Freedom League (See More than Mortal thread for OOC and backstory)

[Armphid]

((OOC: Here is the link to the OOC thread, please keep all OOC comments there to let the story flow. http://forum.literotica.com/showthread.php?t=608895 Anyone interested in joining, check it out. The more, the merrier))

New York City, 60 years ago

An explosion threw men apart as Atomic's mighty fists came together. All over the shorn-off skyscraper, battle raged as the Freedom League struggled against black clad men in the uniforms of the SS. Lorelei let out a piercing shriek, and a half dozen fell, ears bleeding, unable to stand as their equilibrium was shattered. Gunshots rang out from nowhere, the knees and hands of several 5th Columnists bursting into gory red. A grungy man in a tank top, jeans and work boots swung a steel girder in the way another man would a baseball bat, knocking Nazis down like kingpins. A man in the garish costume of a stage musician gestured with his magic wand, and a dozen gun wielding killers transformed into rabbits.

On the far edge, hidden from view, one of the SS officers was pressed against a wall, a Luger in one hand as he peered around the corner. His pale blonde hair was high on his head, displaying a prominent widow's peak, and his blue eyes were wide with anger, a thin scar running down one side of his face. Beside him was a man in an outlandish green and white costume, a mask pulled over his face that hid all but his nose and mouth, a short cape hanging from his shoulders. In his right hand was a long, futuristic looking carbine. "Again!" The German accent was thick in his voice as he turned to the costumed man, "Vy? Always ze Freedom League! Damn zem!"

"Better do more than damning, Thorsvald," the masked man said. "They're about done with your goose-steppers out there."

"Ja, it pains me to say it, Hurricane...but you are correct." Thorsvald ran over to a cloth covered heap, yanking the cloth off to reveal an elaborate contraption, humming vaccuum tubes in it. "Keep zem from me for a few minutes, und ze portal vill be opened! All zere heroics vill mean nossing vhen Ze Old Ones come to Earth!"

He started to activate the machine, then paused. He did not hear the bellowing winds behind him. "...Hurricane?"

"Sorry, pal. You're not paying me enough for this. Good luck!" Thorsvald turned in time to see Hurricane leap off the building. As he fell, he pointed his gun downward, pulling the trigger. A howling cyclone fired from the barrel, slowing his descent until he touched the ground gently, then darted off down an alley.

"Coward!" The Nazi turned back to his machine, then was thrown back as a small, delicate looking fist slammed into his face. He hit the ground on his back, staring up.

Columbia, beautiful and regal stared down at him. She wore a white leather form fitting bustier with the American eagle in gold upon it, a knee length white shirt bordered in red, blue, and white stars, and sandals that wrapped up around her calves. A long, flowing cape of red hung from her slender shoulders. Her long dark hair flowed from under the helm that sat atop her head, her blue eyes flashing. In one hand she held an ever burning torch. "It is over." The torch touched the side of his machine, the mechanism impossibly bursting into flame. "Surrender, Thorsvald. The war ended three years ago. Let it be."

His eyes twitched, feeling her power reach out to lull him, make him yearn for peace...but then he raised his gun, firing madly at her. "Nein! Never over, woman!"

The bullets struck her, not even marking her fair skin, falling harmlessly to the floor. Thorsvald stared, then a glowing fist struck him in the jaw, rolling him yards from the impact and knocking him out. Atomic shook his head, "Got to treat a lady better than that, Thorsvald. You okay, Columbia?"

She nodded, with a faint smile on her majestic features, "I am fine, but you needn't have worried. He couldn't hurt me."

"Better safe than sorry, Bea," came a rough, relaxed voice. One foot propped up on a pile of Nazis, Jack Burton grinned, his eyes lingering on the bit of leg and generous cleavage Columbia's costume displayed. "You know, Bea, those bullets coulda had some hoo-doo on 'em...better let me check you over, just to be sure."

Columbia's eyes narrowed dangerously, though the smile never left her face. Before she could speak, the magician interrupted, "Were it necessary, that would be my pleasure, Jack, not yours. As our little league's master of the mystic arts." Marvolo the Magnificent tapped his wand against his turban, looking down at Thorsvald. "But there is no concern, my friends. Ever since we severed his ties to his fatherland, his magic has grown weaker and weaker. I doubt he could even pull a rabbit out of a hat."

"Hurricane got away." The voice was dark, almost inhuman, coming from the shadows. "He won't get far..."

"Alive, Shadow," Atomic replied. "He needs to stand trial for his crimes. He's not a killer, just a thug."

"You give him too much credit," replied the voice, "I know what lurks in his heart. But this time...I will relent."

Lorelei peered down at the unconscious Third Reich mystic. "Think we've seen the last of him this time?"

"Of course." The mighty Atomic, the team's leader, folded his arms over his chest. "He's got no powers anymore, we've rounded up all of his hidden agents. He's done. And even if he's not, it doesn't matter. The Freedom League will always be here to stop him."

*********​

Riker's Island Penitentiary, two weeks ago

He could hardly see out of the cell anymore. The old man was pitifully thin and tiny, bent by age and long years in this prison. The walls of his cell were covered with newspaper clippings about various heroes and villains, some articles circled or outlined, others with notes written in the margins.

He was dying. It would be soon. He would be dead and they would be beyond his grasp forever. Unless, that man...

He was turning a small object over and over in his hand. He paused, raising it almost to touch his face to look at it. It was a business card, black with white letters. It read simply: "Mr. Natasha" and below was a telephone number; 666-666-0666.

The old man rose, coming to the bars of his cell. "Guard...I...I vuld like to make a phone call..."

*********​

New York City, Today

"So, what do we have?" The man wore a plain suit with a raincoat over it as he walked up the steps. His hair was grey and his voice rough and bitter. "Robbery, ya think? I mean, look at this place."

"That was the first though, but nothing's missing." A younger man, similarly dressed walk beside him. Then came to a door marked off with yellow tape, a uniformed officer nodding them inside. "The place is spotless, no sign of forced entry, no sign of struggle."

"Huh. Damn, and I was looking for something easy. Thought I was lucky we weren't called out to that truck that blew up on the Interstate." The two men came to stop before a body, a handsome young man whose eyes were wide and staring. He looked unusually drawn and pale, even for a corpse. "Looks like he's been through the ringer."

"Yeah, coroner on the scene figures he might've been poisoned or sick or something. Won't know until tox comes back. Anyway, come look at this." The younger detective led her partner into the apartment's kitchen, "Only thing out of place was this book. It's dusty, hasn't been opened in a while, we even found where it was supposed to be on the shelf." On the kitchen table lay a handsome, hardback book, open to a page. The pages were mostly text, save for one that was a large, black-and-photo of a number of outlandishly clad men and women, all sitting a large round table. The tabled had an inscription in it, it said "Freedom League." "And then take a look at this." He closed the book, showing the cover which had the author standing in front of a glass case that held a costume. The title read: "Mystery Men and Caped Crusdaers: Under the Masks." The author bore an uncommon resemblance to the dead youth.

The young detective waited a moment while his colleague examined it. "What do you think?"

The older man stood, running a hand through his hair. "I think I woulda rather had to deal with that truck thing."

 

[HookerBoots]

Please don’t ask where I’m going, please don’t ask where I’m going, please don’t ask-

“Celyn, where are you going?”

Damn. “Library, mum.” The redhead lifted her backpack as evidence of her scholastic intentions. “Study group for chemistry. Well, eye doctor first – my new contacts are in.” Praying that her mother wouldn’t ask to look in the bag, and that if whatever force was out there couldn’t grant her one wish the least it could do was give her this, Celyn slung the strap over her shoulder and smiled.

Her mother, Eileen, gave her a hard look and then smiled. “I’m glad to see you’ve started taking your schooling seriously. Call if you’ll be late,” she said as she turned back to the crossword puzzle she was working.

“Okay.” Celyn slipped out the door and sighed as she started down the road. She wasgoing to stop at the eye doctor, and her new contacts were in. But she wasn’t getting strictly what they’d paid for. And the library . . . well.

Three weeks earlier
“Cleaning the bloody attic, that’s what little brothers are for, innit? But no, ‘Celyn,” the girl muttered in a surprisingly accurate imitation of her mother, “‘clean out the attic for me.’”

The dust was thick in the still, musty air of the attic, and Celyn sneezed twice in rapid succession. “All right,” she said, eyes narrowing. “We’ll take care of this.” Opening her mouth slightly, she sent out a sonic wave that pushed the dust through the air, away from her and down. Holding the pitch, Celyn walked forward slowly, stopping when the dust was in a neat pile along one wall. She smiled and turned to the first box, hoping that there might be something at least sort of interesting in it. And not bugs.

It wasn’t really a box, more of a hope chest, very pretty. Maybe she could ask for it for her room . . . or just empty it and take it, since it was in the house, and it wouldn’t be like she was stealing it.

Flipping open the top, Celyn frowned. Black leather? How . . . pleasantly unexpected. She lifted the leather outfit from the box and smiled slowly. A little dated, yes, but very mrow. Mum had never told her that she’d been mod. And not black-leather-catsuit-with-flared-legs mod. Celyn draped the suit over another box and pulled out the next thing in the box.

A mask? It must have been a Halloween costume. It couldn’t have been any other sort of costume; mum said she’d thrown away all of her hero-things. Tucking her hair behind her ears, she set the mask aside and blinked at the newspaper clippings that the two items had hidden. Well. Mum lied. There, in black and white – or grey and brown, after all this time – was a news clipping of Eileen in that outfit, under the headline “Lorelei Saves Local Business.”

Flipping through the other clippings, all of them involving the Lorelei, most involving other superheroes, Celyn shook her head slowly, then sat back on her heels. This was very interesting. Her mother claimed that being a hero had made life more difficult, that she didn’t like to think about it and forbade her children to consider doing it themselves. But there was this little packet of hero memorabilia in the attic.

Putting the papers back into the chest, Celyn stood up and grabbed the mask and suit, closing the lid of the chest before heading down the stairs. A few alterations, and she’d see how it fit.

Present
Celyn shoved the empty backpack behind the toilet of the college library bathroom. Listening carefully, she stepped out from the stall and checked herself over in the mirror. She’d taken the sleeves off and adjusted the neckline into a halter, exposing her arms and a great deal of her chest, and taken a little of the width off the ankles. But it fit her surprisingly well; it amused her that she and her mother were the same size.

She stepped up to the sink and studied the new contacts she’d gotten as she pulled her hair into a half ponytail. The contacts looked perfect, and she’d never need to wear the mask again if she always had these. Instead of her normal brown, the looked like a swirling sea, with shades of blue and green and grey. Cutting edge technology, and very expensive. But her eye doctor had been willing to do her this little favor with very little persuasion.

Unlocking the main door, she went to the small window and opened it, stretching just slightly to do it. And then she jumped, her hands wrapping around the frame and pulling her up and through. Her hand snaked inside and shut the window behind her without latching it.

And the Lorelei walked the streets of Wrexham again.

 

[Armphid]

New York City, Today

The streets were busy, nearly choked with people coming and going about their business. The city's lifeblood electricity hummed through wires overhead and beneath. People chatted, laughed, and argued in a dozen languages, all mixing together in a tapestry of voices and emotion. Suddenly, both became one as the glass front of the People's National Bank shattered, jagged shards raining down everywhere. The sound of a ringing alarm rolled out of the building, as did screams and a few staccato gunshots. The streets were flooded with people, roiling off the sidewalk away from the back, crying out in fear.

A gang of 7 men wearing ski masks, all carrying home-altered automatic weapons rushed out of the bank. A few had their weapons trained backward, firing to encourage the customers, tellers and security to keep their heads down. A huge SUV pulled up, the engine revving. The driver, also mask clad, leaned out the window, "Come on, damn it! Cops'll be here any minute!"

The men piled in, doors slamming, duffel bags tossed back in the trunk. The driver shifted into gear and the tires squealed as he pulled out into the road. Then his eyes narrowed, "...what the hell is that?"

Shooting down from around one of the towering buildings in a rocketing arc, was a man. He was clad in a tight form fitting costume, dark green boots going to his knees, gloves of the same hue ended at his wrists. He wore a tight bodysuit, the lower half was a rich forest green on the outer areas, an inner square topped section that began where the boots ended was white. A belt with a few pouches was around his waist. The top was green as well, save for a a block shape that came over and down his shoulders to just below his pecs, the whole suit forming a kind of "H" shape with the contrasting colors. He wore a simple domino mask on his face, dark green with silver mirrored lenses over his eyes. His black hair whipped about in the wind, and a smile was on his lips. Around his calves and feet, trailing off behind him was a rotating, madly spinning whirl of greenish wind, propelling him forward and keeping him aloft. He flew down to the street, leveling off about three feet off the ground and charging the SUV head on.

His right arm lashed out in an uppercut, and a spinning cyclone rippled out form the street, up and underneath the robber's vehicle. The huge hunk of steel, plastic, gas, and rubber, was thrown up and back as if it was a child's toy by the vanishing whirlwind, smashing down hard on it's top in the middle of the street.

The man landed, the winds around his feet dying. From under the crashed SUV, the sounds of the robbers could be heard. He smirked, swinging a backhand at the ruined vehicle, and a howling gale gust slammed into it and threw it off the street and back onto it's tires. He walked up to it, looking in. Then he stood up, nodding. "It's all right, people. They're down."

"Hold it!" There was the click of a gun's hammer, causing the young man to freeze in place. One of the back's security guards had made it this far, and his 9mm was pointed at the green-clad wind walker's head. "Don't move! You're not getting away with the money, Hurricane!"

Hurricane sighed, "I didn't take the money, idiot. I stopped THEM from taking it." He twirled a finger, a mini-tornado spinning off of it to vanish in the air. "If it'd have been me, I'd have used the air, right? That's my power."

The guard shook his head, "But...the Hurricane...I know you, you're a freakin' super villain!"

The young man made a disgusted noise in his throat, "My father, who died in Sudan a few months ago, was a villain. He was a thief, a killer, and worse. I'm not."

The guard's partner ran up, huffing and puffing, "Larry! Let...hooo...let the kid go...he stopped...stopped 'em cold." The other guard slowly lowered his weapon.

"Jack off," Hurricane snorted. "Remember from now on!" He raised his voice, turning around to take his gaze over the crowd of people that were watching the whole scene. "Hurricane is a hero!" The winds around his feet sprang to life, and he shot up into the air, away, soaring our over the city as the sound of sirens drew near.

Hurricane sighed into the rushing wind. "Damn it, old man. Are you going to haunt me forever?"

 

[HookerBoots]

Snugging the gloves between her fingers, Celyn crouched on the edge of the roof across from where two men in black masks were trying to break into an outside ATM. These weren't very sharp. Didn't have the proper tools at all, she thought idly, tugging at the gloves again. It was almost not worth it. The cops would be along soon, and she'd be in a bit of trouble if she were caught doing this. But despite being one of the more populous towns in Wales, Wrexham . . . didn't have much serious crime. At least, not within her area.

One of them pulled out a pocket knife, and she sighed. Might as well get it over with, and stop them from hurting themselves. Standing, she leaped down from the roof, sending out an ultrasonic wave that cushioned her landing slightly. She still landed on one knee, one hand bracing on the ground. She straightened, tucked her hands behind her back. "Hey, what are you guys doing?" As if she didn't know.

Both of them spun, eyes wide, and she saw the change from fear it was someone dangerous to the thought that they might be able to get away with it, or be able to take advantage of the pretty young girl. "Nothin', lass. It ate me friend's card, an' we're tryin' to get it out," the taller one said, taking a step towards her.

"Oh, well, that's terrible. Cause here I thought you two were trying to rob it." She laughed lightly, and they laughed too. She stopped, and her eyes narrowed. "Of course, I've been watching from that roof over there, so I know you were." She pulled her hands out from behind her back and spread them. "So I suppose you can't just let me go, right?"

The taller man shook his head. "'Fraid not, lass."

"Didn't think so." Before he could decide what to do, she pursed her lips and whistled, pitching the sound to stun. The two men froze for a moment, and she dropped down in a leg sweep, knocking down the taller man before twisting the other way to knock down the other man. The stun wore off, and she got to her feet and kicked the pocket knife away. Then she looked around for something to tie their hands with.

And before she found anything, four ropes shot out from behind her to wrap around the men's wrists, binding them tightly. Celyn froze in place, knowing she was done. The slight crunch of boots on concrete as she turned slowly, hands out at her sides to show she was unarmed.

Well, at least she'd warranted the best. Of all the Knights of Brittonia, Lockdown and Morgana were the best known. Whether or not that made them the best was up for debate, but . . . dammit, she hadn't thought it would happen this soon. Lockdown smiled at her, the metal zippers on his costume jingling as he walked closer to her. "I wouldn't talk if I were you, Lorelei. Even though I'm sure you wouldn't think of trying to run, we'd have to assume you're trying something if you open your mouth."

Morgana, a tall blonde in a flowing dress with a strangely compelling pattern in red and orange, stepped up beside him. "She could try something without talking, Lock. But she knows she's caught. We're not going to hurt you, girl," she said in what was supposed to be a comforting tone.

One of the robbers snorted a laugh. "Got caught, innit? Should've let us do what we planned, eh, lass?"

Morgana turned her head in a strangely slow motion to look at him, her eyes going black as she did. "I would not say such things, if I were you." The blackness in her eyes flashed red for a moment, and both of the men on the ground groaned as their heads went back onto the ground, both unconscious.

Lockdown shook his head. "This isn't the place for it, anyway. You're the original Lorelei's daughter, aren't you? Just nod, or shake your head." Celyn nodded miserably, and he smiled. "That's a lass. You look like her, around the mouth. We'll turn these fellows in, and you'll get your street clothes and take us to see your mum and dad." It wasn't a question, and she knew it. They'd make her do it, even if she resisted. Her shoulders slumped and she shrugged.

An hour later, Celyn opened the front door, hoping her mother was asleep and knowing that even that wouldn't help. "Celyn, you're home . . . oh. Oh, dear." Eileen had come out of the kitchen with a dishtowel in her hands, and her face paled. "Celyn Jane Brede, what have you done?" she whispered, studying the two people behind her daughter.

"Mum, I . . . ."

"Don't talk yet," Morgana whispered. "Let us handle this bit. Well, ma'am, your daughter's been doing some vigilante action," she said in a regular tone. "As you know, that's not permitted, and we were called in to investigate."

Eileen nodded, her face looking as numb and blank as Celyn had ever seen it. "Yes, of course. Please, come in, and we'll talk about this. Would you like some tea?"

Lockdown shuffled his feet uncomfortably. "No, thank you, Lorelei. I mean, ma'am. I mean . . . ."

"Mrs. Brede will do."

"All right, Mrs. Brede. You're a legend, that's all, and I've been . . . anyway." He closed the door behind them all and avoided Morgana's amusing glance as he followed Eileen into the living room.

Celyn and Morgana followed, and Eileen made sure they were sitting. "Let me get Thomas, and we'll talk about this." She left the room, not looking at her daughter, who was sitting on the couch between the two heroes, her backpack between her feet and her eyes fixed on her backpack.

"Nice house," Morgana said softly.

"Please don't." Celyn didn't look up, and her voice was so small that it was almost inaudible.

"I'm just trying to make conversation."

Lockdown bit his lower lip. "This really isn't the time for small talk, Morgana."

"But it's the time to gush over her mother. I see."

He was still sputtering when Eileen and Thomas walked in, both pale and serious. Thomas eased himself into an easy chair as though someone had beaten him recently, and Eileen stood next to him, her hands twining together. "So," he said quietly, breaking the tension, "what's this all about, then?"

"We recieved a report," Lockdown said, "that there was a person performing heroic actions without a sanction in the area, and were sent to investigate. She was calling herself Lorelei, and since Mrs. Brede hasn't been seen for quite some time, and gave up her licensure . . . ."

"I see." He looked at his daughter and sighed. "Celyn, is this some sort of mistake? Were you just in the wrong place at the wrong time?"

She swallowed hard, then shook her head. "No, daddy. I was . . . was doing what they say."

Morgana sighed. "In any case, Mr. and Mrs. Brede, your daughter has three choices." She held up one finger. "She can stop performing heroic actions all together, permanently." Another finger. "She can join the Knights. We would be pleased to have her." Another finger. "Or she can leave the UK. Otherwise, there will be repercussions." She glanced at Celyn and sighed again as she saw a tear slide down the girl's face. "She has three days to make a decision. After that, she must either leave, sign a legal affidavit swearing to stop all heroic actions, or sign a contract with the Knights of Brittonia. Any heroic actions during that three day period will be considered a serious violation, punishable by a term in prison."

The tall blonde stood and motioned for her partner to do the same. "Lock, let's go. They don't need us to sit here while they talk."

"But the tea . . . ." Her look silenced him, and he stood up. Bowing awakwardly, he said, "Ma'am, sir." A look at Celyn, and he added, "It wouldn't be so bad, joining up. If you like, we'll be in the area, waiting to hear from you. You can find us and talk about it, if you like."

She nodded, and they both left without another word. Eileen waited for the door to shut, then looked at her daughter. "Celyn, I have never, ever been more disappointed in anyone or anything. You will sign the affidavit and stop this nonsense. No discussion needed."

The girl looked up, eyes flashing. "I don't even get a say in this? It's my life, mum!"

"No, you don't get a say. You lost that right when you decided to sneak around." Eileen shook her head sharply. "You will sign it, and that is that."

"And give up part of what I am? That's not fair, it's not right! Mum, how could you ask me to do that?"

"I'm not asking, I'm telling you. And you'll forget about it."

"I'd rather leave the bloody country! I won't stop, and I won't join them! I don't want to be a pretty little dolly for them to hold up!"

Thomas stood up in time to forestall his wife's angry retort. "Celyn, darling, go up to your room. Mum and I will talk about this and see if we can find a way to make everyone happy." Celyn opened her mouth, saw the stern look on his face, and stood up. She grabbed the backpack and left the room, still fuming on the inside.

The shouts from downstairs were clear through the floor, and Celyn busied herself by packing. Even if they said she couldn't she'd leave. There was no way for her to be happy here, and if she could find somewhere else to go . . . France, maybe. Although she'd gotten a D in French . . . .

A knock on the door, and Thomas stepped in. "Poppet."

"Daddy. What's the verdict?"

He sighed and sat on her bed, rubbing his palms over the legs of his trousers. "Tomorrow, I'll take you to get a passport. Your mother has a few friends from . . . before you were born that live in America, and you'll stay with them, temporarily."

The girl blinked for a moment, holding back tears and shock. Then threw her arms around her father's neck. "Thank you, daddy. Thank you so much." She felt his arms around her, holding her tightly, and wetness on her neck.

"You're welcome, poppet," he whispered. It hurt, the pain in his voice, and she felt almost worse than she had before. Her mother was disappointed in her, her father was crying. Brilliant, Celyn. Brilliant.

 

[chronicle_tenko]

The Shadow (in: He left his heart in San Fransisco. Along with other vital organs.)

Lao Dubei was running. This was an oddity for him. Since becoming the number one heroin importer in Chinatown some four years ago physical exercise beyond fucking and occasionally walking to his car had become almost moot. Now his sweaty porcine body was tossing people and carts aside as he ran for his life. To the assembled crowds of people it appeared he was running from no-one. Certainly not a man in a black coat with a red scarf and two large menacing .45's. But everyone could see him run a mist of sweat flowing from his panting face.

"Out of my way, Out of my way." The obese Chinese Triad leader was almost in tears as he struggled to get farther away. Shouting his fool head off for help for space for anything to save him. And almost no one could see who was chasing him. What creature from the depths of night inspired such fear in him, made him see everything he had done so recently in his rise to power and his years crushing his opposition to supply more and more people with his hellish brand of drugs.

Some saw the man, a scant few from windows or rooftops or even in the crowd, A very small few could see him walking slowly after through the trail of mayhem and carnage Lao created in his dash for freedom. But everyone saw the Shadow he created. most fixated on it the almost impossibly large shadow that grew and towered over the entire street as two shots rang out. then two more in quick succession. The crack and odor of burnt cordite and sulfur in the air as four shells fell to the ground. Two bullets tap tap from each gun penetrated and destroyed the organs of the Triad leader leaving his immense corpse to fall to the ground, the shadow almost overtaking the street for a mere instance. And then everything returned to normal. A woman screamed as Lao exhaled his last breath choked with blood and spit as he collapsed on her. Many rushed to help her. Statements were made and but 3 could report that a man in a black trench coat and slouch hat with a flowing red scarf were there. They were dismissed. No bullets were found inside Lao's body. Police found a discarded but fired Remington 700 rifle upon a rooftop and fingerprints matched another well known Triad official and chop man who previously had a file but little solid evidence. Four .338 Lapua Magnum shells were recovered from the area.

And on a plane, in business class back to Detroit following a successful market appearance of the new 'Lamont Hybrid', Henri Cranston slept the sleep of a champion. Knowing that one more Drug Lord would never pollute the world again. But still the visions came of another and another evil in the world. They never stopped.

A day passed.

A messenger came. The man was old but important, and he needed little if any real clearance to come to Henri's home.

"Heinrich. You murdered another person. On a public street no less.Can't you be more careful, is it so wrong to let them go to jail."

"I'm no detective and with the judges and police in his pocket he'd have walked in a day no matter whose testimony was against him. here I've destroyed him and his next in command the entire empire will topple there."

"And the people in the area who will die in the upcoming struggle for the new market? What about them. This isn't what you were supposed to do."

"But it's done. Leave me alone."

And like that Heinrich Stroheim was alone again, with only the sound of the rain against the window and a looming Shadow for company.

 

[Mephistophelily]

Morgana Hyndes stood outside of the church, staring up at the New York City skyline as the pipe organ's deep tones seeped out from the closed doors behind her. She hated funerals, and this one was no different. If anything, it made her hate them even more. Her grandfather had been one of the few people she really trusted anymore, one of the few people that knew the truth about her, why she hid away so much from the rest of her family and friends.

He had been like her; different, a freak in the eyes of so many. He had taught her so much, showed her so many things... Only to reveal the most painful thing of all to her just weeks ago. His powers had once made him a hero, a savior to so many- and instead of being treated with respect and reverence, they deemed him a freak of nature and a menace, turning against him and attempting to reform him into a 'normal' member of society. He had loved the general population, he had wanted to keep the world safe; and in return, they hurt him deeper than any of his enemies could have possibly done. His allies did nothing to help him. they had all fled, run away and pretended he never existed.

Some friends they were. And where were they now? Their once beloved ally had passed, and not one single member of his former team was here to say their goodbyes.

"Fucking bastards...," she growled, glancing up as she heard footsteps coming down the cement steps behind her.

"Morgana? Are you doing alright? I know that your grandfather meant a lot to you. You both seemed to bond quite a bit over the lsat few years... If you want to talk, honey, I'm here for you." Her mother's hands slipped up onto Morgana's shoulders, but the young woman only shrugged them off, glaring at her.

"I don't want your pity. I'm fine." Giving another glance towards the church, she let out a soft huff of frustration. "This place is too damn depressing. I'm out."

'Out? Morgana-!"

"I'm going for a walk. Leave me alone." Waving a hand over her head in her mother's direction, she started down the street, pulling the black jacket about her shoulders a bit tighter. She could still hear her grandfather's laugh, the chuckle that came deep from within him, a sound of pure joy. She had only heard him cry once, the day she told him about what happened with Daniel. Grandfather was happy that she had discovered her powers, but at the same time, worried about what could become of her. She promised him that she would only use them for what she felt was right...

"The great Dynabolt has passed... a true shame, that is."

Morgana's head raised as she heard the deep voice speak of her grandfather's former alias, looking for the man who referenced it. "What do you know about Dynabolt?," she asked softly, an eyebrow raising.

"Enough." The man smiled, extending a hand. "I know what they did to him, and I know how you feel about it, Seid." He laughed as her expression changed with that name, nodding. "Yes, I know quite a bit about you, dear. Please, come with me. I have many things I would like to talk to you about... and I'm sure they will be most interesting to you as well."

 

[Sky Jade]

Two weeks earlier

"Sinthia dear, come down here please."

Sinthia sighed as she rolled over on her back, laying the book down on the bed. She didn't mind her adoptive parents, in fact she loved them very much. She owed her life to them since they took her in as a baby. She paused in front of her mirror for a moment, brushing aside a couple of loose bangs.

You're in trouble.

"I am not in trouble. Besides, it's your fault if I get in trouble Sin."

Oh, such a goody-goody. Go see what our parents want

Sinthia just smiled at the mirror before making her way downstairs. Her adoptive parents were sitting on the couch, her father reading a newspaper and her mother was knitting. Her father closed up the paper and laid it on his lap when he saw her over the top of the paper. HE was the one who spoke first.

"Please have a seat sweetie."

Sinthia smiled and strecthed out in the lazyboy before laying her hands in her lap.

"What is it father?"

"Well, your mother and I feel you need a vaction from home. You really haven't gone anywhere since you graduated, so we thought we would get you out of the house for a bit."

Told you were in trouble.
Hush please.

"Yes dear. In fact, your father and I wanted to send you to New York. You might even be able to help out while you're there. Feel free to stay as long as you like."

Sinthia blinked a couple of times.

"Are you kicking me out?"

Her father smiled and shook his head.

"We would never kick you out dear. No, you are free to stay here as long as you like. We are just sending you on a vaction. As your mother said, feel free to enjoy yourself for as long as you like. And if you ever need any money, just let us know."

Sinthia slipped form the chair and hugged both of her parents.

"Oh thank you mother, father. It's a wonderful present."

Oh, a new playground for me.

Present

The big city was more than what Sinthia expected. She was jostled every few feet as she walked down the street, barely able to keep her backpack on. She ducked into an internet cafe for a breather, taking an empty seat.

"This was the latest act of heroism here in New York city, the thwarting of an attempted bank robbery. Show the clip."

Sinthia glanced towards the tv as the clip of Hurricane's foiling of the robbery. The angle was a bad one, but Sinthia got the jist of what happened.

Hopefully no one got hurt.
Why? Did you want to jump in and make them better?
At least he was doing something good. Unlike you.
Hmph.

She sighed and leaned back in the chair, staring out the window. This was certainly not what she had expected. Things were quiet for a few moments before a loud crash was heard from out in the street. A compact car had crashed into the side of a semi right at the corner.

It was almost instinct that made Sinthia run out to see if anyone was injured. The compact car had hit the right rear set of tires of the trailer, seriously damaging it. She ran over to the car, peering in at the driver. She heard the distant sound of sirens, but the young teenager didn't look like she was going to pull through without serious help.

Looks like you get to play goody-two shoes.

Sinthia frowned at Sion's comment, but she focused on the task ahead. The entire right side of the little car was crushed, shattered glass everywhere. Glass puntured the injured female all over her face, including an large chunk lodged in the side of her throat. Bright red blood was everywhere, covering the sear and floor. Sinthia took a deep breath and laid her hands on the driver's arm. She closed her eyes as she concentrated, her hands glowing white. She heard shouts behind her, but she focused on her task at hand.

"Move it young lady! The paramedics are here!"

It took but a moment, but the driver's wounds were beginning to close. The shards of glass were pushed out of the driver's body, piling around her. The driver suddenly gasped for breathe as she became away from her surroundings. Sinthia was pulled back roughly, but her job was done. The firemen pried the damaged door open, pulling the young woman out. Sinthia wiped her forehead, getting some sweat off. One of the paramedics approached her.

"Are you a hero or something young lady?"

"No sir, I just wanted to make sure she was going to die."

"Well, you did a good job. If you were a hero before, you are now. What's your name?"

Sinthia smiled, blushing at the compliments.

"Sinthia Kojira."

 

[Armphid]

Morgana

The man was tall and athletic, his features strong and noble of countenance. Pale blond hair was swept back revealing a high brow and a distinct widow's peak. His blue eyes hid much, gleaming as he looked down at the girl before him. So lovely. So young. And angry, bitter...it would be so easy to...ah, but he knew her blood. Mongrel. Still, a useful one. Easy to make her other things as well.

"I knew your grandfather from old times," he offered Morgana. His voice had only a hint of his accent in it, the years spend in that damnable stillborn excuse for a nation having helped him shed it. Mostly. "He vas a great hero, a good man." A fool. "I know that he used his great powers to enrich the lives of others instead of to help himself. And I know that in the end, he was betrayed." Ah, the joy he'd felt that day. Only a German could truly appreciate it. "Captured, confined, his reputation ruined, his heart broken. The others heroes did nothing to help him, staying away even from his funeral." For all she knew. And he would tell her no different. "Even though he was a reserve member of their so-called Freedom League."

He paused a moment, then leaned in closer, "And I know that he told you about it. And I know the resentment that seethes in you for his treatment. I was betrayed by them as vell, and I have such hate for these "heroes," liars and charlatans, all of them!" He took a moment to compose himself. "And...I know that you, my dear, have powers too. I know vhat happened vhen you used them. The poor boy, Seid." He was able to keep from smiling, though he took joy in how that incident still hurt her. "I say this not to hurt you, child, but to remind you of your grandfather. He used his powers to stand up for those who could not stand for themselves." He looked down at her, "Like him, at the end. Unable to stand up for himself, abandoned by everyone but you. Doesn't he deserve someone to defend him? To make those who have committed crimes against him pay? To give to those who hurt him, and you, the pain they deserve?"

He took a step back. "You have power and the will, but not the knowledge. But I do." He pulled a thick envelope from his coat. "I can tell you the names of the surviving members of the Freedom League, and their descendants. I can tell you where they live. I can give you the chance to get the vengeance you so desire and they so rightly merit. If, that is, you truly want it."

He glanced down at an expensive and old looking watch. "Ah, excuse me for just a moment, please. I vill be right back. Think about what I have said." He gestured and was surrounded in bloody red light that seemed to foam at the top, almost as if it was blood, and was gone. After perhaps 30 seconds, he was back again, the gory, frothy energy swirling downward to reveal him. "Forgive me, but I had to attend to a brief matter."

"Now then. Do you vant justice for your grandfather? Do you vant to make his betrayers suffer? Or vill you too turn avay from him?"

 

[HookerBoots]

Celyn clutched the letter her mother had given her in one hand, and had her suitcases arranged around her as she waited by the baggage claim. This stupid airport was bigger than anyplace she could remember seeing, and busier as well. There was no way she'd be able to find this woman with all these other people around, she'd be stuck in this airport for the rest of her life and have to sell her posessions to other travelers for food and . . . .

There was a woman approaching her, a welcoming smile on her face, and Celyn hoped desperately that it was the woman she was supposed to meet. Tall, handsome rather than pretty, long dark hair. And she walked up to Celyn, holding her hand out. "Celyn? I'm Columbia. It's nice to finally meet Eileen's daughter."

"Oh, pleasure, I'm sure." The red-haired girl shook Columbia's hand, and then brushed her hair from her face. "I . . . I'm sorry I don't know much about you, mum doesn't talk much about what she did . . . before."

"It's all right. Look, do you need help carrying your bags? We've got reservations at a restaurant."

Celyn looked at her things and then back at the woman. "No, I can handle them . . ." she trailed off as Columbia lifted her two heaviest bags easily. "Thank you." She clutched the other bags and followed after Columbia, lengthening her stride almost to the point of running to keep up. "Mum sent this letter, too," she said, holding out the envelope.

Glanding at it from the corner of her eye, Columbia nodded. "Hold on to it for now, okay? I want to get to know you before I read what your mom had to say." Celyn nodded, tucking the letter into the back pocket of her jeans. Columbia smiled slightly, heading for the doors out to the street. "We'll have a nice dinner, and then we'll go back to my apartment and talk about what you want to do here in New York."

An hour later, sitting at a small table in a fancy restaurant, Celyn wondered what the point of this was. It was pleasant enough to have a nice dinner, and to look out the large window at the people walking past. But she didn't feel like they were doing something important. "Columbia, why are we doing this? I mean," she said, pushing her green beans in a circle on the plate, "I don't think mum expected you to take me to a nice place for dinner and try to be my friend."

Columbia laughed, and the sound seemed to warm Celyn from the inside. "We're doing this because we have to eat, and if we have to eat, we might as well eat at a nice place. And even if your mother hadn't told me that she wanted me to be your friend, I'd have done it anyway." She picked up her drink and took a sip. "It's hard enough being . . . like us. We shouldn't close ourselves off from other people - like us, or not - when they could help ease the loneliness."

"I suppose so," Celyn said slowly, stabbing the green beans, and shrugging. "Thank you, anyway. You didn't have to be so nice."

"No, I didn't. But I like it." Columbia raised her hand, to call the waiter over. "It's all right, Celyn. We take care of our own. And you'd be one of us even without my knowing your mother." The waiter hurried over, and Columbia smiled. "Another drink, please, and a dessert menu."

 

[Armphid]

Detroit

In the front yard of a well appointed house, almost a manor there was a sudden blaze of light the bright color of freshly shed blood. Columns of swirling light appeared, spiraling down to reveal a man inside each one before they formed into a swastika and then vanished.

The men were a motley and loose rabble, all identified by the shorn scalps of their heads. Some wore leather, some denim, some fatigues, all were armed, faces contorting with anger.

Weapons raised, lifting to fire into the windows. One of them bellowed over the din, "come out and die, Shadow! Fight and die!"

New York

Columbia's head suddenly jerked up from the creme brullee she and young Celyn were sharing. "Celyn, that backpack, it has your costume in it, right? Get to the bathroom and change." Seeing the girl's stunned look, she said firmly, "Now, girl! Something's coming."

From outside came a sudden flare of red light, then screams and gunfire. Patrons inside started to scream as well. "Kill anyone who gets in your way," a rough voice shouted, "but remember we're here for the bitches!"

 

[Mephistophelily]

Morgana simply watched the man as he spoke, trying hard to decide if what he was saying was truth, if she could truly believe this man that just came from the shadows of the city and uttered so much about her grandfather; a man who let so little be known to the outside world....

But it all sounded so right, so perfectly in step with everything the stoic man once known as Dynabolt had confided in her on that night. The man before her was certainly not just some random insane man crooning to the first person to cross his path; his words, and demeanor, gave the exact opposite of this. He had truly been waiting for her, hadn't he?

His mention of the cowardly bastards that left him at the mercy of those damned psychiatrists, the people who took advantage of his kind heart- and the people that were supposedly his friends, abandoning him at his time of need, only to do it once more at the time of his passing. Morgana's fists tightened a bit at that, her lips clenching tightly. "Heroes are supposed to help people. What good are they if they won't even save one of their own?"

Her eyes shot up once more as he brought up the accident with her former boyfriend, her breatch catching in her throat. She had nearly killed him then. But this man- he was right... Her grandfather had told her that her powers were meant to help those who couldn't help themselves. Defend what was right.

But... what he was suggesting...
Could- could she really do that?

Before she could question this to him, he announced his need elsewhere, vanishing in the reddened fog that confirmed to her- he too had powers. This left her time to debate matters for herself. The virtues her grandfather had tried to pass down to her seemed conflicting of this idea, but at the same time, those virtues were the code that his supposed companions had upheld as well. The same virtues that were ignored by them when he needed them most.

..She wondered if they would ignore these values if they themselves were in such a position...

With his return, his words cut at her, an angry glare being her response to him before her hand darted out, snatching the envelope in his extended fingers. "I want to make them feel the same way he did," she whispered, playing with the paper in her hands. "They may have given up on him, but I will never do such a thing. I will never forgive them for what they've done..."

 

[HookerBoots]

Celyn hesitated a moment, but the second she heard gunshots, she grabbed the bag and ducked as she ran towards the bathroom. It wasn't likely there'd be no one in the bathroom - people tended to make a beeline for it when things went violent - but she'd risk it. No one here would recognize her as anything other than a hero, if she was lucky. Maybe she should start wearing the suit under her normal clothes . . . . Not the time to think about that, Celyn.

She bolted into a stall, catching a glimpse of three ladies in business suits that probably cost more money than she'd ever had in her life crouching under the sinks, arms over their heads. Slamming the stall door shut, Celyn latched it fast and ripped the bag open, pulling out the leather suit as one hand unfastened the button of her jeans. She stripped and redressed as quickly as she could, then grabbed the contacts that she kept in there, popping them in as quickly as she could without poking herself in the eye. Her hair went back with the rubber band she kept around her wrist, and out she went, tugging her gloves on as she stepped out.

Pausing, Celyn looked over the women there with a critical eye. They cowered under her gaze, and she sighed. "Ladies, you'll be safe in here. But to be sure that you won't get hurt . . . ." She parted her lips and let out a short-range wave. All three women slumped over, eyes closed. There, they wouldn't be tempted to do anything silly.

Out in the restaurant, Columbia had changed into her costume - bustier, skirt, laced sandals, and a torch that both comforted and frightened the patrons. And the men in leather as well felt the chill of fear and the warmth of home as she stepped from the table against the wall. "You will not harm these people." She saw Celyn step out of the bathroom cautiously and almost smiled. The girl looked so much like Eileen that it was like being together with her friend again.

The Welsh girl stepped up beside Columbia with a stern expression on her face. "Why have you come here?"

 

[Armphid]

Morgana

The tall man smiled slowly. Perfect. "I am glad to hear it, my child. Your sense of justice is as keen as your grandfather's." The so-called hero was probably spinning in his grave, actually. But that was fine. So much the better. Wait until he was done with her. Oh, the blood that would stain those delicate little hands.

He snapped his fingers, then held out his palm. That frothy, gory red magic swirled in the air, coalescing into a pendant of burnished gold. The chain was fine and intricate, the pendant itself a stylized double headed eagle. "Take this, Morgana. It will let you talk to me vhenever you vish. Simply touch it, and think of me, and speak. I vill hear." He held it out, but did not take a single step closer. Showing her how willing he was to let her make this decision herself, or so it seemed. "I vant to help you beyond just this list. I can help you get in and out, find these people directly, so you may deal with them as you like and then leave in a flash. I vould suggest working down the list as it is written. The more...formidable individuals are at the bottom."

"We may begin as soon as you are ready. Now, if you vish."

~~~~~​

Hurricane

The locks on the windows took a little focused wind to pop open, and the guard posted at the door of the building below never looked up. The police officer stationed at the door didn't either. The darkened apartment was suddenly illuminated from outside as the window opened, and Hurricane stepped inside.

The place was largely undisturbed. The city's CSIs were professionals, as were it's cops. Everything here was as it had been, save for the chalk outline where the body had been. Luke felt a bit awkward being here. He had no training as a detective, and this...someone had been murdered here. It was funny that it bothered him, in a way. With his family, it shouldn't. How many people had his father and mother killed between them? A dozen he knew of...three in front of him, and who knew how many others?

As quietly as a mouse, he crept through the place, gloved hands turning over papers, looking for clues or some indication of why he was here. It had been a random tip, one he probably should have ignored. The note had appeared in one of the pouches on his belt. All it said on it was this address and one word, "murder." It was likely a trap...but there had been a murder here. But whose?

His eyes fell on a picture on the wall. Two men, one young and one older...there was something familiar about the older man. Hurricane took the picture down from the wall, rubbing it to dislodge some dust. His fingers covered the top of the older man's face, and he felt a jolt of recognition.

Eight-year old Luke cowered as the building shook. The small, dingy apartment was dark and cluttered. His sisters were crying, Luke doing his best to comfort them. The building trembled again, then the lone window shattered, his mother rolling to her feet amid the shattered glass. "Lucas, get your sisters, we need to go!"

"Momma, what-" His words were cut off as she cuffed him.

"Do it, boy! It's them, it's always them! Fast, now. Carry Megera!" Her mother picked the other two girls up in her arms, kicking the apartment door off it's hinges and running out into the hallway.

Luke picked himself up off the floor, then lifted his youngest sister from her crib. A shadow fell over the beam of light that had streamed in the open window, and he turned to it with wide eyes.

Glowing with greenish raidance, Atomic hovered in the air just outside. The hero's masked face took in the scene, and the boy. "Are you all right, son? I saw Lunatica crash through here. Did you see which way she went?"

"Y-yes, I did." His heart pounded. Could he...? No, she'd know. And they'd hurt him. "Sh-she went out the door, toward the north end of the building. There's a fire escape there..."

"Thanks, son. You did the right thing. Take care of your sister there, and don't worry. We'll keep these villains from threatening you ever again."

Luke gasped. The old man was Atomic. He was sure of it. And the younger man...clearly a relative. Which meant-

The apartment door burst open. "New York City Police! Freeze!" The officer on the door, gun in one hand, flashlight in the other swung around the corner. He caught a glimpse of someone dashing into the kitchen. "I said, freeze!" The cop rounded the edge, pistol sweeping the room. He crept toward the window, glancing out to see a figure soaring up and away from the building on swirling whirlwinds. He frowned, holstering his sidearm. "Dispatch, this is Charlie-42. That tip was right. Hurricane was here. Think he was coming back to the scene of the crime?"

~~~~~​

Lorelei and Columbia

The men hooted and laughed at the heroines, brandishing their weapons but not yet attacking. They had certain things they had to say first. "For you, Lorelei, and for Columbia," one snarled.

"Yes! To make you bitches pay!"

"For revenge!"

"Payback is in the wind, you cunts!" The man leveled a sawed-off shotgun, "The Freedom League and it's legacy will die!" The weapon discharged, the recoil throwing his aim off enough to pepper only the ceiling with lethal shot.

"Lorelei, follow me in!" Columbia rushed forward, her cape billowing out, the torch in her hand flaring brightly, drawing the gaze of the attackers. "Take them down!"

 

[Mephistophelily]

Morgana stared at the pendant he dangled out to her, watching it a moment as a cat pondered its attacking pounce. A means to communicate with him? She had seen how easily he could move with his abilities, albeit a rather morbid form with the blood-stained hue that resided in the air with his disappearance. It reminded her a bit of the Dracula movies she used to watch curled up at the foot of her beloved grandfather.

But wasn't that rather fitting? To be classified in with a man reminicent of a vampire? After all, her powers had left her deemed one by those she once called friends after the incident with her boyfriend. They had said she was too dangerous to be around others anymore, that she could 'flip' at any moment and attack everyone. The idea had never crossed her mind- until she heard this. That made her want to hurt them. To show them just how dangerous she could be. They wanted to fear her? She would give them perfectly good reason.

She reached out to the golden eagle, taking it in her fingers and out of his grasp. "Thank you, sir." She paused, realizing something. "You know who I am. But I have no idea what to call you...."

With the mention of the list, however, her eyes drifted back down to it, Seid nodding at the suggestion of following the order listed. "I only need a few hours to take care of a few things... but after that, I'll be ready to start this." Her fingers slid down the list, as if imbedding every name on it to memory with a single touch.

 

[Armphid]

Morgana

Sir should be the only name she used for him. Master, perhaps. But that would come in time. For a few moments, he was tempted to use his real name, to tell her the truth. But...the mongrel Dynabolt might have told her about him. If he had and she recognized the name, this part of the plan would be ruined. "You are welcome, Seid. And I am sure that in bringing punishment and fear to our enemies, I am the one who vill be indebted to you."

Yes, not now. Once it was done. Once blood was on her hands and she was too tied to him to free herself. "You may call me Fafnir." He inclined his head to her, "Make your preperations, and vhen you are ready, contact me. All vill be repaid, and you and your grandfather vill have justice."

He smiled again, his eyes gleaming. Then the freshly spilled blood-red torrent foamed about him again, and he was gone.

 

[HookerBoots]

Celyn - had she had the time - would have told Columbia that she had literally no idea what to do. She'd only been doing what she'd done for a few weeks, and in that short time, she'd only dealt with three criminals at most. And most of those were unarmed, and not expecting a fight. She was going to fuck this up, they were both going to get killed because she didn't know what to do.

But her feet moved before she realized she was going to move, and she realized if she doubted herself like that, then they'd both die anyway. And this wasn't so different, was it? Just a few more people, and a little more urgent. "Bloody hell, bloody hell, bollocks, bloody hell . . ." she chanted under her breath, following the flaring torch and billowing cape, throwing elbows and knees as she pushed into the group of men.

She reached Columbia in time to pull a man with a knife - and who brings a knife to a gunfight for real?! - away from the woman's back. Instead of knocking him out, she pulled him tight to her body, his back pressed against her, and put her lips to his ear. Modulating her voice so that the right waves spread out just to him, she whispered, "You can fight for us, you know. I'd like that."

The man blinked, and his eyes went blank. "Anything for you, Lorelei," he said, his rough voice curiously colorless.

She nodded, her face distressed for a moment before evening out. It sometimes didn't work quite right, especially if someone else had already had their fingers in the subject's brain. "That's excellent. Do so, now. Don't kill, incapacitate." Celyn released her hold on the man, and he stalked towards the nearest armed man, knife held low and at the ready.

Columbia punched a man, sending him across the room, through tables and chairs, his gun falling from his hand as he went. Celyn felt a vibration behind her, and ducked in time to miss a heavy fist swinging in a roundhouse that brushed the top of her hair. Her left leg shot out in a sweep behind her, hearing and feeling the thud as the man behind her dropped to the ground. She turned and glared at the man struggling to get to his feet. She waited til he reached his knees, knocked her knee, and snap-kicked him in the chest. He flew across the room, landing in a slump against a booth.

Two on the floor, one working for her, and one fighting him. And there were ten more, circling them more cautiously. Celyn sighed. "Columbia, behind me. I . . . I don't know how well this'll work."

Columbia nodded and stepped back, far enough to be out of range of what she thought would be happening, but close enough to hit any of the men who got too close. "Go, Lorelei."

Celyn opened her mouth, praying that she wouldn't screw this up, and screamed. The scream was angled to stun for half an hour, at least. At least, that's what she wanted. It might last longer, or shorter. Or, if she were very unlucky, it might kill them. Calm down, Celyn, just do it. Worrying means more chance for it to go wrong.

The men fell, dropping to the floor with hands over their ears. It didn't help, of course. There were ranges of sound in her scream that weren't heard with the ear, but felt by the nervous system. It didn't matter if she said anything, if she screamed or whispered. They couldn't stop this sound, couldn't avoid it. As she heard the tenth thud, she stopped, hoping none of the restaurant patrons had gotten caught in it, and that it had gone right.

She stopped, and looked around. Columbia smiled at her, and Celyn smiled shyly back. Her eyes caught movement, and she grinned as the man she had whispered to rapped the other man sharply behind the ear with the hilt of his knife. "Very good," she said as he walked over, feeling bad over the vaguely puppy-dog expression on his face. "Now, sleep for a while, until we need to talk to you." He nodded, and without saying a word, fell to the floor asleep.

Columbia nodded and looked at the head waiter. "Go into the kitchen, get all the twine you have, and have the staff start tying them up. We need to talk to them, and we need them bound to do it."

As the last man was being tied, the first started to rouse, groggily shaking their heads and trying to stand. Celyn walked over to the man she'd charmed and knelt down. "Tell Lorelei what this is all about."

His eyes were blanker than before, and she looked around at the others, wondering if the mix of powers had damaged him some way. But they all looked like that, and she blinked. "Columbia, something's wrong."

The man's mouth worked, and she looked back at him, thinking perhaps it had worked after all. ". . . the wind . . . the wind . . . ."

Columbia came over and crouched down, her torch held up off the floor. "Well, that's less of an answer than nothing at all." She shook her head and stood straight, her eyes shadowed. "Although I can think of a few things that might fit the theme here. But we'll talk about it later."

Celyn stood as well, and sighed. "Okay," she whispered, "but now how do I get out of here without being conspicuous? I still need to change back, and people will, you know, see me go in there this time."

 

[Mephistophelily]

Morgana smiled to him, the first genuine smile to leave her lips in what felt like months. Ever since he had become ill, she had found everything to be depressing, infuriating. She only wanted to hide, or to have others feel the pain she felt inside. But at the same time, she had been so afraid of what could happen if her pain led to something more than that. She didn't want to kill anyone. Her accidental attack had left the first man she ever really loved so far gone that he was left in ICU for months. He had never forgiven her for that. She wasn't sure if she could forgive herself, either.

Still, that had been because she cared for him so much, even with the fear and anger that he felt towards her after it. But what about these people listed on the paper that Fafnir had just given her? She knew none of them. They were names on a list, nothing more. Insignificant to her in name, but in relation to her grandfather, they had a deep relevance.

But she still needed to deal with some things back home.

The funeral was over, though that was not a place she had wanted to go back to. She didn't want to remember him in that way. Instead, she headed home, returning to her own room and taking out the small bag hidden in the back of her closet.

"Morrie?"

Her head raised, not bothering to turn to see her father. "Yeah."

"Where were you? Why did you run off like that?" He paused, noticing what she was doing. "Where do you think you're going?"

"You sure do ask a lot of questions anymore." She continued to stuff things into her bag, though the items she wanted most had been residing there for quite some time. "Weren't you the one saying I was too old to be living here just a few months ago? You were right. I'm leaving. Congrats."

"Morrie... This isn't a time for you to be alone. I know how much he meant to you, being the only other one in the family to have powers. I realize how you must feel and-"

She scoffed at that, finally looking at him. "You don't know shit about how I feel." She stood up, slinging the bag over shoulder. "You're a lucky 'normal'. You have no idea what its like, to be told you're a freak, to be told you're not natural... that you don't belong around anyone because you're dangerous by just existing." A rather forced laugh came from her, shoving her way around her father. "Don't worry, though. I won't be a danger to you or mom anymore."

"Morgana..."

"Bye." She was down the stairs before he even left her room, slamming the door hard behind her. She had wanted to clear up a few things with her old guy, but remembering the last time she had even attempted to talk to him made her change her mind on that idea. Placing her hand over the eagle hanging from her neck, she gave a soft sigh. "Mister Fafnir... It seems I don't need as long as I thought to handle things."

 

[Armphid]

Columbia and Lorelei

The voluptuous woman smiled, "Do not worry, Lorelei. I will take care of it." It was good to see her thinking about it though. When Eileen was that age, she tended to be a bit...careless with her identity. Something that could not be done in the modern age. "You did very well. Your mother had less control over her powers than you do when she was your age."

Columbia stepped up on a table, holding her torch aloft. It blazed anew with bright light, "Attention, everyone! Please listen to me." She glanced at Celyn and nodded. This was the girl's chance. All eyes were on the ageless beauty now, her supernatural charisma and the torch's light keeping them there. "Is anyone hurt?" She paused, waiting for answers and scanning the area. Around her, the staff was securing the unconscious attackers. "Good. Now, everyone needs to go outside. Don't move anything, the police will want it exactly as it is. We'll all wait for them there and give our statements." There was a series of nods and some muttered affirmatives. "Good." She smiled, and faces around the room answered with smiles of their own. "Go on, now, orderly and slow everyone."

The crowd began to move, just as she had directed. Columbia stepped down from the table, helping a few people to their feet. Suddenly, she heard the jingling, jangling sounds of "This Land is Your Land." She moved to the flipped over table she and Celyn had been sharing, picking up her bag and removing her singing cell phone from it. Glancing at the screen, she sighed. Well...at least it was too early for him to be drunk. Probably. She flipped it open, "Hello, Ja...slow down. What? Your truck? I don't..." She gasped then, the hand on her torch tightening. "You're sure? Oh, no. Poor Tommy." She closed her eyes. "Some things have happened here too. We should compare notes. All right. An hour."

She sighed, closing the phone. This was no longer just a strange incident. This might be a coincidence, but...well, there weren't many of those in this lifestyle. Once everyone was out of the restaurant, the torch flared brilliantly, blindingly, and when the light was gone, she was in her normal garb again, much plainer in appearance. As Celyn emerged from the bathroom, Columbia met her. "We'll go out the back, I think. I got a call while you were changing. Something's going on."

~~~~~​

Morgana

Crimson played over the area, and he was there in front of her. "Splendid." He looked at her a moment, then smiled. "Do not worry, they vill understand in time."

He held out a hand to her, "Now...if you are ready, let us begin your vengeance, Seid. I can teleport you to where you will find your first target."

 

[Mephistophelily]

"Understand...?" A bitter glance was shot over her shoulder towards the house, Morgana shaking her head as she looked back towards her new friend. "I really don't care either way anymore. Let them think what they want to think. The only person who was ever honest and believed in me was grandpa- Well, and now you."

She took his hand, taking a breath. She was still a bit hesitant on this whole idea, but he made it sound so beautifully divine to take the revenge that was so deserved upon these people that claimed to be grandfather's allies. They were nothing of the sort in her eyes. They all deserved pain. Anguish. Every bit of sorrow that he had gone through. She wanted to let them all feel that same way.

"Show me what to do, Mister Fafnir." She looked up at him, seeing the smirk that rested on his lips before he brought forth that rather frightening froth of crimson light. She closed her eyes, rather disturbed by the sight, only to reopen them and find they were standing before the college dorms. Confused, she gave him a glance, then looked to the list in her hand. Jason Gibbons, the first name shown.

She knew that name, now that she thought about it. He was on the college football team, one of the fastest runningbacks in the area. Some people joked that he must have super powers or something, having tested clean for every possible steroid... but no one had ever taken those jokes seriously.

Looked like they should have.

"Jason's going to get a visit from a groupie tonight," Morgana mused with a shrug, looking up to her accented companion.

 

[Armphid]

Morgana

He smirked again, then tried to smooth it out into a smile. Of course, that was the tactic she would take. The little whore. He shouldn't be surprised, given her racial background and that she was an American. "A vise plan. One that vill be sure to succeed, I think." He stepped back, letting his eyes travel over her body when she was looking up at the dorm. "A young voman such as you vill be impossible for him to resist."

"I vill be nearby, Seid, if you need me. Just contact me if anything goes amiss, and I vill come for you. Or, vhen it is done." He nodded, "Make this arrogant boy feel the pain he deserves, make him pay for all of it."

Red, gory energy swirled, and he was gone...from the naked eye, anyway. He was still there, but invisible to all normal senses. He wanted to watch this. It would be so sweet...

 

[HookerBoots]

Trying to keep up with Columbia while carrying a full backpack was harder than Celyn had thought it would be. The woman's legs took strides that were almost the same as two of Celyn's, and she was clearly in a hurry. She finally stopped for traffic, and Celyn caught up, breathing hard. "Where are we going?" she said, stretching her legs in the little time before they started moving again.

"Chinatown. We need to meet a friend of mine. And your mother's." Columbia slowed her pace a little, but still moving quickly. She looked around the street they were on, and shook her head. "We're almost there, but I don't know if he'll be there yet. His truck . . . well, he's without a ride."

"Oh." Celyn flipped her hair out of her face and hefted the bag again. "Should we . . . go get him, or something?"

A small, amused smile played around Columbia's lips. "No, he'll get one. He's very resourceful."

Inside the confines of Chinatown, they blended with the masses of tourists for a while, following twisting streets decked with bright decorations. Until Columbia tugged her sleeve and pulled her down an alley. "We don't want to be seen going in, and none of them would set foot in the Jade Dragon." She walked down the alley, stepping over a pile of leftover fishheads before sidling up to the door. Her knuckles rapped three times in rapid succession, twice slowly, and then twice rapidly again.

Footsteps came closer on the other side of the door. A small window in the door opened, and two eyes appeared. They looked over the two women, then the window closed. Locks turned, and the door opened, revealing the kitchen of a Chinese restaurant.

Columbia stepped inside, drawing Celyn behind her through the door. "We're here to see Jack. Is he here yet?"

The small man who'd opened the door nodded, leading them towards the dining room, but turning off before they went out the door. A beaded curtain kept one small room seperate from the rest of the kitchen, and held a table laden with food and the largest tea kettle Celyn had ever seen, three empty chairs, and a chair filled with a tall, mulleted man holding a bottle of whiskey in one hand and a half-full glass in the other.

He half-stood when they walked in, then flopped back down. "Columbia. Who's the kid?" He took another drink, and wiped the back of his hand over his mouth. "She looks like -"

"This is the new Lorelei. Eileen's daughter."

Celyn nodded, unsure of what was going on. The man studied her and nodded back. "Looks like Eileen. Siddown, I ordered dinner. We gotta talk about . . . we gotta talk. Tommy . . . ."

 

[chronicle_tenko]

The Shadow, Steel City becomes Lead Town.

The windows fairly exploded. Bullets flew like a angry symphony. The crash and shatter of windows, providing the drums, the quick twang of ricochets off marble and steel, the strings, and the muted ting of each shell dropping as the crescendo rose was like the final touches of a triangle against the rising wave of drums. Heinrich for a moment felt scared, Like only a man against the overwhelming tide of lead and stench in the air. And he was. Heinrich Stroheim was only a man, a mere mortal against the onslaught of hate of weaponry, that would shred him like tissue paper.

"Come out and die, Shadow! Fight and die!"

But they didn't want him. The wanted the Shadow the growing presence that began to swallow the room, bullets crashing uselessly against the creeping tide of black. Heinrich crawled towards the fireplace tipping the lever that would drop the bottom from it and take him down to the hidden room of the basement. There it waited and out of the garage a steel behemoth roared. The giant Cranston Eclipse, a faster more stable, and sturdier, Cadillac Fleetwood, revved it's engine. Floodlights from the car dazzled the area around the gunmen and the vehicle sped forward to them rushing perilously close. Bullets made terrible tearing noises as they destroyed the windshield and placed holes in the tires, but still the vehicle came forward eventually tipping and crashing rolling it's way towards the mob, they began to scatter when two perfect cracks tore open the double fuel tanks underneath the car, igniting the steel beast into a raging inferno. The scatter was complete. Gunmen ran in disarray, hardly looking where they were going, certainly not where they were aiming. Of twenty that began only 12 were left in a condition to fight. One by one they gazed into darkness and darkness stared back. Only Twelve bullets were needed as The Shadow walked from man to man, had any been able to watch him walk they'd see the pain in his left shoulder how only his right hand held a .45. Or the limp in his left leg, as he came. Stalking across the ruined terrace of his home, to place a single bullet into the head of each man still standing.

8 men remained tied in a clearing almost naked and completely unarmed. Smoke inhalation and burns would take at least two more before paramedics, and police found Henri Cranston staggering about his destroyed living room, brick dust in his hair and bullets showing where falling masonry must have knocked him unconscious. Three destroyed antique cars where discovered near the exploded corpse of the eclipse. But their investigation told Heinrich nothing about these men. Not even they could tell him anything. The Shadow had grown over the grounds as he peered into each man's mind, looking for anything that would tell him who had sent these men. But nothing, simply nothing beyond anger and hate, these men had come with nothing but the desire of murder today, and it bothered shadow the intention was so plain but the reasons were so unclear.

 

[Armphid]

Columbia, Lorelei, and Jack Burton

Columbia put a hand on the brawny man's shoulder, "I'm so sorry, Jack." Her own eyes glistened faintly with unshed tears. "But this isn't-"

"It's fine, Bea. I ain't drunk, not yet anyways." Jack was tall, over 6 feet, tough and brawny but not hugely muscled. He looked as though he was in his 30's, with a regal mullet of coarse brown hair, a strong, lantern-jawed face peppered with stubble, and blue eyes that were bleary with booze and sorrow. "Eileen's kid, huh? She suddenly cares about us after tellin' us to get lost all these years? You know what ol' jack Burton says at a time like this? Ol Jack says kiss my-"

"Jack, that's not-"

"It's plenty fair," he roared suddenly. "How many times did ol' Jack send her a letter or a postcard, an' what did I get back? Nothin'! Return to sender each time. Hell, I knew they was goin' to the right place! She didn't even have the guts t' tell me she didn't want her friends in her life anymore! How many times did I save her bacon, and her mine, huh? And she can't even talk to me anymore? I....ahhh, hell with it." He slumped back in his chair, letting the glass fall to the floor and lifting the bottle itself to his lips. He took a long drink, the level in the bottle noticeably dropping.

Columbia frowned, "Enough, we can talk about that another time. You're putting it off. Tell us what happened. Please." She touched the bottle, gently pushing it down and forcing his eyes into contact with hers. "...He was dear to me too, Jack."

Jack's head fell, "...I know, Bea." He looked past her at Celyn, "Forget what ol' Jack said, kid. It's nothin'. Nothin'," he mumbled then, lifting a hand to pinch at the bridge of his nose. "...I's driving in this morning, truckload of pigs for Chinatown, same as usual. Outta nowhere, big red bolt blows me right outta the water. Totaled my truck, even knocked me clean out. Came to a few hours later, surprised the hell outta the fire fighters when I ripped out of what was left." He shook his head, "I started hollarin', askin' for answers, way past pissed, when one of 'em recognized me. Said he was sorry. I told him I'd find who did this and make him the sorry one. Guy just stared at me. Said I didn't know. Then he told me." He fell silent, his shoulders set in granite stiffness.

Columbia looked over at Celyn, her hands moving to Jack's shoulders. She didn't speak, just let herself feel his pain, acknowledge it. "What did he tell you?"

"Tommy," he said with a faint choking voice. "He was dead. Murdered. They...they found 'em in his apartment...friends said he wasn't answerin' the phone or hadn' been ta work." He looked up, his eyes bright, "They killed him, Bea. To get at us! He was just a kid! He didn't have no powers or magic hoodoo or a rocket pack or nothing! An'...Christ." He shook his head, "I shoulda been there, Bea. I'm...shit...I was...was his godfather. An' now he's dead...shoulda been me...Ol' Jack's lived long enough, I could stand t' see what's out there, but..." He trailed off, for a moment cradling his head in his hands.

 

[HookerBoots]

Celyn, while not feeling very kind towards her mother, almost bristled when the man started talking about Eileen in such an angry tone. But she realized, too, that he was talking from the hurt of having lost someone else in a more permanent way. It wouldn't be fair to hold it against him. And it had to be hard, watching people you cared about vanish by violence, or by choice.

She sank into a chair, trying to blend in with the decor as much as she could. This was a conversation that she wasn't sure she should be sitting in on. Or that she wanted to be sitting in on. She didn't know this Tommy, she didn't know Jack, and she barely knew Columbia at all. This wasn't her business.

Except that it was. The men that attacked them might be connected to this. It didn't seem like random attacks - Tommy was found this morning, Jack was attacked this morning, they were attacked this afternoon. What did they have in common?

Celyn sighed softly, tucking her legs up underneath her. Columbia was being quiet, and Jack had his head in his hands. So she wrapped her arms around herself and said softly, "Do they know who . . . did it?" Was that an inappropriate thing to ask? Didn't matter. Even though it might be tough to talk about, if they were connected, it was important to figure it out.

Both sets of eyes swiveled to her, and she flushed. Jack shook his head slowly. "No clue. Said it was prolly a 'senseless tragedy', no reason. But ol' Jack knows it wasn't nothin of the sort." He swirled the liquor in his glass. "It was someone we put away before. There ain't no other reason for that to . . . no reason. Tommy was a good kid, he was killed-" his breath hitched, and Celyn regretted saying anything, "he was killed because he was hooked up with us."

 

[Mephistophelily]

Her hand gently rapped upon the door adorned with random signs of encouragement, some with a bit more colorful language that received a slight frown from Morgana. When it opened, however, she smiled to the tall college senior, his brown hair completely a mess as he stared at her with rather dazed blue eyes. It looked as though he hadn't slept in days, and she highly doubted it had anything to do with studying.

"You don't have pizza...," He muttered out, rubbing his head. "Do I, uhh... know you?"

"You're Jason Gibbons," She crooned, resting a hand against his chest and pushing him gently back into the doorway. "You're absolutely amazing on the field. Just to watch you run, to see the strength that you have, that absolute willpower and amazing stamina... I can only imagine what other areas that can come in handy." Morgana continued to rub his chest, the thin t-shirt the only real obstacle between their skin.

His eyebrows raised, though didn't refuse her advances. "Well, ha... Yeah, there are a few. But, really- do I know you?"

"Does that even matter?" She looked up at him with a frown, her fingers trailing a line down his shirt to rest atop his belt. "I know you... And I know what I want to do to you."

"Works for me." Jason just grinned, shoving the door closed behind them as he turned towards the bed. His eyes widened once more as Morgana cast a sidelong glance at his stereo, the radio coming alive with a sudden loud crackle. "Did- did you do that?," he asked softly, his hands raising up hesitantly.

"It doesn't scare you, does it?," She asked in return, tilting her head. "Its my little secret. You won't tell, will you?"

"Not if you don't tell on me." He grinned, taking his shirt off and tossing it beside her on his bed. "I'm rather special myself. My dad was one of the special heroes you hear so much about.... I promised him I would behave on the field, but dammit if it doesn't make me feel like a god to kick ass out there!"

"A god?" Arrogant asshole. Morgana only smiled, though, her hands returning to rest on his belt buckle. "Every god deserves to be worshipped, Jason." She tugged on the leather strap, pulling him down on the bed with her before rolling herself on top of him, perching on his lap.

Jason was grinning now, happily accepting the young woman's seating arrangement as he ran his hands up her thighs. "I just love the look that people get on their faces when I'm haulin' up that field. Like this kid, this little guy- he was just so stoked when I gave him the ball after our last game. That felt just awesome..."

Morgana just stared down at him with that, her hands resting on his chest. Shit. He had to go and talk this way... To make him actually seem to care. It was far easier when she saw him as the arrogant prick, not this man who found such bliss when he made a child happy.

It was one rare occurance. What difference did it make?

"Know what else feels awesome?" She smirked, leaning down to gently kiss him. He gave up speaking then, only letting out a deep moan from her roaming hand that dared to peek under his jeans, lingering far more in certain areas. With his second louder groan, she deepened her kiss, her hand tightening on his shaft, allowing him a few moments of pleasure from her touch before seeking the electrical current that was found in his body, drawing it into her own.

His grunts and moans changed tone now, becoming more urgent and losing their pleasurable echo- instead, a frightened pained noise came from him, hands flailing to pry the woman atop him off his body. She refused to let go, biting his lip and clutching his cock so hard that her nails dug into his flesh. He would lose consciousness soon.... and she would let go then.

He was scared. That was what she wanted. To hear those fearful noises, to see the look in his eyes. It was what she had wanted... She finally let go of him as he fell back against the bed, Morgana wiping her mouth with the back of her hand before slipping off him.