Realistic or Modern ADVENT (IC Thread)

[Borkus Lazorus]

ADVENT
" Morality is easy. Understanding is not."

Pandaskel
Kloudy
WhipDing
Little Lozy
S n o w
Physiicz​

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" BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP."
9:30 AM.

Alleyway.

What's going on?

The sound of his beeping alarm clock woke him from his long slumber as he choked on his own snoring, his eyes snapping open at a moment's notice as out of reflex, he aimed his fist outwards, pointing it and shaking it for some reason.

" Bwah, who's ther- Ah. Ow. Ow. Ow. Oh god. Ouch."

He winced as he felt a spike of pain emanating from his side, breaking him out of his paranoid-fueled moment of insanity and bringing him back to the cold embrace of reality. He gently took off the blanket draped across his shoulders, shuffling out of bed and stumbling towards the light switch. A moment later, he was looking at himself blearily in the mirror, still clutching the side of his bruised rib cage. He smacked his lips before going for the toothbrush.

Everyone needed to keep up their personal hygiene after all.

" BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP."

Alright. Can't handle the pain. Get to the fridge. Get to the fridge. He skipped and hopped, busting to the door over to the fridge. His hands shook as he opened the door to the refrigerator, a gust of cold air chilling his nerves as he took out whatever he could. He muttered while he spat out his tooth-brush into the sink, muttering under his breath while taking out random pieces of food that could hopefully help him in this situation.

" Alright. Raw meat. Apples. Vegetables. Raw eggs. Alright. One of these should be it."

"BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP."

Okay. None of these were it. The man was lying down in a pile of food, breathing tiredly and haggard in pain. You couldn't withstand a cracked rib forever. Ugh, he needed to stock up on more food for the next patrol. He turned his head sideways. Oh no. Not the mushroom.........

" BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP."

He forced himself to not immedietely spit out the disgusting vegetable as he gasped in relief. A thin layer of fungal mold was growing over the wound the second he ingested the mushroom. He stood up shakedly before the fungal mold began to dissolve and fall off in parts as if it was scab.

His skin. Fresh as new. And it only took an entire refrigerator's worth of food to get the right power.

The man voiced his thoughts out loud to no one, really, as he went back to go put on some goddamned pants.

" I fucking hate my power."
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" Alright, Bohemer. You can have the rest of the day off. Christner's taking the lunch shift now."

Harold Bohemer, assistant cook in the famous cafe restaurant, Cup of Joe, looked up from the cast-iron grill laid with hissing eggs and smoking toast at the esteemed owner known as Joe Emmerich, his hands still making sure to flip the toast onto the plate. Didn't want it to get too burnt or else, the restaurant could face a health and safety insurance lawsuit. If you weren't cautious in this world, then, you could join the crowd of lemmings over at Mt Everest.

Joe Emmerich was the 5th Joe of the Cup of Joe. Some foreign folks had mistaken the establishment for a family tradition. Far from it, it just so happened that every manager had the name of Joe and the pattern never broke since 1967, during the first creation of Crembel Coast. Joe was a red-necked, sweaty palmed, man full of exuberance and geniality. A moustache framed his face and a set of large, unshaven, arms that look as if the man could compete in caber-tossing completed the mixture.

Harold made sure that everything he was currently cooking was properly served before taking off and holding his chef hat underneath his arm. He made sure to step away from the grill while he was brushing the sheen of sweat off his forehead, careful not to mix it with the oil .

Joe laughed at Harold's behavior before lifting his hand through the opening and slapping the back of Harold.

" Hey, easy there, Harold. Let Jerald do some of the cooking for once. Here....,"

Harold immediately waved the object away, meekly trying to reject it and offer some sort of remuneration.

" Look, sir, I think it's more better for you than-"

" Bullshit, son. In the last three weeks you've come to the front of my restaurant and gone through the interview, you're one of the swellest chefs I've ever met. Though, you aren't a god at cooking as that Irregular, whasitname.s, uh..."

Harold offered a suggestion.

" Brasserie?"

Joe snapped his fingers and then, pointed at Harold.

" Brassery what's it, ah, I don't know. Look, the point is, Harold, is that you're a good chef. And this is my compliment to the chef."

Joe shoved the piece of paper into the hands of his assistant chef without any warning before going out to the tables to entertain the newest customers who had come in.

Harold looked at the piece of paper. Shiny green and emblazoned with small-font text, it was a ticket to the current football game between Empire College and San Francisco College, right in the Crembel Coast Stadium. Tomorrow.

He supposed it wouldn't hurt to go to just one game.......
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" BREAKING NEWS. We are receiving important information that the Vanguard Transport carrying the infamous irregular criminal, Tawhiri, is being broken out by his criminal corraborators, Rangi and Aihue, currently located in the Ring S-"

Harold slowly decreased the volume of the radio, as he looked upwards towards the sky. Strange. The weather forecast didn't say anything about a large downpour today nor lightning. The rain dropped in sheets as they pattered on the ground, creating a blanket of pure white, while the surroundings grew more gloomy and dark, creating a shadow of oppresion that made Harold feel on edge.

It went perfectly with the cacophany of traffic noises and clamorous car horns as the traffic rush grew on his nerves for what seemed like hours upon hours upon hours of waiting. Harold then slammed the steering wheel in frustration after 30 minutes of being stuck in the worst traffic jam ever.

" Hey! What the hell is going o-"

Metal Stuff. Flying. Towards. Him. Holy. Harold shifted towards the left as the car landed to the right of him. Groaning out loud and laying spreadeagled on the gravel and concrete road, Harold stood upwards, red dripping in front of his vision and his vision blurry as he swerved to the right again to avoid a perosn who was screaming in abject terror and clearly running away from something. And another. Several more in fact. An entire crowd. He recognised the looks on that faces. The feeling of powerlessness. The feeling that you were unable to do anything or contribute anything. The feeling that you were an ant underneath a boot.

A Irregular was out here, causing damage somewhere, in the Ring Square.

Harold hid behind a Sedan to avoid getting trampled before peering out to see what was just driving them all aw- Oh. Right. Giant squad of S.W.A.T Team firing at a 5 foot tall woman wearing a intricate island tribal mask who was literally in the middle of a localized cyclone. Tawhiri. Shaker 6-8. Aerokinetic and Hydrokinetic who uses both in effect to create minature hurricanes and typhoons. Right. Out of his weight class. Way out of his weight class. Time to go-

No. NO! Oh, come on! Right in front of him laid his car, the engine block crushed by the back end of a S.W.A.T Van, the tires spinning errantly as shards of metal and glass spreaded around it like a pool of blood. Great. Harold looked wearily at the conflict that was occurring before signing in annoyance. He ran to the back of the boot, the only part of the car that wasn't damaged for some reason and grabbed a sport bag that was fraying at the edges, closing the boot of the car.

Harold ran as fast as he could to the nearest restaurant, which hopefully, had a bathroom he could use. He ran past all the patrons of the restaurant who were huddling underneath their tables. He kicked open the door to the bathroom before begining to strip, his thoughts a muddle of worry and confusion.

" You're going to die."

He took off the top of his shirt and began to strap on his trenchcoat, making sure the buttons were clasped and all his equipment was there. Taser, pepper spray, hand-cuffs, tic tacs,

" You've only had your powers for one month."

Set and ready. He walked out of the bathroom in full garb as he took out a single habenero pepper that was glistening in the fluorescent lighting of the restaurant

" What the hell do you think you're going to accomplish?"

He stepped outwards into the rain as a civilian paused to look at him in confusion and then, realization. Wearing a striped long shirt and rimmed glasses, the man asked Harold.

" You one of them?"

Harold, in response, opened his mouth and shoved the Habenero Pepper, careful not to choke at the spiciness and took a look at the cyclone that was becoming imminently larger and larger by the second. He spoke to the civilian who was clearly preturbed by the response, spraying juice everywhere.

" Y'h. Y'h. G'ss Ah Em."
​

 

[Pandaskel]

Analí "Jack" Castillo
Ba-bump, ba-bump, ba-bump... Her heart pounded in her chest, threatening to jump out like that alien in the movie she'd seen last night. Her fingers adjusted their grip on the bat. Her palms had become moist, along with her forehead and the back of her neck in the California heat. Her grip shifted once more as her weight shifted from one leg to the other and vice versa. She had one shot. It had all come down to this. The battle had been long, and he opponents were fast...
But they were not fast enough.
The deadly projectile hurtled toward her and she swung with all her strength, hearing a sharp and sweet crack! as the two collided. She shielded her eyes to look for what she was sure was a-
"Hoooome run! That ball is outta here!" Gary, the umpire and her coworker, shouted in delight, taking off his cap and swinging it in celebration. Analí gave a smug grin and jogged leisurely around the bases, her teammates hollering and whistling. The other team, also made up of her friends and coworkers, tackled her to the ground before she could reach home base, refusing to let them win.
"Alright, alright, that's enough," Gary said, pulling and pushing the bodies aside. Everyone stood, brushing themselves off and wiping the sweat from their brows, thanking everyone else for a good game and complimenting each other. Analí grinned and nodded when complimented on the final home run, punching one player in the arm when he suggested disqualification on account of her Irregularity. The others laughed and she stuck her tongue out at him.
Gary hoisted his boombox, which was playing Tears For Fears, onto his shoulder and they began gathering up their things, preparing to head home. "Don't forget to pick up your trash before we motor," he called to the others, ever the responsible one of the group.
Analí threw a candy wrapper at him with a smirk, one that he himself had left on a bench. He rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "I was gonna pick it up..."
She chuckled, and Martin, a friend who had played for the other team, threw an arm around her shoulders. "Jackie dude, if you make it pro one day, don't forget your ol' pal Marty! Seriously, send me a signed glove or something, I could use the cash."
She rolled her eyes, smiling. Martin worked at an overpriced food place near her job, the Siren Shack, an oceanic mythology themed tourist trap. They often went out with friends at the end of the day, much like they had today. He always made it abundantly clear how much he hated his job and how much he needed the money.
Gary gave him a kick. "How about you work for your money instead of mooching off Jack, O'Hara?" He said, calling him by surname.
Martin kicked him back, laughing. "Eat my shorts, Delaine!"
When they had cleaned and gathered their stuff, they all said goodbye and headed out, walking home in groups of two or three. Analí headed off on her own, her duffel bag resting on her shoulder. She wouldn't be heading straight home. She had another job to tend to- one that would also require her bat.
***************************************

Analí slipped her headphones on, slipping her Walkman into the pocket of her sweatpants. She was standing in an alleyway, watching the action go down in the street. The source of the typhoon was someone she didn't think she would want to mess with, which was exactly why she needed to mess with her. She'd been taking down petty criminals for the last two hours. She wanted something a little spicier.
She finished the granola bar in her hand, shoving the wrapper into her pocket and stepping out of the alley. She had watched enough. She reached up and behind her head, grabbing hold of her bat and pulling it from her backpack. It couldn't be that hard...right?​

 

[WhipDing]

"Seven hundred thousand residents ... to reveal the inner circuits of the ... Left. Right. Right. Left. ... 17.7500° N, 142.5000° E ... guaranteed to zap all but the toughest of ... cloudy with a chance of ...I am the ..."

Aiden shifted out of his radio form, leaving a foot-tall man sitting on the desk. It'd only been a day or two since he'd arrived in Crembel Coast, so it was't unlikely that he hadn't found anything yet, but that didn't stop him from being slightly frustrated. Who knew it'd be this difficult to find irregulars? It certainly wasn't as simple as he'd hoped - his vision of a city swarming with them had faded into reality pretty fast. And it mostly just reminded him of his own limits.

He stood up, jumping down off the desk, and landing on the floor with both feet, effortlessly expanding back to full height. With only a few handfuls of money - and no job - he'd ended up holing up in the first abandoned building he could find. It certainly wasn't the nicest place to live, but no-one bothered him, and he doubted anyone even knew he was here at all. Even so, he'd quite like to find somewhere a little less... infested.

His thoughts were interrupted by the faint sound of his stomach rumbling. Even though he didn't need to eat while transformed, his metabolism still ran normally when he was just his plain old self. Now that he thought about it, he hadn't actually eaten since he'd arrived here.

He covered his eyes as he stepped outside, needing a moment to adjust to the sudden light. It was a nice day for a walk at least - no need to hitch a ride on a passerby today. He took a few tentative steps forward, before getting his bearings and heading into town. One of the first things he'd done upon entering the city was look at a map. Which he was all he was going to need.
___________________________________________________________

An hour later, and he'd made it into the heart of the city. As much as he liked being away from prying eyes, staying on the outskirts of the city had its disadvantages. He paused for a moment, visualizing the different food places in his head. 0.3 miles... 0.8 miles... 2.4 miles... bleh. He knew where everything was, but that wasn't exactly useful in deciding where to go. Who knew if any of these places were actually any good?

Of course, he never made it any of those places. Perhaps if he'd lived in Crembel Coast longer, he would have noticed something was wrong before it'd escalated. But he hadn't, and he didn't.

By the time he'd figured out what was going on, he was in the thick of it. Misshapen chunks of concrete and metal being flung around as if they were nothing, torrential rain like he'd never experienced, and the wind. Oh, the wind. He couldn't tell how fast it was moving, but it certainly wasn't natural.

Now, any sane person in his position would have gotten the hell out of there - this was well above his ability to control. He knew he couldn't really help... but this was exactly he'd wanted. The lure of information was too much. Barely hesitating, he ran headfirst towards the danger, rather than away. No turning back now.

He quite quickly found the source of all the destruction. A woman wearing some kind of bizarre mask, surrounded by a swarm of S.W.A.T., who were clearly well out of their depth. But the storm. He'd never seen anything like it. He stood there for a moment, just... watching it. Studying its every move, observing the wind patterns, the clouds of smoke formed from rubble and debris...

A large chunk of car slammed down near him, bringing him back to reality, and reminding him of the imminent danger. As much as he'd like to watch this all go down, he was pretty exposed in his squishy, human form. But he wasn't leaving yet. He glanced around him, looking for anything... ah. It was a little far away, but it also brought closer to the action, something he didn't mind at all.

He sprinted out, the tiny particles of debris pounding his face harder and harder as he got closer. As he approached it, he leaped forward, reaching out for what he needed right now - a dull, slightly rusted, red crowbar, half-embedded in the ground. The instant he touched it, his body de-materialized, his loose particles being sucked into the crowbar in milliseconds. Perfect. In theory, no-one would have noticed him, seeing as there were much more pressing issues at hand, and the tough crowbar was much more durable than he was. Now he could just watch as everything unfolded.

 

[Kloudy]

The Soldier of God

​

Kypher was enjoying the tabloid that day. Sitting in the cafe booth with a latte and a double glazed donut - he was treating himself - he noticed that things seemed to have been getting rather busy outside. The wind had picked up, transforming from its cool, car-heckled usual self to a raging twist beast that snarled with each revolution of the typhoon that created it. Glancing outside with mild interest, armed with just the curious raising of the eyebrow, Kypher failed to flinch as a person's body smashed through hi she booth's window, showering him and his food in broken glass. Instead, Kypher's cheerful gaze had rested on the short woman with the odd disguise, seemingly to be the controller behind the large twisters that were ravaging the street. SWAT had arrived rather quickly, although they seemed to have improved since Kypher had been volunteering to help out with their training recently. It was often something that his subourdinates and partners always failed to understand, "Surely it was counterproductive?" they would say. And Kypher would simply respond with that curiously witty smile and whirled eyebrow, "Come now, don't tell me you don't enjoy a good challenge? The higher the risk, the more satisfying the reward, no?" Of course he was not allowed to help out with the police and special forces now that he had been labelled as 'a highly dangerous criminal leader and terrorist' in most states, hell, in pretty much everywhere in America. People had begun to fear his name, 'The Soldier of God', quite the cliched and conflicting name in itself given that he was considered "the bad guy" in society, but that was fine. Jesus was labelled a poet and enemy to the king, a higher power, throughout his life and if that meant Kypher also had to go through that, then so be it.

But of course, that meant he needed friends. With using the police being out of the questions, Kypher considered his options as the SWAT team moved in to combat Tawhiri and her crew. Kypher had actually known this would have happened today, here in Ring Square. It was often quite useful to have powerful and well informed connections and Kypher definitely had the hook-ups. So of course, that meant he just had to drag himself into this part of town to get involved, if not to gains another ally, thennsinply just for the fun of it. Kypher was a man of action, a man of excitement and adrenaline: he needed to be doing something stimulating most of the time or he'd get bored. Fortunately, there are a lot of things for a person to do should they be blessed with God's gift of immortality.

Kypher could not die, plain and simple. It was great really, it meant he could carry on the divine will eternally forever, a steadfast protector and soldier of God sent to purify this world, one superpower at a time. And Kypher did need people for that. So it was of no little consequence that Kypher decided to slowly get up from his glass-covered seat and make his way outside at a stroll. Leisurely, ignoring the whizzing of bullets and the constant battering force of the wind, Kypher picked up a crowbar someone had just left on the floor. Perhaps a civil servant had left his tools here in the panic, originally aiming to open a manhole cover or something. Walking towards the nearest SWAT member, Kypher placed an arm around the training individuals like an overly persuasive salesperson, "Quite the improvement you lads have made, you really sharpened up your act, nice job! Don't mind me, I'll just test it quickly, you won't even notice me there." A grim smile touched his lips as the crowbar in his other hand rose and fell, a large gash oozing blood from the wounded man's head. Another blow ended his life and the other SWAT members turned to face him, identifying a new threat, "Ah, hard mode. It has been so long, my old friend..."

WhipDing Borkus Lazorus

 

[Borkus Lazorus]

Heroes
Smorgasbord (Harold Bohemer) - Borkus Lazorus
Neutrals
Notebook (Aiden Bryce) - WhipDing
The Jack of all Trades ' Jack ' - Pandaskel
Villains
Tawhiri (UNKNOWN) - NPC
The Soldier of God (Kyper Hawthorn) - Destructus Kloud
Misc Characters
Joe Emmerich - NPC
​

 

[Little Lozy]

The back lot behind Variety Records blared with music.Jackie laid out on the hood of her car, one hand beating along to the music, the other brought a cigarette to her lips. Smoke filled her lungs and she exhaled. Her shift had just ended at the record shop, one of her three jobs; she loved it the most. The cozy feel of the shop light by its huge windows and dim scattered light, rows of categorized works of art, the dust that rested on the old vinyls. This place felt peaceful, it felt good.
Jackie’s hazel eyes peered up at the sapphire sky that was quickly growing dark. As she brought the cigarette up to her full lips a single raindrop fell on her cheek.

“ BREAKING NEWS. We are receiving important information that the Vanguard Transport carrying the infamous irregular criminal, Tawhiri, is being broken out by his criminal corraborators, Rangi and Aihue, currently located in the Ring Square.”

That small raindrop became and instant downpour. Not far off Jackie could hear the distinct sound of metal ripping against another metal. A car accident. Several? Soon screams were carry to the back lot. The wind whipped fiercely, debris flew through the air. Variety Records was just along Ring Square. They were in the thick of it. Jackie ran inside the shop, people had already began to try to gather in here for safety but Jackie needed a better look. It was starting to look like a category 4 hurricane, and surround by the chaos was a small woman in some sort of tiki mask controlling it all. An Irregular.

Jackie was getting pushed and shoved as she stood on the street mobs of people running from the Irregular. Sirens were blaring and SWAT was swarming in the area.

“Remain calm. Seek shelter now. Remain calm. Seek shelter now.”

Jackie was calm but she wasn't seeking shelter she was seeking anyone needing help.


(Sorry this is kind of crummy. Just trying to get something posted)

 

[Borkus Lazorus]

Point of Perspective: Tawhiri

Everything was crashing around in a horrific maelstrom of death and destruction, cars were alight on fire, the ground was cracking, the wind was howling, people were screaming in abject terror and yet, Tawhiri felt like a god. She reveled in her ability, as the winds were putty underneath her hands.

Of course, what to expect when she was the reincarnation of the god itself? Everyone on the islands believed it to a fault. And everyone who didn't? Well, you could go ask the coffin seller that question.

This was one of the few times she could afford to go all out. One of the few times where she co-

" Boss, we probably need to get out of here. We don't wanna get the attraction of the Vanguard."

And her cohorts brought her back to reality. Rangi was currently huddled behind the prison van that held her as he fired at the cops with a bulky rifle that shot out a stacatto of blue lasers that burnt holes through steel. Tawhiri let out a sign before getting ready to blow a giant gust of wind that would knock the entire S.W.A.T blockade in front of her. Wouldn't want to risk the eventuality of a kill-order. Tawhiri whirled her hands together as the hurricane around her became more focused and she eventua-

Then, to her surprise, every S.W.A.T member turned around to face a man who, by the looks of it, had just beaten one of their number bloody with a crowbar. Tawhiri paused for a moment before shrugging and continuing to power up the gust of wind. The help was unneeded, of course, as she co-

Then, a streak of fire that would have taken her head off was blocked by a quick swipe of her hand as it rolled over the wind currents, the yellow flames eventually dissapating into nothing. She tried to look at the source of the fire before her eyes squinted and spotted a white, soaked, figure who looked as though, he was morbidly terrified. She didn't recognise him from anywhere. The costume wasn't distinct and he definitely wasn't on the Vanguard Roster list. But, whatever, the case, the Irregular made himself clear for what he was.

A Hero.
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Luckily, it was a powerful ability that he had gotten this time. Pyrokinesis. Although, it was different from last week. More caustic but took a lot more time to cast. And not that hot as last time but more kinetic. Surprisingly smooth. Chili peppers always were a reliable source of Blaster abilities. He would have considered this a perfect power if he wasn't facing an all powerful psychopathic Irregular crime lord right now.

Harold tried to not piss his uniform, as one of the most powerful Shakers in the state, Tawhiri, was currently dead-locked onto his body, staring right at him.

Tawhiri boomed out towards him.

" You dare pick a fight with me? Rangi, fire at-"

" Oh shit, shit, shitty, fucking, shit, shit-"

At least, supervillians had an eye for dialogue. Before Rangi could peforate Harold with his rifle, Harold fired a blast of pouring fire at the damp puddles of water that were in front of him, creating a cloud of steam that covered him as he ducked to avoid the hail of lasers that impacted against the car behind him, blowing through the hard aluminum steel like it was tissue paper.

Harold looked at the car and then, in front of him, eyes wide.

" That could have been me. And I don't have a brute power. I'm a glass cannon, out like-"

The cloud of steam was wiped away, leaving Harold wide out in the open like a rabbit in the woods. He mentally swore before raising his arms, preparing to fire another suppresive blast to cover himself. He then felt a kick to the back. Punch to the gut. Blood. Knife in the knee. Oh god. His head was then slammed back against the car as he felt someone strangling his neck.

Someone appeared to take off a cloak of liquid glass as he looked into the 2nd last remaining member of the team that had broken out the parahuman warlord. Aihue. Stranger-Tinker class. Specialised in subterfu-

" URK!"

Aihue put more pressure on his throat as he flopped around like a fish that was on dry land. Aihue began to pull out a wickedly carved knife as he brushed it against his cheek.

" Now, you die-"

Harold thanked the heavens again that supervillians were prone to monologuing as he put his palm against Aihue's belly and with the last remaining vestiges of his strength, fired a gout of flame into the Irregular. The Irregular was sent flying into the middle of a crowd of civilians, the criminal's body smoking hot as Harold panted, looking at the knife that was embedded in his knee. He then looked backwards, haggardly at the Irregular, his left eye slowly swelling with a bruise.

" Did I just kill him?"

Aihue responded by lifting his arm wearily upwards, his fingers twitching before he groaned and then, fell back to the world of dreams.

" Thank god. Now..."

Harold never cauterised a wound before but it sure felt painful as fuck. Once he pulled the knife out, he immedietely began burning the wound, careful to not expose any uninjured side of him to the heat. What was left was a black char of the stab wound as he took out a epi-pen from his costume and stabbed it in the effected area. There. Good as new. Harold hobbled towards Tawhiri as the female Irregular human was being still being suppressed by a hail of bullets from the S.W.A.T team. Another half was split up, fighting what appeared to be a guy wielding a crowbar.

Harold signed as he channeled another ball of flame into his hand.

" I need better health insurance."

​

 

[Pandaskel]

Analí "Jack" Castillo
Analí watched through the broken windows of the car she was crouching behind as a man got his skull bashed in, a pyrokinetic got physical with a henchman, and the SWAT divided attention between Typhoon Lady and the aforementioned Skull Basher.

These were the big leagues.

She turned away from the action and rested on her haunches, idly tapping her bat against the glass-covered ground. Her hair blew this way and that in the wind and she closed her eyes. If she went in there, she could be seriously injured - or worse. Was it really her responsibility?

Yes. It was. Because she had only seen one good guy on the scene and until something better came along, she was all
the help he could get.

She opened her eyes and turned to survey the scene once more. Typhoon Lady wasn't making the storm as absolutely raging as before, Henchman #1 was being taken down by Pyro, and Henchman #2 was firing a laser rifle at the SWAT team that wasn't fighting the Skull Basher.

Henchman #2 it is.

She remained in a crouch, scurrying around behind cars to avoid being seen. Making her way to Henchman #2's right flank, she examined him every chance she got.

He was crouching behind a car as she'd been, to guard against bullets coming from the other side. His left leg was the one his weight was rested on whether he stood or crouched. His aim was spot on and he fired at intervals of around 6.2 seconds at a time. She quickly formulated a plan and stopped moving when she was behind him to his right.

If she was right, Analí was just outside his peripherals. She stood, unafraid of being seen, and turned the volume up on her Walkman.

Here goes nothing.



She hopped atop the car in front of her and launched herself at Henchman #2, swinging her bat at the back of his head. Unfortunately, she had forgotten to take into account the rain making the car surfaces slippery, and as a result her jump came up short. She compensated, landing a few feet behind him and tucking into a roll. Then, coming up on one knee, she rammed the butt of her bat into the man's left knee, sending him to the ground.

He flailed wildly, looking for his attacker. His fist connected with her jaw and nearly knocked her down. Instead it left her on all fours, but she scrambled to stand and soon was on her feet.

Of course, so was he.

Insulted and injured, he swung at her several more times. One of his jabs connected, but she was able to dodge the rest.

Behind him, Analí could see Pyro getting into it with Typhoon Lady. If she could keep Henchman #2 busy, he could probably take her out and end this whole thing.

She performed another roll, this time to dodge a grapple, and picked up the man's rifle on the way. Aiming at him, she stood and stared him down as he stood still. "Put that thing down before you hurt yourself, huh?" He suggested. "Just give it to me and I won't hurt you."

Of course, she had no idea how to work this thing. So, no, she was not going to put it down.

Instead, she braced the butt of the gun against her shoulder and sprinted forward, the barrell of the rifle knocking the air out of Henchman #2 and making him double over. She swung the gun up and around, hitting him again in the back of the head, where she had originally intended.

That seemed to do it. He fell to the ground, motionless, and blood mingled with rainwater on the ground near his head. She hadn't hit him hard enough to kill him, leaving her conscience clean and her thoughts occupied with the rifle. She studied the structure, pushed on this and pulled on that. The mechanisms began to shape themselves in her mind and fit together perfectly. She could take this gun apart and put it back together if someone asked her to.

So, to fire... You would just...

A spattering of blue lasers shot out of the barrell and into the sky, where she had aimed for a harmless firing test. She grinned, triumphant, and turned back toward the action, ready to-

-get smacked in the head by a flying piece of debris and fall to the floor, unconscious.
​

 

[WhipDing]

Aiden simply didn't react for a few moments, stunned by the events that had just transpired. While he wasn't always the first (or the last) person to be some kind of protector, he certainly wanted no part in actively hurting people. The idea of being used as a weapon... the thought of it was inconceivable to him. At least, until that moment. Now the thought was permanently engraved in his mind, just sitting in his expansive unconscious mind, ready to be recalled at the slightest whim.

So, at this point, he faced a choice. He could just continue as he was, as close to the action as he could have ever wanted. He'd always assumed that he'd be fine with it - after all, his presence didn't really make a difference, did it? He was simply allowing things to continue as they would otherwise, collecting valuable data that could be beneficial to everyone some day. But on the other hand, inaction seemed to feel almost as bad as killing that man himself. The idea that he could have done something, anything at all... well, it was too much. But what could he have done, with powers like his?

Well, there was one thing...

The crowbar, as being grasped by some invisible force, ripped itself out of the man's hands, flinging itself directly towards his face. Almost simultaneously, Aiden zapped himself out of the makeshift weapon, his tiny body shooting directly into the ground, and instantly zapping into the concrete pavement block underneath him. He paused for a barely a second, initially intending to wait this all out, before a better idea occurred to him. He mentally tugged on the possessed concrete clock, which had been conveniently dislodged by ongoing storm, pulling it out from underneath the man's feet.

Now, if Aiden had been thinking a little more clearly, or maybe if was more experienced, or if he'd just been a little smarter, he would have, perhaps, turned into a ball bearing, and shot himself out of the concrete block and out of danger. Unfortunately for him, he did not such thing. Instead, he flew out of that concrete block as an inch-tall man, and was instantly blown off his feet and carried away by the raging winds. He wasn't too sure where he landed, but it certainly wasn't clean - he rolled and tumbled over several times before coming to a stop, bruised and battered, surrounded by people stomping around him.

Kloudy

 

[Kloudy]

The Soldier of God​

For Kypher, killing was a pastime. It was a hobby, even, just simply something to pass the time. It didn't mean anything. People died all the time, more people were born. The planet certainly wasn't running out of people, so what were a few more being killed off before their expiration date? It was thoughts like these that had gotten him labelled as mentally unstable by "medical professionals", likely government-paid fakes trying to psych him out of his duty, trying to play at mental subterfuge. It wouldn't work. Kypher had his goal deep-seated in his mind: he was a soldier in God's army, he was destined to crush the enemies of his Holiness with a divine hand. And Tawhiri was one too. Unfortunately, she had been deluded that she was an actual god, equal to the one and only Himself. Kypher didn't judge or hate her for that, some people were confused in life. Kypher would help her, as he was now.

Of course, he would have were it not for a very strange turn of events. It was no accident, however, as the crowbar in his hands suddenly flew up into his face, stabbing into his eye. At almost the same moment, the slab of concrete beneath him was pulled out, sending Kypher pitching forward, his head colliding with the pavement as the crowbar was driven through his brain. Blood spurted from the injury as more of the red liquid pooled around him, the dark hues matching that of the already dead man next to him. The SWAT team members stood shocked as to what had happened, one approaching to check the body. There appeared to be a slight smoke coming from the head, where the injury was. And then a grin cracked on Kypher's face as the crowbar was pulled from his head, a knife suddenly in his other hand as he penetrated the other man's throat. Kypher tossed the crowbar aside whilst withdrawing the knife, cracking his neck from side to side with a sigh of relief, "Ahh... The first loss of the day. And the score is one. Time to beat that, I suppose."

The SWAT men panicked, how were they supposed to deal with a man that coulsnt be killed? They hadn't been trained or briefed for this. Kypher left no time for hesitation as he moved in, his veteran soldier training and experience kicking in. The long combat knife darted in and out, slicing through the SWAT squad easily. One tried to shoot Kypher but he knocked the gun to the side, dragging his blade across the man's throat. Another came at him with the intent to whack him in the head again with the butt of his gun, but Kypher ducked under the attack, sinking the knife into the man's back several times. He kept this up until he had finally killed the whole SWAT team, only having many blood stains and only one gunshot wound to show for it. The pain was annoying him, so Kypher took a pistol out of one of the dead men's holsters and promptly shot himself in the head.

Ten seconds later, he was up again with a cheerful smile as he brushed himself off, his army uniform still as blood-soaked as ever. Now that he had dealt with one side, he noticed that Tawhiri was still being partially pinned by another squad - something that just absolutely would not do. Kypher stretched his arms out for a moment, taking his time to relax his body. He would have to further call upon his divine gift to aid the other servant of God in their endeavours. Taking a deep breath, Kypher thrust both his arms forward in the direction of the assault SWAT team. As he did, the same black smoke exudes from his arms and body into one central mass behind him. The mass grew and grew until it was a 7 foot tall hollow ghost of swirling black energy. Kypher's grin grew as he let his arms simply hang there, his mouth uttering but two words, "Kill them."

And so the monstrous creation sprinted off, possessing slightly increased speed and strength to a normal human. No one could see the elegant assassin as it dashed across the gale-assaulted terrain towards the unsuspecting men that were still firing at Tawhiri. When it reached them, all hell broke loose. They didn't know what had hit them until it was too late. One of the men saw it coming, the killer intent revealing its appearance, and the man simply screamed in pure terror at the divine justice bringer. A terrible claw of darkness arced forward, impaling the man straight through the stomach. The screaming stopped as he was thrown aside like a limp ragdoll, discarded like a broken toy. The ghost continued as the armed men began firing at it in a panic, just as unsure as what to do as the other SWAT team had been. The ghost moved as its creator did, weaving between the men easily as the claws went to work, slicing off limbs, stabbing people and leaving lacerations on every body part with its quick movements. Eventually, and much faster than Kypher had done it, the SWAT men lay dead in the road, eviscerated and completely destroyed.

Meanwhile, Kypher had made his way over to Tawhiri, ignoring the storm and the hail of bullet that occasionally struck his body as he strolled to her with a content smile placed upon his lips. When he got there, he nodded to the masked woman slightly, as respectful as a soldier should be, "Congratulations, Ma'am. I have taken the liberty of organising our escape route so that it shall arrive very soon, so please enjoy yourself whilst we wait. We have much to discuss now that you have been liberated from these impertinent non-believers." His charming 'I-know-something-you-don't' smile was ever present. Kypher had his own organisation and his own men, his own information network. He had actually been aware of this operation and he had known that it wouldn't work out as well as they hoped. Tawhiri was powerful and so we're her friends, but they weren't particularly professionals like himself. He and his men had the training, the gear and the Irregular powers, they were a force to be reckoned with. Kypher was hoping to add Tawhiri to the family. Glancing away, Kypher briefly assessed the situation: both SWAT teams were down but so we're both of Tawhiri's henchmen were too. That left the injured pyro guy that was slowly approaching them and the girl with the newly acquired laser rifle. Oh, and whoever it had been that caused Kypher to get inpaled by his own crowbar. It had been one of his more comical deaths, to say the least. Kypher simply watched as the chef superhero walked towards him and Tawhiri, a knowing smirk in his expression as he exuded doubt that the other man could actually do anything to him. What were a few flames to full blown immortality? He would soon show this little upstart the meaning of Irregular if he meant for a fight. This was the boss battle, and Kypher would be the boss they were to fight - and if there was one thing everyone knew about any good game: it was that the final boss was always an impossible challenge.

WhipDing Little Lozy Pandaskel Borkus Lazorus

 

[Little Lozy]

The storm raged. The rain pelted and drenched everything. The winds were strong blowing everything down. Screams of terror and agony rang in Jackie’s ears, and the strength in her body kept her planted as chaos surrounded.

Tawhiri was at the center of this taking the attacks of the heavily armed SWAT, a henchman armed with a fucking laser gun dealing some heavy damage himself. Jackie knew before she stepped out onto the sidewalk she didn't have a dog in this fight. She was best helping the panic few that swarmed the streets. It was dangerous, even on the other side of Ring Square, away from the fight. As civilians dodge stray bullets and chunks of debris grew in size as Tawhiri's gusts roared, Jackie spotted a man and women pinned between two building fear in their eyes. Jackie's mother warned her about her abilities that she shouldn't wear them proudly, show them off, but these people needed her help. Jackie swung open the car's driver side door taking two hands she ripped the door from the vehicle, creating a shield she held in one hand.
"Hey, you okay!?" Jackie yelled out to the two when she was close enough. They we're afraid d even of her. She motioned to Variety Records,"I'll take you over." They flew behind her as she shielded them to safety. The windows had blown out in her beloved record shop, but it still held people huddled inside. Jackie looked back to the car she'd borrowed from, taking a deep breath she lifted the side of it dragging it up to cover the front of the shop protecting whoever was inside. Her gaze swept back to the fight below.

One guy had just taken out a SWAT member, violently, with a crowbar.An Irregular had emerged wielding fire in some lame chef’s costume. He had attacked Tawhiri head on, showing some balls, only to come to blows with a Stranger that had been concealed the whole time. The fight was quick and to Jackie's surprised the chef had actually won, SHIT he was cauterizing his own wound. The SWAT teams were divided; one focusing on the threat of the wild crowbar wielding son-of-a-gun, the other focused on Miss Hurricane and Laser Boy.
A girl had stepped up on the scene a bat in hand she seemed have appeared from nowhere has she went hand to hand with Laser Boy. Homegirl kicked ass only to have her ass KO by debris.
Wild crowbar weilding son-of-a-gun just got beat to death with his own crowbar. In under 30 seconds the man had regenerated and set his revenge on the SWAT team, clearing all of them.

 

[Borkus Lazorus]

Point of Perspective: Rangi
Rangi's mamma always said to him to become a respectable figure on the island, get a job and earn money for the family. Turns out momma nor poppa really didn't care about the first part. When he got his family rich enough to slave them away on the richest parts of the island for eternity, his mother and father were willing to look past the drug racketeering business.

And then, the Vanguard appeared. Goddamned haole bastards closing down what was formerly his land to venture in and closing him off from his poor sister. His poor sister who would never see his brother again, wondering when he would get to play tag with her again.

Rangi grimaced and groaned as he thought internally, his vision a mix of rainwater and haziness as he groaned from the brutal assault by that bitch.

" I'm gonna get that stuffed elephant for you soon, Leia....."

He stood up slowly as he looked around, taking his time to recover before looking at the Irregular bitch who had attacked him. His rifle in her hand. He growled before shifting over towards her crumpled form and grabbing the rifle that was laid down in the puddles of rain-water. He gave it a finnal check-through, checking the cooling ports, analysing if there were any scuffs and peering to the scope before looking at the person who had attacked him.

Rangi had walked over towards her and aimed the barrel at her face. It would be so easy now......So easy, just to kill her for ruining his goddamned face. He pinched his nostrils for a moment, trying to over-come the river of blood that was bleeding from it. He had to remember to learn how to build a personal force-field next time.

But, he didn't want a Kill-Order. And he didn't want someone on his ass.

Instead, he viciously kicked the girl in the gut several times before stopping and breathing heavily.

That should have taught her a lesson.

Rangi then rested the rifle on his shoulders as he rubbed his chin, limping towards Tawhiri.
Point of Perspective: Tawhiri
Tawhiri raised her hands slowly down as the rogue Irregular had dispatched the S.W.A.T squad that had been suppressing her with bullets for the last few minutes. A whirlwind of death and gore, so to speak. Still, the rogue Irregular had made it obvious that he was on their side now which was respectful to say the least. She levitated herself downwards, a air current keeping her buoyant before her feet lightly touched the ground. She looked at her tacky orange prison garb and gagged behind her mask She would need to get apparel fit for a goddess after this sordid affair.

She looked around, assessing the situation. Rangi, the pathetic bastard rat that he was, was approaching her at a slow pace, apparently injured from a bout of some sort. The S.W.A.T squads that had been a nuisance were now splattered across the road like flies on a wind-shield. And the biggest threat now was the hero Irregular. He would have to be dispatched of soon and fast before the Vangu-
"Congratulations, Ma'am. I have taken the liberty of organising our escape route so that it shall arrive very soon, so please enjoy yourself whilst we wait. We have much to discuss now that you have been liberated from these impertinent non-believers."
Tawhiri looked at the Irregular, notifying down all his characteristics. A military man and a very powerful Irregular, judging from the show he'd put on for her. She spoke in a rich, Islander accent that spoke of power and was tinged with arrogance as she regarded him.
" We can discuss matters later as soon as we get rid of this-"
A blast of fire answered her question as she raised her hand to block the large ball of fire, a wind current sweeping the flames upwards as the Irregular in front of them stood 50 meters away, stonily raising his hand for another blast.
"-whelp."
Point of Perspective: Smorgasbord
Harold looked at his smoking hand, breathing heavily, as it felt like everything he was doing in this fight was jack to the crazy typhoon lady in the middle. That, and the fact, that a miniature serial death blender had joined the fray as well. And was on the side of villains.

All things considered?

He was absolutely boned to the core.

Harold had never been in a proper Irregular fight before despite his one month career. Sure, he'd stopped minor offences but never large organised crime on a scale like this. He had to keep repeating himself that he only stopped 50 crimes in the last month, of which included robbery of small convenience stores, muggings, thievery along with drunk-driving incidents.

He had the potential to duke it out with the big leagues. If he could get the right power at the right time.

Harold's stomach gurgled as he swayed slightly, his head getting a little bit sleepy from the amount of injuries he'd accumulated. He was at least about half a block away from them. But, first, he needed to try something else now. Pyrokinesis wasn't working. He needed to try something more......left-field. Throw the dice out.

Harold took out a emergency packet of beef jerkey from his pocket and began to chew on it, hoping that he could get at least a good power this time.

His power. In the hands of a higher god. Harold closed his eyes as he chewed slowly before swallowing. A gulp. The food landed down with a splash in his gut and.........



HOLY SHIT. HE FELT AMAZING.

Oh god. Sugar. Sugar. Harold stared at his hands and felt like he could swim up and up with Usain Bolt and go toe to toe with Muhummad Ali for 15 rounds. Harold giggled as he accessed his new power, his muscles swelling as he grew to about 6 feet tall and he pounded his fists together. Power. UNLIMITED FUCKING POWER. Muscular bio-kinesis along with reduced pain and redundant nerve systems. BEST. POWER. EVER.

This was the fucking shit. Harold cracked his neck as with a thought of his mind, the bruises on his muscles became painless and the blinding pain in his leg subsided.

Time to fucking wreck some shit.

Harold laughed out loud, a booming laugh that resounded through the streets as he eyed the nearest wrecked car that was on the street. Oh, that looked nice.

He hoisted up with his two arms in a flash and then, threw it as he was chucking a football for the World Cup. It soared at Tawhiri, who yelped out a expletive, before trying to raise a current of wind strong enough to deflect a car that was sailing at the speed of a foot-ball.

It didn't work.

Tawhiri managed to get a current of wind rolling just in time to stop her becoming a pancake as the car pushed her back from what seemed like a unmovable position previously. The car continued soaring into the S.W.A.T van, nearly colliding with it before it was pushed off the Irregular crime-lord. Tawhiri looked murderous as her subordinate, Rangi, appeared to be pissing his pants and then, cocked his rifle to begin firing at the roided-out brute. Harold gave a whoop before jumping upwards, three stories in the air, a fist raised to pummel the group as Rangi began to fire a hail of laser bullets at him, impacting against his body. He paid no avail to it.

Oh, what fun.
​

 

[WhipDing]

Aiden picked himself off the ground, the group of people who'd been stomping around him having moved on elsewhere. Luckily, it didn't seem like he'd broken anything on impact, but it was quite difficult to tell with the small burst of adrenaline that'd developed in response.

He looked around him, surveying his surroundings. To his dismay, his previous actions seemed to have had no effect - the man who'd been wielding the crowbar earlier had apparently killed several more people unimpeded. Perhaps more importantly though, there was some masked girl that he hadn't seen earlier, who was entirely unconscious, with a baseball bat lying next to her. He briefly considered getting her out to safety... but who knew which side she was on? She could be helping whirlwind-lady and crowbar-man for all he knew.

Further away, was a man wielding what appeared to be some kind of... gun? He studied him a few seconds, before he figured out what he was - a Tinker. At any other time, he'd love to stay and study him, but--

He was saved the trouble of another moral dilemma by a huge beast of a man falling out of the sky, effectively dealing the threat of the Tinker before it'd even started. Well, that was one problem solved. This was still two other problems still out there, though, although both seemed pretty distracted right now. Which could mean that this was the perfect time to sneak away from this mess of a situation entirely. On the other hand...

In a slight moment of madness, he zapped into the baseball bat that was lying on the ground, and levitated it into the air. He'd never really attempted something like this before, but his aim should've been good enough - and it was. He launched the bat in an arc towards typhoon-lady, while immediately zapping out of it, rolling out towards the unconscious girl. The bat flew onwards, smacking typhoon-lady in the back of the head with a satisfying thud.

Now, it was time to get out of here.

Unfortunately, his options were extremely limited. Anything he could possess had been picked up by the still ongoing winds, and running out in his human form - at any size - was a pretty terrible idea. What he did have was an an unconscious girl with a backpack - there had to be something useful in there, right?

But at this point, yet again, his conscience held him back. Regardless of whose side she was on, it seemed... wrong to just leave her out here all battered, and effectively steal all her stuff. So instead of taking the logical, safe path out of here, he zapped himself into her backpack, which was presumably the heaviest thing that was attached to her. Now all he had to do was drag himself - and her - out of here.

Off in the distance, he had spotted previously a group of people taking cover in a nearby record shop, a car somehow upturned, protecting them from the worst of the debris. That seemed like the closest place of relatively safety; if he could get this girl over to there, he'd at least not feel all guilty about just leaving her. And so he began his journey over, the girl being absurdly being dragged along the ground by her backpack pulling her along.

Pandaskel Borkus Lazorus Little Lozy

 

[Kloudy]

The Soldier of God​

Kypher raised a quizzical eyebrow as the chef decided to buff himself up. One would wonder he didn't simply just do that in the first place. But Kypher didn't have time to question this as he was hit by a flying car with the force of what felt like a meteorite. He was dragged along with the now-bloodstained car until it came to a sudden stop in the side of a someone's shop. The car had hit the side of another car and lodged itself through the side of the window, much to the dismay of the people inside.

Despite Kypher being crushed under the fairly destroyed car, his black ghost had made its way over the battle, becoming invisible to the large irregular and all other irregulars in the area. It was the normal people that couldn't see it. It leaped with incredible power, leaving a small crater beneath its feet as it leaped up into the air, intercepting Harold with a powerful tackle that took the two into the upper levels of a tall building. Smashing through a window, the dark mass that made up the humanoid being rolled to a stop, claws poised to slash away at the irregular before him. The ghost had augmented speed, although it was a very small boost, but the real power up was its strength, which would be enough to match the irregular. The shadow servant prepared to dash forward dutifully, the complete lack of expression and life unnerving to most.

Back down by the car, Kypher had regenerated again and was busy getting up from beneath the car that had flattened him. Groaning as he shifted a metal sheet off of his chest, he slowly got to his feet and rolled his shoulders stiffly, "God, this gets tiring. Does anyone have an energy drink? I could die several times for one." He was only met with the confused and shocked faces of the people hiding within the shop, their lack of comprehension evidently showing in their surprised and near-horrified expressions as to how he was even still alive. Eventually one man pointed an accusing finger and shouted at him, "He's an Irregular!" There was a gasp and a few muffled murmurs of disbelief from the small group of normal people, to which Kypher simply blew off, "What, an Irregular can't get a drink in a commercial shop meant for the people?" He shook his head ruefully, "Honestly, you all treat me as if I'm some kind of criminal!" Of course, Kypher WAS a criminal and he was surprised no one had noticed who he was just by facial recognition: he had never bothered to hide his face when committing his crimes, it was tedious. Besides, he was literally immortal, what could anyone really do to him?

Borkus Lazorus Little Lozy

 

[S n o w]

Maria lost her balance as she slid into her apartment. She grabbed wildly for the doorknob before she learned what the floor tasted like, water dripping off of her like she was carrying around her own personal raincloud. She quietly cursed the freak storm that had showed up out of nowhere, kicking her shoes into the corner. They oozed water. She used to think that it was convenient that her place of work, The Box, was close enough that she could walk there every day. She couldn't afford a car-she could barely afford the apartment-and someone had helped themselves to her bike chained to a pole in the back lot.

She muttered to herself about unreliable weathermen as she padded to the kitchen to wring her hair out in the sink. There was nothing about a storm on the radio. Hell, there hadn't even been any warnings of light showers. She owned an umbrella, but carrying it around was tedious when she didn't need it. Maria was halfway to her bedroom, where she planned to change into something warm and dry, when she noticed the broken glass on below the window. Then she noticed the splotches of water on the wall and floor and the soaked back of the pale yellow couch that came with the apartment. She blinked, and then glanced up at the window itself.

A chunk of concrete, or it could have been a very big rock, sat innocently on the windowsill, and she could see the hole that it came through. Wind blew her tacky curtains back and forth, spraying everything in sight. Her eyes widened, and her mouth dropped open. She wanted to yell insults at the rock and the damned storm, but she also wanted to curl up on the ground and cry at how much this was going to cost to fix. She did neither. Instead she stared, eyes disbelieving. If anyone asked, she could claim that boarded up windows was a new fashion statement.

Maria wondered why her younger self hadn't thought about this when picking an apartment close to the beach. The only part of town where the wind was higher was at the center of the storm. Though 'close' was something of a stretch. Her apartment was close-ish to the coast, but not close enough that she could watch the great view for a month before she was evicted for not being able to afford the rent. Sometimes she could see a peek of the ocean when it was high tide, so there was that. She might be able to see it now, if not for more pressing concerns. Maria ran into the bathroom, almost slipping again, and quickly grabbed a handful of her cleanest towels and darted back out into the living room. She did her best to cover up the window with the biggest towel, and spread the all the others over the couch and on the floor. There. Problem temporarily solved.

Maria shivered and rubbing her arms, but it didn't help much. She left a trail of small puddles as she shuffled to her bedroom to change. She almost missed the urgent broadcast on the radio, and froze in the middle of lumping her wet clothes together in a pile when an automated voice told everyone in or around Ring Square to leave the area immediately, and if they couldn't, to get to a safe location until help or further instructions were given out. Maria abandoned her clothes and ran over to the radio on her dresser, turning the knob until the static cleared and a crackly, serious voice came out of the speakers. She barely caught the end of what he was saying before and ad started to play. Something about an escaped criminal.

Everything suddenly made a lot more sense. The weirdly strong weather. The broadcast. An Irregular was in Ring Square. A shaker, more specifically. Maria left the apartment. She was halfway to the fire escape door when she realized she was only wearing shorts and an old T-shirt. Maria peeked outside, and immediately regretted it when rain whipped at her face. The smell of salt water burned her nose. She snuck a quick glance behind her, and when she saw it was empty she concentrated. Drops of rain froze in the air around her.

Maria tried to avoid the suspended water as much as she could as she moved to stand in front of the railing. Her eyes widened at the people filling the sidewalk below her, huddled in groups behind uniformed officers. She couldn't hear anything over the wind. If she squinted, she could see something in the distance. It looked like... was that a hurricane? In the middle of town? Well, if they were transporting a criminal somewhere and he or she managed to overpower their guards and escape...

She felt the need to do something. Call someone. Were regular people still trying to fight that, or had an Irregular squad been called in yet? She didn't know, and she didn't want to get any closer and find out. She could probably help, but they had professionals for situations like this for a reason, right?

"Hey, Mari! You heard about that thing going on in town?"

Maria barely got out of the way before the downpour resumed. Her neighbor peeked his head out of the door across from hers, glancing up and down the hallway. She laughed a little, nervously, and tried to hide how badly her hands were shaking.

 

[Borkus Lazorus]

POINT OF VIEW: Taw
hiri

Beyond infuriated. That was what she was right now. The winds crackled around Tawhiri as she flung the car haphazardly with a current of wind to her left, causing it to grind to a halt on the asphalt before the projectile stood still.

How dare this irregular, this false pretender to her name, attempt to depose her off her throne. She then raised her hands up, in a attempt to conjure the winds around the Irregular's throat to tighten and suffocate the brute . a surefire tactic for anyone who was tough and still needed to rely on oxygen, before a shadowy apparition collided with the giant of a man and sent him flying into the apartment near over.

A tap on her shoulder interrupted her out of her longing gaze towards the battle at hand. Rangi. Her assistant pointed upwards to what seemed like a arrow of light approaching the battlefield. A star in the otherwise turbulent sky. Tawhiri took a brief sign before moving towards the cafe in which the mercenary had landed in. She stepped through the window, frightening all the inhabitants of the cafe before looking at her rescuer. She then bowed towards him before speaking in a formal tone.

" I do hate to interrupt you, sir, but it appears the Vanguard have sent backup on their way. I do hope you make good on your promise of a way out of here, Mr....?"

POINT OF VIEW: Smorgasbord

" FUCK. PIECE OF SHIT. SHADOW SPINNY GHOST FUCKFACE MCGEE. LET ME GO!"

Harold kept ramming his fists at the shadow beast, the dark fog swirling away with each punch. It was like trying to rip apart molten taffy as Harold was unable to find any purchase on the beast. Harold growled as he ripped a cupboard off its hinges and threw it at the shadowy mass. The mass moved apart, as if taunting him, letting the projectile sail through the open space and through three walls before it landed on the streets below.

The shadowy mass lunged at Harold and Harold almost screamed in pain as he felt large claws digging into his rib-cage, like meat-hooks carving into his very flesh as he was currently stuck within a miniature death blender. With every cut and every strike, Harold's rage began to simmer down to a quiet smoldering anger as the shadowy mass shoved three blades into Harold's larynx, causing him to gurgle and cough up blood. It would be enough to kill almost anyone.

Anyone being the operative term.

Harold then slid outwards from the blade as he landed on the floor with a thump, blood oozing from his wounds. The shadowy mass, apparently confident that Harold was dead, began to return to his master before a voice interrupted him from behind.

" THAT'S ALL YOU GOT, YOU EMO PANSY?"

The two then crashed through the wall of a apartment before landing on a car, flattening it like a pancake. Harold then rolled off the amorphous black mass, panting, as he rubbed his neck, coughing out dried blood. Steam rose from his wounds as it regenerated slowly, wounds being unwritten by time and light pink scars replacing where it once was. A series of fresh dimples was left on his chest as he winced, rising upwards.

Once again, the shadowy mass rose upwards. Apparently unaffected by anything. It then created two talons, driving them both into Harold's chest before he could do anything. Harold then began to feel a tugging sensation as he realised what the creature was doing, lifting him up from the ground. Oh god. He screamed as his chest felt like it was being ripped in twain.

Then, a bolt of light enveloped the cloud of shadow, pushing it away into a brick wall, Harold dropping down with a thump. A blaze of light landed on the asphalt, illumianting the entire street. A horseshoe was in the centre, looking as if was made out of dented iron, as the being raised his hand towards Harold. A burst of morse code spattered outwards from the being before what looked like a translator hooked onto its chest made the code decipherable in a robotic tone.

" Lumen. Vanguard Member. So, how you doing today?"

Harold replied back with a gurgle. Lumen took the reply in stride.

" I'll take that as great."​

 

[Pandaskel]

Analí "Jack" Castillo
...What the...?
Analí blinked slowly, her body stiffening as she realized she was being dragged. They had her. They had knocked her out and now they had her. She had gotten involved and now she was as good as dead. These were the big leagues and she hadn't been good enough. This was-
Then they stopped. And she was still again, lying on the floor next to a crowd of people taking shelter in some store. A few took steps toward her tentatively, no doubt having seen what she had done out in the battle. She pushed herself up on one arm, rubbing the bump on her head where whatever had knocked her out had connected with her skull. She felt foolish. She had gotten knocked out with a damn laser rifle in her hand. She could have done more. But she had done well anyway, all things considered.
"That's some backpack you've got there," someone chuckled, half in jest and half in awe. Jack furrowed a brow, glancing at said bag. It wasn't much, just a regular black backpack she'd gotten at some second-hand store. It was torn and patched up in some places, though her sewing skills were far from great. Did he really like it that much? Odd.
Wait, was he the one that dragged her here? She had been dragged by her backpack...
She did a quick health check, wiggling and moving every muscle, bone and ligament from her toes up. She was shaken, a bit roughed up, but nothing was broken or torn and that was a victory in itself. Slowly, and with a little help from some friendly people nearby, she got to her feet, pushing the wet, tangled hair out of her face.
Remembering her Walkman, she frantically felt her pockets. Feeling the bulge in her right one, she sighed, relieved. Her headphones had been lost, but that was alright. She had spares.
Turning back to the action, she came closer to the broken windows, seeing a bright light envelope the scene outside. Murmurs of the name Vanguard rang through the shop and she grinned. They were here. They would help.
Realizing that her work was done, she checked her backpack supplies, pulled out a pair of headphones, a tape and a hair tie, and zipped her bag back up, slinging it over her shoulder as she walked out of the shop. She put the headphones around her neck while she tied her hair up, keeping it out of her face. Judging by the light, it would be dinnertime soon and she had promised to meet up with the guys for food and games. She had to clean up well so they wouldn't worry.
Taking a last glance back at her big league crime fighting debut and at the real superheroes at work, she slipped her headphones over her ears, changing the tape on her Walkman and pressing play.
​

 

[WhipDing]

The backpack slumped to the floor, Aiden exhausted from dragging the girl for such a relatively long distance. He'd overestimated how heavy his current form was, meaning he'd a lot less pulling power than he'd expected. Still, he'd done it - that was impressive enough for him. Now, all he had to do was zap out of here and... well, he wasn't sure what he'd do next.

He could go back into the brawl he'd just witnessed, but that hardly seemed like a good idea, seeing how horribly that'd worked out so far. He could also just slink off back into the outskirts of the city, and pretend that none of this ever happened. Not particularly appealing either.

It was at this point that the girl started moving again.

He panicked. This really hadn't been part of the plan. He still had no idea who's side she was on, and right now, he was feeling pretty vulnerable, both his reaction times and his abilities impaired by his both physical and mental exhaustion. He could probably zap out in a smaller form and zap into something else if things turned sour, if it wasn't for the fact that he didn't feel capable of that kind of ability right now.

So instead he stayed put, not moving at all as she rummaged through the backpack. It didn't really matter, seeing as he was the backpack, but it still felt natural. His chance to escape finally came after a minute or two when she finished whatever she was doing, and started walking away, taking the backpack with her. All he had to do was zap out and drop down onto the ground, and he'd get away without a scratch.

...But now that he thought about it, he didn't really want to. This girl might not be obviously an Irregular (although he hadn't ruled out the possibly that she might be) but she seemed to be associated with them in some way. If he stuck with her, she might lead him to Irregulars, perhaps some that he might be able to examine a little easier than the ones he'd just encountered. Admittedly, he'd prefer the others, but in his currently weaker state, it seemed a distant dream.

Still, he wouldn't mind getting a last look, something that was quite difficult right now, not having eyes and all. Not wanting to risk slipping off the outside and missing the chance he'd just gotten, he instead zapped into the inside of the bag, an inch-tall boy suddenly materializing and dropping into it. He immediately found himself surrounded in a constant earthquake, both him and the objects around him bouncing up and down rhythmically in time with the girl's steps.

After a few brief moments of struggle, he'd made his way to the side of the compartment, and used his hands to pry the zipper open a crack. He squeezed his body through, the friction holding him in place as his top half dangled out into the world. The air blasted his face momentarily, but he turned away from the wind, looking back at the combat zone he'd just left.

Vanguard. He'd heard of them, of course, but he didn't really know an awful lot about them - something that was probably intentional. He considered jumping out, the lure of new, juicy information very tempting, but his aching joints reminded him of how incapable of that he was right now. So instead, he tucked himself back into the backpack compartment, curling up into the corner of it and taking a well-needed rest.

Pandaskel