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Richard Mackenzie (The White Death)

"True heroes do what is necessary."

0 · 758 views · located in Atlas City

a character in “Hadean”, as played by Lord Saethos






Theme 1 – Hells Bells
Theme 2 – Vigilante
Theme 3 – Count Dankula’s Theme


Full Name: Richard Mackenzie
Alias: White Death, Great White Death
Age: 25 (Born 2020)
Gender: Male
Ethnicity: Caucasian, Scottish/English/Brittonic descent. Canadian national.

Hair: Dark chocolate brown, almost black in some lights.

Eye color: Grey-Blue

Body: Slim but athletic.

Height: 5'10"

Weight: 148lbs

Hometown: Hope, British Columbia, Canada

Affiliation(s): Canadian Armed Forces (formerly)

Calm and reserved, can come off as cold sometimes, but polite and respectful others. Richard can be quiet at times, but he’s more than willing to talk in the right circumstances. He is generally in control of himself, and that’s the way he likes it.

White Death, however, shows a different side of him. Cold. Brutal. Detached. Violent. White Death may be calm, but all energy he doesn’t waste in emotions is transferred to him brutally murdering villains, criminals, and the other lowly scum of the Earth. For your typical street criminal, White Death tries to be quick and efficient in taking out his opponents. For those individuals who are particularly vile, White Death will try his very best to ensure he takes as much time with his job as possible.

The greater the crime, or the more innocent the victims, then the more “creatively cruel” White Death becomes to the villains.

- The outdoors. Particularly enjoys hiking.

- Mountains

- Rain

- Black coffee with some sugar. Orange juice. Typical “breakfast” drinks.

- History (including books, online content, and artwork)

- Various kinds of music, though different styles of rock tend to be closest to his heart. Contrasts slightly with his more “classical” tastes or interests.

- Guns (the tool of his trade).

- Swords, knights, and medieval stuff. Enjoys the idea of heroes who fought for justice in a bygone era, even if they were few in number.

- Kind/respectful/polite people. At least reasonably so.

- Various other things. Some of which he keeps private. Very private.

- Extreme heat. He’ll tolerate it, but it’s not his preference.

- Alcohol. Doesn’t drink.

- Smoking. Doesn’t smoke.

- Drugs (including weed). Doesn’t use them. However, he doesn’t make a fuss about others using, so long as it isn’t killing themselves or others. Ditto to smoking and drinking.

- Pointless bravado, narcissism, and self-aggrandisement. Hubris.

- Child abusers. No sane person likes these people. Richard likes them even less. But he does like hurting them. And killing them.

- Criminals in general that cause harm to others (especially to innocent people).

- Chaos, confusion, disorganization. It gets people killed.

- Many of the “hero” organizations. He sees them as bureaucratic or overbearing, and that they lose their ability to be effective by trying to be micromanaged.

- Villain organizations. Obviously.

- Despite Richard’s past occupation, he has had occasional trouble with “authority”. He does respect authority, but he has directly disobeyed authority on a number of occasions. As such, he dislikes authority he views as either incompetent, or morally corrupt. And authority that fits that description is authority he will not listen to.

- Relying on his powers. Richard values the skills he has developed as a human, and it’s important to him that he be a capable fighter without needing his powers. Certainly he uses them, but he generally prefers his human abilities over his cape powers.

- The people he loves being harmed or killed.

- Death (as most sane people would).

- Nonexistence. An existential fear, but a fear nonetheless.

- That he’s doing the wrong thing.

- Skilled firearms user. Good with pistols, automatic rifles, shotguns, and rifles (bolt action, semi-automatic, etc.).

- Capable of hitting a target at considerable distances without using a scope (something he’s practiced since youth, and something that plays into his name).

- Can effectively use various pieces of military grade equipment (weapons, communications tech, etc.)

- Some mechanical skills he picked up in his youth and his time in the army.

Costume Identities:
Richard wears a simple outfit. Black tactical shirt, pants, and boots, with additional light armoring in black. Over the shirt he has a black, light-weight, bullet proof tactical vest, and his “mask” is a modified black "balaclava". On the upper parts of the sleeves of his black shirt (in the place where a flag would be on a military uniform) is a simple, black rectangular patch with a white circle on it, and a white line going through the middle of the circle. In ancient Greece, it was a symbol of death.

- Two Pardini PC/GT pistols, one Silver, the other Black. The silver one has the name “Excalibur” etched onto it. The black one has the name “Durendal” etched onto it. Richard has these holstered with him for most combat areas.

- An MP5A3 submachine gun. The name “Tizona” is etched onto it. Richard uses this in most general combat.

- A Franchi PA3 shotgun. The name “Colada” is etched onto it. Richard usually uses this weapon when in a more confined combat area.

- .50 Caliber Beowulf AR-15. The name “Hrunting” is etched onto it. Richard mostly reserves this for “absolute necessity” situations. A gun built for hunting monsters.

- A black, carbon steel Tactical Machete. The name “Joyeuse” is etched onto the blade. Richard carries this in a sheath generally attached to his back.



Richard was born on April 16th, 2020 in the small Canadian town of Hope, British Columbia. He grew up there on a rural ranch property, to a relatively normal family who had a relatively normal life. The only thing not “normal” was perhaps Richard’s grandfather, the somewhat wealthy owner of a manufacturing company operating in a few different countries. But Richard’s family wasn’t anyone famous, or fabulously wealthy, just better off than many others. And that took time, effort, and a lot of risk on his grandfather’s part.

What changed Richard from being a regular kid happened in 2031, when he was 11. His younger brother Anthony (8 at the time) had gone missing. Several other children had gone missing in BC recently, and this was just one more to send the province into a panic. The family did everything they could to find Anthony, tried to hire private detectives, everything. Nothing came of it.

5 months later, a man was arrested trying to cross from Ontario into the state of Michigan. He was carrying photographs, and other various pieces of evidence that tied him to the kidnappings, and his other atrocious crimes. A week later they recovered Anthony’s body in British Columbia, as well as the bodies of seven other young boys and girls in both BC and Ontario. The man arrested plead insanity, and due to that and his age was sent to a mental health institute for the next 13 years.

This moment changed Richard forever.

The once innocent, blissful child became a bottle of pure, distilled, righteous hatred. His life began to revolve around the things he could have done to save his brother, the other children, and so many other people who’ve suffered. And what went from thoughts of hatred went to thoughts of violence.

This wasn’t all that was on his mind of course. He became keenly interested in history, particularly WW1 and WW2, as well as medieval history and Ancient Mesopotamia. It was through these interests that he came across the real-life legend of Simo Häyhä, the “White Death” of Finland. He was a sniper who had killed hundreds of invading Russians, without a scope, burying himself in snow, and landing killing blows on targets hundreds of feet away from him. The skill and ability to manage this in such extreme conditions inspired Richard. As he got older and was allowed to shoot in target practice, he trained without a scope.

As he grew older and the internet became more accessible to a young boy, he began to watch movies online. One film that caught his attention was from the 70’s or 80’s, focusing on a small group of New Yorkers who’d been terrorized by gangs and street thugs. Eventually, the victims decided they had had enough and decided to deal with the threat more violently. It likely took inspiration from real life vigilantes like the “Guardian Angels”, though they were less violent by far.

By all accounts Richard seemed normal to most people around him. He enjoyed sports, was relatively social, and even did a little bit of acting at school. So it came as a surprise to many people around him when, upon graduation from High School, he immediately signed up with the Canadian Armed Forces.
Richard, being a persistent young man, pushed to be trained as a regular infantryman, a sniper, and as a mechanic. He excelled in the first two, and he managed to be decent as a mechanic, enough that he would be called on for some maintenance jobs. By the time he was 19, he was deployed to <REDACTED> to serve with coalition forces.

It was during the war that his powers became active, these specifics (and his time in the army) will be listed in the “Power Origins” section. Later in his career however, there was considerable tension between Richard and his superiors, and in 2044 he left the army and returned home to Canada.
When Richard returned to Canada, it was just in time to learn that a piece of unfinished business had just been released from a mental institute. His brother’s killer, who had apparently shown “remorse”, “regret”, “considerable progress”, and “real change” was to be released back into the world. Of course, he was expected to “check in” regularly with a parole officer, but he was old, and expected to live out the rest of his days quietly.
Richard had other ideas.

Just one missed parole meeting and a national search began for the “reformed” killer. For months police across Canada, and both Canadian and US border services, worked tirelessly to find this man. To this day not a single glimpse of him has been found. No photos, no eyewitness accounts, no stolen vehicles. The man was never seen again. Alive or dead.

Police investigated some of the families to the killer’s past victims, including Richard. But he was just hard at work working for his grandfather, far away from his brother’s killer. No evidence linked Richard (or anyone else) to the killer’s disappearance. The White Death had meted out violent justice for the first time, and certainly not the last…


North Wind -
[Shaker – 6]

Richard can slow down particles and energy in an area around him, resulting in a drop of temperature in that area. When utilized with his other powers (provided there is sufficient moisture around) this can also be used to create a miniature snow storm in the area (more on this later). So far he has demonstrated that he can achieve temperatures as low as -15 to -20 degrees Celsius, but it’s possible he could manage even lower temperatures.

White Out -
[Shaker – 6 / Stranger – 4]

By lowering the temperature in an area sufficiently, and focusing his energy on creating particles of snow, Richard can create a miniature snow storm. When done correctly, this creates a small area of obscured visibility, allowing Richard a brief moment to retreat/escape if it ever becomes necessary.

Ice Creation/Manipulation -
[Shaker – 7/ Blaster – 2 / Striker – 5 / Changer - 7]

As with the rest of his cold generation abilities, by slowing the movement of particles Richard is able to create and manipulate ice in a variety of ways.
1. Ice Projectiles (Blaster): Richard can create ice spikes to be used as projectiles. However, his skills of moving them in this way is quite limited, usually it requires another force to use them as actual projectiles (including the manual use of his body, ie. Throwing them).

2. Ice Armor (Changer): As the ice spikes would indicate, Richard can form ice into designs suitable for melee weapons, and also for temporary armor. As this is only ice, and creating ice also takes time, armor is usually a very temporary measure, and only manages to absorb some damage. Very much an emergency use technique.

3. Ice Weapons (Changer): The ice weapons Richard creates can be a little more durable than the armor (if their shape can be maintained) and can be effectively utilized for a longer time than the armor. Weapons include “ice spikes”, daggers and other blades, and “knuckle dusters”. The ice knuckle dusters are probably the sturdiest, as they can be made more quickly, more durable, and absorb shock quite well. They also pack quite the punch.

4. Freezing (Blaster/Striker): While Richard can’t exactly “project” an attack, he can manipulate particles at some distances, meaning that he is capable of forming ice over something either close to him, or that he is touching. Touching generally works faster, but this can be used to freeze objects, or even people. While it has proven difficult so far, theoretically Richard could even turn the moisture in a human body into ice, causing near-permanent, potentially lethal damage. This usually takes considerable time however, a lot of energy, and mastery. As of now, Richard has not mastered this ability.

Power Origins:

While Richard was in the armed forces, he demonstrated great skill in pretty much everything he was asked to do. He was a decent mechanic, a solid infantryman, and an exceptional sniper. But he had a lot of trouble with authority. Richard was frequently being reprimanded by superiors for not using his scope on sniper operations, and his protests that he was “better without one” did not convince them. They didn’t prevent him from continuing as a sniper on occasion, but he would often sneak the scope off when he thought he could get away with it.

His comrades understandably were confused by his behavior, and they didn’t feel much better when he explained the “competition” he was having with a Finnish sniper from WW2; Simo Häyhä, the “White Death”. Richard didn’t want to be as good as Simo, he wanted to be better than him. Shoot from a further distance, kill more enemies, and miss fewer shots than the now dead veteran had done. Some of the soldiers were bothered by this for a while, not sure he could be trusted with their lives.

It took a few years, but eventually he did gain their trust, and two nicknames. Some of the soldiers would refer to him simply as “The White Death”, hinting that he was continuing on the legacy of Simo. Others would refer to him as “The Great White Death”. Because he was Canadian.

His skills eventually caught the eyes of the Joint Special Task Force (JSTF), Canadian Special Forces. Richard was never fully brought into the JSTF, but he was used as one of their primary snipers on various missions, and as a result also ended up working alongside US troops.

And that’s how everything changed for him. Richard was sent with a special convoy with both Canadian and US troops, they were supposed to be securing a new location deeper into enemy territory. This was going to dislodge the enemy and allow coalition forces to operate in a wider area. But someone had tipped off the enemy. Rockets were fired at the convoy, blowing up several of their vehicles, and killing several dozen soldiers.

Richard’s truck skidded off the road and crashed but avoided being hit by direct rocket fire. He managed to crawl out of the wreck, and was trying to regroup with the rest of the soldiers so they could prepare a counter attack. Another rocket flew by, hitting another vehicle and creating another explosion. This time a piece of shrapnel was propelled right into Richard’s skull. Everything went black in an instant, and his body fell to the ground.

Several days later, Richard awoke in an army medical tent, head splitting with pain, but otherwise alive and in one piece. His bed was also covered in a thin layer of frost, in temperatures above 30 Celsius. Richard doesn’t remember anything of how his powers were first activated, but soldiers who recovered him from the convoy all stated there was a layer of frost across him, and sporadic chunks of ice littering the area around him.

The army worked hard to get Richard back into fighting shape, and to train him to use his powers for more combat-oriented roles. This was something he was heavily resistant too as he preferred relying on his “human skills”, rather than on his “luck of the draw” powers. Regardless, he spent some time learning to hone them, but soon found himself back in standard missions for the military.

A few months after this had all occurred, in 2016, Richard was sent on what would be his last mission. The details are ones Richard doesn’t like to speak about, but whatever did occur led to a series of disputes between himself and his military superiors. In the end, he was permitted a “voluntary release”, though this may not have been given to him very easily.


Color Code:#2B4F81

So begins...

Richard Mackenzie (The White Death)'s Story


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Yue Bayushi Character Portrait: Richard Mackenzie (The White Death) Character Portrait: Maxwell Landon (The Shape)
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March 10th, 2045, 11:23pm: Atlas City, North Carolina, USA

Car doors slam closed as the trunk of a sedan is opened, faint and muffled shrieks erupt as someone is dragged out, arms and legs bound together, and a bag over their head.

A faint dripping sound echoes off the rough, decaying concrete walls of some strange tunnel network, hidden in an almost forgotten part of Atlas City.

Chains clink together as a dim ceiling light sways gently from the ceiling, faintly illuminating the form of a man, wrapped in chain and elevated off the floor from beams of wood above him.

The bound man, supported by two men dressed in finely pressed, black suits, was dragged away from the car, feet scraping across gravel beneath him. The grinding sound of the rocks being displaced soon gave way as his feet reached patches of grass, and then sand. Crashing waves informed the currently blinded man that they stood on the shores of the Atlantic Ocean, likely still in North Carolina he would wager.

After a few moments of unsteady standing, the bag was finally removed from his head, and he was pushed forward so that he tumbled into an open pit of sand. After thudding into the ground, the man tried to regain his faculties and searched around him frantically. He spoke, shouting in fact, throwing out curses and fast paced, almost unintelligible sentences in Russian. The tirade was cut short as another man began to walk towards the pit, a faint glow of a cigarette barely illuminating the features of his face.

A man dressed in a grey suit stood before the Russian now, cigarette hanging gingerly from the fingers of his left hand. "Well comrade, what a predicament you find yourself in now, hmm?" He chuckled to himself as he knelt down at the edge of the pit, another drag from his cigarette showing the cold features of his smiling face.

The Russian began shouting at the man in grey, his words going between Russian and small bits of English. "Square, square!"

"I think you mean a cube comrade." The man in grey smirked as he blew out a plume of smoke. "Unfortunately, that’s SINS territory you’ve stepped into. Or rather… Mine."

A shaking, twitching, emaciated man shuffled through the dark tunnels, led only by faint lights that crept around corners, and the promise of a new life. He scratched at his arms, his scalp his face, everything. His whole body felt like it was crawling, and being scrapped with pain. It was unbearable for him, would be for almost any man or woman, and he would do anything to alleviate it.

Rounding a corner, he finally found a large, tall room where water gently poured from spouts built into the concrete walls. At the center a figure was seated, surrounded by the faint glow of candles. He wore a long black coat, and an eerie white mask. The disheveled man who entered the room staggered over to the dark figure, falling to his knees before the white mask.

"They… They told me you can f-f-fix people… Please… I feel so… Much… Pain…" He stuttered as his body convulsed, body wrenching pain flowing through every inch of flesh.

"You have heard correctly." The man responded, the sound of his voice obscured by a microphone of some sort within his helmet. "But it comes with a price."

"W-what’s the price?"

"Your unyielding loyalty. Your obedience. Your soul." The man on the ground looked up to the white masked figure as he named his terms. His eyes were wide, with a mixture of fear, but also pain.

The sound of footsteps alerted the chained up man, as a door at the other side of the room gently swung open. A man dressed head to toe in black tactical gear stepped into the room, his face covered in a matching balaclava with only two holes in it where his piercing eyes looked through. As the man in black approached, the chained up man began to writhe around violently, screaming for help, hoping desperately to get the attention of anyone who might be around.

"That’s not going to help you. If I wanted anyone to come help you out, I’d have chosen a much less remote location. You’re not exactly innocent yourself either, you should know something about trying to stay hidden." After he finished speaking, he turned on a small radio that sat on a wooden workbench. He turned up the volume as bells began to toll, ushering in AC/DC’s Hell’s Bells.

The man in chain’s started to break down into laughter.

"You’ve gotta be kidding me! Do you even know who I work for? We're gonna have you skinned alive! You stupid vigilantes, thinking you're the devil or something!"

More laughs emanated from the chained up man, but the man in black was unfazed, he simply removed the mask from his face, laying it down on the table. Richard turned to face the man, a soft smile on his face. The chained up man went quieter. A vigilante that shows their face doesn't expect witnesses...

"A devil eh? No, I wouldn't say that. You know, the Devil gets all his sinners sent to him, practically delivered. But me? I have to hunt for the sinners I want. Like you for example, part of the chain that brought your nasty drugs up to my side of the border. Couple kids are dead from that, you know? Thought they were gonna have a fun party with some coke, didn't realize what the dealer had laced it with. Probably lots of kids this side of the border who've suffered too."

Richard grabbed something that stood next to the table, a long wooden handle, with a heavy piece of sharp metal at the end. A fire axe. "The other thing about the Devil is he likes to torture people, any people he can get his hands on. And he relishes it. I only torture the unjust, the evil, the real Devil's of the world. And I relish it." Richard smirked.


The Russian began shouting out a slew of more curse words, Russian, and garbled bits of English. "The Union! The Squares! We fight same enemy!"

The man in grey let out a low laugh as he shook his head. "Izvinite, tovarishch, no my ne na odnoy storone. Dlya tebya eto dasvidaniya." Sorry comrade, but we're not on the same side. For you, this is goodbye.

The pain was too much to bear, the man on his knees could feel it nearly ripping his body apart. He'd had enough. He wanted a new life, one free from all this, and he'd give up some other freedoms to have it.

"I'm yours. If you can end this for me, I'll serve you for the rest of my life."

The man in the white mask nodded as he laid a hand upon the other man's head.

"So be it. Welcome to your new life."


Richard heaved the axe up so it was in both hands now, and slowly began to raise it over his head, the edge aimed towards the tied up drug dealer, who had once more resumed his screaming, with curses, threats, and sobs mixed in.

"This might take a while. Welcome to Hell."


The man in grey pulled a pistol out from his holster, placing it against the Russian man's forehead as a stream of cries and sobs erupted.

"Oh, and by the way: Welcome to America."

A gasp of air filling lungs.
A thud of metal on flesh.
The crack of a pistol being fired.


March 11th, 2045, 7:15am: Atlas City, North Carolina, USA

Living in America by James Brown ushers in the morning news, accompanied by triumphant images of America from the past 268 years, paying particular attention to World War 2.

"Good morning Atlas City! I'm Ron Clark, and this is your morning news! To start us off on a good note, we're listening to Living in America by James Brown. This is going to be an incredibly important year for America! It marks the 100 years anniversary since the end of World War 2, and as we quickly approach VE Day, Atlas City, and all of America, busily prepare themselves for Centennial Celebrations! We'll be keeping you updated on all the VE Day news, and giving tips on what you can do to mark one of America's, and the whole world's, greatest victories against tyranny! Later this afternoon, we're going to have a special guest on to talk about the myths and legends, and maybe some real life evidence, of the legendary North American monster, the Wendigo! Following that, we'll be providing coverage on a recent scientific study that shows there could have been life on Earth that predated the Ha-"

The sound of the news was cut off by a diner bell ringing as Richard entered a small breakfast spot in downtown Atlas City. It was a nice place, used to be an old fashioned diner, but was taken over by folks with slightly more modern tastes who decided to keep the old style, but upgrade the coffee menu, making it a cafe and diner hybrid. He took a seat at the counter and smiled at the waitress. "Just a coffee to start with." He said warmly. The waitress smiled and nodded back, bringing him a menu before going to get his coffee.

It was beautiful being up at this time of day, the sun barely making its way up and illuminating the town, casting early morning shadows. And on top of that, the sky was still mostly overcast, except over the ocean, where the sun seemed to be pushing the clouds deeper inland, away from the city. Still, there was always a chance of rain, but Richard was quietly hoping for that.


Maxwell quietly sat in a park in the downtown part of Atlas City, in a nicer area surrounded with coffee shops, small grocers, and boutiques. The park was in a rectangular shape, with a road that encircled it, and the buildings and shops encircling that road. There was an old fashioned looking diner even just across the road west of the park. He was sipping away at an Americano as he read bits of the morning paper, trying to catch up on current events, particularly economic ones. Being involved in crime, sadly, did not make one immune to the impact of global economics, though that sometimes could be to his benefit.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Yue Bayushi Character Portrait: Richard Mackenzie (The White Death) Character Portrait: Maxwell Landon (The Shape)
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Silver Fang: Queen of the Damned? Yue scrolled through the article as she inhaled the crisp morning air of Atlas City. She strolled down the sidewalk from the downtown Hotel where she had just checked out, flexing the stiffness out of her right arm and grimacing, only slightly, at the repeated pop of her joints. She twisted her neck, arched her back and stretched her shoulders as she walked, absorbed in her phone and was rewarded with a symphony of crunches and cracks like someone angrily taking their frustration out on a roll of bubble wrap. Just one of the rewards of surviving into your thirties! Her father would jest.

No mention of the Witchfinder Generals. No mention of Silver Fang pulling her injured teammates to safety. Just property damage, injuries, and “Was this negligence, or intentional harm?” Yue flicked the article away as she strolled absently past a park. She’d never had a great relationship with the media. The fact that she never took any interviews and her powers only seemed to destroy everything they touched only fueled this image of her being a reckless menace. This incident in particular had been eating away at her during her recovery.

She paused for a few moments at a corner when her phone chirped: a notification from the fan website her brother had set up. Yue flicked her still wet hair out from under the strap of her black tank top nervously, and nearly missed her window to cross. Her loose warm-up pants rustled as she jogged across the street and tapped the notification timidly.
It brought up a list of dozens of links to articles written by some smaller, independent journalists and their blogs about the activities of various supers. Silver Fang Braves Inferno, Rescues Four. Silver Fang Pulls Car from Flood. Silver Fang Saves Trapped Family. Many of these incidents never made it to the mainstream media, or had been buried beneath much larger headlines. She scrolled past the links to the bottom as she pushed her way into the small diner she’d been frequenting since she arrived in Atlas City.

Some of us appreciate the things you do. – Anonymous.

Yue couldn’t help the smile that cracked the corners of her lips. It was an anonymous post, but she knew it had to either be her father or bother: they always did this to cheer her up when there were negative headlines about her.

The sharp “Ding!” of the diner’s server bell brought her head out of her phone as the door closed behind her. Her sharp burgundy eyes found a man she didn’t recognize sitting in her usual spot at the counter. She’d already crossed most of the distance to the stool from the door, and had been but a few steps from absently running into him. Yue bit her lip and scrunched her toes inside her shoes against the wave of anxiety: there wasn’t typically anyone inside when she arrived. She was a creature of habits, and even seemingly insignificant changes in her morning routine felt incredibly disruptive. Today she’d been held up at the front desk of the hotel for several excruciating minutes while she arranged for her luggage to be delivered to the NAHLA building where her apartment was being prepared, and now wasn’t the first customer inside.

This is dumb: I’m a grown-ass adult! Yue steeled herself and took a seat two stools over just as the waitress was noticing her.

“Good morning Yue- Oh! You got your cast off, congratulations!”

“Yeah, just yesterday,” Yue smiled awkwardly.

“Coffee and a bear claw?”

“Y-yes, if you would be so kind,” she half stammered.

Yue’s flicked an eye towards the man in her seat, she couldn’t help it. Tall, though probably slightly shorter than her, dark brown hair, took care of his body. She only just barely glimpsed his grey-blue eyes before she buried herself in her phone again and thanked the waitress when her order arrived.

“Chibisuke! Caught you!” Yue tensed for an audible heartbeat, unable to suppress the icy chill running up her spine. There was suddenly someone behind her: a looming, muscular figure silhouetted in the morning light. She’d been too absorbed to hear him come in. She had only just taken the first bite of her bear claw, though she hurriedly wolfed the rest of it down as he approached. Wait… was he flexing?

“You’re too late: I’ve already finished it!” She replied, as he sat roughly in the stool between her and the other man. Definitely a flex. “Don’t be rude, Ichiro-chan,” she chided as she sipped her coffee, though inwardly she was relieved to have someone she knew between her and the stranger.

“Pastries aren’t proper nutrition,” he chided back, snatching a crumb from her plate and only narrowly avoiding getting his hand slapped. “Mm- you know how to pick ‘em though,”he complimented, making like it was time to leave. He slowly sat back down when Yue coolly leveled her burgundy eyes at him over the rim of her coffee mug and made it clear she wasn’t going anywhere until she was finished. Nobody interrupted coffee if they wanted to live. He gave a nervous chuckle.

“What are you doing here anyway?”

“Taking you to P.T.,” he grinned.

“Do you know my therapist or something?” She asked, looking over as her phone chirped. An email from the office. She could feel his grin expanding, much to her annoyance. Appointment confirmation for physical rehabilitation at the NAHLA facility, directions to the building, her access credentials and… she froze, and nearly spit out her coffee. “No…”

Personal physical therapist and trainer: Ichiro Bayushi.

PERMANENT. ASSIGNMENT. The words slammed into her with finality.

She felt the color drain from her face as their identical burgundy eyes locked. He ran a hand through his short cropped black hair and she could tell that he could just not stop grinning. This was not a mistake; he had planned this somehow.

“I am your therapist.”


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Sheri Galloway Character Portrait: Yue Bayushi Character Portrait: Richard Mackenzie (The White Death)
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[i]March 10, 2045
Offices of Atlas City Heroes Incorporated
7:47 PM

Sheri gazed out at the overcast sky through the windows of the small third floor office space ACHI had been renting since their recent financial troubles had resulted in some downsizing to their headquarters. She hoped it would rain soon, though hopefully after she finished the job the super across from her was trying to hire her for; the decreased visibility caused by a storm would just be a nuisance.
”Miss… Houndmaster, if I could get your attention back-”
”You have my attention.”
”R-right…” The man clearly wasn’t used to hiring outside help. He’d been nervous the entire time she’d been here, which was starting to get on her nerves - Javier Baque, aka Aconite, was an impressively powerful plant generator and manipulator when he wasn’t acting as the human resources manager for ACHI, but his powers did tend to get annoying when he was stressed; the pollen and spores floating off him were starting to clog up her nose.
”Anyway, so the target Mr. Kingsley, appears to have enhanced hearing and the ability to see through walls,” Javier continued. ”As well as a precognitive ability to detect when he’s being targeted within a certain range. It’s made it impossible for us to get close to him - it’s pretty difficult to catch someone who can always see you coming, you know?”
”And you don’t have anyone who can take him out at distance, or a way to trap him.”
Javier chuckled nervously. ”We used to, but uh…”
Sheri sighed and picked the file up off the small table between them. A cup of tea had been placed next to it for her when she arrived, but she ignored it. ”What this guy do, anyway?” she asked, thumbing through the dossier. Alan Kingsley, 52, from Raleigh. Didn’t look particularly impressive.
Javier ticked off his fingers as he recounted. ”Money laundering, counterfeiting, fraud, and… tax evasion.”
”Dangerous man,”Sheri scoffed. ”I can see why you’re desperate to get him off the street.”
”He’s a criminal.” Javier shook his head slightly, picking up his own cup of tea. ”It doesn’t matter if he’s dangerous or not. He needs to be held accountable for his actions.”
”Is that how that works?”
”If you’d rather not-”
”That’s not what I said.” Sheri dropped Kingsley’s file back on the table. ”More importantly, are you sure you guys can even afford this? I’ve seen the news. If you aren’t able to pay me for this...”
Javier was silent for a moment. ”We need to catch this guy,” he said softly. ”We can’t really afford not to. Compared to that, your fee is a negligible expense.”

March 11, 2045
Atomic Anne's Diner and Cafe, Downtown Atlas City
7:28 AM

The diner looked about how Sheri had expected; which didn’t say much, since every diner she’d ever been in looked and smelled pretty much the same. It hadn’t been open long, but a few customers had already set themselves up at the counter, chatting and sipping that brown crap she’d never developed a taste for.
She took a seat in a booth with a solid view of the entire lobby. Large glass window with a view of the street, no visible entrances beside the one she’d entered from. A small side hall which likely led to the kitchen and bathrooms. A waitress came over to take her order; she waved her off, saying she needed another moment to decide. The waitress smiled and set a small glass of water in front of her, before moving back behind the counter.
Sheri got up and slipped toward the kitchen and bathrooms - or rather, bathroom, singular, as she found. A note on the door said to ask for the key at the front.
”Need the bathroom, hun?” the waitress called from the counter.
”Oh… no,” Sheri mumbled. Observant woman. That would make checking around a bit harder; she still needed to confirm whether there was an alternate route of escape through the kitchen. She returned to her seat. If she could use a double to take her place and slip back there while the waitress was distracted...
She checked the clock on the wall. 7:30. From what Javier had said, the target came in every morning around 10. That should give her a bit more time to figure something out, she reasoned. Maybe if she checked around the back outside?


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Sheri Galloway Character Portrait: Henry Stewart Character Portrait: Yue Bayushi Character Portrait: Richard Mackenzie (The White Death)
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Richard had been sipping away at his coffee for a while, and the diner cafe had managed to accumulate a rather interesting cast of characters in it, which he hadn't wasted much time in observing. There was the short, younger girl who'd taken a booth, and decided to scope out the bathroom before changing her mind, which seemed a bit odd. Then the taller, middle aged woman who'd sat down rather awkwardly, putting only one seat of distance between them. Something threw her off, and he wasn't sure what.

Then there was the big guy who'd come in, seeming like he'd seen a ghost. Maybe two even. He made an order with the waitress, who happily obliged him before making her way back to the kitchen to place the order. Another man sat between him and the taller woman now, the two carrying on with their idle chatter. Eventually the waitress made her way back to Richard, smile on her face as well.

"Ready hun?" She asked warmly.

"As a matter of fact yes. I'll have the breakfast special, with whole grain toast and marmalade, scrambled eggs, slice of ham, and what do you have here in the way of fruit?"

She raised an eyebrow and smiled as she replied. "Apples, oranges, maybe some berries or something?"

"An apple would be fine if it's not too much trouble. And I think I'd like a glass of orange juice too, thanks."

The waitress nodded as she finished up with her note pad. "Coming up hun."

Richard's attention was taken away from his own thoughts when he heard the man now beside him state, rather loudly, that he was the woman's therapist. He cleared his throat gently to get the man's attention. "Excuse me doctor, I'm sorry to interrupt your private conversation, but I thought things such as therapy fell under some kind of doctor-patient confidentiality?" His voice was light and pleasant enough, but the intention of his words was correctional. Perhaps it wasn't his business, but then it certainly wasn't his business to be overhearing private matters like that.


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Character Portrait: Sheri Galloway Character Portrait: Henry Stewart Character Portrait: Yue Bayushi Character Portrait: Richard Mackenzie (The White Death)
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"Excuse me doctor, I'm sorry to interrupt your private conversation, but I thought things such as therapy fell under some kind of doctor-patient confidentiality?" The voice came from behind him. It was Ichiro's turn to freeze.

"You'll have to forgive my little brother," Yue piped up, leaning onto the counter past Ichiro to smile at the stranger. "He's an excitable idiot."

"She's not wrong," Ichiro laughed nervously, more from noticing the subtle change in Yue's demeanor. She had turned in her stool and was resting her back against the counter, intent burgundy gaze sweeping the interior of the restaurant while she cradled her coffee mug with both hands; she clicked her teeth against the mug for a long second before slowly drinking. Something had caught her attention and he knew better than to try and interrupt. Instead he turned towards the other man at the counter. "You're absolutely correct, sir. I should be more careful. Ichiro," he said, offering his hand.

Yue noted the young woman, several inches shorter than herself... petite, red hair, green eyes. Takes a booth, doesn't order. Shortly gets up and moves towards the kitchen area. Bathrooms are over there, but you need a key from the counter to use them. Declines and returns to her seat when asked, and appears to be concerned with the time...

Then there was the man that just came in moments ago: Tall, large build, African-American, black hair, black eyes. Wet shoes and trench coat, but it's not currently raining. Looks hurried; takes the time to wipe his feet. Occupies a booth with a clear view of the door and easy egress... strategic choice: that's where she might sit if she wanted to leave quickly. Her own seating choice was mainly decided due to proximity to other customers: there were rarely more than one or two people at the counter, especially in the early hours when she usually arrived. He picks up a newspaper to read, which by itself wouldn't normally be conspicuous. One of her thin black eyebrows raised ever so slightly. Newspapers had been out of style for a long time, and even most older folks preferred digital media. Yue hadn't seen if the paper was left behind by the previous customers or whether it was new or not: she hadn't been paying attention that closely before.

Something about the stranger at the counter suddenly felt off as well, but Yue dismissed it as a note of paranoia since he hadn't done anything out of the ordinary. It's possible she was just over-analyzing and latching on to coincidental details. The thought made her click her teeth quietly against the mug once more.

"Maybe it's nothing..." she mumbled to herself, and went to drink. She had finished her coffee at some point during her deep thought, and the empty mug seemed to snap her out of it.


"I said I'll forgive you if you order pancakes," she replied, placing her empty mug on the far edge of the counter and carefully adjusting it until the handle was facing magnetic North. The waitress came by and re-filled it a few moments later, bringing a small smile to her lips.

"Small price to pay," Ichiro muttered in a defeated tone. He knew Yue though: She would continue to fish for excuses to stay until she was satisfied there wasn't any weirdness happening, and he could tell she was being a lot more attentive to their surroundings.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Sheri Galloway Character Portrait: Henry Stewart Character Portrait: Yue Bayushi Character Portrait: Sasha Belov Character Portrait: Richard Mackenzie (The White Death)
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Sasha took another swallow of his hot chocolate and continued reading the local newspaper, only glancing up momentarily to eye the newcomers to his regular diner.

Sasha sighed. He liked this diner since it was out of the way, but it appeared the forces that be was making this a hot spot.

Ah well, he thought, breaking off another piece of his cinnamon bun. Won't be the first time this place gets a little noisy. He popped the piece into his mouth and smiled, enjoying the warm morning sun as it landed on his back. Maybe he'd overhear something more interesting than the paper he held.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Sheri Galloway Character Portrait: Akiko Bong Character Portrait: Henry Stewart Character Portrait: Yue Bayushi Character Portrait: Cannonade Character Portrait: Sasha Belov Character Portrait: Richard Mackenzie (The White Death)
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Richard smiled and took Ichiro's hand, shaking it politely. "Mackenzie. Richard Mackenzie. Pleasure to make your acquaintances, Ichiro and Yue." He gave a slight nod in the direction of the waitress. "You two must be regulars here I take it? I'm new to town myself, been here about three days. I have to say though, this place seems to attract some pretty interesting clientele." His eyes flitted over to the shorter girl a moment, as if to indicate to the two next to him just one example. Of course, he also included Ichiro and Yue in that, something about them, and their relationship, seemed odd. Brother and sister duo, with one being the other's therapist?

The waitress now made her way over to Sheri, with a pleasant smile on her face, but a little off put by the strange behavior of the girl so far. "Ready to order yet hun?"


The girl at the front desk did a quick up and down of the tall individual who stood there, a little damp looking from sweat, smelling of freshly smoked weed, and swearing quite profusely about the radio in their room. The girl flushed a little in shock and embarrassment. "The ah... The wake up call ma'am? Is the ah, is the button not working? On the sound system on the bedside table? The umm, hotel switched from using voice commands a few years ago. There were issues with ah, feedback loops from the loudness of the system. Were you... Were you not told about this last night ma'am? When you requested a wake up call?"

Shuffling around some papers, the girl's face continued to redden. She needed to move the papers around to seem like she was doing something so she could avoid any confrontation or other awkwardness.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Sheri Galloway Character Portrait: Akiko Bong Character Portrait: Henry Stewart Character Portrait: Yue Bayushi Character Portrait: Devon Metzger Character Portrait: Sasha Belov Character Portrait: Richard Mackenzie (The White Death)
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All in all not a bad day, but did it really have to start this way and this early? Nothing like getting called out of bed at 4 am for a fluttering valve. Then batch quality verification had to be done by 5 am, color, vol%, smell, flavor, chemical profile, mouth feel, the whole works, all so everything would be bottled and ready to ship by 8 am when the truck would come, today they had 40 minutes to spare. Why did they even need to pick up the beer this early, aren't trucks allowed near the resort after 10 or something? In any case that'd be 1000 bottles of premium product going to the kind of resort where asking the price of something proves you're at the wrong address. Funny how branding works, never ran any ads or promotions, no flashy labels, just a title, quality product and a low quantity, and boom you're considered a brand with high standing.

"If you see John tell him valve 32's actuator is completely fucked, he'll love my emergency measures. I'm going to get myself some breakfast and a cup of wake me up, haven't eaten anything since dinner."

Devon grabbed his trenchcoat off the coat hangers in the office and walked out. Only one place nearby(ish) with decent coffee and food this time of the day, well two but he doubted the guys would appreciate him gorging himself on their lunches.

As the diner came into view he noticed a... woman, girl?... walk through through the entree and immediately decide against entering. Perhaps it was too busy for her liking? Either way it was the only place he knew that served decent coffee within his fuel range. He soon found out as he opened the door and looked inside. Yeah, packed at least for this time of day. Devon sighed and walked further into the diner passing a fashionably dressed man sitting in the booth nearest to the door, a man who gave him more than just a passing glance as he made his way to a nice empty stool at the counter.

He looked through the diner for a moment to get a better idea of the company around, a couple of nervous types it seemed hopefully they weren't planning to bring any trouble and everyone on their own, aside from that group of three... Not quite, a group of two the third just joined the conversation just a couple of seats away. In his casual fascination with the company around he was almost startled as the waitress asked to take his order.

"A black coffee, a bacon, egg and cheese sandwich and a blueberry muffin, please." As the waitress scribbled down his order she sniffed for a moment and gave a puzzled look. Devon returned a look of confusion for a moment before coming to his conclusion. "Malted barley and maybe a hint of spill from bottling." He said with a bit of a grin on his face. At least she didn't immediately draw the conclusion he had been drinking at 7 in the morning.

After being presented with a mug of dark brown and steaming hot wake me up and taking a couple royal swigs of it almost too big for how hot the beverage was Devon turned his attention to his phone. Lot's of viewgrabbing of the major media outlets as always, with only a few worthwhile articles... And a business e-mail, a rather large reservation for one of the higher end brews currently sat aging in the basement from a familiar name. Seems his brand was really catching on at the resort.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Sheri Galloway Character Portrait: Henry Stewart Character Portrait: Yue Bayushi Character Portrait: Devon Metzger Character Portrait: Sasha Belov Character Portrait: Richard Mackenzie (The White Death)
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”Ready to order yet, hun?” Sheri had been sitting at the booth for nearly 20 minutes at this point, and the waitress had clearly gotten impatient. She considered brushing her off again, but the diner had gotten so crowded in the interim that she felt it best just to give the waitress something to work with and keep her from bothering her again.
She flipped through the menu that had been sitting untouched up to that point, looking for something that looked even remotely appetizing. ”Uh…. eggs.”
”Scrambled or sunny side up?”
”How many?”
The waitress rolled her eyes and walked off. Sheri glanced around to make sure no one was paying attention to her. A few had noted her presence when she walked in, but they all seemed more interested in their own stuff. She would need to act quickly if she wanted to get this done and get set up at her vantage point before the target arrived; it was already nearly 8 am, which meant she had spent far more time on this than she’d anticipated.
After one more quick check to make sure no one was paying attention (was that woman at the bar keeping an eye on her? No, it was just her imagination) Sheri flicked her eyes to the seat in the booth next to her, then focused her mind and felt something fall over her like a shroud; this particular ability wasn’t very strong, but it should at least help keep people from paying attention to her. She got up, leaving an exact duplicate of herself in the seat she’d just been looking at, and moved toward the back.
She moved to open the door into the kitchen, but stepped back when she heard someone on the other side. The waitress came out with a tray holding another customer’s order, walking right past her without even a glance in her direction. Sheri slipped through before the door closed, stopping for a moment as the change in temperature between the lobby and kitchen struck her. The heat coming off the machinery made the whole back area more humid than she had expected.
She moved through the kitchen, keeping her head down while checking for any method of ingress that her target might be able to slip through. She ducked into the stock room as the cook walked past, her eyes landing on what she was looking for in the process; another door opening into the back alley, used when taking out the trash or bringing in deliveries. Now she just had to figure out how to keep it closed.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Sheri Galloway Character Portrait: Henry Stewart Character Portrait: Yue Bayushi Character Portrait: Devon Metzger Character Portrait: Sasha Belov Character Portrait: Richard Mackenzie (The White Death)
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"The pleasure is mine, Mackenzie-sama," replied Ichiro as he shook Richard's hand in his iron vice-like grip. "Yue's the regular, I literally just got off a plane last night."

"It's usually quieter in the mornings," Yue explained as she carefully applied an even coat of butter to the top of each pancake. "Lunchtime though... you almost can't get in the door." Ichiro absently slid her a dipping sauce cup from his area of the counter, into which she carefully measured the syrup.

"People go where the work is, I guess. I'm an Occupational Therapist, specializing in recovery from bone related injuries in su-sports," Ichiro explained, flinching slightly when Yue quietly jabbed the toe of her sneaker into his ankle. She was busy dissecting her pancakes into evenly sized squares to then be coated in a small amount of syrup individually prior to consumption.

Yue's eyes did routinely wander around the room during their conversation, picking up on the new arrivals and carefully observing the newer arrivals. She was beginning to feel uneasy, and shifted back and forth in her chair occasionally, like she just couldn't get comfortable. She had a hard time placing what was making her feel so uncomfortable, besides the young girl in the booth sitting eerily still... and the second newspaper reading patron in the corner. When did he arrive? Was she just noticing him? Was this the '90s? She hadn't seen a physical newspaper since grade school, but there are suddenly two in this one place. That by itself was enough to make the whole room feel off. Yue also felt like there was a pressure in the air: like there were too many gods watching this one spot while the dice of fate fell towards the table.

"Daijobudesuka? (Are you okay?)" Ichiro inquired with a slight note of concern.

"Kuki ga omoi... fuyukaidesu. (The air is heavy, it's unpleasant)," she replied.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Sheri Galloway 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) Character Portrait: Maxwell Landon (The Shape)
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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: Sheri Galloway 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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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: Sheri Galloway 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) Character Portrait: Maxwell Landon (The Shape)
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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: Sheri Galloway Character Portrait: Henry Stewart Character Portrait: Yue Bayushi Character Portrait: Devon Metzger Character Portrait: Richard Mackenzie (The White Death)
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"Yeah, sports," Ichiro laughed, a little too nervously for Yue's liking. "Helping people get back on their feet is the best reward. It's nothing compared to the work my sister does," he said smiling, but did catch Yue flicking an eye towards him with a hint of annoyance.

"Please, I teach basic self-defense and fitness classes at a gym, it's nothing special," she replied. Ichiro's tendency to talk excitedly about his passions would be adorable if he weren't so annoying about doing it in public... you know, to complete strangers.

Yue scanned the room again, seeming to feel a little more comfortable. The quiet patron with the newspaper had left; the large man by the window was now wolfing down his second helping of french toast; the newest customer had yet to do anything out of the ordinary, and the man sitting at the counter with them seemed nice enough. The only real outlier was the red-haired girl.

That uneasy feeling hadn't gone away, but Yue hadn't seen her do anything especially suspicious except be awkward with the staff. Yue was pretty awkward herself, and it had taken some days to warm up to the staff. Part of what kept her coming back is that they'd just kind of accepted that she was sort of an odd duck. She wasn't letting her guard down: that gut feeling wasn't wrong very often, but she had stopped fidgeting at the very least. It probably wasn't just paranoia, but she didn't think it was coming from inside the diner at least.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Sheri Galloway Character Portrait: Henry Stewart Character Portrait: Yue Bayushi Character Portrait: Devon Metzger Character Portrait: Richard Mackenzie (The White Death)
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Just as he was about to put the finishing touches on his confirmation e-mail Devon's meal arrived, the beautiful incarnation of cholesterol placed in the middle with the muffin straddling the line between the edge of the plate and touching the hot mess of grease dripping bacon, sunny side eggs and half melted cheese on a butter toasted bun. Whether it was the craving for food after working on an empty stomach or the sandwich was just that good he did neither know nor care to know, but from the first bite to the last he devoured it with gusto almost letting his coffee get the time to cool the tiniest bit down in the process.

After asking the waitress for a much needed refill of his coffee he grabbed a bite of his little dessert. There was something different in the atmosphere, he had been so absorbed with his sandwich that he hadn't noticed the one with the newspaper at the counter leave, nor that there hadn't been any glancing gazes from the girl in the booth for a little bit now when she seemed to have been nervously looking around before.

He had been peripherally aware of the conversation of the three he shared the counter with taking a bit of extra note from the moment the brother and sister had exchanged a few words in an eastern language, perhaps Japanese given the brother had adressed the third as 'sama'. He could however not resist the urge to pass a glance at the sister when she had mentioned she teached 'just' basic self defense and fitness at a gym. She didn't look like she had that gym instructor/trainer fitness, if he had to say they looked more... Purpose built. They just didn't look like the sort of muscle you'd build up doing fitness or body building, much less basic self defense training. That being said he could just be wrong, it wasn't like he was a physician or had any knowledge about muscular buildup beyond that of what basic college biology teaches you.

"Well,if I may be so bold you certainly don't look like you just teach the girls to aim below the belt and how to wield a purse as a flail. I would have guessed more in the direction of a martial arts trainer, Aikido or some other soft method martial arts." Adding the last part with an aloof tone of voice as he took another bite of his muffin.

For what it was worth he had the idea that like him she was aware that something seemed just that tad bit off about the atmosphere in the diner, perhaps by mixing in on the conversation he could find something out, also she was a regular and would probably know which pastries would make for a nice surprise for the boys back at the brewery. Never hurts to show a bit of appreciation for the moments where they go above and beyond their jobs even when he wasn't there.


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Character Portrait: Sheri Galloway Character Portrait: Henry Stewart Character Portrait: Yue Bayushi Character Portrait: Devon Metzger Character Portrait: Richard Mackenzie (The White Death)
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N-Nani?! Yue couldn't suppress the icy chill that ran up her spine at the man's comment. She didn't even think he was listening, let alone that someone could tell what kind of martial arts she practiced just by looking at her. For one short instant she narrowed her burgundy eyes at Ichiro, who gave an embarrassed grin. Who knew a little innocent conversation would lead to digging such a deep hole? Yue was a terrible liar, so she couldn't just keep making shit up on the spot: that's what the NAHLA provided backstory that she had memorized was for. The only problem with it was that it didn't have many specific verifiable details in it... like what kind of "self-defense" she taught, at "which gym."

"W-well... It's not, but... You're...," she blustered for a long moment, becoming flushed and trying to hide behind her coffee mug while she floundered for something to say. "Y-you're not wrong, I guess. Just fundamental Tai Chi and how to apply it... you know like in a real world situation," she explained, clearly fishing.

"Wow, you can tell that just by looking at us? I bet it's her muscle structure: fitness trainers are usually built with large muscles that look impressive, but are mostly water-mass," Ichiro replied excitedly. Yue drew a slow, deep breath: if she let him, Ichiro would talk anyone's ear off about the difference between muscle mass and muscle density, or short and long muscle compression.

"Oh I'm sure it's just a lucky guess, n-no need to bore them with a biology lesson, nerd," she chided, laughing nervously and quietly wishing God would just make her invisible, or suddenly whisk her away from this conversation somehow.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Sheri Galloway Character Portrait: Henry Stewart Character Portrait: Yue Bayushi Character Portrait: Jericho Amile Character Portrait: Devon Metzger Character Portrait: Vicki Vortex Character Portrait: Alexander Dalton Character Portrait: Sasha Belov Character Portrait: Richard Mackenzie (The White Death) Character Portrait: Maxwell Landon (The Shape)
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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: Sheri Galloway Character Portrait: Henry Stewart Character Portrait: Yue Bayushi Character Portrait: Sasha Belov Character Portrait: Richard Mackenzie (The White Death)
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There it was. The second plate. Empty. It was probably a bad idea to attempt to order a third. His money should be used for finding some sort of lodging...but once all that was said and some when would be have a decent meal breakfast ever again? A true dilemna. the end of the day, there really wasn't too much of an issue with treating himself to more helpings. He waved at the waitress once more. "Ma'am," he laughed, catching her exasperated look as she likely predicted what he was going to say.

He froze before he could speak further. Events had begun to spin out of control far too fast. A man in black fling a woman across the counter, right past him through a window. And that man wasn't alone either.

There were more, enough to make up a small army, surrounding the diner. All dressed in a similar garb they shouted out their intent. And revealed themselves to be Witchfinders. Henry had heard of the group by their reputation and while he had no encounters with them personally he was sure they were no friends of his. Or most people, by all accounts.

But that woman they were after, they called her a demoness. So, she was a super. Henry sighed to himself. He knew Atlas city was kind of a hotbed for this kind of activity but to think he's mind himself wrapped up in it within hours of arriving...this wasn't what he was here for. Henry spun around, checking for an exit a way out where he could sneak past these crazies gathered out front.

He turned his head. There was a man near the counter. He put on some of burglary mask on...what, was he picking now to rob the place?! Not particularly good timing on his part. Henry stood up slowly from his seat he definitely wanted to leave now, but...his eyes shifted to the side.

There were others, the waitress and some customers, huddled under a table, afraid for their lives. Glass shards embedded in them from the shattered window. Henry closed his eyes and took a deep breath. In a rush he told them, "Hurry! Get back to the kitchen!"

And luckily another element emerged. The Witchfinders were under attack though he couldn't quite see who had done so. No matter. It was the perfect cover for the diners and servers to make their escape and hide in the kitchen.

And then there was the robber... "Hey yo Burglar!" He shouted. towards Richard. "You can rob this place all you want later, but right now....I think it's best to save whatever ammunition you have for them!" He asked, drawing a weapon of his own. An odd looking pistol, it seemed.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Sheri Galloway Character Portrait: Henry Stewart Character Portrait: Yue Bayushi Character Portrait: Devon Metzger Character Portrait: Sasha Belov Character Portrait: Richard Mackenzie (The White Death)
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Wish. Granted.

She was about to turn and reply to Richard when she felt, more than heard a presence behind her. A huge, meaty hand clasped down on her shoulder, and she scrabbled quickly for her phone but she only manged to knock it clattering to the floor along with her half finished plate of pancakes before she was hurled across the diner. She barely managed to cover her face with her arms as she crashed through the window and landed sprawling on the pavement outside. Yue exhaled slowly, her ears ringing as they shouted at her, her body alight with that vibrating numbness she'd come to associate with pain.

The Witchfinder leader barely had enough time to finish his declaration. Yue had sprung to her feet and charged the line with terrible swiftness, her burgundy eyes flashing red for one fraction of a second. Several panicked gouts of flame and salt winged past her as she drove her fist into his solar plexus. Yue felt the man's rib cage crunch under the impact as he was lifted bodily off the ground and thrown into a heap on the pavement. It wasn't more than a second or two, but the sheer savagery of her retaliation stunned the mob into hesitation. Just long enough for her to gather her thoughts.

"Help me get the customers out of danger first, they're focused on her! Yue can handle herself, Mackenzie-Sama," Ichiro replied, hand shaking as he lifted his phone to his ear. "Yes, twenty or so assailants attacked us over at Atomic Anne's Diner... Ichiro Bayushi. Yeah, oh! Send at least one ambulance: they spilled my sister's coffee. Yeah I'll stay on the line," he said, speaking to the emergency operator with practiced coolness. He was tense, clearly fighting the urge to rush in and help, but remaining in control of his breathing.

It wasn't a good situation for her: there were far too many to fight without her powers, but she couldn't risk her identity. The problem was that her powers were not subtle, and using them for even one second would reveal her identity to anyone with passing knowledge of regional supers... not that it seemed to matter as the Witchfinders were able to track her down and identify her by name. Was it too much to hope that knowledge had been isolated to her last encounter with them?

"B-BITCH!" One of them recovered faster than she thought, and there was suddenly a gun brought to bear on her. Yue darted towards him, bringing her left hand around and slamming the knife edge of her palm into his wrist feeling the bone crack. The gun went off in her ear, and she felt a stinging line stretch from her elbow to the back of her shoulder. Hopefully just a graze. She thrust her palm into his chest with a hollow thud, knocking him to the ground and sending the pistol skittering. She didn't stop moving, driving one heel into his groin as he hit pavement and the other into his face, literally running over him to barrel into the man behind him and knock him sprawling into his comrades.

They were starting to recover and get organized again, but hopefully she had caused enough chaos and disarray in their ranks to buy time for people to get to safety. Yue sprinted across the street, sliding over the hood of a car. She grunted as she caught a spray of salt in her side, and rolled into a small alley between two shops. She slid around a corner as bullets started to whip past, biting into the bricks, spraying dust and shards into her face. Hopefully she could lose some of them in the park, and scatter enough of them to fight on more even grounds.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Henry Stewart Character Portrait: Yue Bayushi Character Portrait: Jericho Amile Character Portrait: Vicki Vortex Character Portrait: Alexander Dalton Character Portrait: Sasha Belov Character Portrait: Richard Mackenzie (The White Death) Character Portrait: Maxwell Landon (The Shape)
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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: Sheri Galloway Character Portrait: Henry Stewart Character Portrait: Yue Bayushi Character Portrait: Jericho Amile Character Portrait: Devon Metzger Character Portrait: Vicki Vortex Character Portrait: Alexander Dalton Character Portrait: Sasha Belov Character Portrait: Richard Mackenzie (The White Death) Character Portrait: Maxwell Landon (The Shape)
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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: Sheri Galloway 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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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: Sheri Galloway Character Portrait: Henry Stewart Character Portrait: Yue Bayushi Character Portrait: Jericho Amile Character Portrait: Devon Metzger Character Portrait: Vicki Vortex Character Portrait: Alexander Dalton Character Portrait: Sasha Belov Character Portrait: Richard Mackenzie (The White Death) Character Portrait: Maxwell Landon (The Shape)
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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: Alexander Dalton 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: Vicki Vortex Character Portrait: Cannonade Character Portrait: Alexander Dalton Character Portrait: Sasha Belov Character Portrait: Richard Mackenzie (The White Death) Character Portrait: Maxwell Landon (The Shape)
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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.