fire burst over Vic's back while she was in the middle of getting Scourge's eye juice under her nails, setting her 100% polyester shirt ablaze.

"WHAT THE HELL?!" Came her offended shout, and she poofed to the ground. She rocked up to her her elbows, squinting at Pyromancer. "Whose... side are you on... dickhead." She grunted out and rolled to her side, when she caught something small and geometric ahead of her. Right near the edge of the hole Scourge had punched out of. Vic's eyes grew two sizes and she scrambled across the ground for it.

As the three continued to fight the arena suddenly began to shake. the sound of heavy machinery could be heard all around them but nothing appeared to visibly change other then there suddenly being multiply , large video screens unfolding and facing the arena from every direction. Each screen came to life showing the image of the real Kiran lounging on a black leather couch all dressed up. aside from the albinism, there was no real indication that this was Lab Rat. The woman looked almost too picture perfect, a far cry from the overly plastic looking body double that lay smoldering in the stands next to the now dead beasts that had accompanied it. The Tinker's new appearance almost looked too perfect, like a photoshopped and touched up picture of a model done in real life. It was stunning yes, but gave off enough uneasiness that left ones skin prickly from goosebumps. Kiran's voice continued to speak from all around the coliseum from. " Have you all had your fun?" Their voice was sickeningly sweet, with not a hint of malice or venom to be heard.

More sounds of metal shifting and air hissing could be heard now. " Let me set the stage for you~" Kiran shifted on their couch as a corgi hopped onto their lap which they began petting absently, all the while still smiling at the camera. " You all are in My lab. Which is deep underground, and the space between each level can be extended. none of you know how deep my facility truly goes after all." They paused a moment to give the corgi a kiss on its head before letting it run off. Thor is such a good boy. " The level you are on has become entirely air locked and sealed off. At any moment i can fill the room with neurotoxins, acid, release any number of horrors or simply cause every molecule of oxygen to become ignited until the entire room is sterile and you all are nothing but atoms."

Kiran then laced their fingers together and rested their chin on their hands. " You know who I am and are aware of a fraction of what I am capable of. I wont hesitate. As long as you are down here, consider me your god until you leave. So by all means, continue fighting, shout defiantly at me and attempt to escape. Give me a reason to erase you instead of helping you."

Their head tilted to the side, followed by that characteristic grin. Their all too perfect face contorted into the smile of a predator with teeth that made sharks look tame by comparison. Their words came out as a guttural growl. " Stop now or I wont tend to you all or even consider helping with whatever it is you are here for. you get no more warnings." Their was no manic playfulness to this side of Kiran. There was no trick. they were serious and focused. and that was arguably much more unsettling then the mad doctors usual whimsical attitude.

"One second," Vic said, and dived down the hole.

Sadly, the hole had been sealed. As Kiran had stated. They looked on with slight bafflement at Vicki Vortex’s shear stubbornness. That and there was some hilarity in the fact that the next floor down that Ms. Vortex was trying to escape too was infinitely worse.
They flesh must be remade and be sculpted into something pure.

Club Shapeless: Atlas City


Maxwell watched Vicki Vortex and Zeke have their little bout of bickering outside from the computer screen of his office. He chuckled slightly at the sight, finding the whole thing somewhat endearing. Zeke in particular was starting to grow on The Shape, much like Maeve and Kiran had. Spiderblood was still a slight enigma, but also still new and in need of some opportunities to really show off what they were capable of.


He stood up from his desk and walked over to one of the walls of the room, a mirror like floor to ceiling set of black marble slabs. Maxwell donned his mirror mask over his head, finished tying his black silk tie, and buttoned up his red dress shirt. Perhaps a black three-piece with a red shirt wasn’t the correct colors for mourning, but he had other, important matters to attend to.


Upon returning to his computer, Maxwell had noticed that Zeke and Vicki Vortex were taking an elevator? Down to Kiran’s floors. He sighed and frowned in mild annoyance. Shouldn’t Zeke have known better? Shouldn’t someone else have told them not to bother Kiran down there? Well… It’d be a test of their mettle to be sure. If they could survive all that, Maxwell would certainly respect them, though he wondered if Kiran would.


He left the office, heading in the direction of the conference room as guards and other employees scurried around. One of them seemed to be watching some Western movie or something? As soon as a fellow guard with him saw where The Shape’s gaze went, he slapped his coworker around, telling him to get back to work and not slack.


“Sir! SIR!” Shouting, from one of the guards that worked surveillance around the city.


“Yes, what is it?” Maxwell asked, a little taken aback by the panicked tone the guard had.


“Boss, I don’t want to alarm you, but we NEED to get a team together ASAP. Look at this!” He showed Maxwell the screen of his phone, images of a collapsed building glowing from it. “We thought this building was some kind of Witchfinder store house for a while, and it got ripped down today. But not just ripped down! There was gunfire coming from inside earlier, like a firefight! We didn’t have any people able to actually witness the thing, but we really should send some people to take a look quickly.”


The Shape nodded in agreement. “Yes, we should. I think I’ll send some of our heavy hitters out to take a look. Hopefully Maeve and Zeke at least, maybe even Spiderblood. But we need to do a meeting first. Get some vehicles and equipment ready in the meantime.” The guard nodded and was about to leave, but before he did he handed Maxwell one last thing.


“Just got this today. Some corpo called Menagerie Tech is looking for a high level shapeshifter. Part of me is wondering if it’s that one from the park…” After his boss took the notes, the guard gave a quick bow of his head and went off to get everything in order for the investigation.


Maxwell entered the conference room of Shapeless, quickly punching in a text message to Kiran.


Zeke and Vicki Vortex went down to the labs. Please take it easy on them. And we need to meet upstairs now, got business to take care of.


He sent the text, taking a seat at the head of a long table, with gorgeous black marble on top, and the familiar black jaguar statue illuminated behind him. Maxwell pressed down a PA system button on the table and spoke.


“Maeve, Kiran, Zeke, Spiderblood, and all executives, please join me in the Conference Room now to discuss some urgent business, thank you.” He sighed and leaned back in the chair as he punched out one last text message, the meeting almost ready to start.


Cousin, the meeting’s almost ready. Let me know when you’re ready to join.


Sent.



The Resort


George, still in his office, gazed into a gold framed mirror, with white marble shelf underneath it. On the shelf sat a small box containing a pair of platinum cufflinks, and in his hands was a soft, light blue silk tie. As he finished tying the Windsor knot, the sounds of some kind of explosions rang out from some other part of the property. He felt his heart race as he returned to his desk to quickly pick up a Walther P5, slipping it into a holster underneath his black suit jacket.


As he left his office, a staff member ran at full sprint towards him. “Sir! The ahh… Guests have been… Sparring outside.”


George took the information in quickly and stifled the need to sigh. That was relieving to know it was only that. But by the sounds of it…


“Thank you for letting me know. Could you please make a call through to one of our construction contractors? And spread word to the staff that we’re going to remain closed a little while longer, so that we can get these repairs finished. If we have to cancel guest stays, go ahead and do it. Tell them we had some ‘unruly super guests’.”


The staff member gave a hesitant nod and rushed off to begin the damage control process. George took another moment to let himself be eased out of that anxiety he had felt. Today almost sounded like it was going to be quite terrible, but not so terrible as some kind of attack on himself and the heroes. Before he got to comfortable though, he felt his phone buzz. George pulled it out and took a quick glance over the contents of a text, before yet another sense of anxiety hit him.


It was the Attorney General.


He made his way down the halls of the resort, trying to make sure he was able to gather all others he needed to see. During this journey, he came across one in particular that was littered with room service carts. Sheri’s, he believed. He knocked on the door to see if she was in, but with no response coming, he decided she may be out, or unavailable.


The little journey continued until he came to Liz’s door. It had been a while since they’d spoken, perhaps now would be a good chance to check in with her. He was about to knock on the door until he heard talking inside, and the sound of… Kokomo? George knocked before opening the door to peer inside, greeted by floors covered in sand, tropical heat, and the strong scent of drinks typical to vacation spots with these attributes.


George gazed at the two in the room, Sheri and Liz. The drinks, several of which had been clearly polished off and left around the makeshift beach, were alcoholic. At quite an early hour. While the old man’s face was pleasant enough, there was an ever so slight shift in his eyes, a tiny narrowing as he made eye contact with Liz.


“I see you’ve both made yourselves quite comfortable, I’m pleased to see. I hope you have been enjoying your stay at the resort thus far.” Before either could get in another word, he had indicated with his hands back to the hallway.


“If you both have time, I hope you’d be able to join me and the others in the library. There are some matters I wish to discuss shortly.” He was about to close the door to continue gathering the others, but stopped for another brief moment, turning his gaze to Liz once more. “And Ms. Baker, I believe you and I should also have a private chat soon, when it’s convenient.” His eyes had briefly lingered again over the drinks, both around the room and in the super’s hand, before he close the door and continued his search.



Seemed like just as soon as Richard reached the kitchen, everyone else had disappeared. ‘Jemma’ to go deal with… Something? Right around the time some explosions started happening (apparently the sparring between Alex and Silver Fang?), so he guessed it was related to that. Cannonade, everyone’s favorite gravity wielding super, had also disappeared to go to the memorial no doubt, though it seemed a bit early for that still.


In the end, only Richard and Klaus had remained, but the two soon parted ways as well, probably for the best since Klaus seemed to have a lot on his mind anyways. Richard was about to head back to his room, but ended up running into George on the way back. “Oh, Mr. Carlisle, good morning.” He spoke with a little surprise, though admittedly he felt glad to see the old man again, he still hoped to get more answers out of him soon.


“Good morning Richard, how has your day been so far?” George responded politely.


Richard shrugged slightly and gave a bemused nod. “The other guests are a little… Unique, but it’s been good otherwise. Are you ready to head to the memorial?”


George nodded with a sigh before responding. “Yes, but there’s some matters to attend to first. I’d like you to join me and the others in the library quickly. There’s matters we need to quickly discuss.”


Richard nodded hesitantly, a little offput by George’s rather… Unsettled reaction? “Ahh, sure thing! I’ll shoot a quick text to Klaus, I think he’s still here. The others are… I think in that NAHLA guy’s lab? Maybe?” He quickly typed up a message to Klaus, telling him to meet in the library, before hitting send.


George gave a slight bow of his head in gratitude. “I appreciate it Richard, see you shortly.”



Moments later, a knock came from outside of Sairyn’s lab, with George peering in to those gathered, not crossing the threshold himself. “Pardon the interruption, but I’d like if you could all join me in the library. We have a matter to discuss quickly. Something I’d like your help with.”


He was about to turn away and leave before he noticed something on the shapeshifter’s lips… Red.


It appeared like it might be blood. George’s eyes quickly came to meet both Sairyn’s and Alex’s. He said nothing further, hoping they knew well enough to not make him need to talk with them. Time would tell of course, for now his best choice with this collection of supers…


Was to help them grow into something even greater.



George sat quietly in the library, in a large, red chair next to a fire. He’d momentarily picked up a book to pass the few moments he needed till the others would arrive. Wuthering Heights, sort of a macabre, miserable tale if he was being honest. But he felt a strange familiarity with it, like something in the eerie atmosphere of the book was reflected in the real world.


Terrorist attack at a diner, complete with super drugs and Frankenstein’s monster. A towering behemoth of rot and decay attacking Atlas City. The brutal murder of a super on live stream. A Witchfinder warehouse collapsing on the inhabitants.


He believed he hadn’t seen the dead wandering any moors yet, but that could still be yet to come for all he knew.



Memorial, Atlas City Beach:


From all around Cannonade there was shouts and cheers of excitement, a mixture of people calling out the hero’s name, along with other heaping praise. The memorial had yet to start, but already people were getting worked up, though at this exact moment more because they could feel safe.


More cheers erupted as some activity near the stage caught the attention of others. Seemed some other big names were here too, including Captain Valor, and none other than Backlash, The Baron, and the other hero to have ‘saved’ Atlas City: Albrecht von Richthofen.


Before Cannonade truly had time to react though, there were men in black suits starting to make a perimeter around them, almost as if they were about to be arrested, until they could see who was running at them from the stage.


Gordon Ford. The President of the United States.


“Cannonade!!!” He shouted in glee. “Oh I’m so glad you came here to join us! Truly, Atlas City and America owe you a great debt!” Along with the overjoyed, yet still incredibly boring President, were several other figures. A woman of African American heritage, in about her 40’s or 50’s, with curly dark hair, and an olive green power suit on. She seemed serious, somber, perhaps a little cold, but there was a sense of sympathy and mourning about her. Claudia Burke, Attorney General of the USA.


There was also another man with them, much younger than either of them in only his 30’s. He was tall, quite handsome, and had blonde hair parted to one side and slicked back. He had a smile that could put a Kennedy to shame, but the air of a man who’d be comfortable in just about any setting that could exist. Calm, collected, and very much in control of himself. This was Victor Covistic, the Secretary of Defense of the United States.


“Cannonade, pleasure to meet you, and happier to see you made it today.” Victor spoke in a relaxed, but pleased tone as he offered a handshake to the gravity wielding hero.

As the ground shook, the chip began to vibrate. Vic shot out a hand for it, but it leapt away from her fingertips, right down the hole the beast had been born from. It disappeared into the dark with no sound to tell where or how far it fell. Vic could barely sit still through Lab Rat's threats before she excused herself.

WHAM.

Vic hit the blockade as air. She reared back, smacking against it a few dozen times without making a scratch. Her defeated human form slouched over the barricade. Her head slowly thudded against it.

She slid her gaze over to the screens, her head still planted on the ground. She gave Lab Rat, Scourge and Pyromancer all a dead-eyed glare.

"You made me drop my manager," she said dryly.

Kiran stared back through the numerous screens with a deadpan look in their eyes. They had no idea what Vicki was talking about and was ready to inquire what she was talking about but was quickly interrupted by A buzzing in their pocket. They blinked and held up a finger. " Hold on a moment." A quick glance lead them to roll their eyes. " Boss and their meetings . . . ." Kiran Sent a message back quickly before turning their attention back to the arena.

Going to be a minute >.>
New Son got a little excited so I'll need to patch the two up first
Also need to find out what Vicki Vortex wants.
Yes I have a son now lol
You are going to love him, adds another heavy hitter to our roaster~

The doctor clapped their hands together three times and smiled. " Alright Kids, we are all going to behave now and I'll patch everyone up. Ms. Vortex, I'll be happy to address whatever it is that possessed you to come to me so long as you behave. Pyro, the Boss is going to be having a meeting soon and our presence has been requested. Both of ours." Kiran sat up from their couch on screen and began to stretch a bit as their coat fell to hang from their elbows. " Scourge darling, you can take care of yourself, you Will be behaving and coming with me to be introduced to our employer."
They flesh must be remade and be sculpted into something pure.

Pyromancer's glare seethed, with contempt that nearly overshadowed his flames. Kiran was right. About the pointlessness of challenging him, of the fact that they needed him. Without Kiran, his hand would be too far gone. Of course, without the tinkerer, his hand wouldn't be so fucked up in the first place.

Pyromancer's flames died down. The heat within his body faded, evaporating into steam and perspiration that coated his physique. Wiry, sculpted, and bare; his modesty protected with the barest threads of his jet-black fireproof underwear. The adrenaline was leaving his body, and in its place was pain. Pain that throbbed, and burned, and screamed through his hand. Kiran was right, and Pyro hated them even more for it.

Meanwhile, Scourge was reeling back. He groaned, and moaned, and clutched his face, black bile dribbling between his fingers. "YOU WHOOOORE! GAAKH!! THAT WAS A FOUL!" He snarled, not a trace of pleasure in his pain.

"You made me drop my manager."

Pyromancer and Scourge turned to look, utter confusion written all over their faces. "...Manager?" "What manager?!" They both asked in unison. Scourge drew back his hands. "Are my ears as far gone as my eyes?!" He asked, foul blackness oozing down the hollow sockets which were once his eyes.

Then came a voice, delivered from all around them through the loudspeakers. A man's voice; calm and commanding and candid in equal measure. A voice whose cool authority swept aside Kiran's, if only for a moment. A voice that fizzled the last trace of Pyromancer's - or Zeke's - fury.

Zeke straightened himself, slicked back his hair, and walked over to where he had left his jacket. He looked up to one of the screens, staring straight at Kiran's face, then held up his crumpled, bloodied mess of a hand.

Meanwhile, Scourge seized up when Kiran addressed him directly. "Yes, mother," the monster replied, his tongue flapping faster than his brain.

---

The conference room. Zeke and Scourge had gathered here, the former sat near Maxwell while the latter loomed right beside Kiran, any chair far too small to fit his gigantic green frame. The pyromancer was dressed in his full ensemble, of dark azure coveralls and a red-eyed gas mask which obscured his emotions. Meanwhile, Scourge’s eyes had been restored. His bright, yellow peepers leered up and down Gideon Gauss’ hologram. The mayor’s shoulders were the broadest and biggest in the room, obvious even under the covers of that suit. Scourge was most pleased.

The Time Tunnels

Outside the cracked glass that occasionally dotted the walls of the time tunnels sat the Outer Chronoclasm, a realm of pure chaos and destruction. A black void of a realm, constantly moving with unseen forces and energies that few could make sense of, and fewer could even conceive of surviving. It was a torrent of utter destruction, the likes of which even the roaches had learned long ago to respect.

Two soldier roaches guarded this tunnel, waiting for reinforcements to arrive and do a changing of guard. Word had already spread that a massive assault on the tunnels had cost them hundreds of laborers, at least. Work on their war ships would be slowed to a grinding halt as a result, and the Queen… Still living, but the utter disrespect she’d suffered at the hands of those filthy interlopers, it was inconceivable to the roaches, and they would have their revenge.

The two guards chattered and clicked in their insectoid tones, nearly mimicking machines. Topics of conversation had varied from their beloved Queen, the attack earlier, the tastiest fallen comrades they’d consumed, and much more. But soon their talking stopped, having noticed something odd out of their peripherals. Something had been moving strangely, coming from… Behind the glass?

The quiet of the hall was erased by an explosion of noise; glass bursting open, the tinkling and crashing sound of it hitting the floor, the mighty roar of the chaos beyond the glass.

Winds whipped around the hall, threatening to pull the two roach guards to a fate that might be worse than death. A heavy thud was heard, causing them to turn their gazes back towards the now destroyed window. There was a figure standing there.

Twelve feet tall.
Muscular.
Bipedal.
Carrying a sword.
Covered head to toe in armor.
Surrounded by a blue, mist like light.

The armor was shaped intentionally to mimic that of what one would see on a knight, but the material was far from simply ‘medieval’. It was more like a patchwork of a thousand war zones, across thousands of years. Some of it bore the steely look of an ancient warrior, some of it gleamed as though from some far flung, space-age time. And other parts still looked as if it could have been stone.

All of it appeared to have severe cracks throughout it, but they were fused together, like thick scars or fissures. The same was true of the sword in fact. It must have been shattered into thousands of pieces, yet here it stood in one, monolithic piece. A testament to its long journey. And to its wielder.

And the blue light, a strange substance that seemed to be both at once a sort of intangible mist, and light. It glowed a beautiful, vibrant, soft tone of blue, and when touched it might seem as though it were air, or a cloud. At least that is how it currently would feel…

Whoever this individual was, he was what the bugs had seen on the other side. Out of the Chronoclasm. The roaches tried to respond quickly, one opening fire on him nearly immediately, landing every shot on the intruder.

The shots did nothing to the man. He turned to the roach that had shot him, and sent a mighty fist into its skull, colliding the creature’s entire body into the ground beneath him.

The other now began to open fire as it tried to flee, but the towering intruder was able to catch it in only a few mere steps. The knight wrapped a hand around the creature’s neck, lifting it off the ground, before slamming it back down into it. Once. Twice. Thrice.

He lifted it back up in front of him, bringing the roach to eye level with him.

“*klik* Pitiful…. Creature? *kilk* Man… Human! What *klik* ever you are… You cannot… *klik* defeat the Roaches! We are… *klik* the masters…. Of the End of Time!”

The hulking figure was silent a few moments, before a soft, amused sigh could be heard from within his mask. “Well I guess today isn’t your day then, because I’m from the Beginning of it.” Bright blue light surrounded the man and the roach, as he pierced his left fist through the carapace like chest of the Roach, and pulled at its head with his right, removing it with ease.

As he dropped the corpse of the roach to the ground, he walked back to the other that shot first at him, his feet landing heavily on the ground, body swirling with the bright blue, misty light that followed him wherever he walked. It began to pour forth from him, surrounding the other roach and lifting it into the air, screeches erupting from it as it felt its body being crushed down by some kind of incredible pressure.

“I will only ask this once, ‘pitiful creature’. Where is the Artifact?”

The roach looked to him, what little its eyes could show were showing fear. “It was *klik* taken by a human, to another time! We don’t know where *klik* it has gone!” The words were sputtered out as the mountain of a man stood before it, the blue light enveloping the roach pulled it closer and closer to him. “You *klik* fool… You think you can *klik* defeat us? Who are *klik* you to think you can defeat what has *klik* already passed!”

A moment of silence passed as the tall figure held his sword out, feeling the weight of it as the blue light swirled around them. “I’ve fought worse.” His voice was monotone as he lifted the sword and cleaved the roach from top to bottom, it’s thick armor offering up no resistance.

The body fell to the floor, and while the blue light continued to swirl, the giant knight quickly went over his next plan of action. It sounded as though someone either very stupid, or very unaware had gotten their hands on the artifact. Either way, he needed to figure out where they had gone, and quickly. Otherwise…

His thoughts were cut off by the sound of approaching roaches, a group of twenty or so who quickly spotted him, and the remains of their comrades. They lifted their weapons to him, and the blue light cascaded towards them.

No time to waste then.



The Resort

Richard had been on his way to return to the library when he heard some loud noises coming from another part of the resort again. He couldn’t place exactly where it was, but it sounded like there had been some crackling? Like electricity?

He passed by the buffet dining hall, stumbling upon Devon who seemed to be taking advantage of his own coffee routine. But he seemed kind of tired, almost as if he’d had a rough night or something. At least mentally. Richard chose to put it aside and gave a wave to the German. “Hey, George wants to see us in the library. You should come along.”

Richard continued on towards the library, passing through the kitchen first, and once again stumbling upon someone, Henry this time. Strange, he also seemed a little on the tired side. Had others been having trouble sleeping or something? Might be a bit of projection on his part though, he doubted Henry had the same reasons to be losing sleep as himself. “Hey Henry, sorry to interrupt you, but George wants to see us all in the library, you should come with.” With that, he exited once again, Henry in tow, and Devon gravitating in the same direction.



George heard a soft, English voice pipe up in the library, and upon lifting his eyes from the pages of his book was greeted by Klaus, a man who had the most interesting timing of any man he’d ever met. He smiled back to Klaus, giving a nod in greeting.

“Good morning Klaus, and yes I’m doing as well as can be expected in the circumstances. Thank you for asking. How are you managing? I expect this has taken quite a toll on everyone.” In fact, George had been weighing that on his mind considerably. He’d speak to the others as a group, but felt it was time to offer them some much needed mental respite; someone to talk to.

Before anything else could be said, a flurry of noise erupted from another part of the resort. Sairyn’s library. George furrowed his brow and let out the softest sigh one could imagine, the tiniest loss of composure he could muster given his growing agitation. “Excuse me a moment Klaus.” George briefly exited the library and made his way to the lab.

On the floor in a heap was Sairyn, Pendleton, and Yue. Standing in the room was a nearly shirtless Alex, and some ball he was holding in his hands. George looked to all of them, brow furrowed slightly, eyes that uncomfortable narrowness of someone ready to scold. But rather than do that, he was very simple, brief, and commanding.

“Library, now. Everyone.”



The team was now gathered together in the library, everyone capable of arriving there at least. George was seated back in his seat, and Klaus had remained in his for the time being, still enjoying the steaming cup of coffee he had.

“Now that you’re all here, we have some matters to discuss, namely the memorial, and a… New Mission that’s come to us. But before we begin, how about you all update me on what’s been happening today. Seems you’ve all run a little more loose and wild than I had anticipated.”

His voice carried a little sternness to it, but was not cold or unkind. It was almost like a parent who had come home to find their children drawing all over work documents. Of course, blowing up a chunk of the property was a little more expensive to fix.



Club Shapeless: Atlas City

Maxwell smirked upon reading the response he’d received from Gideon, but chose to disregard the remark. They’d both had their independent successes, but now they were going to have to rely on each other, work together to get what they wanted out of Atlas City, and potentially beyond.

As each member entered the room, he would greet them with an affirming nod, though under his mask he was raising an eyebrow at Spiderblood’s entrance. What were they riding? Was that a dog in a spider costume? He decided not to address it, there had been weirder things to have happened here.

And Scourge… That was a mountain of a man, something he hadn’t anticipated seeing so soon (and in such good condition) from Kiran. But here he stood: The Shape’s response to ‘Balthazar’, or whatever those Witchfinder nuts called the monster they’d bought.

“Thank you for joining me everyone. We have some business to discuss, some of it being… Breaking news. I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that what is discussed in this room stays in this room, but I’m going to out of care for our mutual needs.”

His eyes flicked over to Zeke, Kiran, and Scourge before continuing. “At times I believe it is essential to remind everyone that a betrayal of each other is a betrayal of me. I expect you all to protect each other as much as you would protect me, and our business operations.”



The Memorial: Atlas City

Victor followed Cannonade with his eyes as Cannonade passed by with very little regard for their welcomers. He smirked. “There’s that famous confidence I’ve heard about.” He chuckled, speaking mainly to himself and the Attorney General.

She looked on with uncertainty and discomfort. There were other words she could think of than ‘confidence’ that would be impolite to voice out loud. “And you’re thinking about trying to invite them to work for us?” She asked in a tone trying to mask her incredulity.

Victor nodded and smiled. “At the very least inviting. Last I heard they were missing a team, so perhaps we can help them out.”

“If you say so…” Was all the AG could mutter back.

The President briskly followed Cannonade, as did his entourage, as he attempted to make friendly overtures to the hero. “Again, it’s so good to have you here! We’re inviting some of the heroes who were on the beach that day to speak some words of encouragement to the crowd, is that something you’d be up for? We can absolutely get a time slot in for you!”

Marcus stifled a yawn as he pushed open the door to the cathedral, bits of spittle dotting the wrist of his cassock. He hadn’t slept much the last few days - too busy counseling the aggrieved, or volunteering in search and rescue or clean up endeavors. He hadn’t had mass even once since the disaster on the beach had interrupted Sunday’s Latin service. A flawless seventeen year streak, broken in the most unimaginable way possible. Even so, the church had never been empty in the past week. If anything, it seemed to gain new faces each time he opened the door, and thus he’d resolved to resume regular service this morning

The silhouettes of parishioners were visible in the side-chapels of the cathedral as Marcus stepped into the hall, the creak of the heavy wooden door echoing off the walls as it swung shut behind him. It was almost deafeningly silent in the building, despite the number of people in here; the quiet was only kept from becoming oppressive by the soft hiss of distant whispers and occasional muffled sob. The hush of the Father’s footsteps across the carpet was easily the loudest sound in the building as he began to cross between the pews to the lectern in front of the cathedra.

He stopped mid-stride, somewhat slowly, as his attention was grabbed by something he hadn’t noticed immediately. A woman, sitting hunched in the pews, head so low he hadn’t noticed her until he was standing almost directly adjacent to her. It wasn’t unusual for someone to be praying in the pews this early - this was a church after all, and considering recent events, Marcus could hardly blame a woman for choosing to arrive early to mass for a moment of personal prayer.

Except, she didn’t seem to be praying. Her eyes were closed, forehead resting on the pew in front of her, and for a moment Marcus thought she might have been sleeping, if it were not for her left hand gripping the top of the pew so tightly that she crushed the wood under her hand, splinters jutting from between her fingers.

“Ma’am?” Marcus spoke softly, reaching out with his fingers to brush gently against her shoulder. “Are you alright?” She tilted her head ever so slightly, eyes opening to peer at him with dark eyes before his fingers had even reached her, making his hand momentarily stiffen in midair. Despite the tenseness in the woman’s hand, her face seemed utterly impassive. Marcus let his hand drop.

”I’ve never known a priest to interrupt someone in prayer,” she said, so softly Marcus had to strain his ears to hear it. He thought she had some sort of accent… English, maybe?

Marcus’s lower lip quivered briefly before he spoke up again. “I apologize, you seemed to be…” his eyes flickered back to her hand again. “...in some sort of distress. If you’re in need of any sort of counsel-” he was interrupted by the soft clatter of wood shards as she released her grip on the pew in front of her, following Marcus’s gaze to her hand and appraising it as if she hadn’t noticed the damage. She wiped the dust off on the knee of her slacks before standing.

She was tall. So, so, very tall, over seven feet easily, and Father Marcus stumbled back a couple steps, hand pressing against his chest in dull surprise. ”None that can be provided by mortal men, I’m afraid,” she said, still in that soft voice, leaning down to pick up the black jacket of her black suit, then straightened her tie as she rose back up to her full height. ”Thank ye for your concern, Father. Excuse me.”

Marcus struggled to form words as she stepped past him, her stride carrying nearly all the way to the door of the cathedral before he rallied. “Mass begins in-”

”Another time,” she called back over her shoulder, almost at a normal speaking volume. Her voice sounded hoarse, as if it were painful to speak that loudly. The creak of the door as it closed behind her seemed a far easier sound to make.

---

”Sorry I’m late,” Maeve said as she stepped into the meeting room, moving to sit at the Shape’s left side, between him and Pyromancer. Her eyes flicked at the monster behind the doctor briefly, trying to recall if he’d been there before.

---

Sheri leaned againat a bookshelf with her arms crossed, near the back of the little gathering where her new... employer... wouldn't have direct line of sight on her. Time roaches? Ghosts? She scoffed quietly at the recounting of the others' "adventures".

The mention of the other super, though. Polarity, Isotropic... she wracked her brain, trying to remember if they were familiar to her or not. Had she heard either of those names before? Polarity sounded... well, as familiar as any generic super name sounded. If nothing else... she supposed she could put some feelers out with her own contacts, but decided not to volunteer if old Georgie wasn't going to force the issue.

Pyromancer bowed his head. Maxwell spoke the truth. Business was all that mattered. And as much as he loathed every fiber of Kiran's being, the Rat was an essential part to their operations.

"Apologies," he grunted, swallowing his pride.

Scourge, meanwhile, scoffed aloud. "HAH! So… you're 'The Shape'? Our fearless leader?" The big green abomination loomed over and squinted. "Hmpf. You're smaller than I expected."

Pyromancer glared straight at Scourge. His fists clenched, and a red glow came alight from his goggles. He had half a mind to blast the wretched creature right then and there…

It was then that Scourge remembered his Father's instruction to behave. He chuckled and wiggled his brows. "But I suppose big things come in small packages, eh? Eh?!"

And then, the door opened, and in came Maeve, who drew attention from both Pyromancer and Scourge. The former stepped back, and the glow faded from his goggles. The latter whistled and leered at the newcomer from top to bottom.

She was a specimen of a woman, statuesque, with white-streaked black hair which made her feel that much more rugged. That suit fit her like a glove, oozing sex appeal not through bare skin, but rather from style and modesty. Scourge stood straight and folded his arms close to his chest, ensuring the maximum girth of his bulging muscles. "Hiya gorgeous. Ya come here often?"

Pyromancer rolled his eyes, then turned towards Maxwell. "Boss. You mentioned breaking news?"

The Resort

George listened intently as Devon started off, describing events that frankly baffled the mind. The old man maintained a stoic face, but his mind worked over the information as it came out. Now he was aware of the fact that there were a great many matters he had been unaware of up until now. That both excited and worried him, as the conversation implied potentially new allies, but also enemies.

It was when Devon presented a strange orb that the room seemed to draw in to that one space, George himself carefully studying the strange, arcane device. "It creates a weapon you say? Most peculiar... I urge caution, but this is promising. We will need any and all assistance we can get. With your permission, I can perhaps have some of my own researchers take a look at it, and perhaps some of our more scientifically oriented team mates." He gave a nod of his head to Sai and Klaus in consideration.

Henry spoke next, confirming more of Devon's story, and adding onto it. "Henry, it sounds like your team has had some substantial experience with this... Strange series of events. It concerns me greatly that so many events appear to be coalescing at this time. Whatever these ‘time roaches’ are, if they’re connected to the creature from the beach, they're going to need to be dealt with. As for the woman, I'll see what I can do to locate her as well. I'm worried she could be connected to the soldiers that had appeared on the Beach the day of the attack. Even if she's not, her appearance warrants investigation."

Before George could ask further about the situation with Wayland, Akiko had seemingly appeared from nowhere to explain what had been communicated between her and the otherworldly man.

Richard listened intently, feeling his skin crawl as Akiko described what Wayland had seen. It was bizarre to think he'd stood next to that man only a few days ago, but somehow this girl had been speaking to his spirit? That did seem a little less strange than the Time Roach stuff, which felt completely out of his element. But this.... Felt like a description of Hell itself. "You ahh... Spoke to his spirit?" He asked a little uncertainly. "Did he say anything about getting to that place he saw?"

There was a moment of silence before Akiko and the others made it clear that that was knowledge Wayland hadn't possessed. With what she recounted though, maybe that was for the best.

Akiko continued, now describing the rest of the events with Polarity/Isotropic, and an 'artifact' she'd escaped with. George needed only a split second of consideration before he rose a hand to interject again. He opened Wuthering Heights to a blank page and produced a pen from his jacket.

"Black stone with symbols? Do you think you could recreate some of those symbols for me? Write them down here?"

He nodded to the blank page, placing the pen down next to it. The old man's eyes carried hint of intensity to them now.



Club Shapeless: Atlas City

Maxwell gave a brief nod to Maeve as she entered the room, feeling quite pleased as she took her seat next to him. "It's quite alright, I'm glad you were able to join us." Others may have seen it as presumptuous for her to take a seat next to him, after all she was still very new to the organization. The Shape, however, felt it was exactly what he wanted. She was remarkably powerful, confident, and a sign like this signaled a growing sense of loyalty. There was ambition there for certain, but when ambition and loyalty came together, they were a force to be reckoned with.

Scourge's voice filled the room for a moment, as he remarked upon Maxwell, and his comparably lesser size. He smirked under the mask as he looked in the direction of Kiran's 'child'. "Fearless, and feared." He replied confidently. "Don't worry, I'm quite formidable. I wouldn't be in charge here if I wasn't." Maxwell spoke pleasantly, intent on proving something to Scourge: that the newborn giant of a man could trust The Shape to lead.

And finally, they were drawn back to the matter at hand by Zeke, who seemed to have the embers of resentment still burning inside, directed at Scourge. Maxwell was going to have to find some way to cool them both off later, infighting was not going to help.

"Yes, breaking news, as in only having taken place probably 20 minutes ago. Our 'friends' the Witchfinders have had a little accident befall them." Maxwell pulled out his phone, making a few quick swipes while a screen on the wall flickered to life. On it were images of a collapsed warehouse. "After the attack at Atomic Anne's, I had some of our men collecting intel on where Witchfinders might be storing weapons. We'd had suspicions that this warehouse might be one location, and it seems they've been confirmed."

He turned back to those gathered, clasping his hands together on the table. "I need some of you to investigate it immediately, before authorities catch wind. Everyone's been fairly caught up in the memorial, but it won't be long until someone shows up. Having said that, I'm also concerned the authorities may have been involved in this somehow, but we can't not move on this. Whoever is arming these terrorists, we need to find them and deal with them. Quickly."