Vincent sat there in the seemingly small room. His eyes wandered, moving to each face that filled the seats around the table. His curiousity sparked and thought "Are these people like me? What are we about to get into? This can't be good." His eyes moved across the room. It was a tad bit dark in his opinion, but what does he know about decor. Then the sound of a clearing throat filled the room. Vincent's eys moved to the old man sitting at the head of the table.

"You have all brought here for a reason. Each and everyone of you in this room have a special 'talent' that has brought you to our attention." He spoke in a smooth, stern tone. His eyes shot to every person sitting in the room. "Each of you posses an ability that we need. We are the Department of Occult Warfare. Our job is to protect the world from anything out of the norm. Each one of you were chosen- soldiers, crooks, innocents- it doesn't matter who you are, you were chosen for your abilities not your moral code."

"And why have we been chosen sir. I would think that you and your people would already have a team or something." Vincent asked the old man in tone that let the whole room hear. He had questions streaming through his mind. Thoughts of what the hell he meant by out of the norm.

"The last team was wiped out. Dead. A botched mission in the middle east in a place called Al Kahli." The old man said without a tone of remorse. " You were brought here to replace them. We can not make you join, but we can make it worth each of your individual time."

" And what exactly are we up against. That is if any of us join." Vincent asked with a raised eyebrow as his curiosity got the best of him.

"Depends on the day. Depends on the mission. Paranormal entities, demons, cults. What ever can threaten the balance of the planet. That's what your up against." The old man said starring into Vincent's eyes.

Vincent sat back in his chair and spun side to side. His eyes went from each person brought in. An old man, a child, a few men and women his age. "Can I trust them?" He thought to himself. " Hell my own team doesn't trust me how could this be worse than I'm already stuck in." Vincent leaned forward, resting his elbows on the wooden table.

"Ok.... I'm in."

Jackson was not used to working with others, to being part of a team. He'd spent so long on his own, it was hard to imagine doing things any other way. But he had to admit, patrolling the streets as a vigilante was a child's dream. No matter how much good he did, it would always be insubstantial in the face of the greater picture. Here at this, Department of Occult Warfare, he might have a chance to do more. To use his gifts to really benefit mankind. Seeing as how he was here to be a replacement for the last team, he knew signing on would be dangerous. A lot more so than dealing with thugs with guns if the last team had had abilities like his. But he'd never let a thing like danger stop him before.

"Alright. You can count me in too." Jacks said. "I'm Jackson Archer by the way, nice to meet you all."

Looking around, he thought, 'All these people have abilities like me. I've never met anyone else like me before. I wonder if they can do the same kind of things, or if their talents are completely different from mine. That's an advantage I hadn't even thought of, maybe I can finally get some answers. Maybe this Department will know why I have these gifts.'

"Say, what can you all do?" Jacks asked.

Gazelle was the last person that had been brought into the room, from outside the closed doors there was silence while they all waited to begin, and when that door creaked open the sound of addicting laughter could be heard. It rang about it room in a whimsical manner as the light from the hall momentarily brought extra sight to the room.

As the door slammed shut behind her, eyes had to adjust to the dim lighting once again. Her lower body was adorned in leather cladding that stuck to her feminine curves like skin, thigh high boots rested loosely about her legs, a drapey belt hung from her narrow hips holding a six-shooter and ammo. Gazelle’s upper body was covered in a sheer white flowing blouse; shadows which caressed her figure could be seen underneath, along with the outline of perky breast and budded pale pink nipples.

As she made her way to the only seat left the sound of her click clacking heels echoed about the room, while she rounded the tabled the bottom bends of her ass cheeks were exposed by two long slits in those oh so tempting pants. Her hips swayed with every motion in a sultry fashion and as her body moved you could see the contorting muscles of her abdomen tighten.

She could feel eyes land on her body as she passed the other mysterious members, a feeling she was more than used to. The most prominent glare she could feel was the one coming from Vincent, and when her head whipped about to meet his gaze with her own pitch black stormy eyes, his dropped to the table immediately.

After Gazelle’s small entrance everyone in the room would feel a sudden decrease in their energy, just the smallest amount, she was testing the waters so to speak, and the evil of the woman seeped from her very pours like a toxic taint, it radiated from her very being. Quickly reaching her chair she pulled it out to become seated; only she kicked her feet up on the table crossing one leg over the other.

"You have all brought here for a reason. Each and every one of you in this room have a special 'talent' that has brought you to our attention. Each of you possesses an ability that we need. We are the Department of Occult Warfare. Our job is to protect the world from anything out of the norm. Each one of you were chosen- soldiers, crooks, innocents- it doesn't matter who you are, you were chosen for your abilities not your moral code." The older gentleman began to speak, and with his words Gazelle watched him with great intent, thick black lashes batting every so often.

Vincent began his questioning and very suddenly came to the conclusion that he would join, but not Gazelle, that wasn’t enough for her by any means. Paranormal entities, demons, cults, so on and so forth held no real fear for Gazelle, she had fought worse, she had fucked worse, what mattered to her was pay.

“And what do WE get in return?” Her voice rang out in authority. “I’m not signing up to deal with this shit again for a righteous cause. Every person in this room has a price, and mine isn’t low.” A delicate eyebrow was cocked at the end of her statement while her head tilted to the side, a sinister smirk pulling at her full plump lips.

“Well Gazelle, you of all the others here should know we are willing to work with each of you based on your needs, I just so happen to know you aren’t interested in money though.” He paused, his voice void of emotion. “We both know what it is you really want, and I will be sure that at the end of each mission you are a step closer to that goal.”

“And if I say fuck you and walk out of here?” Her smile growing wider at the thought.

“Miss. Kiley, we opened a portal to the Hell’s once and you slithered your way out – we can open it again and force you back in.” Gazelle’s mouth dropped only the slightest amount, a light moisture building up over her forehead.

“I suppose I really have no choice in the matter at hand then.” She leaned back in her seat and began picking at her nails in contemplation. “The Department of Occult Warfare – L-A-M-E” She spoke under her breath possibly only allowing whom ever sat at either side of her to hear. Past that statement she kept silent while the others spoke.

It was then after more answers had been sought by this old man Jackson spoke – in a friendly manner, not a business level – very simply put Gazelle was disgusted at his behavior.

"I'm Jackson Archer by the way, nice to meet you all, Say, what can you all do?" Jackson asked so casually, those deep dark means of sight of Gazelle’s peered at him, her lips twisting in disappointment. Rather than answering the boy with words she simply snorted at him, then gave her attention back to her nails, which she continued picking.

Adela struggled to focus her eyes on the old man. The cold metal char stung her bare skin, she was still wearing the silk night gown she had woken up in. Adela shrunk into her chair petrified if what just walked into the room.

The girl, well rather woman strutted in like she owned the place. Well with that ass she could own anything she wanted. Adela watched in mild disgust as she Took the empty seat next to her. She threw her legs up on the table, how rude.

Adela was uncomfortable to say the least. She could feel her bones protruding into the chair and shrunk away from the woman even more. Adela could feel her tiny hands shake with fear, she stared down at the sweat shimmering on them and refused to look at the woman who miniaturized Adela.  

Adela's breathing spiked as the man started talking.

"You have all brought here for a reason. Each and every one of you in this room have a special 'talent' that has brought you to our attention. Each of you possesses an ability that we need. We are the Department of Occult Warfare. Our job is to protect the world from anything out of the norm. Each one of you were chosen- soldiers, crooks, innocents- it doesn't matter who you are, you were chosen for your abilities not your moral code." 

Adela's head did small movements what was he saying.  These people were all gifted, like her. She wanted to run, Adela needed to get out of the small dim room. Her muscles twitched, her hands started getting warm.

No way in any Situation was Adela a fighter.  She was weak! If she threw a punch she knew the only one getting hurt was her. Adela's head flipped around searching for an exit. Then a thought occurred to her, if she got out what was she returning to. Honestly what did she have to go back to, other than her piano. That was all that held any value to her
Back home. She suddenly couldn't focus because Gizelle's commanding voice pulled Adela out of her trance. Her hands were hot now and she struggled to control herself. She took deep breathes concentrating on nothing but the sound of the air leaving her lungs.  

As if she had dunked her hands in ice water her hands were cool again. Her head snapped up throwing her messy hair everywhere. She had missed the rest of the conversation. 

"I'm Jackson Archer by the way, nice to meet you all, Say, what can you all do?"  Adela heard a loud snort come from beside her. How obnoxious, even when she snorted she sounded sexy. Adela was pretty sure when she snorted she sounded like a pig, something she usually avoided sounding like.

Adela didn't want to answer in case she embarrassed herself.  Maybe she would just say her name. The Jackson boy was very blasé about this situation it soothed her frayed nerves and have her the confidence to speak.

"I'm Adela." her voice shook and cracked at the end ripping away any confidence that Jackson had builded. She buried her hands in her head, feeling tired.  Obviously she was still tired from the bad sleep the night before her abduction. 

A sob threatened to escape her lips and rock through her chest. She struggled to maintain composure.

"why me." she whispered to herself as the sob got the better of her and escaped from behind her hair.

Jack had been in this room for about 30 minutes, getting there after others but before some. He had been in washington for months, waiting in a small apartment for god knows what. He knew that this "cause" wasn't going to be a bunch of scrubs that the government found in a dirty, low-down ditch; even though that was his category. He had been working out and meditating for a few months to stay on top of his game as he anticapated this so called cause.

As he sat down and the people started coming in he put his hood up to conceal his face a bit but not much. When he ran with the gang back in Atlanta he learned you never just give yourself away to everybody at the first meeting. Jack ran his hand through his hair messing it up a little as he glanced around as carfully as possible at everyone. A few people his age group, a old man, a little boy, and then the hottest woman he'd ever seen. "Damn." He whispered under his breath as she went to her seat.

The man started talking as everyone sat down and got settled. Talking about how this was a military company or something that battles things that, aren't normal. Soldiers, crooks, or innocents is what he heard, So we are here for different reasons, are so called "powers" might be impresive but god help us if we don't get along. Some team we will be. he thought as he looked around at the people as they talked about their situations and what they wanted to know.

"So we are going to be some living comic book saving the world." Jack asked as he looked up a bit at the man.

"Well I didn't think you'd mind Ryder hood."

"You said that was over."

"And it will be, if you join us."

Jack was silented for a while as he thought. "Why not, it's not like I was doing much in Atlanta. I'm Jack."

Jack didn't answer the guy as it was his plan to not talk but when he heard that girl sob his gaze went to her. Girls like her was the reason Ryder Hood was made, to keep people like her safe and happy. "uh...." A slight noise escaped and he think their gazes meet but he couldn't tell with her hair. He sat back after a while waiting for others to agree to the group.

Kyle had been sitting in the room for a while, the air around him getting slightly colder by the minute as he got more agitated being in the same chair the whole time. He was used to doing something. Running to a different town, working, the only time he was still was when he was unconscious.

He watched each person as they came in, a small boy, an old man, a few other guys that looked about his same age, and a few women. His eyes went over to the door as a woman came in last, walking in as she knew everyone’s eyes were on her and she seemed to be drinking it in.

He watched her sit down, kicking her feet up onto the table and leaning back in her seat. ”Damn.” He cast a sideways glance to the person next to him, finding the culprit of the whisper. Another guy about his age, he seemed to be swooning over the woman. Kyle rolled his ice blue eyes and crossed his arms over his loose and slightly worn bark black shirt.

He sat back and listened to all the talking that went on. "You have all brought here for a reason. Each and every one of you in this room have a special 'talent' that has brought you to our attention. Each of you posses an ability that we need. We are the Department of Occult Warfare. Our job is to protect the world from anything out of the norm. Each one of you were chosen- soldiers, crooks, innocents- it doesn't matter who you are, you were chosen for your abilities not your moral code."

Kyle looked off to the side and watched one of the dark walls in the room. He was contemplating what he had been told. They were all from different backgrounds, and by the responses and bargaining going on, it sounded like they were all in for different reasons. He didn’t have much to go back to, just a small apartment and a job that he could walk away from at a moment’s notice. This gig would probably secure him, and give him a place to stay. They put him in a nice place, although he was locked in because he would have bolted at the first opportunity to. He wouldn’t have to worry about people betting suspicious, they were all like him after all.

His eyes strayed off the wall and he fixed his ice cold eyes on the man that had addressed them all. ”Seems that you’re giving people what they want. You should know what I want, and I expect it or I’m gone.”

He kept his gaze on the man and he saw a slight shiver go through up the elder’s spine. ”Of course Mr. Hayden, it will all be arranged. Kyle nodded and broke the stare down, glancing at the others in the room, probably making each one feel as if a chill went through their bodies or a cold breeze brushed their necks.

His eyes stopped on one girl as she spoke and hid her face behind her hands, a sob coming from between her fingers after she said her name. He smirked a slightly, he felt no sympathy anymore and didn’t care much to give any. Plus, Kyle could feel the heat coming off of her; he had purposely sat across from her so the natural issues between hot and cold arose between them.

He glanced around at the others in the room, they seemed to also be concentrating the situation and deciding for themselves what the best answer was. He brushed his blonde almost white hair out from in front of his eyes. ”I’m Kyle.” He might as well keep it simple, he didn’t know anyone who was sitting around the table, and he never gave to much away to people he had just seen for a few minutes.

((I have a little sample of what Lala's accent sounds like, just for fun ^_^
http://web.ku.edu/~idea/europe/italy/italy10.mp3 ))
She was at the door. After a week, she was at the door. And the calm she had felt at a week ago was gone. Replaced with…. fear. Nicola forced a deep breath in. But the fear stayed. She didn’t know what to expect. She had told her fiancée that she was going to a culinary convention in Washington. It wasn’t a large issue, since they were only a few states away. Still, Lala hated lying. Especially to her fiancée. If Lala accepted this proposal, she wasn’t sure how long she’d be able to continue the farce. Another exhale. She was ready.

Lala entered in practiced, long strides. Her patent leather pumps leveraged her confidence. Her height to an intimidating 6 feet as well. With her lengthy legs, she reached a chair in but a few clicks of the heels. She had wanted to look good for this “meeting” or professional rather. To match the heels, she had fit her slim build to an utterly plain black long-sleeved dress. Her usually wild tresses were forced down into some semblance of combed. She she sat down, plainly, and flashed a smile to all those present. Despite the anxiety churning in her gut, she still retained her personality.

She was impressed at the spread. There was an old man, juxtaposing him a young boy. The rest seemed to share her age, give or take a few years.
The conversation was triggered by one of the younger looking men. He seemed an interesting character solely by his looks. That wild red hair drew the eye. It drew her earthy spheres to his quite well. Another smile bloomed on her face as she began to speak.

“Nicola Fumagali, please, call me Lala. And I have a way with fire and water. Watch out, I might make you piss yourself if you make me mad,” she laughed.

Her words came out in a rich Italian accent that hadn’t dissipated despite her twelve years of American citizenship. She hardly spoke any Italian anymore either, it only came out when she cursed.

Mannerisms proved to as soon as the girl diagonal from her left attempted to expose her meek voice. A sharp stab of pity hit Nicola’s breast at the sound. She’d make sure to try to comfort the girl when the opportunity arose. With that thought, any anxiety she had felt vanished. She wasn’t worse off than that poor entity.

Her gaze drifted, always active like its owner. It fell upon the next speaker, identifying himself as Jack. Lala couldn’t stifle a cracked smile at his first remark. It was too true, and highly amusing.

When the last member of their “department” entered, she felt blood taint her face a light pink. While Lala was absolutely enamored with her fiancée, this didn’t mean she was blind to observation. And with attire like that, the only observations she seemed to be able to make about this woman were erotic. Her lids flicked closed as her mouth pulled to a taut line. She quickly sent the blood back to the veins it had come from using her water control. She needed to retain her focus. Though, she didn’t need much assistance. As soon as the woman’s attitude was revealed, her allure decreased a significant amount.

She was amusing, if Nicola had to label her positively. Lala passively listened to the spat she had with the department man, but quickly became more interested.

This was wild. Absolutely feral. Nicola had suspended disbelief since discovering her abilities, but it seemed that the world had decided to test the boundaries of her disbelief once again. Paranormal entities, demons, and now this woman was confirming that the government had opened a portal to the hells? Lala had to sigh. But, now it was her turn to talk.

She started, “Would you mind letting me consider for a few minutes? I’ve kinda got a pregnant fiancée back home.”

“Of course Ms.-“

“-Mrs.”

“Mrs. Fumagali. We do hope you’ll say yes though. And I assure you that your fiancée and unborn child will be under our greatest protection. We will also move them out here to D.C. free of charge, and into high end lodgings. And of course, we’ll be rewarding you highly. We have currency at your request like you asked. Along with the other details.”

“Thank you. Really.”

"You were brought here to replace them. We can not make you join, but we can make it worth each of your individual time."

Evans sat quietly in his seat, legs dangling, feeling disgusted by the words that just spouted out from the wrinkled mouth of that old man who seemed to be in charge of the operation. "Screw the world,"he thought to himself. They probably can not make them join but they already did, didn't they? He crossed his arms as he watched Gizelle settled back into her seat after an obscure threat was made. He had no doubts about the paranormal, he was apprehensive about what sort of balance they were trying to achieve. Half entertaining the thought about what Hell would be like, he smiled darkly as he saw Adele sobbing.

"Boo hoo, why me." he mocked silently, as a way to redirect his anger at the situation. Cladded in a bright yellow spongebob squarepants T-shirt accentuated his childish act. He felt a cool breeze as teenager who had introduced himself as Kyle glanced at him. He stared back fiercely. A few debris fell from the ceiling near the teenager, hardly noticeable to anyone. The department's personnel had discussed other conditions with him before even the meeting and he had already agreed to their terms to curb his powers from self-activation. It was going to be difficult working with these people, minus the gorgeous woman and the other old looking dude in the group.

"I'm Kyle."

Evans did not bothered to introduce himself, he had used so many names and now he was finally back to using his real name. Yet, it always annoyed him to use it. He fiddled with Patek Philippe watch which justaposed with the rest of his outfit. This whole introduction meeting was getting boring, he was not even that interested in what other powers the others had. "So what is our first mission, already? " he asked rolling his eyes.

While everyone else was probably uncomfortable, shifting in their seats, and looks flashing across one another, Renzo was one of the most relaxed people in the room. It obviously wasn't the Italian's first time sitting in a large table and no doubt this wasn't going to be his last. The circumstances were different this time, instead of Sicily's underground bosses it was a group of seemingly random people. Most just young buds, barely a flower on adulthood, workers in a hive. Renzo wasn't as best dressed that he could be for the occasion, a dark green sweater coumbined with beige pants and a black fedora, matter of fact the outfit seems to be a little half-assed at best.

As he leaned back in his seat, peering under his fedora, people started talking. Each one of you were chosen- soldiers, crooks- The Italian couldn't help that the man meant Renzo himself as took mental notes when each person spoke: Al Kahli, Team, Paranormal entites, Demons, Cults-

On the note of Gazelle, the succubus that had entered the room, Renzo had noticed something. He felt...lighter? Heavier? Tired? It was so slight, like his body had exhaled when he inhaled. It wasn't of Gazelle's body that had been the cost; at least not in lust. The old man was saturated in all aspects of life, crime, thrill, sex, and despite the fact that he did give her a one eyed stare, she came across as a puttana to him. A hard-working puttana. Her attitude didn't come across as surprising but the information let out was. A portal to hell and this woman came from it. In simplest terms; that meant she was a demon. Or perhaps someone undeserving of heaven.

Jacky Archer, a foolish man to give away his last name, spoke up and wanted to know the capabilties of others here. Renzo remembered the first time he used his power, having no idea of how he killed someone, and the idea of these people having powers that were totally different then his in ways he couldn't possibly imagine was a pretty scary thought.

The girl right next to Renzo seemed to obviously cave in the pressure, admitting her name, Adela, and fell apart to tears. He softly comforted her, patting her back softly as everyone spoke, Ryder Hood, also known as Jack, and Kyle, also regarded as Mr. Hayden, hence Kyle Hayden. The person that had interested Renzo the most was probably Nicole Fumagali and her thick Italian accent. Her ability was with fire and water; and somehow linked to make one urinate themselves. On the words "pregnant fiancée" the mafioso was confused. Her boyfriend was pregnant? Or was she pregnant and referring to herself? Or...

Though as much as he would have liked to think those words were a gramatical error of sorts; it wasn't and didn't feel as such. He would have to ask her later of this for sure but he needed to introduce himself but was caught off with the little kid asking already what the first mission was.

You should be patient. I'm Renzo. So when do we start vacations? Renzo said with a heavy Italian accent of his own. Without missing a heartbeat the old man; though younger then Renzo said:

"Depends. Sometimes, missions would take months, while others can be completed in just one day. For one year, you'd have give or take 1/5 of the year off to do what you wish.

The older man of the two stroked his chin in thought. "What are my benefits?"



Renzo smiled a wide grin and chuckled as he put the similarly old man on the spot; nearly laughing as he started to unbutton the jacket. He didn't say a word as he slid it across the table and fell into the Italian's hands. Renzo drapped the jacket over his shoulders and his composure completely changed. His smile had dissapeared, laughs long gone, replaced with his utmost seriousness, and an attitude of buisness. He stared daggers through the man that brought them all together.

"Where is our first mission? Al Kahli?"

Henry thought he had been the last to arrive to the meeting of "paranormal" beings these suits had cooked up. Who would have thought America would have been the most powerful country in the world. Last time he was in this world, America was only a few decades old and they were struggling keeping themselves together as they were. Now they had enough resources to actually find him and recruit him. Though he was impressed, he still didn't have much respect for them. Then again, he didn't have much respect for anyone, save John. But that was neither her nor there.

Before he entered the room, he thought he should have a leg up on the others in the meeting. He knew he was going to learn about them eventually, but he always made it a habit to be the person in the room who knew something that others didn't. He approached the desk of one of the agents that was near the conference room. "Excuse me, Would you be so kind as to give me the files on all of the beings attending the meeting in conference room A immediately." The agents eyes seemed to glaze over for a split second, then went back to normal. The agent reached inside of his desk and handed Henry multiple files. "Thank you ever so much." Henry said as he walked out of his office and down the hall. The agent shook his head, and went back to work.

Henry entered the conference room, knowing that his attire made him look like just another suit in the building. He immediately made his way over to one of the chairs against the wall, away from the table and the others. More importantly, it was facing the door and every window in the room. He hadn't lasted as long as he had by being careless. He sat down, propping his umbrella up against the wall and adjusting his bowler cap. He began to read through the profiles of the others. Not much on their past was recorded, just a few minor things. Some of them held no consequence to him, but a few intrigued him. He was about half-way done with them when the suit in the room began to speak. He went on speaking of why they were here and what they would be dealing with, things like that. When the word "crook" came up, Henry couldn't help but feel it was directed towards him.....or Mr. Di Maggio, from what his profile said.

The room went silent as the door opened, Henry glanced up and saw why. A being that was irradiating pure, primal sexuality strutted into the room, seeming to highlight the dull gray room with her presence. Though, he had felt quite the opposite reaction when she got closer and sat at the table. He quickly searched for her profile and read it. Now she was most intriguing. Recently returned from the Hells. He wondered what lucky demon got assigned to her, or if she came with her own demon. John was the only other person he knew of who came back, but here stood another. Most intriguing indeed.

The others began to speak up and agree to be apart of the team, each of them betraying parts of themselves to the others. Some more so than others. By the time they had finished talking, so had Henry finished reading their profiles. Henry smiled to himself when Renzo took the suits jacket. He then pulled out a cigarette and a bizarre golden lighter and lit his smoke. The suitless suit then spoke. "Well, all that leaves is Mr. Walker." The man turned around and looked at him. Henry took a long drag on his cigarette, then glanced up at the man while exhaling the smoke. It billowed around his face for a time before disappearing into the air.

"I believe you already know my motives. As long as the Animanium keeps flowing, I get vacation time and have my body transported back to midnight should I fall, I'm your man." Henry then stood up, grabbed his umbrella and began to slowly make his way over to the table. "Though, I am curious at what your motives are. Why you have gathered so many untrained and unqualified children is beyond me. Personally, I am rather insulted that you have put me in the same categories as these people. I was battling demi-gods while their great grandmothers were still in the womb. To be totally honest, the only ones I believe should be here is myself, Mr. Di Maggio, Mr. Evans and Ms. Kiley." Henry's eyes then made their way to Vincent. "Then again, it's always good to have a soldier about. Mr. Macleod can stay as well. I suggest we dispose of the others. Just say the word and they will all leap to their deaths." The last part Henry said with a smile, glancing over the few he was referring to.

The man looked at Henry dead even and spoke. "Thank you for you input Mr. Walker. That will not be necessary. This may come as a shock to you, but we have picked each one of the people present here for very specific reasons. Each one of them is vital to the others." Henry looked at the suit quizzically for a few moments, then smiled. "Ah, I get it, fodder. No problem then." Henry then turned to the rest of the group and smiled. "Hello children, I'm Mr. Walker, which you will refer to me at all times unless stated otherwise."

Henry then threw his cigarette on the ground. "Now that the formalities are over with, let's get down to business. What would you like your personal freaks to do for you?"

Jackson was more than a little bit out of his element here. Not only was he going to be working with a team for the first time, but such a strange team as well. When the woman who had supposedly returned from hell entered, all Jacks could think was, 'What a slut.' Her demeanor did not change his opinion for the better either, her arrogance, and haughty behavior left him thinking her to be an unseemly bitch. She didn't seem to like him much either, judging by her snorts of derision after his simple words, so he decided to ignore the strange Gazelle for the time being.

At complete odds to the whorish hell child, the next speaker was a fragile little thing. She seemed so frightened Jacks couldn't help but feel for her and wish he could do something to comfort her. When she pronounced her name, Adela, and broke down with a little sob, Jacks was a little bit stunned by the way no one seemed to take much of any notice of her obvious discomfort. Reaching into his back pants pocket, he pulled out a black paisley bandana that he sometimes used to hide his face while patrolling the streets and handed it to her, whispering, "Here, dry your eyes, I'm sure everything will be fine."

Jack's attention was immediately pulled by the next person though, who was identified as Ryder Hood. Jacks had read about him online, as he spent most of his "downtime" combing the web, looking for clues of others like him, and the mysterious Ryder Hood had been on his top ten list of suspected powered people, like him. More over, he had great respect for Ryder Hood's work, he definitely thought him a hero like himself, and was excited to meet him. "Ryder Hood!" He exclaimed, "Man, I just want to say, I like your style. I've been playing the role of hero for quite a while now, and stories like yours inspired me to believe I was not alone in my attempts to better this world, or in my unique genetic make up. So, uh, thanks." Jacks trailed off awkwardly.

He was beginning to realize how long it had been since he had had a normal conversation, let alone anyone close to him. Even his voice was rough, and gravely, from disuse. He was also realizing rapidly that not everyone, in fact perhaps no one, here, had pure motives. The next person to introduce themselves, a boy named Kyle, had demands as well, making Jacks wonder if he should have thought of something to ask for as well.

Before he could speak though, a woman who insisted she be called Lala spoke with a rich Italian accent, and her demands were so understandable, care for her loved ones really, that he had a bit of his faith in being here restored, and he returned her smile with a quirky grin that turned up at the corners. He was also quite intrigued by her declaration of her powers. 'Control of fire and water, definitely a different ability than mine.' Jacks thought. 'Maybe the answers I've been looking for really are all here.'

Jacks was shocked out of his internal thoughts by the voice of a child. 'What the hell is a could doing here?' He thought, worried for the small lad, who he had not seen at first, hidden between two larger people. The kid seemed very confident, and old beyond his years as well, immediately demanding to know of their first mission. Considering that the last team had all died on their last mission, and the likeliness that their first mission would be related, Jacks couldn't believe that a child would be included in such a dangerous thing. "Woah, woah, hold up." Jacks blurted out, "He's just a kid, you can't put him in danger." He nearly shouted at the man who had brought them all here.

Before he could get any kind of answer though, the old man spoke, identifying himself as Renzo. Jacks took an immediate liking to the humorous old man, and found himself relaxing as he smiled at the way the Renzo made the suit in charge dance. He was understandably surprised by Renzo's abrupt change in demeanor as he too inquired about their first mission, and like Jacks, obviously believed it to be related to the last team's final mission in Al Kahli.

The final man was smoking a cigaratte, and Jacks couldn't help but crave one himself, though he'd quit when he realized how dramatically they weakened the smoker's lungs, and thus physical capabilities. The cigarette smoking man was the rudest since the scantily clad Gazelle, and Jacks found himself liking, or rather, disliking, him about the same amount as he wrote Jacks and most of the others off as fodder. Annoyed, Jacks, pulled all the files he was holding into his own hands with a mere flick of his thoughts, and quickly ruffled through them until he found the file on Mr. Walker, as he called himself. Reading the important information quickly, he smugly said, "Sure thing Henry."

As she sat there in silence her eyes seemed to glaze over while she tip toed around each person’s thoughts. She collected knowledge of their pasts, their wants, desires, powers, and personal opinions. It was obvious she was growing furious by each passing second.

When the small fragile girl began to weep next to her Gazelle had a hard time containing her laughter and it showed all over her face. It was then the obnoxious boy who had begun this rather unsettling conversation of names and powers offered her a hankie of some sort to dry her tears. "Here, dry your eyes; I'm sure everything will be fine." Gazelle heard him whisper to this weak excuse of a human being.

Leaning her body over Gazelle brushed the girls hair back in such a loving manner then whispered to Adele, her plump lips grazing the female’s earlobe as she spoke, the warm breath of her mouth sliding down Adele’s neck. “Or nothing will be alright. If you can’t handle this meeting then this is a suicide mission for you, and you will become a liability for all those around. Do you really want to be a murder? You can’t even grasp full control over your powers – you join you are doomed for death – none of us will save your pathetic ass.”

Pulling back slowly Gazelle had a smug smirk across her lips and if anyone had been looking close enough they would notice the collection of shadow’s which had slowly begun to collect around her chair, slowly snaking up her feet, which were now on the ground.

Still she listened silently until enough was enough, Henry had finished his speech and Gazelle had some things to get off her chest before they got any directions.

Her eyes lifted to meet each face, her own in dismay due to each of their thoughts; If she was stuck with these people she might as well allow them the truth - at least a part of the truth. “My name is Gazelle, I was born and raised on this planet, transferred to Hellifyno, was given great powers, then murdered. I spent the last many months in hell - not as a Demon but for being –“ Her eyes snapping to Renzo “Unsuited for heaven. Unlike most, if not all of you, I was not born with my powers, they didn't just magically show up one day, I worked my ass off to get where I am.”

She cleared her throat for a second, her face falling soft and sincere. “I am not of your planet; please do not make first judgments so prominent. I have different beliefs, values, and customs than all of you. I’ve been here for months trying to relearn.” Those pitch black balls of eyes seemed to glisten with added moisture, and the shadows about her chair continued to build higher up her body.

She then turned to look at Henry with a small smile, the thick negative energies seeming to pulse more vibrantly from her body. “Thank you – and the lucky Demon? His name was Serptpen.” She spoke in a weak whisper assuming he would hear her. He had read her file, he knew of her powers and her telepathy.

When that obnoxious son of a bitch took the files from Henry, Gazelle nearly had a heart attack. Her file instantly became covered in a foggy black, a slow thin clear coating wrapping about it, and it was now inaccessible. It was bad enough Henry knew of all her powers and detailed history, she didn’t need everyone else knowing it to.

She liked Henry a lot and figured they would get along famously so long as he didn't use that fucking voice on her. She liked Evan a lot and made a note to share Hell stories with the man. She also really liked Renzo and Vincent both brought an important energy to the group, Jack and Kyle seemed manageable enough, Lala would be entertaining and easy on the eyes; but Jackson and Adele had to go – first chance possible they had to go.

Even if she 'liked' these people she would never care for them, and she wouldn't careless in their deaths or be likely to help them unless it did her any good. In fact these two mites - she may as well just kill them off herself.

Adela lifted her head just enough to see the deep brown eyes that belonged to Jack Ryder lock with hers. She brought her shaky hand up to her head and ran it through her hair, letting It fall like a veil between her and his sympathetic eyes. 

A heavy hand fell gently on her back in comfort she shuttered under the touch. Adela found little relief in the mans soothing touch.  

His requests were amusing though and instantly Adela grew a stronger liking to him. 

Adela's eyes were rimmed red and the expected tears did not stain her face.  They never left her eyes,  she was unable to shed tears. Adela thought it something to do with we fire power,  a painful reminder that she would never be normal. 

Another man offered her a patterned scarf, she would never need it. Her tears would never fall like a normal persons.  These reactions of sympathy weren't uncommon for Adela. People often reacted this way to her tiny frame.  He assured her everything would be alright Adela took the handkerchief gratefully and wiped her tearless eyes quickly before returning the scarf. She didnt want to be rude and not use it. She didn't trust her voice so she just nodded in thanks.  Why would he do this for her, he did not have to go out of his way to try to ease her severe discomfort. He did not owe her anything.  He seemed nice, nicer than most. She plastered a fake half smile in appreciation, it was the best she could do. 

The English man across from Adela made her cock her head in interest. His voice had a strange compelling nature about it.  Adela was a very small fish in a big pond. She couldn't do this! She had no control, she was weak. Why the hell had they picked her.  Adela's fears were confirmed when Gizelle's mocking laugh slithered up and found its way into her ear.

She shuttered as the woman tucked Adelas thick hair behind her ear.  Her breathe sent shivers down her spine. 

 “Or nothing will be alright. If you can’t handle this meeting then this is a suicide mission for you, and you will become a liability for all those around. Do you really want to be a murderer? You can’t even grasp full control over your powers – you join you are doomed for death – none of us will save your pathetic ass.” her voice was stealthy and like silk, the words spun in Adela's mind. She shook her head trying to rid the thoughts of death from her mind. She had seen to much of it and her sanity was slowly crumbling. 

Her face changed from upset, confusion to devastation then her eyes flickered with a hint of her stubborn nature. Her eyes hardened and the amber specs flared. 

"I'm not afraid to die." Adela spoke quietly and her voice only trembled slightly.  She had nothing to live
for anyway.  She pushed her hair over her face again, she was petrified of Gizelle. Adela scooted her chair over as far as the boundaries would allow. She wouldn't allow another whimper leave her lips until she was away from Gizelle. 

"I'm in." she stared down at her hands and fiddled with them.  Adela bit her lip harder than she meant to. She tasted blood on her tongue and wiped a small drop from her lip.  A grunt escaped her lips. She usually liked to read as much information from people as she could, take in as much information as she could but Adela couldn't do take her eyes of her hand or mind off the subtle taste of blood on her tongue. 

Jack had been just watching back and forth as these people showed off, hurt each other, and tried to hold it all together in this all out mental brawl against One another. He hadn't said anything for almost this whole time as he was observing, trying to get a feel on these people that he would be working with so closely with for who knows how long. Jackson, the talky one, knew of Ryder Hood, he didn't like that. Ryder Hood was dead, that died when he got in that town car for something else. To most people leaving their past behind would be hard, but for Jack he never really had anything to grip onto to be so emotionally hard to disconnect from his life.

"It's Jack man, that's it, no Ryder Hood..." Labeled as a hero, all this publicity, I was just keeping people alive I don't want this shit. Jack thought as he pushed his hood down as this Mr. Walker talked down and degraded most of us people here. Jack didn't bother with the man, when you hang out with shady people there is always someone who is egotistic and thinks everyone the lowest shit possible. Sometimes they get away with it but most of the time Karma's a bitch and for that reason Jack never bothered with even giving them the satisfaction of replying.

Jack turned to his left where the old man now with a new suit was siting just two seats away from him as he just seemed so calm and kind of happy just to be here even with the hostility in the room. Jack liked his laid back personality and he seemed like a person who he could relate to. With Jack never knowing his parents he grew up with T.V. justice morals and whatever he could learn from the street. Someone like a father figure was always needed in Jack's life but Jack was not the person to just invite anyone into his life.

Jack stood up as everyone else was having there "Kind" words with each other. "Hey suit, that shitty apartment you people gave me isn't doing it. Is there somewhere a little better?"

"Actually there is a facility that we can provide for everyone here with high accommodations for all of you."

"Is it optional to stay there? Is it private? you got to give me something here man."

"I believe it is optional but I will have to check with higher people. Yes it is private, only cameras on outside to see who comes and leaves."

Jack nodded as he looked around, "Um, bathroom?" The suit pointed to the door behind the girl that walked in. Jack nodded thanks to him and as he walked behind the old man he stopped at the girl. Everyone seemed distracted enough with their own business to where it seemed no one was paying attention to him. He bent down a little and very cautiously placed his hands on her shoulders. He'd done this situation time and time again, people get put on the streets into a unknown world everyday with no one to love them or show any kindness. A little love goes a long way, Jack leaned down to where if she looked she could see his eyes through her hair again. He whispered a little not to disturb whatever fight was going on to where probably only the older man, her, and himself could hear Jack.

"Hey, buck up beautiful, it's alright." He said with a smile as his hands gave a comforting squeeze, there was a connection that he felt. It wasn't just the protector and protected, he felt that before but something about this girl was catching him. He stood back up as he turned, heading to the door.

Two steps and he turned to his right to see Gazelle, she was, well he didn't know what. She may have caught everyone's eyes with her look but something about her was deeper than just what she was showing. Something that made Jack want to know her a lot more. As he passed her he looked at her and a simple but complex thought ran through his mind.

hmm

Hmm, that was it, it wasn't a offensive hmm or a hmm about her looks. It was just a plain hmm, so much curiosity in one thought. Jack looked back to the door and went out it rounding the turn to the bathroom.

Evans took a look at Henry when the man acknowledged him or more specifically, he evaluated the expensive suit the man was wearing and then that interesting umbrella. It was obvious to him that it was a swordstick made of an unidentifiable steel alloy but he could tell that it was the type of item that will sell well in certain private auctions. At least there was someone else who indulged in the same hedonistic lifestyle as he did. From his perspective, most of the people in the group seemed to be struggling financially and he could not imagine how they could continue living they way they had.

It did bothered him somewhat that the man gained access to their files so easily (the pathetic state of security!) and that a less than hygienic Archer had handled them. He stood up from his seat and took a file violently from the pile that Jack was holding. The old man who was supposedly 'in-charge' did not challenge any of the actions in the room, it seems that his only concern was that none of them reject his proposition. He looked through the file, took out a vintage cigarette lighter and finally burned it. There was definitely a digital backup somewhere but for now, he did not want to risk the morally uptight people in the group to cause him trouble in his private life. " Knowing too much is dangerous. That is why I don't like to go to school," Evans said to Jack moodily, acting to Jack's expectation of a child. He noted that Jack definitely needed to get new clothes. Evans left the black mess on the floor and headed back to his seat between Lala and Renzo. Evans thought about the information in his file, he could not tell if they were true, he cannot even trust his memories sometimes. Old memories, the time when he was in the jungles of Congo; scouring the streets of Old Shanghai; frolicking with his lover in Normandy, were now a retelling of fact mixed with imagination. Even his opinion on things changed frequent. All that mattered to him is the present.

Meanwhile, Adela had distanced herself from Gizelle and agreed to join. Evans could not help thinking that the department had to invest in some Knoll chairs.

Renzo knew he was in favour of some of the people in the room but it didn't help the tension that was slowly building up. Matter of fact, the whole conference was familiar to the first meeting of the Commissione in Sicily, everyone shifty eyed, air heavy, and a few people cursing lives. The worst part of the Commissione is that a few years later, another mafia war came up from the earths and took to the streets, making the Commissione's efforts in vain.

The Italian stil didn't get the answer to his question as the prescence of others became known. Henry, the last person who had to introduce himself, was dressed oddly enough, like a posh englishman from the 19th century. His little speech was confusing at best. Demigods? Animanium? Great Grandmother's in Wombs? Renzo was confused and he didn't like any part of it; people knowing more then he did. It meant they had the upper hand and that meant power. "Midnight" was a word that had struck Renzo, an old Italian tale told to children not to go out at night or midnight will swallow them whole and make them dissapear. In truth, it was a tale meant to protect the children from any hits that would happen in the night.

Renzo wasn't sure what to make of Henry, the umbrella in his clutches was suspicious in least, but he needed to know everything Henry knew. Worst of all, he knew his last name, something the Italian never mentioned. Why did he know? Did Renzo's reputation exceed him? Henry's also making the mistake of doubting people, one that Renzo could honestly say in his experiance, never turn your back on anyone or they'll come back to kill you.

Jackson was shouting to the suitless man why the kid has been brought here and the old man wondered what was the kid's story. He's too mature for his age, like his grandson, but he had an air of...confidence around him as if he's done before.

The hell girl made her little speech and Renzo had a little pity for her. It wasn't until after a few seconds passed, his old eyes opened wide, and one angry thought was in his head. "You bitch!" Unsuited for Heaven! Those were his words! "You. took. my. words!" Then it started to slowly make sense. This sincere speech she pulled out of nowhere right after acting rude to make nice with others and persuade them to her being! If it was any other regular day Renzo would have been sure it was a coincidence but these were people like him. People with powers exactly like him and Renzo knew if there was anyone like him he would never trust them. It was a whole new level of suspicion unlocked upon this discovery. He cast a sideways glance to Gazelle and flipped the language of his thoughts like a switch from English to Italian.

With his thoughts locked, he turned his head back to Jackson, and twitched so subtely with the files in his hands. By the number of them, it looked like they could be proportionate to the people in this room, counting the odd black file. Renzo was so concentrated on that, he barely noticed Jack, regular Jack the Italian called him so he wouldn't mix them up and didn't even listen to a word Adele said.

Evan must have been thinking the same thing for he grabbed his file forcefully and burned it right in front of Jackson before saying something Renzo didn't catch. When Evan came back to his seat next to Renzo, he made his move and walked casually until he stood right next to Jackson, maintaining his good old composure people always loved. "If there is anything that you want to know about me, just ask." Renzo said, patting his arm. After two pats, the Italian rose the same hand to scratch his face, Jackson's arm following along, because of five invisible strands, with various folders. The one labelled "Renzo De Maggio" was snatched with the other hand, the invisible strands following the tips of Renzo's left hand had been let loose, and the old man started to walk away.

As he walked towards his seat, he needed to find a way to rid of it, since it wasn't just one page plus the fact he didn't have a lighter (not having smoked) Renzo came up with an idea. He pulled the waistband of his beige pants and underwear, and dropped the folder dead inside, held between an old crotch and underwear. When he sat back down was a silence of two seconds before Renzo broke it. "Ah! I forgot to ask!" The Italian said suddenly, took his folder from his pants, and tried to give it back to Jackson as he reached over the table to him. "So I can keep it?" Renzo said, pausing for a split second, before sitting down with the folder caught between his underwear, out of sight, and a satisfied grin on his face. It nearly made him forget about the fact that Gazelle could read his thoughts and that the remote possibility was there.

When he started to think of something to make sure that Gazelle actually could read thoughts; he made an off comment to Evan. "Need to bring lighters with me now." Yet he didn't hear what Evan had said back, he started thinking about what had aggravated his mind, and was brought back to his childhood. His thoughts turned back to english again; yet he didn't say anything. In fact, he was thinking numbers.

"1, 3, 7, 83, 56 and a half, 682, 9.34, 2765, 7698 and one tenth, 17,590.72, 30, 0.000000000008, 9,999,999, 1, 45000...." The old man continued thinking numbers, one way glancing to Gazelle to see if it had any effect on her, lips ilently speaking the numbers as well to track them so he wouldn't lose his train of thought.

Jacks was a little surprised by the vehement reactions of those around the table, snatching their files obviously concerned about what he might read on them. But he'd only skimmed the relevant information. Names and powers. His mind was whirling with information, so he hardly noticed the old man Renzo manipulating him until his hand was in the air. He abruptly slammed a bubble of tactile telekinetic force around his arm, severing the man's connection, but not before he got his file. Jacks broke into a wide grin as Renzo stuffed the file in his underwear then offered it back.

"Hahaha, that's ok sir. I didn't mean to pry, I'm just real curious about all of this, I've never met anyone like me before. Hope I didn't offend you. By the way that puppet move, sly, I barely noticed it. We should totally have codenames. My last names already perfect, I mean, Archer, sounds like a superhero am I right? You should totally be the Puppeteer, or the Puppetmaster."

Turning to Gazelle he continued, excitedly.

"You could be Lilith! Like the mother of demons, cause you're from Hell and everything. Man, this is gonna be pretty great. All of us working together to protect the earth from the things that go bump in the night, what an adventure."

Jacks could tell that the group at large considered him something of a naive fool, that was good. It never hurt to be underestimated when it came down to it. Just to be safe, and avoid anyone picking around in his head, controlling him, or accidentally setting him on fire, Jacks, Archer, he corrected himself, built a tactile telekinetic membrane around his body. Almost completely unnoticeable, even if you touched him, you'd have to know what you were looking for, and it would prevent virtually anything from getting through, though that would require continuous energy on his part to repel whatever was attempting to invade his protective encasing. It wasn't a fool proof system, but it was definitely a good first warning and level of defence. Best of all it was unlikely to be noticed, unless anyone attempted to inspect him at length, which would keep them thinking of him as a harmless fool.

True, Archer was stubbornly pure hearted, refusing to stop believing in childlike notions of good and evil, still thinking of himself as a comic book character. But he hadn't lasted as long as he had, or put as many criminals away as he had by being stupid. Always watch your back, and always be cautious. it was the first lesson he'd learned on patrol. Archer wasn't sure about these people yet, though most seemed to be fairly good people, even Gazelle was a bit more human than he'd initially thought. He certainly wouldn't be turning his back on any of them any time soon, but he was hopeful. This could be the start of a new better life for him, with people, maybe even friends, who were like him, who could understand him. He was sure it wouldn't be easy, but right then, Archer vowed to himself that he would try to win each and everyone of their friendship, or at least acceptance.

Nicola grinned largely when Renzo spoke up. She was very glad that another Italian was in their ranks. It had been a year since she had been back to the motherland, and having another of her children here was a comfort of sorts. She would have to ask where he was from when he'd get the chance. Her grin expanded as he began his pretentious encounter with the department man. It was confirmed; they would get along famously. Though, her good mood wasn't long.

Lala felt disgust and fear crawl through her body at Walker's words. Sweat threatened to slick her palms. Her teeth clamped shut in an ornery effort to stop them from grating.

Hell no, I'll make your blood burst out of your body before you do that, she thought in malicious Italian.

The offer was diminishing in her eyes significantly. They were supposed to work together.. but would such a concept preservere? Every person in here was capable of taking her life. And if not them, then their opponents certainly would. She was a fighter by nature, and she often found her muscles begging for another brawl, but the risks were too potent. No, she didn't want that. She couldn't die. She couldn't leave them alone.

Her calm, yet frantic musings completely blotted out her surroundings. Lala was too immersed in her own mind. It was only when Adela spoke that her self-induced trance ceased. Lala was rather shocked at the declaration. But also, proud. And now, her answer was assured. Adela had indirectly brought out Lala's competitive nature, nurtured through her many years of kick-boxing.

If she can do it, so can I. You'll be protecting them indirectly. And you're too strong to succumb to something like this. Pick yourself up.

Lala's brow creased and her jaw realized her bottom row of teeth. She could do this. And now, she didn't have anymore doubt that she could.

She spoke up, "Alright, I'm in too."

After her finalizing statement, Lala was relieved. It was as if anything before those words hadn't occurred. She took up her regular demeanor. She watched, amused, as the files passed through more hands. She didn't care at all who knew her abilities or powers. There wasn't anything too remarkable in that file. She partook in the conversation again when the "superhero names" became mentioned. How funny, how appropriate.

"Hmm, what should I be? Archer, you seem to be better at this than me, take a try," she offered.

The room was full of chit chatter, bickering, and innocent battles of both the wits and powers. How could these Government officials think they could get a room of people such as this together? You had a group of people who either:

A.) Were lone in the world for a very long time.
B.) Ones that made due to live the most normal lives possible.
C.) A small collection that learned to use their abilities to their advantage.

Of course this wasn’t going to go smoothly; of course this was a ticking time bomb. Perhaps that’s why they locked them altogether in a room with a single source of information. Perhaps that’s why our informant had kept quiet for so long. Maybe just maybe, they wanted to see our interactions, let us get it out of our systems before throwing us out as a team, or even worse, forcing us to live together.

Gazelle felt Jack’s eyes rest on her once again yet she did not turn to look at him. “hmm” played in his thoughts, she felt no judgment, but rather a desire, a desire stronger than the one he had for her physicality but rather one of interest. This bothered her beyond words. Gazelle often used her looks to distract others from really getting to know her, to keep their thoughts elsewhere.

Just as her frustrations began to build there was an annoying conversation going on in her head, no not a conversation, a pattern of thoughts – and it wasn’t in English. Italian, male, Renzo. Gazelle didn’t speak Italian, she spoke English and very minor French, which meant she could pick up on a few of the words, and many of them had been mistranslated – this only made for more agitation.

Renzo! That fucking old bastard! Streams and streams of Italian poured through her mind.

Gazelle had said her piece to the group and fell into silence once again. She leaned back in her seat and began combing her fingers through her long unruly raven black hair. Her eyes observed each stroke with her face turned away from the old pigeon. Her body was utterly relaxed, if she caught a knot within the tangles of her mane she would work on it to unknot the thick lengths.

She had blocked out Renzo’s mind, A task easily learned after having had been doing this for so long. For a Telepathic, if you never learn to block a singular voice out you will end up going mad. This worked for a while, until…"1, 3, 7, 83, 56 and a half, 682, 9.34, 2765, 7698 and one tenth, 17,590.72, 30, 0.000000000008, 9,999,999, 1, 45000...." The numbers were a nuisance at first – but after 56 and a half she thought her head would nearly explode.

She couldn’t block him out! He was doing it specifically for her, his mental and physical energy was calling out to Gazelle – begging for her attention, and that was not something she could ignore, not something she could block out. She tried over and over again, but each time had a success rate of a maybe millisecond, if she had been lucky.

Her head was throbbing but still her fingers ran threw her hair with patience, there was not a line of strain shown on her face.

There was nothing she could do – not without confirming his suspicions. She could have absorbed the nagging energies and left the old man dry enough to sleep for days; but he would know. It was bad enough Henry knew, she was thankful for the blackout of her file before ‘Archer’ saw.

So there Gazelle sat, in throbbing annoying pain, it hadn’t enough to make it difficult to keep a normal exterior, she had dealt with much worse. She heard hardly a word anyone said. “Superheroes, Archer, Lilith, Protect the Earth" Was about all she made out from Archers speech. ‘Lilith was a terrible wretched woman, great in be-‘ She thought to herself before being cut off by “98786554, 9.0921264, 999999999999998, 31, 195, 2, 100040937, 3.14159265” In her mind she screamed and cussed, screeched and fought.

Kyle sat back, partially slouching in his chair then watched and learned from everything that was happening around him. He didn’t care much for the others in the room; he never got close to anyone since no one had ever gotten close to him. The cold that fallowed him around like a dog on leash seemed to always push people away, he was used to that and accepted it.

He noted that one of the women, by her accent, was Italian, along with the old man. Kyle smirked after the man, who called himself Renzo, made the agent hand over his official jacket, he thought it was great that someone showed that these men had no control over who they had brought here.

Kyle watched the next man who spoke up, and called himself Mr. Walker. He was dressed very formally and by the way he spoke he knew that he was better than them and wanted to rub it in their noses. He rolled his eyes at the comment that Mr. Wlalker would have them all jump to their deaths. If anything he would jump then catch himself with ice before he hit anything.

He almost didn’t notice the files that Mr. Walker had in his hands before everyone started grabbing and trying to keep their lives from being known from the rest. He crossed his arms over his chest and just watched, he didn’t care if people knew about him, he hadn’t done much wrong but steal here and there to get by but he doubted any of that would be in the file. He had lived a boring life of moving from place to place, there was nothing he needed to hide from the others, whatever they wanted to know about Kyle they would have to find their own answers since he didn’t usually talk to anyone about himself.

But through all this he figured out more about the others, without having to look at any of the files. He thought it was a little odd that the kid that was here was obviously more mature than he looked; the provocatively dressed woman had come from the hells and didn’t seem to particularly like any of them since all of their abilities had come naturally and she had to work and learn to control hers. He frowned a little at that. Yes his abilities had come on their own, but it hadn’t been like he all of a sudden knew how to use his new found power. It took him years to be able to not freeze everything he touched, or frost over a room and turn the people inside to popsicles with his temper. Kyle had worked hard also and he was sure that he hadn’t fully learned the entirety of his potential with ice.

He focused his ice blue eyes on the boy who was speaking, probably sending a chill down his spine. He was talking about giving them superhero names. In all honesty Kyle found it stupid; he didn’t want this to be some stereotypical hero squad or something. By all the bickering and discord going on, he doubted it would be anything close. Why the group was filled with so many different kinds of people and those who didn’t seem to be able to get along with every single person in the room, would never know.

He looked up at the dull ceiling for a few minutes, just listening to all the voices swarming around in the room. He could tell that some where making friends, others were finding enemies to make. It was almost habit for him now to avoid almost all people; he found it best to not make friends. Friends come with enemies and he wouldn’t want to take the risk of making any one of these other gifted peoples his enemy. He knew his own power was deadly so he figured that if others had more powerful abilities and knew how to control them, he would rather avoid being on that persons bad side.

A collaborative post with Major Vincent Macleod and Gazelle Kiley

Vincent sat in silence as the group asked their questions. He already knew he was obligated to join; stupid fucking military still has a hold on him. Maybe he could make something of this and scavenge something good from the situation. But these individuals weren't like him. He was trained for years and had experience in war. Have these people even had something close to that ever happen to them? Vincent looked at the rag tag team the government had brought together. He could see some potential in some of the people that sat with him in the room.


"So you can offer us anything that would make it worthwhile right?" Vincent asked the old man as he leaned back in his chair.
"Yes we can Major. Each of you will be asked personally as to what you would like in return for your services." The old man replied with a monotonous tone.


"How about training for everyone? Are they going to get some or are they just going to jump feet first into a fight?" Vincent asked with a serious tone. This worried him the most. He could deal with working with people he never met, it came with the job; but he wasn't confident in surviving if he had to run into a fight with one or two people who wouldn't be able to take care of themselves. He said nothing back to anyone else who sat in the room. They weren't important right now, what was important was getting information on what he was in for.


"Yes, there will be a fast tracked training course for each of you to test individual skills on problem solving, power usage, and firearms. There will also be a training exercise as team before you begin taking on missions. If you are unable to meet these requirements you will be released, you will receive nothing, and you will have no recollection of the department. Once training is done then we will talk about missions." The old man reassured Vincent.


Vincent's eyes drifted back over to the woman named Gazelle. She seemed a bit of a mystery to him, more than likely why he was so intrigued by her. His eyes did a quick once over her body before he sat back into his chair and stared at the ceiling. 'Christ, I'm fucked aren't I?' Vincent thought to himself. 'At least these guys will get trained, but I doubt anything can get this bunch to work together. I'm going to end up fucking dead.'


His eyes moved back to the informant and he said in a low tone. "I need a full dossier on everyone's abilities. Whatever you can give me."
Without even a pause the old man asked back. "And why would that be Major?"
"Just the way I do things, I need to know whatever I can about the squad, Call it habit." Vincent replied with a stern tone.
"You will receive the dossiers when you reach your living quarters."


Vincent took one last look at each person at the table. The mystery woman from hell he kept staring at, a pyro, an old man, a young kid, a loud mouth braggart, an ass kisser, a girl losing her mind, and more shit that made for a seemingly doomed team.


"Ahh fuck." Vincent mumbled to himself.

The informant stood up. “Now that this little meeting is over, you will all be escorted to your living quarters for the time being. Starting tomorrow the tests will begin."


The group was ushered from the conference room, in hope they wouldn't kill one another at their new home. "Come this way, I'll be leading you to the bus to take you to your accommodations." spoke a man of great height challenges, and a voice deeper than the very rumbles of an earthquake.


Vincent made his way away from the group and headed for the hallway that lead to the parking lot. ”Sir please come this way." spoke their escort
"I have my car in the parking lot. I'm sure as hell not leaving it here. I'll follow you." Vincent replied in a sarcastic tone as he continued walking away.


"Car?" The sound of heels rapidly falling on the tiled floors grew louder behind Vincent and once reaching his side she snaked her arm to link with his. "Mind having a passenger? Buses aren't really my thing." Her voice slipped past her lips in a sleek silky seduction, those black orbs she had for eyes peering up at him innocently, not to mention she didn't care to be anywhere near Renzo this second.


"Yeah, not a problem, it would be nice to have company.” Vincent responded without looking back at her. Once they reached the parking lothe glance over sneaking a peek at her physique. He stopped, unlocked, and opened the passenger door of the midnight blue 1968 Nova; Vincent's eyes met hers and with a small smile said "Come on, let’s get out of here."


A small musical laugh filled the hollow evening air before she leaned into his body pushing her lips to his cheek. "Thank you good sir!" she playfully remarked before slipping inside the car. When the door shut behind her Gazelle ran her hand across the smooth black dash, and as his door opened she let out a loud whistle. "You know if it was possible to fuck a car I think this would be my choice - you might want to keep an eye on your shifter." With a wink of her eye she leaned back into the seat.


Putting the car in reverse he backed out of his spot and drove to the small bus parked in the back. With the car now in park they waited. "I hope they don't put us in some shithole." He said looking over to Gazelle. She simply shrugged her shoulders, she had no preference as to the living accommodations. She also knew well enough that for what they were asking of the group they would be stupid to put them anywhere less than fantastic.


Meanwhile the other members were loaded into the bus. The benches had enough room for two people per seat or the option to sit alone. The floor was an ugly olive green, the upholstery a dirt stained beige, and the reeked of body odor. Once everyone was seated the man at the front apologized for the condition of their travels and assured them it was only a 20 minute drive. As the bus proceeded forward it rattled and banged, each small bump hit felt as you ran over a human body in a smart car.


Vincent followed the bus turning onto a gated road, while passing small talk of music back and forth - not that either one of them understood the other. The road twisted through lines and gatherings of trees. Gazelle watched out the window in awe. The trees were lacking of leaves, left to be nude bearing their skeleton figures. The sun was just before high noon lighting the forested floor, which had also been dead. Even in such a sight most would find ugly Gazelle seemed to soak up every detail in delight.


The bus came to a slow squealing stop just outside of what looked to be a large home. The exterior was that of stone, old aged grape vines snaking up each inch of the front appearance. There was no grand stair case but the black double glass paned doors reached the height of 8 feet. It seemed to be a house of two levels, on the top was window after window graciously spaced out, black shutters to frame. Along the bottom were only two ceiling to floor bay windows, one on either side of the door.


“Doesn’t look too bad." He said to himself. He looked over to Gazelle and took a quick glance over her and said. “Well let’s see what they stuck us in for now.”
"Don't have much of a choice do we?" She snarkly responded whilst opening the door and stepping outside. Vincent followed her a few paces behind 'A very interesting woman.' he thought to himself as they walked up to the collected group.


Vincent looked at the group and said with a light laugh " Fun ride guys?" After his little statement the man escorting the group walked up to them and pulled out a little case.


"These are the keys to each of your rooms. Don't lose them." He demanded as he passed them out; each key was small and on the loop hung what could be assumed a key for the front door and contained an assigned number.


"Easy enough." Vincent said to himself as he took his key –'1 A'. Gazelle held a tight grip on her '2B' key while Vincent looked up and at the group, rather than waiting for anyone he started to make his way inside and towards his room. Gazelle took off after Vincent without a sound and leapt onto his back in a piggy ride type fashion. A quick huff shot from his mouth as she hopped on him unexpectedly. "I hope you aren't hoping for me to start running laps." He said with a light laugh.
"Awe come on, we should start training now anyway - My ex told me that in the Military you have to be able to run with someone your weight on your back... I'm only 120. Start running Private." Spoken with a wide grin. She seemed to be more playful now that she wasn't trapped in a room with a bunch of assholes, but the evil that was present before still streamed from her very being.
"Well I can run you to your room, but make sure you call me Major." He said with a sarcastic laugh.
"Giddy up Private!" With that statement Vincent quickly jumped up and then took off in a light jog, the sound of Gazelle's toxic laughter trailing behind them.


The main foyer of the house was a rather large empty space that lead to the wide spread dark cherry wood stairwell, the tile floor running the same deep grey of the exterior of the house. To the right was a large living area, consisting of a wide 4 foot fire place, three large black plush couches, and four over sized royal blue bean bag chairs. There were shelves upon shelves of books, fiction, non-fiction, poetry, self-help, and biographies. Most importantly government made books on how to harness your powers, how to use them in different situations , and explanations of where some powers arise from .


To the left was a massive kitchen, A large island in the center split it from the large refrigerator. Two ovens sat in the wall and a burner rested on the granite counter top. Wooden cabinets filled the back wall as a large table sat on the other side of the kitchen, a table large enough to fit them all at once.


The back wall of the house was closed in by a room. It was a long stretched space, there was no furniture, no paintings, nothing. The walls were of a bright viberant red and on the door hung a sign "Personal Improvement."


As Vincent slowed his pace down the long upstairs hallway his eyes moved from room number to room number. " 2B. Here we are." He said as he stood still, with that said Gazelle hopped off his back and gave him a firm smack to the ass.


"Thanks for saving my legs the hardship of walking." She walked past him and began her first of many difficult attempts to open her door.
"See you around. Maybe we'll talk some more." Vincent said as started to walk away.
Calling out over her shoulder "You would be so lucky, wouldn't you." The voice wasn't playful this time, more so it was lacking in emotion. "And if I keep catching you checking out my ass, I'll have to start charging you by the glance, Private." The sound of her lock finding freedom played in her ears.
"Well I hope you won't charge too much, I am in the army so I don't make a whole hell of a lot." He said with a small laugh. Gazelle quickly turned the handle to her door and slipped inside, closing it behind her silently and without another word. Vincent made his way down stairs and to his door. He unlocked it quickly compared to Gazelle, and went inside.


As each person entered their rooms they would find it decorated to their needs and interests. Each room held a small mock off of a kitchenette and personal washroom.


The room was rather large with a small couch at the entrance of the room, a small refrigerator in the corner. He walked through the opening to the next room and what seemed like a queen sized bed sat in the center on a white carpet. Across from the bed was a small walk in closet. It was a very simplistic room. "Not bad, not bad at all. For once the military finally paid off." Vincent said to himself.


Gazelle's eyes widened in excitement as she stared into her room, where she came from the girl would have been happy with a mattress and bucket for a toilet, but rather what she saw was something of extravagance. Her queen sided bed was wrapped in the finest of gold shaded Egyptian cotton, atop of it laid all her personal belonging from the Government Facility she was staying at. Her walls and ceiling had been wrapped in mirrors and dimmer lights. Her floors had been coated in white shaggy rugs, a large two person dome chair rested in the corner beside a large window which looked out to the forest, standing beside it was a tall bookshelf filled with the finest of literature. Her washroom held a deep soaker claw tub these walls also pure mirrors. The closet was where most members kitchenette would be, a kitchenette which Gazelle lacked. It was a large walk in filled with clothes, new clothes, old clothes, and 10 sets of her favorite outfit. On her pillow rested a note.

"Miss. Gazelle Kiley:

We hope you find these quarters to your satisfaction.
You will be sent daily feedings arriving at 7 am and 11 pm - Please do not feed off your team mates.
Please inform any personnel if you require anything more.

With the best regards,
Sgt. Tommy Skelton ."

Adela kept her eyes away from the judgmental stares of most of the others in the room. She zoned out hoping that she would be out of this small room soon. Her hands were still rapidly changing  temperature from boiling hot to ice cold, something was messing with her.

A young boy sat proudly at the table, his maturity deceived his young body and this through Adela off.  People burnt there folders as the jackson boy got a hold of them, Adela didn't care one bit. What was in her folder anyway? The only thing would be about her mothers death and the details would be sketchy no one knew the truth but her. 

Adela watched as jack got up an asked for the bathroom he walked behind her chair and peered through her hair. His glance caught her attention like others didn't, she held his eyes.  His hands went on her shoulders and caused more relief than Renzos did.


"Hey, buck up beautiful, it's alright." and with a gently squeeze of her shoulders her left. She watched him leave and studied how he walked with a inner confidence, he believed in what he did. 

Someone said something about training which broke her attention. Something she definitely needed. Adela would have to work hard, and would need a lot of help if she was to not die as soon as someone punches her.

The group was ushered from the conference room, in hope they wouldn't kill one another at their new home. "Come this way, I'll be leading you to the bus to take you to your accommodations." spoke a man of great height challenges, and a voice deeper than the very rumbles of an earthquake.

She stood and stayed as far as she could away from Gazelle, she stayed close to Jack.  Only the boy rivaled her lack of height, her rolled shoulders and shrunken statue did not help her look at all physically challenging.  She followed silently with her eyes down or glancing up at Jack.  The clicking clack sound of Gazelles heels annoyed her to no end.  She wanted to rip them off her feet. Although she didn't have the guts to touch gazelle or get within three feet of her to be honest.

The group walked to where the bus was, Vincent and gazelle took a car. Adela looked at the bus in worry. It didn't look road worthy let alone safe, oh well she was going to die anyway why not make it on a bus. As soon as the sun hit Adela, her hair threw red and she shied away from the burning rays.  Her pallid skin either looking sickly or translucent burned from the suns rays.   At least she was with people, that always have her hope. Even if most the people would rather see Adela dead than Alive.

The buses suspension was shot and every bump was felt through the cheap upholstery. But a bus no matter how bad was better than no bus at all.  She sat in the seat quietly not bothering with idle chit chat. 

As they got of the bus Vincent made some smart retort and the head suit handed out the room keys Adela took hers with a shaking hand. 

She prayed her room was no where near Gazelles. Just her luck it would be, she peered at her number B3. 

Adela hoped her room would be near jacks.. If someone tried to kill her in her sleep at least she could run.  She looked up at jacks shyly.

"where's your room?" her voice was soft and quiet.

Gazelles laughter trickled down the corridor as she walked up the stairs. 

"shit." she spoke louder than she expected and covered her mouth back tracking down the stairs.  She found The guy givin out keys again.

She didn't really want to speak to him but this situation was life and death. 

"can I swap? Please" Adela whispered staring up putting as much plead into her eyes as possible.

"no sorry, your rooms are already done."  he spoke coldly and turned the other way. 

Adela walked very slowly to her room, slower than she had ever moved.  She sulked as she reached the hop of the stairs.  She ran as fast as her little legs would carry her and slammed the door.

Her back was against the door and her breathing was heavy and came out in gasps, hopefully Gazelle hadn't seen her.  Her hands shook and her knees knocked.  But then suddenly her room became clear and caught her attention. The walls were black and simple with white trimming. Her room had a small window with heavy curtains preventing the sunlight from burning her. Her head turned and a grand piano stood proudly in the corner. 

A smile cracked her porcelain features but didn't reach her eyes.  She rushed over faster than a normal human to the piano. She flicked through the sheet music. Her favorites were there as well as lots of new ones. A message was placed over the delicate keys. 

' sheet music will be at your disposal as often as you need it'  she giggled... Almost. 

Adela dropped her weight gently onto the chair and placed her fingers on the keys.  She started playing softly at first then loudly as she settled into the familiar Rhythm.   Her fingers moved gracefully over the keys as she played the various minor chords creating a melancholy sound. 

The moment the papers flew out of Henry's hand and Archer said his name allowed, he smiled. "So it's you...." he thought to himself. His little ruse had worked. Soon the ones who were on the opposing morale scale would rally around him like a beacon. The brave boy who stood up to the evil man.Then, all he had to do was win him over. Then this group might actually have a chance of becoming a team. It was the only way the team would for sure work together. Now the neutrals would be cooperative no matter what. Soon, this team would become something he could actually stand being in.

While the rest grabbed and burned and bickered, Henry grabbed a seat and placed it directly where he was standing and sat down, legs crossed. Henry then heard Gazelle whispering an answer to his thoughts earlier. She didn't have to answer him, he found it terribly kind of her. Even though it was supposed to be for more of a shock factor that she could read his mind. She would only read what he allowed her to, he had dealt with many telepaths and truthsayers in his time. Hell, he had been married to one for 35 years, spirits rest her soul. He had figured out long ago how to make a mental barricade for his personal thoughts. To answer her, he left his mental cage and thought towards her. "Your quite welcome, and I'm not familiar with that particular demon, but I will make a note of the name."

Henry listened for a bit longer, being amused by everyone. From the looks on everyone's faces, no matter how their personalities were, they all seemed to be amused by the others. Thinking themselves the most important and definitive in the room, even if they did not intend so. It was cute, actually. They all thought themselves control of their destiny and there surroundings. The only way to avoid destiny is never to be known by it, like Henry. It seems Ms. Kiley became like him as well, but he could feel destiny turn her gaze towards her as Gazelle's gaze repeatedly turned towards Major Macleod. Sure she also occasionally looked at him, but there was something about Vincent that intrigued her. Henry knew he had the power to change their fates, for better or worse. Though, at this moment in time, it did not matter a single bit.

Henry stifled a laugh when Mr. Archer suggested that Gazelle's code name should be Lilith. Gazelle was crafty, evil and powerful. But, compared to mother, she was not much. Jackson mentioning her made him think of the last time he saw his mother. She was standing near that pit, most of midnight either in flames or rubble, Authorities and Hallow corpses littered the field. Henry had a hole through his chest the size of a coconut. Then John, standing there in his trademark trench coat and fedora, banished their mother with the holy blade Amorrachious back to where she came. Just another Dooms Day avoided.

Henry snapped out of his day dream, and looked at Archer. Quite honestly, he reminded him of his brother. He was a bit more naive than him, but he could sense he was there. It was then when the man in charge said it was time to be shuttled away. Deciding to not make America panic by flying a large black and gold hover craft while following a bus full of people with powers, he followed the rest to the bus.

While on the horribly metal rectangle that these inferior beings dare call a suitable means of transportation, Henry pulled out a black and gold blue tooth looking object and stuck it in his ear. He pressed a button on it and began speaking. "Yes.....yes Princeton, it's me. I won't be requiring the car......No I have other means of transport........Yes you may go back, though, when I call on you again, I would like you to bring my personal car........yes that one. Alright, make sure Sykes behaves himself, alright tata." With that, he pressed the button again and placed it back in his coat.

When they finally arrived and was allowed to remove himself from that horrid bus, he glanced at his new accommodations. Not bad at all, really. They would be suitable to his needs. He walked inside with the others, the group meeting up with Vincent and Gazelle once again. Vincent obviously rubbing it in their faces that he brought his car. They were all handed keys. "1-B" Henry mumbled to himself. Meaning he would be on the second floor, excellent.

After everyone had their keys and were heading off to their rooms, Henry walked up and spoke to Jackson. "Excuse me, Archer? I was wondering if I could speak to you for a brief moment." Henry said in the most polite way with a very warming smile.

Vincent took a seat upon the small couch near the entrance of his room. A stack of pale yellow folders rested on the small end table with a letter. He pulled lightly at the collar of his grey button up as he placed the folders on his lap and took a quick gander at the letter.

' Major Macleod,
These are the dossiers of the selected individuals as requested.
Any other information needed please contact Mr. Winsthrope at his office.
Spc Jonathan Tutley

"Well lets what I'm working with here." Vincent said as he opened the the first folder in the stack. It was his dossier. He read through the basics first, a tour in Iraq and 3 tours in Afghanistan. His list of medals and awards. "Decorated soldier with experience in command of units and special op squads." Then he got to the information on his abilities.

Subject is able to control the electrical impulses in his body to target and enhance his natural abilities. This can work in various ways i.e. increased movement speed, increased strength, and forcing the subject to think quicker. The subject can is also capable of sending a current through an object when touched allowing him to electrocute a target or use his ability as a defibrillator. With career history and personal abilities taken into consideration, subject Vincent Macleod is a candidate for the Department of Occult Warfare.

"Hmm, made me seem kinda bad ass." Vincent said with a light laugh to himself. He placed his folder on to the table and opened up the next one. "Jackson Archer."Vincent scanned through his dossier taking in all the important facts. powers and his personality and history. "A telekinetic huh, he could be useful." Vincent placed Jackson's file next to his on the small end table.

Next file was "Adela Alba." He could remember the timid young woman sitting at the table seemingly having a panic attack over the whole situation. He read through everything about her. "Well she is timid and has a few flaws, but who doesn't. She has potential." Vincent placed her file with Jackson's on the table.

Vincent went through each dossier carefully. He sat back in his chair and let out a deep breath. "Ok ok. Time for splitting. This is going to piss a lot of people off." He said to himself as he sorted the files into pairs. 'Everyone has a weakness and a strength, if they are paired together it would make them better balanced and might help us survive through a mission.' Vincent thought as he stood up and headed to the mini fridge in the corner. As he opened the door he saw a few beers. As he grabbed one the label on the bottle caught his eye.

"Really, Yeungling? Oh now this place is awesome."