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Jericho Amile

"I'm as alive as you, just a little more monstrous."

0 · 1,844 views · located in Atlas City

a character in “Hadean”, as played by StorminJericho




(Khanivore from Sonnie's Edge, Love Death and Robots)
Theme 1 – (Rob Zombie - Dead City, and the New Gods of Supertown)
Theme 2 – (Freak Kitchen - Freak of the Week)
Theme 3 – (The Miracle Musical - The Mind Electric)
Theme 4 - (Royal Blood - Little Monster)
Theme 5 - (Tally Hall - Turn the Lights Off)


Full Name: Jericho Amile As of the Advent of The Beast of Decay, J-3 now refers to 'herself' as 'Jemma'.
Alias: Polymorph J-3RIC0, Ink Hearth, The Shifting Mass
Age: Unknown, though closest approximation is about 20-25 years old
Gender: Most commonly Male, changes on a whim.
Ethnicity: Bio-Vat grown Shapeshifter.

Hair: Changes on the whim.

Eye color: Changes on the whim, most commonly startling blue.

Body: Hah. Hahahahaha.

Height: See above.

Weight: See above.

Hometown: Boston, Massachusetts is the first city that J-3 was ever spotted outside of Menagerie Tech custody.

Affiliation(s): Loyalty to Alex, A.K.A. Aegis.

Personality: Stoically calm, socially awkward, obliviously cruel. Means well. Tends to lose herself in the thrill of combat, or 'hunting'.


- Pizza, specifically Dominos

- Rain at night.

- Eating.

- Going for long runs.

- Working at supermarkets.

- Menagerie "Medical-Tech" Incorporated.

- Confined Spaces.

- Authority.

- Clothes.

- Mental super powers.

- Confined Spaces.

- Sleeping.

- Non-consensual experimentation upon himself herself.

- Being recaptured.

- Multi-tasking, capable of performing as many as five completely separate tasks at once.

- High-Precision, capable of precise strikes within centimetres of margin errors.

- Swift Learner, capable of adapting to new situations and problems on the fly.

- Savage Instincts, solely devoted to self-preservation and the preservation of allies, extremely high reaction times.

Costume Identities: None, J-3R1C0 is her own costume.


Unincorporated Equipment:
- N/A: No equipment as of yet, J-3R1C0 is her own equipment.

- See Above.

- See Above.

Incorporated Equipment

- A small yield EMP device is located directly behind J-3's heart, and when activated by J-3, is capable of disabling and/or frying small handheld cameras, as well as most industry cameras. Proper shielding can prevent this, though J-3 is capable of keeping the 'pulses' coming for as long as they want, theoretically.


Background: Coming from a bio-vat, born from scientific experimentation and no small amount of rumored 'occult' rituals, Jericho originally bore the identification of 'Polymorph J-3R1C0', and was the 10th in a line of, "Bio-mechanical machines designed to properly protect the public and public interests from the escapades of supers and those of their caliber." The validity of the statement is as questionable as Jericho's form on any given moment, and 'J-3' at the time knew better than blindly believe the words of his creators. He was a weapon designed to kill and consume supers, bring back the waste to use as further experimentation, and train in 'The Labyrinths'. His early 'life' was one fraught with strife and bargaining for an extended lifetime. His escape came on the day of his 18th 'birthday'. One of his handlers, in what Jericho would call a fool's bargain, removed the bio-mechanical parasite embedded in the heart that deactivated Jericho every night. The handler, a man named Walter, revealed himself to be a Super, a vigilante and an anarchist in equal measure. He utilized Metal Manipulation, and thought to garner Jericho's trust and loyalty to bring down the Corp that owned Jericho from the inside out.
His plan did not rise to fruition, as Jericho consumed him immediately upon being freed from the parasite's hold.
Jericho then left the facility, escaping out into the country-side of Mexico. He traveled swiftly up to the states, leaving a just barely traceable trail all the way to Boston. He then quickly scrambled his trail whilst in the city, taking on the visage of many Hispanic peoples' on Dia de Los Muertos, utilizing a sugar skull 'tattoo' to scramble any possible chance for remote facial recognition.
He now travels wherever he can, avoiding major cities unless to take on a new visage and feed on something other than plant-life and raw animal.


ShapeShifting - Metal Generation - Digestive Adaptation
[Changer – Level (7.5)]
Power Consumption, Stealing of Other Super Powers via Consumption of the Super Powered Individual
[Trump - Level 8]
Jericho is capable of changing her form into nearly any biological shape she so decides. Her shapeshifting is characterized by 'ink' rising and swirling about her body before settling back into her flesh. After consuming her former handler, Jericho now exhibits the ability to incorporate metals into her forms, utilizing sheets, cones, spikes, blades, and any other shape she so chooses. She is incapable of holding a form larger than 5 feet and 8 inches (172 cm) in any dimension without burning through stored mass.
When Jericho consumes any kind of organic (or metallic) matter, she is capable of storing it within her body as a form of mass. She utilizes this mass to change shape and generate metals within her body. Jericho Jemma is also capable of 'depositing' parts of herself, a new ability discovered after she consumed her first super. This allows her to leave limbs, metal parts, and anything similar out in the world. The materials are as real as anything else, and just as permanent, though doing so causes Jericho Jemma a great deal of pain.
Jericho's shapes must be capable of supporting themselves, and must also be able to breathe, and have a properly working heart. Though he does not require for his forms to have a proper digestive system, as he can pull matter directly into himself simply by using his skin.

Jericho is also capable of stealing and utilizing other 'super powers' after he consumes a Super of requisite strength. This has only happened once so far, after he consumed his Handler. Jericho has not yet found an upper limit to how long he can hold onto a power, and as of yet has not consumed another Super who's 'strength' was high enough to garner him any modicum of their power. [Addendum:] It should be noted that J-3 is capable of holding onto as many as 3 temporary Powers, for as long as 30 minutes. It should also be noted that J-3 does NOT require a living super for this to take effect, though the super cannot have been dead for longer than 1 (one) hour. The 'origin' of consumption must be at least ten pounds worth of 'material' or more. Interestingly, J-3 does NOT need it to all be in one piece. J-3 seems to require at least 30 seconds to 'digest' the power before utilizing it. Requiring 30 minutes when digesting a 'permanent' source of power. It should be noted that J-3 is extremely volatile in this timeframe, and has been shown to be extremely susceptible to all forms of damage and interruption. Though it is not recommended for any person to get close, as J-3's 'ink' will subsume any susceptible flesh. [End Addendum.]

Power Origins: Jericho received his powers as a result of biological experimentation and repeated cloning processes. His 'origin' of power comes from a captured super, an incredibly powerful shapeshifter who was cloned over and over, of which only 10 clones survived to any sort of functioning 'adulthood'. The ability to incorporate other superpowers into himself comes from a source known only to the Head of Operations that oversaw the project that spawned him.

Incident Report:
July 18, 2001.
J-3 is the third of the J-Series of Polymorph Units. Upon today of its ‘birth’ and successful stabilization, J-3 was placed in his habitat along with his sibling units. J-2 and J-1 were quickly subdued and subsequently consumed upon exposure to J-3.
J-3 exhibits a much greater polymorphic ability after consuming its ‘siblings’, and has shown increased signs of aggression and sapience since. It has been posited by Lead Researcher Velazquez that J-3 may develop genuine sapience should further consumption occur, and has requested that J-3 be the last of its line.
Velazquez has also requested that J-3 be put upon the list of potential ‘Providence’ candidates.
July 28th, 2021.
J-3’s process of becoming a [REDACTED] was unsuccessful, A-9 refused to grant [REDACTED] to J-3 and proceeded to savage the offending Polymorph.
J-3 was given to handler Alburn and instructed to return to its habitat.
J-3 marks the 85th applicant for the Providence Protocol. J-3 was noted to be shaken after the meeting between it and A-9, and when asked informed staff and researcher Aaron Clarke that A-9 found ‘him’ to be “impressive, well done, but not quite ready yet.”
J-3 was later reported as to have consumed and utilized the powers of Walter Alburn, his handler and at the time unknown super, to rid itself of the biometric heart monitor and escape from compound Beta. This was an unprecedented show of power from J-3, and as a result has catapulted J-3’s recapture to “Strategic priority: Absolute.”
J-3’s whereabouts are unknown at this time.
J-3 was last seen at Site Whisper, in Northern New Mexico and Southern Nevada.
J-3 was most recently seen in Boston, Massachusetts.

[EDITORIAL NOTATION: This DOSSIER is being updated slowly, and from an unknown source. RESEARCHER CAUDON formally requests that security over dossier files be increased.]

Color Code:Light Crimson - #DC143C

So begins...

Jericho Amile's Story


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Character Portrait: Jericho Amile Character Portrait: Alexander Dalton Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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March 11th, 4:23 AM, Atlas City, North Carolina, USA.

The sound of pencil tip scratching against paper echoed through the silent apartment for a time, a pair of hands held a journal open while yet another pair of hands scritched with a pen in one, and a pencil in the other. Silent contemplation scored through the mind of the writer, along with the faintest ripple of ‘ink’ on the skin of their four wrists. Flesh became metal, became copper wires and iron sheets covered by tough rhino-like leather, before bubbling and swirling with ink yet again. The metal pulsed and writhed, exposing flesh and bone, vein and meat. Then it sank away again, becoming skin, then chitinous sleeves of a brilliant ruby red.
J-3, Jericho, sat at the coffee table in the living room of the apartment, writing in their personal journal, and sketching absentmindedly in a temporary art book that they had “requisitioned” from a nearby art store upon first arriving in Atlas City.
The apartment was quiet, the sounds of traffic and general city life outside filtered in just barely.
The area they lived in was quiet, peaceful and relatively well off for all things considered.

Alex would be awake soon, around five, and Jericho would be there to surprise him. Heh. The guy never seemed to startle or be surprised by Jericho’s antics. Probably wouldn’t even really question, at least not with any seriousness, as to why there was a series of carved bone and bronze trinkets on the kitchen counter.
Their attention returned to the journal, Jericho’s tongue slid from their lips and rested out in the open air, forked as a snake’s… for the moment.
They wrote on in Spanish.

Y’know, I never quite understood the type of people that Alex hunts. Or hurts. I guess I never understood Supers in general. Or humans. Some can be incredibly kind, I know Alex is. Others are so… Fucking stupid.
Some assume they can harm him? Like that’ll work. Others try to bargain- one ‘dude’ apparently tried to offer Alex coke in return for Alex not cracking his nose into the pavement- and yet more try to run.
I usually catch those. Alex tells me not to eat them, but I really want to.
I don’t know how to tell him I’m gonna need to eat more than just a regular human meal soon. I haven’t had food in a while, not since… Arizona?
I don’t miss that place. Menagerie almost caught up. Burned up a lot of mass to get out of that one…

I wonder if they’ll send Kaylen after me. I hope not. I liked her…

Jericho’s writing was abruptly sidetracked, their focus shifting and yanking their head towards the nearby window. The panicked breathing and gasping of what they assumed to be a human female passed by on the street below. Their ears twitched, swirling with ink before growing into a pair of massive bat-like things. The breathing became that much louder, whimpers and whispered prayers echoed up to Jericho.

They briefly, for all but a moment, wondered if they should do anything at all. Then, “Help, oh god help me please…” whispered it’s way into Jericho’s hearing.

They sighed heavily, swiftly launching themselves up and into movement. Ink swirled violently, rose up around them before settling back into their new skin. A shark-like skull, adorned with a short sail made of iron and bone, extending along the spine and out into a long, thicker at the body, thinner at the tip, tail. The metal was bone white, and along the spine spread out like a sleeker, somewhat thinner armadillo shell. The exposed flesh was thick as crocodile skin, leathery like an elephant, and scaled like a fish. Midnight blue and black to better blend into the dark, with ‘gauntlets’ made of iron-reinforced bone adorning the hands at the fore. The hind legs had similar ‘armor’.
The arms and legs were startlingly close together, as the back was highly arched to allow for as much of the form’s space to fit in.
The face had two blade-sails on the upper and lower jaw, the lower extending halfway to the throat and the upper running along the armor plating of the back. The tail tip was adorned with a barbed stinger, looking almost as if someone shoved a barbed spear-head on the end of a whipping length of flesh.

Two blades extended from the armored forearms of the monstrous form, onyx black and nearly impossible to see in the night air. A pair of startling blue eyes took up residence on the vicious face, along with rows and rows of needle sharp teeth. The form was tall at eight feet at the shoulder, and a lengthy thirteen feet… but it had the grace of a shark in water.

Jericho slinked out of the apartment, opening the window silently and clinging to the wall of their building as they crawled down to street level.
They knocked nothing over, and moved with an alien grace that belied the absolute strength of their form.
Their maw opened up part way on the way down, and the electric burst of scents from the world around him exploded across their mind. Their snout twitched, and the smell of blood wafted from a block over.

They moved, swift as a cheetah on the hunt, silent as a snake in the brush.


The morning came with Jericho dragging a bound, gagged, and blinded man to the apartment. His form had two tendrils extending from the chest, made purely of flesh, holding the hands and legs of the unknown man. The man, dressed in the suit and tie of a businessman, with the hidden crest of a nearby mafia clade pinned to the front shirt pocket stank of alcohol. When Alex woke, Jericho was sitting calmly in their monstrous form waiting for the other to pay his attention. Their maw was holding the man’s skull in its entirety, though the human still writhed and occasionally made muffled screams and shouts.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Jericho Amile Character Portrait: Alexander Dalton Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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Alexander Dalton

March 11th, 5:00 AM, Atlas City, North Carolina, USA

The almost cartoonish sound of a nuclear meltdown warning blared off the moment the clock struck five in the morning. Alex slowly woke with a groan of protest at his alarm clock. He flopped over to his other side only for a beam of sunlight gleaming through his blinds to shine right in his face. guess it was the universes way of telling him to get off his ass already. not like complaining was going to do him any good, he did set the alarm himself. Early run to start the day was good for your health after all.
He grumbled as he got up and began the start of his morning routine. Make bed, clean up the room of discarded cloths, then look over his gear from last nights outing in costume. Helmet wasn't visibly damaged thankfully, he picked the worn spartan helm of his desk and ran his hand over its scratched and dented surface. no point in cleaning it up too much unless there was blood maybe. He set it down after being satisfied that the shell wasn't compromised. Might check the electronics later, right now coffee and some breakfast sounded nice.

After throwing on his workout cloths Alex made his way down the stairs of his loft apartment. Nice place, not a bad location, and surprisingly affordable. Thankfully it wasn't in a busy part of the city given his double life and newest . . . "room mate". Jericho Was, different to put it mildly.

Their first meeting had been when Alex was out during one of his patrols. He had thought the sound of screaming was from citizens in danger, but surprise-surprise when he found what could only be described as the love child of H.R. Giger's mind and the Monster from "The Thing" in the process of eating its way through a group of gangsters. Meanwhile a scared bystander was trying to back themselves into a corner in the fetal position.

After launching a few telekinetic spheres into its hulking frame, Alex was able to divert the monsters attention away from the traumatized civilian. He then went about attempting to subdue what would give him nightmares for about a week and a half. When it lunged at him at a speed that betrayed its bulk Alex reflexively threw out his arms and proceeded to "Bubble" the creature in layers of his force fields. Giving the civilian only a glance and an order for them to run as their senses came back to them and they scrambled frantically while screaming out of the alley. Jericho had began flailing violently and going through as many disgusting and frightening morphs as possible to escape the entire time Alex had him contained. Alex without thinking yelled at the creature to calm down only for it to demand that it be set free.
The barrier almost dissipated from his shock before he regained his composure. The realization at the time that he might have been dealing with some sort of Super rather then a monster.
What followed was one of the strangest conversations Alex had ever had in his life. What it boiled down to was promising to let the monster go and then proceeding to try and educate them on why they cant just eat anyone they wanted. . . A feat that is still a work in process to this day. Oh and to top it all off, the soon to be named Jericho ended up Following Alex home like some giant lost puppy.

So here we are, With Alex standing at the foot of his stairs, staring at Jericho in one of their morphs holding what was obviously some mutilated gangster. All with the same pleased air of an outdoor cat bringing back a kill. He closed his eyes and let out a long and exasperated sigh before walking to the kitchen and starting his coffee. "At least he isn't some random civilian off the streets." he turned back to give Jericho a hard look, almost making the shifter flinch. "I'm going on my run, ill be back and make breakfast after a shower. I don't care what happens to him just . . . don't make a mess alright?" We walks over and pats Jericho on the head. "And don't get into any trouble while i'm gone.I know how much you can get up to in only an hour."

After his scolding and slipping on his running shoes at the door, Alex finally got started on his 6 mile run. he knew Jericho listened to him and did their best not to cause trouble, but their urges were worrying. Progress was slow and he was giving up on the idea of keeping Jericho from ever eating anyone again given how their shifting mass seemed to work. All he could do know was try and direct the hungry shifter's appetite towards the dredges of the world and keep innocent people from getting eaten.
He slipped his headphones on and continued to keep his pass steady as he jogged down the sidewalk, the sounds of busy streets and pedestrians drowning out to loud thumping bass.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Henry Stewart Character Portrait: Sheri Galloway Character Portrait: Yue Bayushi Character Portrait: Jericho Amile Character Portrait: Devon Metzger Character Portrait: Sasha Belov
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"Su-sports?" Richard asked bemusedly. "Sounds like it could be dangerous. But no doubt rewarding." He gave them both a soft smile. "But I agree, I've come to enjoy this spot quite a bit too. Quiet, good food, interesting people. A nice little corner of town."

Meanwhile outside, someone was making their way towards the park in the center of the neighborhood, someone who would be recognizable from the files in Sheri Galloway's possession.

Further in the distance, down another street, a group of men was starting to form up on the corner. They seemed innocuous enough at first, but the group steadily continued to pick up extras...


Maxwell continued to read his paper as time passed on, and as 7:00 continued to march on towards 8:00, he took notice of a woman who'd passed him by a second time, and then a third. Upon the next pass, his eyes remain fixed on his paper, though his voice did not.

"Lovely day out isn't it miss? Good time for a nice walk through the town. Or the park perhaps. It certainly seems to have caught your interest it would seem."


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Henry Stewart Character Portrait: Sheri Galloway Character Portrait: Yue Bayushi Character Portrait: Jericho Amile Character Portrait: Devon Metzger Character Portrait: Sasha Belov
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The French Toast was genuinely the best meal Henry had eaten in a long time. The sourness of the blackberries contrasting with the sweetness of the French Toast and the syrup? Breakfast heaven right there. And a glass of cold milk to wash it all down...he couldn't even begin to describe how distraught he felt once he cleaned his plate.

…..Well, he was planning on lying low for a while. And he hadn't eaten very much in a while either, so...Henry signaled his waitress. "Ma'am...I'd like another plate and a refill on my glass. If you don't mind!" he spoke cheerfully with a booming laugh as the waitress nodded and hurried off to another customer. This place was getting packed. All sorts of strange characters...a few he was certain gave a cautious glance his way. It wasn't anything he was too worried about. None of them seemed like the one's after him. If they were, he would recognize it instantly. Tension so thick, one could cut it like a butter knife through that delicious French Toast.

He leaned over on his table, putting a hand to his chin, looking around the restaurant. There was someone else, reading a newspaper. Good. Anything that made him stand out just a little less would help. He couldn't stay here forever though, much as he'd like too. But as long as there was no sign of the danger to come, he was more than willing to kick back for a bit. Maybe take a tour around town to see what's new once he feels it's safe enough.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Henry Stewart Character Portrait: Sheri Galloway Character Portrait: Yue Bayushi Character Portrait: Jericho Amile Character Portrait: Devon Metzger Character Portrait: Sasha Belov
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Sasha brushed the few crumbs off his jacket, folded his newspaper, and stood, stretching. He'd already settled his bill, so he gave the waitress a cheery nod as he brushed by the other patrons. Slipping the newspaper in a trash can by the door, he stepped outside and took a deep breath of the morning air.

Glancing over at the nearby park, Sasha noted that his favorite bench had been taken by a silver-haired man who was also reading the paper. Sasha's eyes narrowed, but he walked over to another, less favorite, bench and sat down, giving the man a cool glare. The man didn't notice, however, as he was busy waylaying a Hispanic...

Sasha blinked twice as the scent hit his nose, and did a double-take. That was no woman. Unless Sasha was completely mistaken, the woman walking was actually a shapeshifter.

So not only the diner but the park, Sasha thought. Fate's hands are in motion. He immediately began scanning the area, looking for any signs of disturbances. If there was one thing Sasha had learned during his tenure with his homeland, it was that Fate never played nice, but it always played fair. Something was about to happen.

Sasha considered moving away from the area for a moment. He'd spent the last few months in Atlas City keeping his head down, working a normal job, doing normal things. He wanted no reason for the government, any government, to be suspicious of him. If he were forced to use his powers now, that might all be for naught.

Sasha's mouth tightened. Unfortunately, he was no coward to run from Fate. So he remained on the park bench, seemingly relaxed on the outside but coiled tight as a spring. Que sera, sera, as they say.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Jericho Amile Character Portrait: Sasha Belov Character Portrait: Vicki Vortex Character Portrait: Maxwell Landon (The Shape) Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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Within the depths of a storage room echoed the tinny tsk, tsk of a hi-hat. It petered out, followed by an "ah, fuck". A neck cracked. Wrists rolled. And in came the kick.

Stashed away in the corner was a figure in a loose tracksuit, curled over a drum set. Scabbed fingers held the sticks and flirted with a simple 4/4 rock beat without any thought behind it. Distracted to the trained ear. Dark eyes fixated on a tiny phone screen and the crappy audio coming from it.

"- sure, maybe - Really Hope We Don't - but I think punk is the sound this generation needs. I really do."

A twiggy woman leaned back in her seat, shaggy red hair falling over her face and caught in her lip gloss, legs wide apart and boot resting on one knee. One sleeve fell off her shoulder, showing off a brutal burn as confidently as she flashed a grin. The interviewer asked something muffled out by a stream of blast beats.

"-eah, it's - ri - back in Queens, when I, ah, let's say dabbled in vigilantism - oh, shut up! Shut the fuck up," the woman turned on the audience, who had let out a collective sound of dread at that 'v' word. Her finger pointed accusingly at them, but the sarcastic tweak of a smile made it impossible to tell how serious she was. "You have Logan Price up here talking 'bout snorting coke behind the wheel, cut me a break." A mixed response. Laughs and 'oooh's. She rolled her shoulder and turned back to the interviewer. "So back in Queens, when I was tripping out hard on LSD, I hallucinated that I stopped a gas station robbery..."

The figure's drumming sped up. Their breath hitched in anticipation, for something.

A chant flooded through a stadium. Rows of lighters raised up towards a dark, moonless sky.

"So, Vicki, it's no surprise to you what I'm about to say, surely, but you've been declared quite the controversial figure," the interviewer at last threw at her, the topic she'd been dancing around the interview. The woman rolled her eyes and her hand, goading him on. "You've been under a lot of pressure to join a hero's organization lately. How have you been coping with that?" No answer, just an unimpressed raised brow. The need for a cigarette itched at the back of her head. "Well, do you feel that what you're doing now is good enough for the hero community? With your -"

"Let me stop you right there," she interrupted with a raised hand. The laid-back persona she presented before was stripped away in an instant. "The hero community? What is that?" The interviewer opened his mouth again to regain control of the conversation, when she leaned forward, her elbows pushing her legs apart. "Actually, let's talk about that. Heroes. Look, I didn't get that moment in my life when a superhero lifted me from the rubble, cape fluttering and skin radiant with, shit, radiation. Hendrix, The Pixies, Velvet Underground - those were my heroes."

The chanting faded out in the stadium, it had gone on for too long with no reward, when suddenly - the clash of a symbol, and a spotlight on a translucent white backdrop, revealing the silhouette of somebody behind a drum kit. The stadium was back alive, this time with screams.

The figure's drumming devolved into a frenzy. There was no longer a rhythm to it, or you were just too slow to catch it. Sweat splashed onto the drums and jumped as her sticks crashed down beside it.

"Thirty million superheroes across the world, and is that even counting those that aren't putting on costumes and fighting crime?" The woman slipped a cigarette packet from her back pocket and lit one on stage, ignoring the looks the crew was giving her. Her leg jiggled with agitation. It translated on camera. "That's my community." She claimed, pointing her cigarette at the interviewer. She took a drag, then like she wasn't able to bear it any longer, stood up. "Here's a secret about supers - well, it ain't a secret, let's call it an ignored fact - most of us get it from shit. A lot of us could have gone our entire lives without being super, or realizing we’re super, if shit didn’t happen to us. So. In the spirit of doing right by the hero community, I’ve got a message for kids at home." She turned towards the screen and pointed her cigarette right at it.

"Next time someone tries giving you the Uncle Ben speech, you say... Fuck. That." She took another puff, and the interviewer behind her looked off stage for help. "You don’t have to sacrifice what you want to be because of the shit that happened to you, or shit you didn’t ask to be born with. So yeah, to answer your question. I think I’m doing some good here."

She returned to her seat with a bounce, swinging her leg up to rest her foot on her thigh again, and gave pause. The figure dropped threw her drumsticks down, their wood smeared with red, and hunched over, panting. "I think I am." Repeated over the phone's warbled speakers.

The hum of ghostly back up vocals joined the drum solo, echoing from every corner of the stadium. The crowd swung their lighters, their shouts morphing from, "Cold Front! Cold Front!" to "VICKI! VICKI!"

Then a sudden whoosh of air blew over the crowd, snuffing out every flame. All lights went out. The music cut shot. The stage went dead. The crowds were left anticipating in a jet-black stadium.

When the lights came back on, they were focused on a white-clad figure, their fist raised high and clutching a microphone. Other black clad and masked band members were posed behind her, their hands poised over their instruments. Vic waited for the excited crowd to calm down before she brought the mic down to her lips to say, in the flattest voice imaginable,

"Hey, Atlas City."

The crowd cheered. A little less excitedly than before. Vic shook her head with a grin.

"Sorry. We can do that better."

The white coat she wore dropped to her boots. She clutched the mic with both hands as the band suddenly slammed down on their instruments, and she screamed,


Vic listened to her illegally uploaded performance through earphones with far too good quality to be subjected to such a mess as she stared into the window of a newsagents. She could barely hear her own voice over the crowd screaming the lyrics. Her eyes flicked between the magazines on display. To her left, a woman's magazine, where articles were written criticizing her decision to hold a signing of her leaked nudes, right next to bikini pics taken by some pervert when she wasn't paying attention on the beach, next to which was a snarky remark about her weight. To her right, a 'respectable' news source, where her latest live 'outburst' was scrutinized, as well as her lack of a statement on whether supers should all be registered by the government and made to carry identification. Vic's tongue rolled to the back of her mouth as her eyes refocused, settling on her reflection instead of sensationalist titles behind it. A cap, hoodie and medical mask hid her face. The disguise made her look like a teenage delinquent, and she felt like it, from the way the store owner was eyeing her up. Her back molars bit down on her tongue, hard, and she entered the store.

All the stuff in those magazines she could find on her phone, anyway.

Soon Vic was skating down the path, carelessly weaving between pedestrians with her hands in her pockets and clutching breakfast. She dismounted at the park, flipping the board up with her foot and resting it against a bench before flopping down beside it and unwrapping 'breakfast' - an ice cream bar, covered in sprinkles and shaped like a clown, with a big red gumball for its nose. She hooked a finger around her mask and pulled it down for a bite.


About three bites in, she heard the dreaded sound of a shutter snapping.

"Jesus," she muttered, looking around, "Here?" Her eyes locked on to some guy across the path crouching with a camera, and she pulled back up her mask, grabbed her skateboard and stood up. She did not need the internet to get a hold of her eating a Candied Clown at 7 am. As she sped up, a voice followed after her.

"Vicki? VickI Vortex. Tobias, from Apex Media."

No, no, no, fuck off.

"Vicki Vortex, with your history of vigilantism, the public wants to know-"

"Dude, it's the first thing in the morning. How long have you been following me for? I know that you finding me here isn't a coincidence," Vic snapped all in one breath before she'd even finished turning around to him. A camera went off and she retracted, squinting at the man's face. "Oh, shit. You."

Tobias Flanagan, the independent 'journalist' famous for jumping celebrities with hard questions in moments they least expect it and getting embarrassing or incriminating answers as a result. "Where is the camera?" She asked calmly. As Tobias raised the camera in his hands, Vic snatched at his collar and flicked away the teeny body camera attached to it. "Unless you're asking about the date of my next tour - no comment. Kindly fuck off." She turned, pulling down her mask, and aggressively bit off her ice cream's nose. Her teeth clanked against the ice hard gumball. Despite her trying to get away, the man persisted.

"How do you feel about privatizing supers? With the rise of private hero institutions worldwide, would you feel more comfortable being involved with the NAHLA, or a private company? What is your comment on the superhero idol culture ?"

"Will you stop it?!"

The man was wheezing out his questions. Without realizing it, she had begun to thin the air around him.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Jericho Amile Character Portrait: Sasha Belov Character Portrait: Vicki Vortex Character Portrait: Maxwell Landon (The Shape) Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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The park began to see more activity trickle into it, and not quite so slowly as Maxwell would have liked. A young man had entered a little while ago, seemingly from the direction of the cafe. Coupled with the Hispanic woman before him, he was starting to get a little concerned. Kingsley was supposed to be meeting with him soon, and he started to question the effectiveness of the location. No turning back though it seemed. But now... Now there was yet another matter to contend to.

A young woman had been in the park as well, wearing clothes typically associated with 'punk', as well as some kind of medical mask, an odd fashion statement perhaps, but not unseen. She wasn't a problem however, it was that she had picked up what appeared to be a rather annoying tag that Maxwell considered to be... Distasteful.

He sighed, laying his paper down on the bench next to him, standing up and straightening his tie. "Would you excuse me for just a moment?" He asked with a polite smile of the Hispanic woman. Maxwell walked over to the other woman, and the man with the camera, and upon reaching them, placed a hand on the man's shoulder. Something was off. The air felt thinner. Was it Maxwell? No, he'd been fine before... It seemed likely it was the girl.

No matter though.

The man with the camera turned to look to Maxwell, who had a pleasant, polite smile on his face, while grabbing the camera the man held. "Excuse me sir, but it appears to me you're disturbing this young lady. You also happen to be disturbing me." He pulled the camera away from the man, tossed it to the ground, and brought the heel of his shoe down on it, crushing it into various, quite unusable pieces and fragments.

The man looked astonished for a moment, then close to becoming furious, but before he could protest at all, he began to sway a little, placing a hand on his forehead and doubling over slightly. Maxwell smirked. "Oh come now, it's only a camera, I'm sure you can afford a new one." The man looked to Maxwell cautiously, his face contorted into a mix of fear and confusion, and a bit of pain from the head ache that had appeared from nowhere.

"Run along now." He said with an unnaturally warm smile. The camera man, despite his strong inclination to refuse this order, obliged them in the end, staggering away to no doubt find something to ease the the throbbing sensation in his head. Maxwell finally turned to the young lady with a smile and nod. "I'm terribly sorry you had to suffer such rudeness miss. Are you alright?" He asked in a gentle, pleasant tone.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Jericho Amile Character Portrait: Sasha Belov Character Portrait: Vicki Vortex Character Portrait: Maxwell Landon (The Shape) Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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Jericho watched the man depart, their eyes zeroing in on a woman who looked as if she had missed many a meal, and who probably needed- The thoughts slammed to a stop, mouth opened to drag air in between three sets of teeth.

A long hiss, a quick and silent sigh. Their skin prickled and the urge to claw, and bite, and bludgeon, and stab and rip and tear-
Jericho shook their head and laughed quietly to themselves. The man was a super! He stank of it, reeked of power hidden beneath the skin!
Their head turned over the shoulder and scoured the park until they locked on another man, sat on a bench just ever so further away. The ever so faintly familiar scent of something like themselves wafted over. A reptilian grin flashed over Jericho's temporarily painted lips, before fading as quickly as it came. 'She' turned and rushed to the silver haired man, and the masked, punk, woman.

"Hey! That seemed like a bunch, you okay there sweetheart? ... Is that what paparazzi is like? Or was that a stalker? What a cunt. Bite his balls off, someone should, yeah." Came the rushed, almost excitedly breathless voice, a low alto, almost as if the 'woman' had a voice too big for her height. Her accent seemed vaguely Boston born, but with a Hispanic lilt that otherwise would have gone unnoticed. Her eyes locked on the masked woman, a shiver passing through the bones of her own body as she realized... Yet another Super. Here. In the park.

W̶̰͂h̴̳͚̊̓a̵͓̐́t̵̬́͌͜ ̶̳̆͌f̵̬̝̓̕u̷͚̯̽̽n̷͔̓̎.̵̧̋.̷̨͘.̴̺̿̓

'She' couldn't stop the shiver that passed through her yet again, the immediate, instinctual, need to consume and assimilate. But she could stop herself from acting on it. And when she took note of the thinning air surrounding the woman, and felt her lungs shift below the surface of her skin to better adapt for it, she simply stopped talking and stepped back. Behind the silver-man. To give the poor thing some space. And to watch the world with an expectant eye.
Speaking of which...

Jericho's hair silently swirled with ink for a moment, though from a distance it could be mistaken for the wind pulling some strands of hair loose. And under the hair, close to the skull, six pairs of 'holes' formed on the flesh. The world became that much louder for Jericho, and that much clearer for 'her' hearing. She tried to angle herself in a manner that would be behind the silver-man as much as possible, but she couldn't guarantee anything. Oh well, not like it would matter, right?


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Character Portrait: Jericho Amile Character Portrait: Sasha Belov Character Portrait: Vicki Vortex Character Portrait: Maxwell Landon (The Shape) Character Portrait: Alexander Dalton Character Portrait:
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Alexander Dalton

If there was one thing Alex was grateful for one with all the changes that happened to his body, it was probably the fact that he could still get his cardio in. The burning in his lungs and muscles was a welcoming feeling, it made him still feel like he could improve himself. That he was still human and not some invincible demigod. He kept his breathing steady and began to slow his pace as he came close to the end of his run. It was a shame he couldn't run at a full sprint if he wanted too, but the thought of him accidentally cracking the sidewalk from his feet slamming into the concrete at full force wasn't a good one. That was an easy way to out yourself as a super. You read stories all the time of people with minor powers outing themselves on accident all the time, from damaging restaurant silverware to floating off the ground cause you got a little too excited. Yeah, not gonna end up on some YouTuber's top ten list of dumb supers outing themselves in public.

He checked his phone for messages. Jericho was out and about. Hopefully not causing a scene. He too a deep breath and gathered his thoughts for a moment. Jericho was at the part, nothing wrong with that. They could take care of themselves and already ate, there was no reason to worry . . . yep, none at all . . . damn his paranoia. Alex figured it was better to wing by the park and check in then to keep worrying.

Didn't take long to get to the park, he compromised with himself to jog the way there rather then run in fear of an incident from his amorphous roommate. Jericho didn't survive this long on their own being stupid. But Alex would feel better not leaving them to possibly commit some form of social suicide what would end up in the internet, again. Couldn't use that disguise anymore without anyone recognizing the colorful trash eating dumpster diver of Atlas city. Not that Jericho entirely cared but second hand embarrassment was a powerful thing and Alex would rather be spared the cringe.
After a few minutes of trying to remain casual in his search he finally sighed with relief. No crowds in sight, looked like they were chatting with just two people. A relatively sharp dressed man and . . . wait a moment. He could swear he recognized the woman, questions for later. Alex jogged up from an angle that would make him easily visible to the three and made eye contact with Jericho first.
"Hey Jemma! figured I would still find you here. Was gonna grab some things for lunch before heading back home and wanted to know what you were in the mood for." He looked to the man and woman present before glancing at Jericho. There was a hint of something wild in their eyes that was barely noticable. Might be a good idea to divert attention. Alex turned his attention back to the others before sheepishly scratching the back of his head. "Ah, sorry that was rude of me. Barging in on you guys like that. My bad. Alex chuckled a little before relaxing his posture slightly, trying to come off as friendly as he could. Even so he still almost towered over the others present.
"Jeez, where are my manners? He held out a hand towards the silver haired man first. "Alexander Dalton, at your service." The man gave off a professional air to him, Alex figured being polite was the best course of action there. The punk looking woman though, Alex swore he had seen her before and it was really nagging at him now as he gave her a glance and a smile.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Jericho Amile Character Portrait: Sasha Belov Character Portrait: Vicki Vortex Character Portrait: Maxwell Landon (The Shape) Character Portrait: Alexander Dalton Character Portrait:
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By the time she was interrupted, Vic had noticed what she was doing... and she didn't exactly stop it. On the contrary, she just watched as Tobias's face went red and his last words trailed off in a cough and a wheeze. Intently. The green flecks in her eyes seemed brighter as she stared the choking man down.

Then a hand grabbed his shoulder out of nowhere, and she blinked, and Tobias sucked in a deep, much needed breath. Vic glanced over to the tall, silver-haired stranger, and in a moment too fast for her to form even a single judgement, the camera was violently splattered across the pavement. She stared at the massacre. The rest of her ice cream drooped off her stick to splatter beside her sneakers.

"... Ha!" A sudden, breathy laugh burst from her. She stuffed her hands into her pockets as she watched the stranger ward Tobias off, her mouth still left hanging from the last she opened it. A genuine grin threatened to spill over and she sealed her lips, ignoring their twitch and chewing her gum. When the stranger turned to her, she took her time to finish blowing her bubble and answered with a pop!

"Yeahhhh..." she dragged out, looking him up and down as she did so. Spick and span in a business suit and tie and wearing the professional charm of a car salesman. Not the sort of person anyone would expect to spontaneously lay waste to thousands of dollars worth of personal property. "... you-" Before she could add anything to that thought - another interruption. Vic raised a brow at the woman's enthusiastic punishment proposal and stretched her lips thin, giving her a mock-thoughtful nod.

"Yeah, fair. Personally, don't think they're fit for a dog, but," she ended that thought with a shrug and looked back to the business man. "I'm good. Don't worry about it." Her sneaker unintentionally nudged the colorful breakfast sludge she'd dropped before as she intentionally nodded down to it. She picked the already flavorless cheap gum from her mouth and flicked it over to join the camera, then shuffled a cigarette pack from her shorts pocket and lit one up. "Always a plan B. You're looking wicked, by the way." She added, eyes flicking up the woman's tight leather pants to her startling gold lipstick.

She took a drag, and almost immediately felt her rumbling, baseball-sized stomach crunch down to about the size of a golf ball. "So, ah," She cocked her head and her eyes crinkled at him. They were sparkling with interest and narrowed with suspicion, but not the dreading kind - more of the kind one looks around with when they hear the rustle of a chip packet. "... Who do you think you are?"

She didn't get her answer, not before somebody else barged in and - HOLY SHIT.

Vic's brow shot up like it was trying to match the giant in height. In an instant, it was decided that she was not going to be tilting her head back for him. This man would be satisfied by eye-to-throat contact or nothing at all.

"Ummmmm." Vic very clearly vocalized as the man's hand was passed over to her. She chewed on her tongue as she regarded it. "Scarlet." She very clearly made up on the spot, courtesy of Grateful Dead's Scarlet Begonias blasting in one eardrum loud enough to be heard faintly by all present. Then she smacked her palm against his instead of shaking it, then looked away. "Barge anytime, but you missed the good part. Nothing here now but a..." A glance to the camera and melted ice cream puddle. "...boulevard of broken data and dreams. And no skating. Which I came here to do, so..."

She took the cigarette from her mouth, picked up her skateboard by its end, and backed off slowly as she raised her mask. Her brows lifted like she might have had a smile behind it, however sarcastic it was.

"Thanks for the concern babes, but I'm just gonna... goooo..."


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Henry Stewart Character Portrait: Sheri Galloway Character Portrait: Yue Bayushi Character Portrait: Jericho Amile Character Portrait: Devon Metzger Character Portrait: Sasha Belov
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Maxwell had allowed himself a small smirk when the girl had let out a laugh at the ordeal they'd put the camera man through. Seems the moment had been mutually enjoyable, much to Tobias's expense. She seemed like she was about to say something else until another presence had arrived behind his back. The girl from before.

Did she know him or something? She'd been getting awfully familiar with him, he almost felt like she might try to devour him or something if she could. The girl with the now medical mask confirmed she was doing well now, to which he responded with a slight nod and smile. "I'm pleased to hear that." As she pulled out a cigarette pack, Maxwell felt the desire to obtain his own, as well as the permission to do so. He pulled out a small gold case and popped it open, pulling one out for himself. As he placed it back in his pocket, the girl responded with a question.

"So ah, who do you think you are?"

He gave a soft smile. "I'm-" And before he could say another word yet ANOTHER person had arrived to the group. The man seemed to know the woman behind Maxwell, Jemma apparently. He seemed strangely familiar to Maxwell if he were being honest, not in terms of looks or anything, just a feeling he got from him. Maxwell took the man's hand and shook it with polite firmness. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance Mr. Dalton, Miss Jemma. Maxwell Landon, equally at your service." He gave a cordial smile to each of them, and to the masked girl who had now introduced herself as Scarlet.

She began to work her way out of the group, seeming to be preoccupied, or wanting to be preoccupied, with other important exploits. "A pleasure Miss Scarlet. Take ca-"

Another noise sounded off. Louder this time.


Richard smiled as both Ichiro and Yue explained the nature of their expertise's, and he took a quick moment to enjoy a few bites of the food that had newly been brought to him. After a quick gulp of orange juice, another man at the counter had butted in, putting in his own two cents about Yue's profession.

Richard was feeling pretty relaxed at this time, but he'd begun to notice that he was one of the only people in here that seemed to be feeling that. Both Yue and Ichiro had seemed off. The large man with the French toast had seemed off. The girl in the booth had stopped moving practically. He almost started to speculate that these people might be here for a revenge killing for last night, but nobody had seen him in any way. The only person who would know who he was would be that dead drug slinger, and unless his power involved regenerating his body from literal ashes, he very much doubted that was the case.

Maybe it was him though, making them a little uncomfortable or something. He'd started to wonder if they could... No, no he had been pretty good about that too, slim chance they could see, the waitress certainly hadn't. Richard inwardly shrugged. Besides, this Yue woman did look pretty tough, and he contemplated saying so but her flustered response to the other guy gave him the impression that maybe he should respond with more tact and consideration.

"Exercise is good for the body, mind, and spirit they say. Whatever it is you're teaching, I'm sure your students appreciate it, and probably get as much out of it as you do." Richard gave a kind smile and understanding nod to Ichiro and Yue.

Richard took a few more bites of food and a sip of orange juice while the door to the Diner opened again. He had contemplated what the real deal was with Ichiro and Yue, and the other people in here. Seemed all to be quite odd, but he tried to ignore it. The sound of those loud feet touching down on the floor was quite distracting however on its own, but Richard felt the need to maybe offer a little bit more small talk to ease Yue and Ichiro's minds. And maybe learn a little more about them.

A tall, looming figure behind the group placed a hand down on a shoulder. Yue's. Before anyone said anything the counter had shuddered, knocking over Richard's food and drink, as Yue was hoisted from her seat, and flung across the room behind them. Her body briefly passed in front of Henry as she crashed through the window next to him and toppled out into the street.

Richard had bolted up from his seat just in time to turn around and watch a hulking mass of a man leave the Diner. He was at least 7 and a half feet tall, decked out in a long, black leather trench coat, and wearing a... A Puritanical hat. The same garb as the Witchfinder Generals. Outside stood 25 more of them, all lined up in the street, effectively building a wall that kept Yue and the diner barricaded.



The others were all dressed quite similarly to each other, but some held guns, while others seemed to be injecting something into their necks... Within a few moments, those who had taken the injections began to wield new powers, but only two types, no other variety. Some of the men seemed to be wielding fire, and the others some kind of pale sand or something.

It was salt. The Witchfinder Generals were particular about their powers, so they bought these from one source and one source only, possibly located somewhere in Asia. The fire was a straightforward enough power, but the salt? It could be wielded as though it were a sand storm, a storm that could rip skin open and burn the flesh beneath. Some had even suggested the power could turn the enemies of the Witchfinders into salt, their bodies burning in agony as they slowly morphed into the substance.


Looked over to Ichiro for a moment, then the others. The girl still seemed like she hadn't moved at all. Richard dropped to the the ground by the booth Henry sat at, pulling Ichiro with him, and using the seat as cover. He waved to the other patrons to get down and away from the windows. Richard quickly scrambled through his pockets as he pulled something out and started to put it on his head.

"Pardon me Ichiro, but I have to break a few laws quickly." He pulled down his balaclava over his face, and pulled off his jacket to reveal the shoulder holster under it, equipped with two pistols. Richard pulled both out, donning one in each hand. "Any chance I can give Yue a little cover?" He asked Ichiro, who he hoped might have a better angle for a view outside.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Henry Stewart Character Portrait: Yue Bayushi Character Portrait: Jericho Amile Character Portrait: Sasha Belov Character Portrait: Vicki Vortex Character Portrait: Richard Mackenzie (The White Death)
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The sound of crashing glass and gunfire caught Jericho's attention first, the overwhelming stench of adrenaline and fear caught second... And the absolutely, quite nearly blasphemous stink of super powered beings sucker punched the Polymorph so hard in the olfactory senses that they staggered. They spent only a brief moment, not nearly long enough to truly consider the consequences of stepping in, before their choice was made.

Then, with a bright cackle that did not nearly fit the voice of the woman who stood beside Alex, Maxwell, and 'Scarlet', a noise like an oversize cicada burst forth from the Polymorph. It drowned out all thinking for a moment, though when the ink began swirling violently around 'Jemma', perhaps thinking wasn't necessary. The flesh vanished and exposed organs that were nothing like the proper human anatomy, muscles and nerves and bones of bright silver-y sheen ripped their way into the sun before quickly fading from its light. They were replaced by the same beast Jericho had transformed themselves in to the night before.
The cicada-like scream continued droning on, and in pockets and along walls, on desks and on wrists, within a radius of about thirty or so feet... Phones and cameras, or any other small electronic without proper shielding, fried itself and shut off. Permanently.

Jericho, however, did not wait.
They instead leapt forth, darting forward like a demon sent straight from the bowels of hell. And CRASHED into the backs of some strangely dressed men, their weight alone snapping and cracking bones. The blade-sharp protrusions from their snout sliced into the back of the neck of one such man.
From the beastly maw came a scream like no other, like a cougar was blended in with a train whistle, and then brutalized by a booming undertone that rang the eardrums of the nearby 'Witch Finders'.

Another scream rang forth from them, the man-made monstrosity, and their metal-stinger-tipped tail whipped about and sank into the shoulder of a man who's gun rang forth projectile idiocy at a woman who barely dodged its bite. The blades on Jericho's face were wet with ichor, and their heart was pounding harder and louder than it had in a while. The cicada drone continued on, as yet more small electronics failed their owners. A claw swiped out, ink swirled, and sheets of iron plating layered over Polymorph J-3's skin. Their attention turned towards an apparent ally, another Changer whose form was that of a devilish beast.
J-3 screeched a greeting, and turned to snap their maw with deathly force at a nearby gunman.
A searing wind of salt scoured across their shoulders, but the iron simply held for yet a moment more. It would eventually scrape away, and the flames from nearby Witch Finders would soon burn and harm... But...

The slaughter was on, and no hesitation would be spared for the meat.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Henry Stewart Character Portrait: Sheri Galloway Character Portrait: Yue Bayushi Character Portrait: Jericho Amile Character Portrait: Devon Metzger Character Portrait: Sasha Belov
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Sheri cursed at herself as she fiddled with the hinges on the back door, finagling them in such a way that they wouldn’t open if the target tried to come through here. It took several minutes of effort as she considered, attempted, and then reattempted several different solutions that wouldn’t be easily seen or removed before the man got here. The cook passed by twice, giving her a funny look the first time, but she just said ”Maintenance!” with the best fake smile she could manage and he immediately lost interest in her presence.
She’d got it just about into a state she was satisfied with when there was a sound of glass shattering at the front of the diner, followed by the sound of shouting. Her first thought was to slip out the back if there was trouble here... only to be reminded she’d just jammed the door shut when she tried to open it. ”Shit.”
She turned and slipped back toward the front. She quickly stepped to the side as staff and a handful of customers fled back into the kitchen; she decided not to mention there was no escape this way. They’d figure it out. She turned to look back up front, only to see a crowd of goddamn Witchfinders gathered outside, in a fistfight with the woman who’s been at the counter, and someone else she couldn’t see. Three of the men who’d been in the diner were also still here - two taking shelter behind the bar (was one of them wearing a balaclava mask? In 2045? What is this, the IRA?) and the third looked like he was about to go join the fight outside. Good for him, Sheri thought. Buy me more of a distraction. Oh, and her double was still in the booth. That was kinda funny. She dismissed it, and it dissolved in a burst of static.
It was a shame this job would turn out to be a bust, though, she thought to herself as she slipped around the counter toward the door. After all, it wasn’t as if Mr. Alan Kingsley would be stopping by for his coffee after… after… She froze where she was standing, within arms reach of the balaclava man, as her eyes fell on someone through the window, at the other side of the park.
Her fucking target.
She threw herself around the counter, jumped onto a booth table and tumbled out of the window, before breaking into a dead sprint through the meleeing crowd. Her hand flew to the PPK tucked into the back of her jeans under her coat, her fingers wrapping around the top of the grip with her forefinger resting along the length of the barrel. One of the Witchfinder’s spotted her as she dropped her stealth, and she ducked under his arm as he reached for her, putting her gun in his face and channeling a stunning nerve blast through the handgun at point-blank range without ever turning her eyes to him.
Sheri folded herself nearly in half as she vaulted over some mutated monster a mere instant after it tackled two more Witchfinders to the ground (Where the fuck did that come from? Am I gonna have to deal with that?) and then she was across the street, boots pounding over the grass as she made a beeline for Alan Kingsley. He spotted her, and as he turned to run her eyes flashed a brighter shade of green and two exact duplicates of herself appeared 20 yards ahead, following one very simple command: catch the target.
Alan bolted, adrenaline making this otherwise out of shape man move faster than he ever had in his life. Sheri dismissed her clones, then summoned two more further ahead, gaining ground with her doubles until they were practically on either side of him.
”Leave me alone!” he wailed, struggling for breath. He stumbled and fell as he reached the street, rolled, then was back up, sprinting left. Sheri stopped and fired another nerve blast through the handgun, hitting Alan in the back of the knee. He fell a second time as his entire leg suddenly went dead, cracking his chin on the asphalt. ”Please,” he wheezed. ”Please don’t hurt me.”
Sheri walked over, stuffing her gun back in her pants and dismissing her duplicates. She pulled a thin voice recorder out of her pocket, then lifted Alan up slightly by the back of his shirt, kneeling down to look in his face. ”You’re Alan Kingsley?”
”I need you to confirm,” she said, clicking ‘record’. ”Are you Alan Kingsley?”
”Y-yes,” he answered. He was starting to cry. Gross.
Sheri dropped him, then clicked play on the recorder to confirm she’d gotten his official confirmation.
Nothing happened.
Click. Click click. Clickclickclickclickclickclickclick- she through the recorder on the ground, and it bounced and skidded into the gutter. ”God damn it!!”


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Henry Stewart Character Portrait: Sheri Galloway Character Portrait: Yue Bayushi Character Portrait: Jericho Amile Character Portrait: Devon Metzger Character Portrait: Sasha Belov
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It was rather amusing to watch her stumble around trying to find the words, like a tall vase only a light tap had been enough to throw her off balance. Her brother on the other hand did not seem phased in the slightest, rather he seemed very excited then again given his previous behavior he seemed to be of the excitable and enthusiastic kind. At the very least one with significant knowledge of muscular structures, which makes perfect sense in a way given his claimed profession. The other guy gave a considerate response, but he couldn't shake the fleeting feeling that there was an underlying message to it that he just didn't quite get.

He had considered making a response of his own, but seeing he kind of had his mouth full of sweet blueberry goodness and a rather imposing figure made his acquaintance with the girl, a rather physical one. Devon jumped up from his seat narrowly avoiding the hot coffee's sloshing from staining his pants only to leap over the counter a second later as he heard the sound of a large piece of glass shattering behind him. He looked around to see how the quint diner had just turned into a battlefield, Mackenzie had pulled Ichiro towards the booth where the man with the newspaper had sprung into action as well. The others all seemed to either have huddled beneath some cover or having made a mad dash to the kitchen, like any other place it'd probably have a backdoor at the very least to avoid bringing the ingredients through the customer section of the diner. Outside it seemed a group of witchfinders had gathered up to assail Yue, though from the glimpses he managed to catch of it she seemed to hold on quite well given the situation popping some moves that didn't gel with his mental image of fundamental Tai Chi.

Not that whether she was telling the truth was of any importance at this moment, as Ichiro had said she was holding her own for now and seemed to have some assistance joining the fray, they needed to get the others to safety first. Running into the kitchen he found himself faced with the kitchen staff unable to open the backdoor. Fuck... Inward hinges, those aren't going to bust from a little ramming attempt. "Stand back!" He yelled assertively as he grabbed one of the guns from his coat. A bullet directly applied to each hinge ensured the hinge pins were shattered beyond function and a forceful kick to the hinged side of the door later left a doorframe damaged and a door ejected from it into the alley behind the diner, leaving a safe exit route for the customers and staff.

From the sound of things Yue was pulling the fight through the park, away from their kitchen extraction route. As far as he recalled there were no big obstructions in or directly around the park, if only he could... Bingo, fire escape a reachable one. He jumped up on a dumpster (shouldn't those be some distance away to prevent just what he was about to do?) to a small ledge next to the fire escape and jumped up to the railing of the fire escape. Clambering over the railing and up the set of ladders he rushed his way up to the roof with a mixed grace of a cat by looks and Thor the god of thunder by sound.

Once on the roof he walked towards the edge where the sounds of battle came from, no raised ledge unfortunate, but fortunately a good view of what was happening on the streets below. It seemed the Witchfinders found themselves assailed by some kind of beast and something even more monstrous near the diner, the latter making carnage enough to turn those of lesser constitution vegan for the remainder of their lives. A bit further away a group of them were running towards an alley guns and abilities blazing, that would be where Yue had gone. Devon looked around a bit to see if he could get to a better position to cover that alley, no luck. At best there was the option to cross over two more buildings to get an angle on the street on the other side of that alley, but anything that'd allow him visibility into that alley would require jumping some rather wide gaps.

Not quite desiring to lower himself to the degree the assailants had he made the decision to avoid using anything too lethal... for now. As such he aimed a bit away from the group near the alley allowing his projectiles to home in on their targets and giving the Witchfinders the idea of being surrounded by gunmen on all sides with the hopes of causing a sufficient distraction while he made his way to a vantage spot for the other side of the alley, to provide a more accurate fire support for Yue when she exits the alley. He unloaded a mixture of bullets aimed at disabling them, destroying guns, breaking hands, putting bullets through calves and restraining one in the sticky mess that was structural fire foam.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Henry Stewart Character Portrait: Sheri Galloway Character Portrait: Yue Bayushi Character Portrait: Jericho Amile Character Portrait: Devon Metzger Character Portrait: Sasha Belov
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Laying on the pavement, coughing up globs of blood, the head Witchfinder started to barely stir and regain his senses, just in time to witness several of his men being attacked by terrifying looking beasts, monsters, demons.

"Th-the demon- *HACK* The Demoness! She brings her servants with her! Destroy them! SEND THOSE UNNATURAL CREATURES TO PERDITION!" He cried out.


Richard saw the larger man at the booth bolt out of his seat and over the diner counter, calling out to him to help deal with the Witchfinders, and to... Rob the place later? He was confused for a moment, then it occurred to him not only what he wore, but what he had said moments before. Ichiro's words broke through Richard's moment of embarrassment, focus on getting the civilians out of here. The short girl from earlier appeared to have entered the diner again from out of the kitchen, and before anyone could say or do anything, she bolted out and towards the park? And the guy who had been at the counter with them had gone into the kitchen, and several of the staff had gone with him, only a few others remained pinned down in here.

Ichiro had been on his phone a few moments, and it became clear that Ichiro wasn't just a therapist. Sounded a lot like he was some kind of cop. Not great for Richard. Giving a slight nod to Ichiro, Richard began to assume a crouching position as he got ready to take action. "Oh and Ichiro, I ah... I'm not a burglar or anything like that... I ah... I'm in witness protection..." He feebly lied. Once he felt he'd attempted his best possible subterfuge in the moment, he raised a hand towards the shattered window, and to the others. After a few moments, a faint frost began to appear, and where the shattered window had stood with a hole in it, it now was becoming a full sheet of ice.

The ice was too crystalline to see through, and caused the room to dim slightly. Richard quickly ran over to some of the other staff and guests, quickly trying to usher them into the kitchen, where the guy from the counter had seemingly gotten the back door opened. "Alright, get out of here as quick as you can! Stay low, stick to the back alleys, and get into some kind of building! You need to take cover!"

He looked back to Ichiro now, nodding his head to the kitchen. "You need to go too, unless you're able to help out here." Richard raised both pistols to the opaque windows now as the power went off, some kind of shriek emanating from the street out there.

One more thing to worry about.

As some of the Witchfinders tried to chase down Yue, others tried to get a handle on the situation with Jericho and Sasha outside. Richard had noticed the man from the booth was now holding some kind of glowing gun, a laser gun? Weird, but he'd roll with it. "Hey! Aim for the shadows with tall hats!" He called out to Henry. A steady stream of bullets began making their way down from the rooftops, and soon after another hail of them exploded from the windows of the diner. Richard had begun to open fire through the glass, shattering the pane that had previously stayed in tact.

Three Witchfinders were grazed or hit, scrambling to take cover or falling to the ground as Richard opened up on them. One tried to crawl away from the gunfire and Jericho, but before he could make it far his hand landed in a pool of blood that quickly froze solid around his hand.

His screams of terror echoed across the street as his doom became sealed with that hand.


Maxwell felt himself tense as gunfire and violence exploded on the street next to the park. "That is... Problematic." He muttered. Just as he finished, the girl who had been called 'Jemma' disappeared and turned into some horrific monster, the likes of which Maxwell had never imagined. As the creature bounded off into the fight, he couldn't help but cock an eyebrow. "And that is... Rather interesting." He mused, almost a tiny bit pleased. He'd just witnessed something he was now quite interested in getting a better understanding of...

That brief pleasure was fast cut short however. Mr. Kingsley was outside the park. Running. With a girl chasing him. Maxwell's eyes narrowed as he chewed his lip. "This day has been full of surprises. Some more pleasant than others." He quickly gave a nod to Scarlet and Alex. "I'm terribly sorry, but you'll have to excuse me. This mess may have just put a client of mine in grave danger, and I must go help him. Mr. Alex, Miss Scarlet, it has been a pleasure." He gave them both a kind, warm smile, a slight bow, and turned to go find Kingsley...


Not long later, the silver haired man found Kingsley on the ground, and a shorter girl standing over him, likely a super.

"Excuse me Miss, but can I help you?" He asked in a light tone.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Henry Stewart Character Portrait: Yue Bayushi Character Portrait: Jericho Amile Character Portrait: Devon Metzger Character Portrait: Sasha Belov Character Portrait: Vicki Vortex
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Alexander Dalton

Maxwell came off as formal as he looked, though the air around him was giving Alex a sort of hair raising feeling that he couldn't quite place. Guy must be rich and powerful or something like that. Always came off as some sort of different breed, that's the difference in social classes for you. Scarlet on the other hand came off a lot more chill and casual, definitely more his kind of person. Unfortunately Alex never got the chance to really start talking due to the sudden sound of crashing and gunfire.
Alex's head snapped towards the general direction right as the screaming started. Shit, that sounds really bad. And only getting worse by the second. Sure enough, as if on cue, Jericho had exploded into a writhing and screaming mound of flesh. Dashing off towards the growing chaos just as their form settled, followed by the sound of electronics frying themselves.
Alex quickly fumbled for his phone on reflex and almost swore at the burnt out screen. He had just gotten that thing replaced after last time. Throwing it to the ground with an annoyed groan, He had a moment to notice he and Scarlet had been left behind by Maxwell during his small fit of annoyance.

He looked down at Scarlet as he pulled his hoodie on and zipped it up. "Hey so, I would explain but I gotta go after my roommate . . . the thing that was that girl just now, and try and keep them from going totally ape shit. Just, please don't tell anybody what you just saw. I gotta go. Now."

With that, the threw his hood up, he turned on his heel and bolted off. Alex only began to pick up his speed after getting a good distance away from "Scarlet". His feet tore into the ground as he ran well past the speed of any normal human. Alex ran a hand across his face and let his force fields shape over his head and effectively obscure his face under his hood while still allowing him to see. other plates and panels of simplistic, glowing blue armor rippled into existence around the rest of Alex's body until he looked like some form of ethereal knight.
Finding Jericho wasn't hard. Alex almost slowed down at the scene before him. The entire vicinity of the diner, inside and out, was in complete pandemonium. All of it seemed to stem from the strange and similarly dressed men Jericho and others appeared to be fighting off. Well . . . Jericho was more so having an early lunch rather then try and fend off the screaming men. All of which were screaming out of either fanaticism or terror. Alex took little time to contemplate who these people were as one of the man's hands erupted into flames which were soon pointed in the direction of Alex's friend. Fuck. That.

Alex ran full tilt towards the man. "Over here Asshole!" The flaming man only had a moment to turn and register what was happening before a quarter ton of armored superhuman crashed into him with the force of a speeding truck. The shoulder charge sent the Witchfinder flying, landing with a a loud thud. Satisfied with the results, Alex didn't hesitate to charge his way towards the next man in similar garb wielding an automatic weapon before giving him a swift kick between the legs. The civilians the man had been terrorizing before winced reflexively as the witchfinder dropped to his knees, his voice i soft and high pitched scream of intense pain. Alex turned to place his body between the civilians and the battle. "Get to safety, now!" it didn't take any more convincing before he heard people scrambling away. Good, he really wasn't wanting to have to keep an eye on paralyzed innocent bystanders when he had to keep . . . that in check.
Alex made a few steps towards Jericho. "Hey big guy! You still in there?" He tensed and swallowed hard as his eyes and hands flared with blue energy. Anticipating he he was going to have to bubble his friend any moment. he never liked having to do this, but he had to help keep Jericho under control.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Henry Stewart Character Portrait: Yue Bayushi Character Portrait: Jericho Amile Character Portrait: Devon Metzger Character Portrait: Sasha Belov Character Portrait: Richard Mackenzie (The White Death)
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"Yareyareda ze (good grief)," muttered Ichiro as his phone cut out suddenly. He tried in vain to get it to turn back on for a few moments and then shoved it in his pocket, taking a quick moment to collect Yue's phone from the ground to see if it was working. "Nope, do your thing Mackenzie-sama. If I got mixed up in what's going on outside One-chan would have my hide, I'll help keep the other non-combatants out of danger," Ichiro replied, glossing over the "witness protection" comment and giving him a light slap on the back. At that same moment he silently and deftly slipped a card into one of Richard's coat pocket: a plain white thing with Ichiro's name printed on it along with his phone number scrawled hastily across the back. Afterwards he slipped out through the kitchen during one of the brief pauses in gunfire.

Yue had taken cover behind a large tree near the edge of the park when she'd heard the chaos erupting back at the street. She also didn't want to draw any breakaways too far into the park to avoid endangering any civilians that might be there. She took a quick moment to peek out and see how many had followed and was surprised to see she was receiving support from someone on a rooftop back by the diner. Of the small group that had broken off to chase her, most were disarmed, with a couple on the ground holding their legs and one entangled in... riot foam?

Of course she couldn't pass up a gift opportunity like this. Yue bolted from cover, charging the one closest to her. He had his back turned to her, and did not spin around in time even though she heard "Oh fuck!" shouted from one of the other Witchfinders. Yue jumped, using her momentum to kick in the back of his knee, her opposite knee cocked to her chest. As he started to fall back she drove her heel into the back of his head and rode him straight to the ground, rolling with the momentum to avoid falling. The second was only two lunging steps away and simultaneously received crushing palm strikes to his chest and gut, knocking him sprawling into the foam.

The last two that were standing were on either side of her, and she had to take a step back to avoid a fist. Yue caught his wrist with one hand, swiveling on her heel and driving the palm of her free hand into the back of his head. His shoulder gave a satisfying pop as it twisted out of its socket causing him to scream as she knocked him to the ground and had to dive out of the way of a screeching gout of flame. She felt the heat on her back as she rolled into a sprint, keeping her head low and circling around, each step driving her closer. Finally she juked under a second blast, feeling the flames catch her right arm. She ignored it, driving her fist straight into his face, taking two large steps past him, brute forcing him off his feet and crushing him straight into the pavement.

Yue exhaled slowly as she rose up. She didn't have any restraints, but she knew someone watching who did. Yue dragged them two at a time into a pile visible from the rooftop Devon was standing on. When she was done she tapped her wrists together in his direction and pointed at the pile to signal that he should foam them.

The chaos wasn't over though, she could still hear it boiling over in front of the diner. She knew this was the perfect opportunity to escape, but she hesitated for an excruciatingly long moment. At the very least she couldn't leave while Ichiro might still be in danger, so she started running... back towards the diner. She vaulted up a dumpster in the alley, using her momentum to run up the wall a few steps and then leap to the opposite ledge, which she used to pull herself to the rooftop with practiced ease. The ledge overlooking the street was only a few steps away where she perched in the shadow of an air conditioning unit, crouched like a predator surveying its next kill.

Seeing Cannonade on the scene brought a frown to her lips... they were the embodiment of everything she disliked about "professional" heroes. Though Cannon's presence should be enough to mop up the rest of the Witchfinders without her having to intervene. The more concerning problem was the out of control monster on the street. Someone wearing a hoodie seemed to be trying to calm it down... regardless she couldn't just let it run wild with her brother nearby.

Yue took a deep breath, preparing herself for the backlash of what she was about to do...


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Yue Bayushi Character Portrait: Jericho Amile Character Portrait: Devon Metzger Character Portrait: Sasha Belov Character Portrait: Vicki Vortex Character Portrait: Cannonade
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Vic went from covering her ears to protect them from the horrid, cicada like screeching to tearing the popping earphones away from them in a flash. She snatched the phone from her pocket, eyes darting between its dead, dark screen and the screaming flesh alien, and clicked the buttons on the side of the screen to no avail. "Hey-!" Her head jerked back up to Jemma, eyes blazing with fury, but the thing was already bolting towards the action. She shook her head and glared at the sky, trying to look for the angel above who'd just let this happen to her. "Fucking shapeshifters," she exasperated. With the same tone of somebody who had just been cut off in traffic.

Business man left, calmer than the average citizen fleeing the park for safety. Tall glass of water took his leave, too, running towards the danger zone. Vic was left behind with no music to drown out the melodic lure of bones cracking and gargled screams in a superpowered smackdown. She sucked in her cheeks, crunching down on them with her molars, dropped her skateboard on the ground, then mounted and rolled the other way.

Hey, she was a rockstar, not a hero.

She had a reputation to keep, sure, a controversial one, but not one where she was labeled an active vigilante. That would be a little too much for her agency to tolerate. Or the law. And it wasn't like she could just stand by and watch the show, either. @Vicki Vortex, is this you watching a terrorist attack and doing nothing?! Yeah, piss off.

Besides, these things got out of hand, fast. Especially in a place like Atlas City where the super per square mile ratio was way out of wack. Think punching a person in GTA and how quick that escalates. Somebody was gonna die. That was pretty much what she thought she could hear going on back there, and if she was being honest with herself...

... it sounded awesome.

Nobody can see your face, anyway.

She didn't think about it as her skateboard lifted up from the pavement and she changed her course. She came soaring quietly over the scene, hands in pockets, like an unenthusiastic Silver Surfer with bad posture. The chaos was even better than it sounded from the park and had its own celebrity guest star. A streak of red hair slipped from being stuffed in her cap, but she didn't think about it. She was fixated on the monster tearing through Witchfinders like they were gore filled pinatas. She didn't take the time to figure out whose side anyone was on. Frankly, she didn't give a damn.

Out of nowhere, a Witchfinder found themselves knocked to the ground by the blow from a heaven sent skateboard to the back of the head. Vic plummeted down from the sky, hand gripping the skateboard's front. As the Witchfinder fell forward, she followed, her wheels grinding their skull against the pavement. She hopped off, snatched her skateboard back up, and turned around as her fallen victim lifted their salt-crusted hand towards her, to deliver one, two, three, four - an exorbitant amount of bashes to the head. If anyone looked now, they'd see a random civilian who'd wandered onto a superhero movie set and was giving it their damn best - bloody - shot.

Witchfinder out cold, she shook the blood from her board, rested it on her shoulder and turned back to the monster. Then gave a little flick of her fingers.

Superhero and Van Helsing wannabe alike suddenly had a wall of air shove them aside, thick enough to feel like a solid force. She cleaved a straight line through the battle - a path straight to the monster. She immediately drew her busted phone from her pocket and ditched it at it. It bounced harmlessly off its hide, but got its attention.

"Hey, creature feature," Vic murmured under her breath, glaring down at it with undeniable murderous intent. "You shouldn't have cut off Bob Weir." Her grip on her skateboard tightened as she prepared to launch herself at him. "Or been the biggest motherfucker at this joint."

Jericho turned, focus locking on a new target; through the blur of combat haze, irritation and excitement built into a roar. The sound of a lion’s deafening call, mixed with the warbling shriek of an elk underwater, and undercut by keening tone that warbled glass and eardrum alike.

Vic's heart leapt as the land shark charged her. It was a non-too-regular reminder that it was still there. Regardless, she ran right for it, taking the skateboard off her shoulder. She pushed it along the ground, letting it run ahead of her and through the creature's legs, as its reach breached just a mere several meters from her. Five. Tw- Without a sound, she was gone. Particles exploded out, then faded into nothing. A gentle breeze wafted past Jericho's face.


Vic materialized behind them, feet plonking down on the skateboard. She skidded around, raised two fingers, and mimicked a little "Pow!" of a gun. The creature was pushed forward by the world's strongest air cannon - that was restraining itself. Just a little puff, enough to stumble it. An adrenaline-spiked grin flashed across her face, hidden by her medical mask.

Man... it had been way too long since the last time she'd nearly died.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Sheri Galloway Character Portrait: Yue Bayushi Character Portrait: Jericho Amile Character Portrait: Devon Metzger Character Portrait: Sasha Belov Character Portrait: Vicki Vortex
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Jericho had paused at the sound of Alex's voice, had begun turning to locate the massive man who they called a friend, their very first friend. The stench of super powered individuals was overwhelming. It stank like rot, like flesh and meat and hunger.
It stank like glorious power, sweet glorious satisfaction, like a purpose meant to be completed! They would have their carve! But. Alex would be disappointed, perhaps even angry, and survival would be in jeopardy if Jericho kept going the way they were. They had to calm down, they had to back away from the fight, return to hiding! They-

Something clattered off their haunch, the scent of wind-scraped plains, of dust and gale, caught their attention. The air shoved Alex out and away from Jericho, shoved the prey that surrounded the Polymorph away.
The fog descended, and Jericho gave in to their instincts for battle, for the hunt.

There was a brief black-out moment, where J-3 would not remember even moving to attack Scarlet, where it wouldn't remember having its' haunch shoved by a wall of wind that threatened to topple it over. The meat of J-3 would remember turning, flinging a cadaver at 'Scarlet' and rushing her right after the corpse flew through the air.
It would remember cleaving a path through meat that stood in its' way, ripping a witchfinder in twain with brutal efficiency, sending the halves scattering their contents to the ground as they continued with single-minded determination.
It would remember watching Scarlet blocking and deflecting the corpse of a witchfinder with her skateboard, would remember leaping up, spinning about midair, and flexing its long tail.
The length of meat and metal split apart like a horrifying flower. A multitude of eight thinner but no less armored, lined with iron 'fangs', tentacles spread out.
The tendrils swept through the air like whips, and the first three to come into contact with Scarlet's board tore it in half. Another lashed forward as J-3 landed, spearing through the air with the intent to harpoon and kill.
She disengaged her ‘shield’, holding each skateboard piece by the truck like she was about to start dual wielding them, and ducked. Far too slow. Half her face began to melt away as the tendril shot through it, particles floating up into the sky, but she felt the sting. When the tendril whipped away, and she regained a full solid form, her hat had been knocked off and there was a thick, red gash on her forehead, spilling blood down her face and soaking into her mask.

J-3 Unleashed another roar, their chest ballooning outward and swelling with silver-black ink. The sound was that much louder, like a blast of thunder and animal-fury. The noise was a grating bellow mixed with the chittering whine of an insect, the screaming caw of some parrot-like bird supplemented it all. They shook the ground with the force of it, completely lost to the shift and shake of combat. They spun about, swirling on one armored hind leg, as their limbs lashed out at everything nearby. Another Witchfinder lost an arm, the one who ran to avenge her comrade found her face slashed by a clawed hand that spared no mercy or care for her existence.
Meanwhile, across from the whirling dervish, a certain someone thought to themselves.
Christ, that was a big set of lungs. Would be a shame if somebody-
Scarlet flipped her hood back on and punched forward, air cannon engaged. And concentrated. It blasted the creature, and the sickening noise of ribs turning inward cracked over the conflict. The creature’s chest caved in as it was blown back, the air forced out of its lungs. Vic gladly held onto that. And didn’t return it.

J-3 was thrown back, chest caved inward and starved of air. It locked its' gaze on Scarlet, still blinded to reasoning by the thrill and excitement of the hunt. It stood a solid fifteen or more feet away from Scarlet now. The tails on its hindquarters flicked, and lashed forward with an abrupt speed that left them blurs to the naked- or non super eye. Ink swirled on the tips of the tails as they moved, quills of bone and barb forming and soaring through the air between the two combatants. Four sank into the flesh of Scarlet's left shoulder, right and left forearms, and one just barely scraped by her hip as she once again 'POOFED' to avoid the worst of it.
J-3 thrashed for a moment longer, before shuddering and staggering side to side, desperate for oxygen.
The middle of a roar was no time to have the air stolen from you. Asphyxiation was a bitch.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Yue Bayushi Character Portrait: Jericho Amile Character Portrait: Devon Metzger Character Portrait: Sasha Belov Character Portrait: Vicki Vortex Character Portrait: Cannonade
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What unfolded in front of Devon's eyes was nothing short of a scene from a martial arts movie as Yue made short work of the ones left standing after his barrage, though a part of the fight had happened outside of his sight including the last of one standing of the assailants. All he had been able to see of him were the flames he attacked with, not even enough to attempt suppressing fire on his location, who knows what or who else it might hit. Combined with the fast pace and close quarters nature of the fight he hadn't been able to add any covering fire aside from that initial strike.

It took him a couple more moments than he would honestly like to admit to realize what Yue's plan was with moving the disabled crooks into a pile in his line of sight, in fact it took until Yue directly signed to him what she wanted. She wanted him to foam the crooks, though he couldn't quite imagine how one were to get up after sustaining the types of injuries that the both of them dished out. That being said, better safe than sorry. He said as he covered the bunch in foam taking the time to make sure none of their heads got covered by it.

By the time he was done covering the pile of Witchfinders in foam, and turning them in an abstract art piece of tangled limbs, heads and sticky goop, Devon noticed that he now was sharing the rooftop view with his impromptu ally. She was overlooking the area to the front of the diner, to which he had pretty horrible overview from his current perch. Which meant running back over the roof to his original position, to the roof without a raised ledge. At least the fighting should still be relatively close to the diner, which should allow him to get close to that edge without being spotted.

Taking his first peek over the ledge he noticed the familiar face, or rather helmet, of the loose cannon that called themselves a hero. In property damages alone they were nothing more than a walking disaster zone. Another two additions among the chaos had taken their aim at the monstrosity, one of them being a... teleporter? No, that didn't seem quite right, especially after the creatures roar was halted in the middle of it and he seemed to be struggling with some invisible ailment, was it suffocating? Whatever the reality was it seemed they weren't allied to the Witchfinders, given the few that he'd just prevented from performing a sneak attack from behind with a few more well placed shots. Rather they seemed intent on stopping the monstrosity's rampage.

He crouched into a position close to the edge popping up the collar of the trenchcoat and making sure it covered as much of his face as possible without covering his eyes. How he'd love to go in guns blazing, but without proper face protection and gloves that was just asking for injuries or death. Still he'd at least give as much covering fire as possible form his position to those fighting below.