Multiple Settings (Closed) Pain is temporary

[ScatheAriiasqDrayceon]

Asset 07 stood, back straight, eyes unfocused, and wings folded arrow-head style behind them. They didn't see the dull walls of the facility, nor did they feel the cold stone that laid under their clawed feet. Brilliantly gold eyes offset by an unnaturally slit pupil looked straight ahead, despite the busy background.

"Ah, Asset 07. You've come for your assignment, I presume?" Commander drawled, not even looking at them as he plucked a large syringe from the table.

"Yes, Commander," 07 replied, voice scratchy-feeling from disuse. It came out more of a rolling growl laced with a hiss, though quiet. They didn't even flinch when the syringe was plunged into their skin, the micro-tracker embedding itself into their arm. It felt the same as it always did, even a little number, this time.

"Hangar five," Commander ordered, gesturing vaguely toward the hangar doors. "Get the drive in, then come back."

"Affirmative."

07 stalked toward the hangar, clad in all-black and silent as the shadows they emulated. The tool belt around their shoulders pulled in a way they were unused to, what with the recent change in class and all. They weren't used to having other Assets drop their gaze when faced with them; it was unsettling, in a way.

No matter.

They had a job to do.

~~~

The flashdrive slid neatly into the port, the indicator glowing a faint red as it started uploading its contents and running the program.

As they turned to leave, a slight glint in the darkness of the large office building caught 07's eye, giving them pause. The shiny in question was a small disk. Occasionally, it flashed red on top and let off a soft 'beep'. 07 clicked in the back of their throat curiously, stepping over to the item silently. Beside it, just out of reaching distance, was another. And another after that. They followed the trail of little beeping disks, frowning as it went around the entire room in a large circle. The beeping for each was slightly offset from any of the others, so they were either calibrated wrong or it was intentional for some godsforsaken reason.

They didn't want to pick them up, though, just in case they were dangerous.

They needed to leave. It didn't matter what those suspicious disks were; they had a mission, they completed it. Time to go back to the dropoff point. 07 turned on a heel, dropping to a slight hunch to yank the vent grate back out.

And then it clicked.

Every beep was getting closer and closer together.

Those were bombs.

Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep

There was a crack and sound overwhelmed 07's senses, completely wiping out their hearing as bright oranges and reds seared through their mask and into their eyes. It hurt. It hurt, it hurt, it HURT! For the first time in years, Asset 07 cried out in pain, the sound coming out a twisted, shrieking keen.

Black crawled across their vision, and the world faded out.

~~~

When they woke up, they were not surrounded by the familiar white walls of the Facility. No. Instead, everything was black. Black faded to grey, which gave way to the sight of stone walls and the sight of four-inch-thick rebar piercing through the side of their arm, spilling bright crimson blood to the ground under them. By now, they were coated in it, black clothing dyed crimson. It was... a liter, maybe one and a half. They'd be fine, so long as they got the bleeding to stop.

"Ah..."

07 noted their restrictor was intact, much to their relief. They didn't need an overload, too.

Since the rebar was more... very deeply grazing their arm, 07 turned on their side in the—notably tight—space and ripped off enough of their still-partially-burning suit to wrap around the wound, pulling it away from the rebar with a wince. Damn, that hurt.

Now that their circulation was thoroughly cut off, they needed to leave.

07 braced against the stones trapping them, baring their back against the hard rocks as they gathered their legs under them. They paused, eyes scrunched shut and breathing shallow before arching their spine and pushing back against the rocks, which dimly registered as part of the wall of the building they'd infiltrated.

The world exploded back into color as bright moonlight washed down onto them, fresh, clean air spilling into their lungs and clearing away the dust.

It was dawn. The skies were painted with colors and streaked with clouds. 07 could hear people in the distance, despite the fogginess in their ears. They needed to get away. Commander would find them... eventually. So long as they had the tracker, still.

07 was miles away when they realized the arm that got hit had the tracker in it.

The tracker was gone.

They were on their own.

~~~

It was years later when 07, who'd given themself the name "Arii" (meaning "fire" or "flame") to avoid suspicion, officially gave up on Commander finding them. They were one person in a massive metropolitan city. No one was coming for them. They needed to do something to get food. They may have been trained to obey, but they still had a sense of self-preservation when lacking orders.

That's about the time that a new vigilante arrived to the scene; soundless and absolutely lethal when needed, the new informant was dubbed "Seven" due to the massive "07" emblazed onto the back of the purple suit, impossible to miss even with the wings.

~~~

Seven was good at what they did. Infiltrate, observe, report. They were fast, silent, and could cover more ground in less time than any car, given they had the space. While they were a big name in the criminal underground for their "Black Book" of names and favors owed, they were almost completely unknown to the public.

And Seven would like to keep it that way.

But they always felt... bad. Yes, that was a good word. A better one would be "guilty". They couldn't rely on Commander to tell them what was right or wrong anymore. They honestly had no idea what happened after they fulfilled a contract.

So, they devised a little...

Back-up system.

Seven would fulfill a contract and then a newly-named vigilante, CrowCall, would follow them, to make sure nothing bad happened. CrowCall was the media-friendly, happy-go-lucky part of Flame that was polite and did good. They were... different. They were also much more careful.

For once, it felt good.

So, Crow got more time. They did more than Seven ever did. They got people's cats down from trees, caught sticky-handed criminals, and took down anyone who threatened the peace of their tiny little piece of Los Angeles.

Which is how they ended up here.

Night and Seven shared a cautious glance, clicking at each other in rapid succession in what could graciously be described as "conversing". As far as they could tell, the people who led them there had wanted Crow, not Seven. Crow. But that, specific day, Night needed backup and Flame was in Seven mode, so there was no real fixing it.

And now...

Now they had a bunch of papers in front of them.

It seemed appealing, yes. Very appealing... but too good to be true. Much too good to be true.

Seven looked up, narrowing their eyes under their mask. "And if we don't?"

The woman's smile was more than unsettling. "Read the packet."

A moment of pause.

Seven looked back up, tilting their head. "I doubt you can track us down."

"Do you? And are these clauses really so bad? You will be fed, housed, paid, and you don't even have to take off your mask."

Seven tilted their head back to the other side, clicking in the back of their throat once again. "I don't appreciate being recorded."

 

[Chronically Caustic Cat]

It was late and the walk home was long. Yora just hoped Dr. Kadoshi wasn't still in his office. If she focused on worrying about his workaholic habits, she wouldn't have time to jump at every sound as she strode down the street.

Almost home. Almost there. Then I can take a nice hot shower and curl up in bed and we can pretend that we didn't see the suspicious shadow on the roof over there.

Unfortunately, the suspicious shadow refused to be ignored and instead had the audacity to fall right in front of her with a wet splat and groan of pain. After giving the suspicious shadow a moment to continue groaning, Yora reluctantly climbed down from halfway up the lamppost she had jumped on in her surprise to inspect what she had concluded was an injured person. Not ten minutes later, she was hauling the person into her apartment and fetching her emergency medkit. When she sent the mysterious person on their way the next morning, she thought nothing of it. They were hurt, she helped them and that was it.

That was not it.

It started slowly at first. An injured person at her doorstep maybe once every two weeks, sometimes the same person she had originally treated. She didn't mind. It was field experience and the perfect opportunity to practice what she was learning in school (even if they were illegal vigilantes with enough money on their heads she could pay off med school and buy a very nice house). But then more began showing up, completely uninvited and expecting treatment without paying anything. She was going through several hundred dollars worth of medical supplies at this point and couldn't afford to buy more. So, she started charging. A year later, she was a proud Boston School of Medicine graduate and the owner of a small occult shop that sold gemstones, incense, and charms. Only a select few customers were allowed in the back where a sign said she read fortunes. Where they knew she instead ran an illegal clinic and pharmaceutical for vigilantes and people whom modern medicine had failed.

That is how the alias Dr. Fae was born. A person whose treatments were like magic and would treat you as long as you offered a fair trade. The only way to find the shop itself is to follow a black cat with glowing green eyes or have someone who has been there before take you. The cat itself is a hateful creature that only really loves three things: Mangos, Yora, and Dr. Kadoshi.

Which is how they ended up here.

Yora is certain they didn't mean for her to be here based on the surprise on their faces when she burst in chasing after her cat. Yora is even more certain she doesn't want to be here as the doors slam shut behind her. Baba's increasingly violent struggles to escape her grasp were not helping matters. To top it off, a red-headed woman towards the back of the room suddenly started laughing at some 'Farian' person who apparently definitely had not meant for her to be here. By now, Yora had spotted the object of Baba's affection and discreetly slid over to stand behind him. He in turn slid her a stack of papers that, upon perusal, was an employment contract. Well, at least today will be interesting.

 

[BittyBobcat]

The Guardians never told them much about their families. Every minute of every day was spent reminding them that this was their family. Just you, your friends, and all of your loving caretakers who knew far more about such matters than anyone else did.

She remembered long sessions of playing a particular game that the caretakers could never seem to get enough of. One where they would ask her to stare through their eyes and say everything she saw. She had always found it boring. But, even with the stabbing pain behind her eyes that always seemed to crop up when they'd been playing for too long, it was worth it just to hear the heaps of praise offered to her when she'd done it just right ('just right' consisted of talking about those weird white blobs in great detail, she learned). When she was lucky, they would give her a treat (candy was valued nearly as much as gold at the time).

It was after one of these sessions, when the caretakers were in a good mood, that she had asked about her real family. She watched their smile drop ever so slightly before returning even broader than before. "We're your real family, dear," He hummed, squeezing her hand a bit too tightly as he dragged her down the hall and toward the dorms (he was supposed to be putting her to bed at the time).

That was a cookie-cutter answer. The one they'd always received. But the caretaker wasn't quite done with his good mood yet, and that meant she could afford to press farther. "My old family."

The caretaker chuckled the way they always did whenever the kids asked too many questions. "Oh, you don't want to know about them. They don't matter." He gave a dismissive wave of his hand that meant there was more to say, but he wasn't going to say it. Without another word, she was dropped off at the dorm full of bunk beds and disappeared with the hiss and scrape of a metal door (She received no treat for her performance that day).

~~~

Eight years later, she asked again.

She had just finished practicing drills (the kind that left her sore and sluggish afterward) and was on her way to the cafeteria when two of the protectors appeared. Minutes later, she was sitting through her first mission briefing.

Terror tugged at her gut, but she shoved it down. Guardians had no fear. There was no space for it when you were working to better the world. Besides, it was a simple mission. All she had to do was observe someone (someone suspected of having abilities, someone like her). Intel gathering (what would they do with the intel? What would happen to them?). With no questions asked, of course (if she did this, how long would it take for there to be a new Guardian here?)

Anxiety swirled in her mind, and the question that had hovered there for as long as she could remember resurfaced. That forbidden question.

She danced at it's edge. "What if someone recognizes me?"

He scoffed. "Who would recognize you?"

And that was enough of an answer for her. Wasn't it?

~~~

She found the truth at the age of seventeen.

Something was wrong with her real family. They claimed they were pure. They claimed they were guardians of the world. They were the only truth she had ever known, and they were liars.

Desperation drove her to search for the family she had never had the chance to remember.

It was there, surrounded by broken glass as she sat in a room she should never have entered -having sifted through filing cabinets with a crazed panic that she shouldn't have felt- that she learned she had no family (and it was entirely her fault).

The weeks of isolation afterward couldn't even begin to compare.

~~~

She had escaped two months ago.

Two months of changing city every time she got so much as a wiff of the Guardians. Two (admittedly hellish) months full of long, sleepless nights spent doing her best to atone for all she'd done (a task she suspected she'd never complete). Two months of dragging people out of fires, stopping muggings, and generally doing everything she could to help the world (for real this time). She had only made it two months before getting dragged into service to someone else.

Dia wanted to slam her head into a wall.

Instead, she coughed. Lowering her voice as much as she could manage (the strain in her tone was painfully obvious, but Dia hoped it would be enough to throw off any voice recognition software that her family -the Guardians- had), she grumbled.

"Seconded." She gave a nod toward the man who had just spoke. Beneath the black strip of cloth wrapped firmly around her eyes, she glared at the woman who seemed to be running this operation. "I might be a bit more enthusiastic if you stop the tape." That was a lie, but she'd be comforted by the lack of surveillance all the same (assuming there weren't any cameras she was yet to take notice of).

 

[tamarapasek]

Zoey’s beginning felt so simple. Felt like it shouldn’t have amounted to anything. In 6th grade her best friend got suspended for violating a dress code. She knew that Emily had a less than safe home life and that getting in trouble would lead to danger for her. So through lots of strategy, she broke into the principal’s office, and destroyed any records of Emily’s past offenses. She was able to gaslight faculty and utterly confuse them into letting her off the hook.

That should’ve been the end of it. But she had felt more alive when planning to break into something than she’d ever had before. The habit had grown where she’d receive money for figuring out the best way to shoplift. She had always known that she was smarter than most kids her age, and due to her parents adamant refusal to move her up a few grades, she needed these to stimulate her brain.

So essentially she got into the vigilante business because she was a snob. And from standing up for a friend, and assisting in shoplifting thing grew to rescuing victims of kidnappings, and trafficking through tips to the police. Eventually she had a comfortable business as an informant who got her hands dirty every now and then.

Eventually even the smartest girl gets reckless when too comfortable with her business. It had been a long long week, and she had failed to do a background check on her client. Now her secret was revealed to her parents who had just assumed their daughter was an eccentric loner. She had to hope there was hush money involved.

Oh. And she was in a strange room with a bunch of people she didn’t even know “Seconded as well.” She added to the stranger . “Thirded.” She rectified, leaning back into her chair. If she had to stay then she may as well make herself comfortable.

 

[Technicolor Cat]

Subject "Venna" 7.13 still remembered the first time she ever opened her eyes, with a crystalline clarity. She woke floating in a strange grey liquid, with no knowledge of herself or the world. Ever so slowly she pulled her right hand in front of her face, seeing for the first time a part of her body. She flexed her hand outwards and watched claws slip out. She flexed her hand inwards and watched them retract again. For a moment there was simply new life, curious and unsure, a fawn in the woods with such unknown potential. It was at this point that the vat she floated was emptied and she met the world with burning bright lights and rough treatment.

Growing up is hard for a vat-kid that came out of the box an adult. It’s even harder to grow up a person when you are being raised as a machined weapon. She was taught a very precisely crafted curriculum, designed to make her a loyal soldier with no identity and no conflicts of loyalty. Lucky for her, perhaps, that she was a prototype, and their methods were imperfect. She learned how to be a soldier from their lessons, learning weapon handling, vehicle handling, and maintenance of both, along with wilderness survival. She absorbed code languages and spoken english like a sponge, but they made her too good at learning. She learned to be human from watching the scientists that oversaw her, even after she learned not to mimic them the hard way.

She refused to be a dehumanized weapon, and who knows how that would have gone in the long run. Luckily for her something went wrong on the labship she had spent her entire life. While in transit, there was a miscommunication with one of the governments they were contracted to. They were supposed to be let through their waters, cutting close to the mainland to avoid a patrolling inspection. Unfortunately for them, they were detected by a military ship that wasn’t in on the trick. When the ship scanned them they caught hints of the other bioweapons being made by the labship, and simultaneously the labship freaked out and tried to sink them. The labship had the heavier and higher tech weaponry, but it was run by scientists who only knew how to use it in theory. The professional soldiers sunk the ship, and in the chaos Venna escaped.

Legally she disappeared into the massive grey area around the ship. Unofficially there were people who knew that she existed and what she was, but nobody wanted to get involved in the international incident in waiting. Ultimately her genetic makeup just wasn’t valuable enough to pursue now that the people who knew how everything actually worked were dead. So there she was, on her own with nobody after her, but also no help available. It wasn’t the easiest situation for a half trained biological prototype to fall into, but she was free. For a while she just stayed out of sight, hunting the same things a cat might for food and surviving.

Things changed fully at random. She was at the city docks when she stumbled across an older fisherwoman being harassed by local mob types. See they had fishing industry friends who had a problem with an old woman who had fishing rights and a dock that they couldn’t legally deal with, but wanted very badly. Both she and the fisherwoman got lucky. She happened to see a few dudes attacking one lady and decided to help, likely saving the fisherwoman’s life. In turn the old woman saw a freakish creature that had been shot and stabbed several times, who hadn’t even been able to shower or get new clothes in months, and understood that she just wanted to help. They talked a little bit, and Venna got some proper food, along with a chance to shower and some tough old fisherman's clothes.

It didn’t always go quite that well, but after that she had a taste for helping people. She started small with stopping muggings and the like, but it quickly grew more dramatic. She stopped a couple bank robberies, and did a lot of rescue work, developing a small reputation in the city she lived in. She didn’t really talk to people much, and mostly lived on rooftops, but she got non-hunted food on occasion, and had some clothes that were borrowed, stolen or gifted.

It was only recently when certain parties started trying to track her. At first she was worried they were related to her creators, but in the dance of surveillance and counter-surveillance they came to a sort of understanding, and met on neutral ground. They needed to deliver a message, and if possible impart upon her the necessity of her attendance, but neither party gave the second part much weight. She might have been lacking experience, but she had the same kind of training they did and the home-field advantage, making it not worth the bother. They told her where to go and when, and then they parted ways.

It was not an easy decision, further complicated by her somewhat complex history with ships. She had grown up on one, for better and for worse, but the first person who had helped her in turn had given her a different impression. In the end curiosity got her there, helped by a reasonable certainty that she could swim to shore unless the ship went very far out. So she showed up, creeping aboard the ship and finding her way to a group of people that looked like they were there on the same business she was. She mostly kept to herself, tucked away in a hoodie and at the back of the group, until their hosts arrived. Her yellow eyes watched the going's-on with a certain careful neutrality from under her hood. When they passed the papers over she knocked her hoodie back and picked up the packet. She grimaced slightly at it, seeming to pay more attention to the words spoke about it’s contents. Her ears popped up a moment after the hood dropped, flicking as if to shake off the effects of being squashed and better hear their environment.

When she spoke her voice was a quiet rasping growl, “I am willing to abide by the rules, and try out this deal, but I’m not signing anything. I don’t legally exist anyway, so holding me to the contract on a legal basis isn’tworth much. I am willing to try my luck with leaving if that doesn't suit you or you break the agreement yourselves.”

 

[ScatheAriiasqDrayceon]

Jet honestly never expected this to happen.

He didn't. He was a doctor; he had no qualifications to be doing the things he was doing. And yet. Here he was. On board a massive aircraft carrier with some of the "best" vigilantes in the business, apparently not counting Seven or Yora, considering the muttering of "Farian" and cackling of the red-headed woman.

Granted, he was almost built for the stealth-missions that long-term vigilantism requires, but he never intended for it to get far.

It started with a drug deal on what is now considered the center of NightOwl's territory; one of the smaller hospitals tucked away at the edge of Los Angeles, just inside of the city. As someone who kept very good track of his equipment and resources, it was safe to say, a surprise when several bottles of addictive painkillers vanished off his shelves without any record of being used. Concerned, Jet stayed after his normal work hours and all-but stalked the employees who entered and exited the operating room generally regarded as Jet's "usual room".

He was not pleased when he discovered the drug-deals transpiring right under the staffs' noses.

That was a good few years ago; three or four, maybe.

And he kept running into problems.

So, he kept fixing them.

He grew more and more aware of the fact that the city was not as clean as most people thought, further dragging the proverbial bar down, not that it could go any lower.

So, he decided to do something about it. He made himself as different as possible, first of all, wearing the clothes he'd normally prefer to exercise in. He changed postures, spoke differently, acted differently. He allowed his wings to finally stretch, and didn't shy away from his unnatural flexibility nor his sense for electricity.

NightOwl became something of an unmasking for him, despite the masquerade-style bird mask still perched on his nose, one-way-mirror eyes apathetic and hard to see against the already-dark metal of the mask.

~~~

It was two years in where he met the vigilante Seven. They were fairly new to the scene, but that didn't stop them from absolutely thrashing him when they mistook his curiosity as malicious action. He ended up being dumped in the harbor. Yeah... not the finest moment of his existence.

It took quite a while of him clearing things up for them to relax to the standard. He'd found a smooth, shiny stone by his door, what he assumed was an apology rock or something of the like. He ran into them again. And again. Until the point was reached that he could pick their mental signature out of the city... not that he tried. He also noticed some... interesting quirks. For one, Seven liked smooth, shiny things (again; the smooth rock). For two, they always seemed to bob their head while looking at something. And for three, yhey spoke quickly in three-to-five word bursts, voice crackling and popping oddly with their breathing.

That same voice crackled its way into the room with all the grace of a fledgling robin.

~~~

Seven barked a laugh, the sound similar to radio-static with the filter in their mask. If the cloth hadn't been there, Jet'd be sure their fangs would have been on full display as they commented on a few of the other Greyhats' remarks. "I ain't worried about the cameras on the ship, nah. There's no way in hell you're getting me to slap a camera in my suit, though." Their voice was all venom, very-much-so living up to the demonic act Seven employed as a scare-tactic. Their tail lashing and wings twitching for emphasis helped immensely, too.

Jet'd read the contract in full. The second half was a massive list of names as a notification of who they'd be working and associating with, but the first half could be boiled down to "don't do anything illegal unless permitted by your Communicator. Property damage is to be kept to an absolute minimum. Cameras must be utilized at all times in the suit. Cameras must be able to view whatever the wearer does. Trackers must also be installed in the suits. Neither trackers nor cameras should be deactivated at any time. Room, money, food, and other such things are to be provided by the Organization so long as one is active and employed. Missions will be assigned as they come, but otherwise, one is allowed to patrol at their leisure. Overseers will stop by every week to make sure everything was going fine. Communicators may only dictate orders for missions and in-meeting-behaviors. Law enforcement will be notified of one's new position and called off. All property damage and vigilantism charges will be waived. This contract may be terminated by either party at any time." That was just about it.

The woman took the place of Farian, shooing the man out of the way before turning to address them. "Yes, hello. We aren't going to turn off the cameras for security's sake... and for a reliable witness for this event." She looked to the catlike person standing in the back, whose presence made Jet's feathers twitch uncomfortably. He didn't like people standing behind him. "The signing is a formality. It is you acknowledging you agree to this deal, nothing more."

Night raised his head, clicking a few times as he had done earlier. "This packet neglects to mention if we are forced to sign our civilian identities' names or not. As you have mentioned us being allowed to keep our anomality, you can see the issue, no?" He spoke with a slight lisp, a slightly-inconsistent Gaelic accent furthering that lisp to almost hiss on the sharper sounds.

The woman sighed. "No. Either name will work. Again; an acknowledgement of your cooperation."

A few more clicks.

And then, he picked up the pen, twirling it around his fingers a few times first. "And to Seven's concern? I believe they are worried for their information; if the files are not properly protected, the information that needs to remain confidential may be released without the customers' consent."

"If you are concerned, feel free to take a look at our firewalls. Or install your own, so long as we are permitted inside." A small laptop was slid across the table to Seven, who quite promptly, started typing.

It took them a good few minutes to look up and pass it back, wings folding in and tail curling around their chair. "It would be ideal to stop being hounded by law enforcement at every turn..."

Night tilted his head to the side at them with yet more clicking.

Seven replied in turn.

Then, they, too picked up a pen, placing the tip to the paper. "Decent enough deal." They signed in sharp, straight lines, movements short and jerky.

'Asset 07'.

Night hummed. "I have no complaints." And he signed, too, in what was likely-illegible half-cursive.

'NightOwl'.

 

[BittyBobcat]

Even Dia had to admit the deal sounded nice. Food. Housing. No police. Food. Her mouth was watering at the prospect. And it didn't seem she had much choice in the matter (at least not for the moment). How much could a signature do, anyway? She was already on the wrong side of the law (in more ways than she hoped these people knew). If this ended up going south then there was little some ink on a page could do to make her stay.

Begrudgingly, Dia sighed. She peeked at the computer screen over the shoulder of the person sat at it and nodded to herself. Dia couldn't be sure (she could never be sure) that the Guardians would fail to break into it -and she would much rather having no files at all- but it was the better than anything she could come up with.

Giving up on trying to disguise her voice, she dropped back into a cold but noticeably higher (and less strained) tone. "Fine." Dia snatched a pen and clicked it open. In slow -but still rough and messy- cursive, she signed 'Whippoorwill' .

Carelessly, she dropped the pen back on the table and leaned back in her chair with her arms crossed, her glare once again glued onto the woman (not that it was very obvious with the blindfold). Without turning to face the cat-lady behind her, Whippoorwill snorted amusedly. "Hate to agree with her, but I doubt the signature itself is gonna be doing much." Dia's scowl deepened. "It's more the stuff afterward that you should be worried about."

 

[Chronically Caustic Cat]

By now, Yora had finished carefully dissecting the wording of the contract. The fact that both Night and Seven had signed further reassured her that this would be a good idea. After all, the compensation pay alone was nothing to scoff at. She could be free of her student debt within three years! She didn't have to pay for medical supplies out of pocket! For the first time since she'd barged in, she spoke up.

"I will sign this, but I will be requiring a roll of black tape. For the sake of anonymity."

Yora knew she could just sign with her alias, but that wouldn't be a fair trade. Free of debt with a padded savings account, free housing, free food, and the contract doesn't even have to be binding? She could not, in good conscience, take advantage of such a deal. Even if the others would not be bound in any real sense to this deal, she would be.

Once one of the soldier-looking people returned and handed her the tape, she signed her full, real name, carefully shielding it from both prying eyes and cameras before covering it with the black tape. If someone were to attempt to remove the tape, they would rip her name off with it, making it unreadable. As soon as she was finished signing, a ghostly green copy of the contract lifted off the page and wound itself around her wrists like handcuffs before fading out of sight.

She made a point to make eye contact with the red-headed woman as she warned them.

"This contract is binding to me. I cannot act contrary to the agreement. Should you decide to void this agreement, you must say 'Our agreement is void'. However, should any of you break your end of the deal, I will no longer be bound and there will be repercussions."

 

[tamarapasek]

Zoey had finished reading the contact almost immediately. She’d been a fast reader ever since she was young. But even though she could understand it almost instantly, her eyes didn’t leave the pages. For there had to be some type of loophole. A catch. It was almost too good to be true, yet the benefits far outweighed the obvious losses. There was almost no reason why she shouldn’t sign it.

She sighed setting the paper down on her lap. “I’m in.” She took great lengths to make sure that her voice wasn’t too eager. Like she wasn’t just a kid who could be manipulated into anything.

Just in case there was some terrible loophole, she signed it with her alias. Though she felt a tad guilty over it, she couldn’t in good conscience risk the safety of herself or anyone around her. Besides she could always sign another copy of the contract if that wasn’t good enough.

“Could I keep a copy of the contract?” She questioned, gripping the paper tightly. Not only was she sure she’d need it to remind her of the rules, she also predicted a bunch of arguments over the rules and technicalities of the contract, and she thought a copy would be helpful should that happen.

 

[Technicolor Cat]

Venna listened to their hosts response with a neutral wariness. They didn’t seem to have a reason to be lying, but she was working from incomplete information, and there wasn’t necessarily a reason for them to be telling the truth either. The papers she held were useless to her, so instead she watched the people around her and their reactions.

The other not-quite-humanoids were the first up, engaging their hosts with questions. They asked smart questions, but again her own circumstances made those questions largely irrelevant. The cameras didn’t really matter to her, even the ones they wanted in her non-existent costume. She did rescue work and emergency response, all her work was up front and simple. Which names they were expected to sign with was again a valid concern, but didn’t really apply to someone without a name. Informational security might affect her more, but practically speaking she knew that if the backers of the project that made her wanted her found, she already would be. Their concerns assuaged, they signed.

The next to speak up was a tallish, lean brown-haired girl. She promptly signed on as well, although she made the same observation as Venna, albeit in a different shape. The next to sign on took a slightly more dramatic turn. Venna wasn’t sure what impression to take from her, besides that the short green-eyed woman made her nose itch in the odd way that she associated with strange energies. That feeling only grew when the woman signed on with a flourish of energies that Venna didn’t recognize as any mundane form she had seen before. The signing was concluded with a veiled threat, which seemed appropriate. The last to speak up besides Venna was the teammate she was least comfortable with. Short, and seemingly a very small human, she classed them as an unknown. Her signing didn’t really do much to dispel the impression one way or the other, a simple agreement accompanied by a request for a copy of the contract.

Honestly, all her observation and consideration aside, what really made Venna’s mind up was the yawn that stretched her face. It was a very striking image, a cat’s yawn stretched over a human face, complete with a distinctly pantherine set of teeth. She was deeply tired, and a reliable place to sleep along with more food that she didn’t have to hunt herself sounded great. It wasn’t like she had a better offer or a better option, might as well. Worst comes to worst she would have to go on the run again. She closed her mouth, rubbing slightly at her jaw, then she spoke, her voice a raspy but clear murmur, “Well it isn’t like I have anything better to do. I’ll join onto this adventure in good faith for as long as it lasts. These papers are still meaningless to me, but I'll leave my mark on them.” She popped a single claw on her pointer finger and drew it diagonally through the papers, cutting a deep gouge. The papers now marked, she tossed them back onto the table and retracted her claw.

 

[ScatheAriiasqDrayceon]

"I suppose we're all in agreement, then. My name is Erye Akatani. Copies of the contract will be left in the lobby of the tower for you to pick up, and keep should you want to. An initial budget will be provided For you to do as you wish with... though we advise furnishing the tower first—"

A sharp tap interrupted the woman's speech, Seven raising a thin black claw into the air pointedly. "You continue to mention this 'tower', and yet none of us know where, which one, or at least what it looks like."

Erye huffed. "I was getting to that. The Tower is going to be both your residence and base of operations. It's located in Central. (Insert address because I'm too lazy here). Hundred stories tall almost impossible to miss."

Night and Seven seemed to share a significant glance, the latter of the two's tail flicking across the floor in agitation. While that was all well and good, Central was nowhere near Seven's normal operating range, and going by bus would take almost four hours, which was, decidedly, not an option. Meaning they'd have to fly. Back and forth, because they had school and—

Oh, gods school. They still needed to do that project that they'd been neglecting for weeks—

Seven leaned in close to Night and clicked in a barely audible manner, using the sound to hide the actual (still not even in English) words. "You know that thing you reminded me not to forget about? I... forgot about it."

Night snorted, getting whacked over the head by Seven's tail for the action. "Are we almost finished, here? I cannot stay here the entire day."

Farian stood, opening his mouth only to get bopped on the head by Erye before he could speak.

"Well, I suppose we are almost finished, here. Your Overseers will be stopping by to see what you've done with the tower midnight tomorrow, and will review whatever you order for approval. Other than that, I suppose we are, indeed finished here. Dismissed."

The door's locks turned and clicked, the large sheet of metal swinging open to allow for the vigilantes—now, heroes, apparently—to exit.

Seven bolted like hell was on their tail, bouncing out of their chair and dipping past anyone and everyone in their way.

Erye tilted her head, turning to NightOwl. "Should... we be concerned?"

"No. They just forgot about something they had to do."

~~~~

It was sunrise by the time they were out of that meeting room, and it was likely that most would be going back to wherever to sleep. Jet—still Night—was not one of those people. While he was off work, he did have a lot to do. So, one store employee got the surprise of his career as a well-known vigilante stopped by his shop to buy a six-pack of canned coffee. Night's—as Seven liked to call it—life-juice acquired, he headed towards where the heroes were informed the tower was.

He kept to the alleys and darker corners, not particularly wanting to draw attention. Eventually, he found a decent, out-of-the-way spot to take off, massive black wings stirring up dust and frightening some of the birds perched above him. They probably weren't obvious in the meeting, actually. The thought was amusing to him, since they were an overarching presence in his mind. But they hadn't moved once during the entire interaction, and probably just looked like a feather-cloak.

Despite himself, Night chuckled.

By the time he got there, it was probably closer to six in the morning, the sun painting the sky from purple to blue and chasing the stars away.

It would be pretty.

If Night could actually see it. The bright sunlight was harsh to his night-aligned eyes, sunspots appearing every time he left the shadow of a building. He'd get used to it eventually, but the transition from night to day was always the worst.

This is why he almost slammed face-first into a skyscraper.

With a yelp and the awful scrape of feathers against glass and concrete, Night tucked the wing facing open air and veered away, circling the tower instead of running into it. It certainly looked like the one the woman described; the tallest skyscraper he'd ever seen in Central. No signs, no parked cars around it, no one going in or out.

NightOwl touched down at the double-doors, which—somehow—were still short enough he had to duck under them when he walked in.

The lobby was, as he had assumed from the height of the building, utterly pretentious. The ceiling was so far above the floor that he couldn't reach it even if he spread his wings to fill length and pointed them up, which was a feat in and of itself, but also a waste of space. The floor was made of pale, just-barely-blue-tinted tile, the blue slowly intensifying until it reached the ceiling, where it starburst into a night sky.

Pretty.

But still pretentious.

The room was otherwise bare, save a pair of elevators and one pop-up table filled almost to the brim with paper.

Jet picked up a sheet and started reading.

It was all the details for the tower, contract copies, open rooms, floor layouts, circuit layouts—anything he could think that they'd need should they want to modify the tower.

Jet perched himself on the corner and started sorting through them until he found the initial budget to put into the tower.

He split it into two parts. The first was twice the second, and the second was further split into parts for individual use. That sounded fair to him, but he didn't do anything with it, yet. Technically, they all shared the budget, so he figured he'd wait for input.

 

[Chronically Caustic Cat]

Yora stared in despair as Night took off without her.

Excellent. Now I have to walk she groused to herself. She sighed and snagged one of Night's drifting feathers and whipped up a quick tracking charm, sighing once more in exasperation when the requirements for the charm demanded that she allow the charm to physically drag her through the city with her eyes closed and to touch Night when she found him. Resigned to her fate and clutching Baba to her, she closed her eyes and felt herself get dragged out of the room and off the boat.

Sometime later, she heard the whoosh of automatic doors as the charm for some reason sped up until she collided with her unfortunate victim. Cracking her eyes open, she realized the charm had maliciously launched her into Night and they were now sprawled on the floor amongst piles of paperwork. Baba had managed to escape her grasp and was rubbing her face on Night's.

"I am so sorry. I didn't think I'd get launched at you," she groaned as she rolled off him and heaved them both up. "So, what kind of changes and supplies are we going to need? Just from a glance around, I'm thinking bigger doorways and higher security."

Yora joined him in sorting the paperwork as well as compiling lists of what needed to be done with the building as well as supplies. She was not living here with a bunch of children (she'd seen their statures. She was under no illusions though she was curious about the legality behind minors signing a legally binding contract without the consent of their guardians) without a fully stocked medical facility, labs, and a greenhouse. She eyed Night's coffee, wondering if she could snag a can. They were in for a long day.

 

[BittyBobcat]

By the time the meeting was over, Dia was about ready to slam her head into a wall (again) just so she didn't have to stay awake for this. She hadn't slept all night (something made apparent by the sun just beginning to peek over the horizon), it felt like there was a demon clawing it's way around her stomach (holy shit, she couldn't wait for that free food), and she was still wrapping her head around the fact that she was working for someone. Against her will. Again.

But she hadn't almost died fighting anyone tonight, which she would take as a win (even if the guilt in her chest squirmed uncomfortably at the thought of all that she could've helped with had she been doing her usual patrol hours).

Still, Dia had things to do. Namely getting to her new abode (she hesitated to call it a home) and eating every morsel in sight. With an empty sigh, she began the long jog to the tower. Her mask -as much as it could be called a mask, rather than a measly strip of cloth- itched at the back of her head, but she didn't dare take it off. Not with the shadows lurking around every corner (they always ended up being normal shadows, and yet they never failed to make her nervous). Dia would probably have to get used to it anyway. Living with five other people -not to mention whatever cameras Erye and her friends installed- required that.

It'd been a while since she'd seen any other powered individuals. Well, only two months, but that was longer than she'd ever been away from her family (the Guardians, she mentally corrected herself. They weren't family anymore). Dia didn't quite know what to think about that. Any positive views she held on them were constantly berated by how much danger they held. And, if the Guardians found her surrounded by a herd of superpowered vigilantes... well, it wouldn't go well for anyone, she'd imagine. Some of them she wasn't even sure had powers (although that child had to have ended up there somehow). All the possibilities made her stomach churn (or maybe that was just the hunger).

She was at the tower before she knew it. Craning her head to try to see the top of it, Dia quietly added 'very big and noticeable tower' to her mental list of worries. Why was it so tall? There were only six people! There was no way in the world they'd ever use all that space. Another thousand suspicions as to what the extra space could possibly be used for brewed in the back of her mind.

She stood for a split second, nerves holding her from passing the doorway. It was a loud grumbling in her stomach that eventually drove her in.

Instinctively, Dia blinked. As she entered the room, her vision clouded with a web of semi-transparent white liquid as her analysis kicked on. The lobby was huge. Despite the height of the tower, she couldn't help but be surprised. It was beautifully built. She could scarcely spot a single weakness in the walls (difficult for a building this tall) and -even through the black tint of her blindfold- she was amazed by the blue painting turning the entire room into a work of art. If her jaw dropped a little at the sight of it all, who could blame her?

It quickly snapped shut when the doors whooshed open again. She jumped, whipping her head around to spot the intruder as her shoulders tightened- only for them to relax a fraction of an inch when she realized it was another ex-vigilante. She took a few startled steps back as the woman (she'd been mentally referring to her as 'that magic-y one' but that felt rude) careened into Night.

Supplies. Right, that. She shook off the surprise and raised her hand awkwardly from where she stood behind the two adults. "Um- do they already have food stocked up?" Her voice seemed quiet in the large room. All of the confidence that her anger had given her in the meeting room left her. Now she was just in an uncomfortably open space standing a few feet behind two strangers who were going over some paperwork and raising her hand like a schoolchild. She nervously stuffed her hand in her hoodie pocket. "I mean, assuming food counts as supplies." She mumbled.

 

[tamarapasek]

Zoey simply nodded, and pretended that she wasn’t ready to go straight to sleep. She’d been up all night, and was absolutely willing to fight somebody for the chance to go to an actual bed. Not that she’d win. But she’d try.

With all the strength her tiny body could muster, she began walking to the tower. She walked slowly, as she didn’t think she could handle extensive stress right now. Her head hung low, though she had a feeling that there was nobody watching her. Of course one could never be too sure. After all she’d gotten into this mess by having too much trust in her anonymity.

She had to admit she was relatively shocked at the existence of super powered humans. She’d heard rumors of course, but through all of her years of Vigilante work she’d never actually met one. It was really quite odd. And somewhat depressing. If they truly had powers then what did that make her? Just a smart aleck kid who stuck her nose in other people’s business.

She opened the door to the tower. She had to admit it was snappy. And she absolutely loved it. Her house was tiny to say the least, and it was impossible to get any work done there. Though she supposed that it wasn’t necessary to have space for secret keeping anymore.

For a moment she just paused. She just sank everything in. The perfection of the lobby. She’d never been one for architecture but it was absolutely brilliant. She sank into a couch, and shut her eyes. Could she have made the walk to a bedroom? Yes. But for now walking seemed such a hard task. So the 14 year old lay down on a couch and went straight to bed.

 

[ScatheAriiasqDrayceon]

~Four weeks ago~​

It was a sunny, bright day when the part-time Starbucks Barista met the strange man. He was wearing dark blue hospital scrubs, and seemed to mind himself while waiting, not really making any fuss and even allowing an older lady in front of him. Being honest, he looked dead on his feet, though, considering the scrubs, and the fact that he was in a coffee shop, that wasn't unusual. Though, his height was a little odd. Either everyone in the shop at the moment was short, or he was ta—

The odd man's turn came up and he stepped forward, casting the barista completely into shadow. Stark blue eyes that speared right through his soul all-but pinned him to the ground as they shifted to look down at him, the head attached cocking to the side as he put on one of the fakest "customer service" smiles he'd ever donned. The man was tall definitely tall. As in "giant among men" tall. He may have been short, but now, he felt like an ant. "Can I take your order?" he all-but squeaked, wanting nothing more than to curl into himself. Just under the man's eyes, there was almost identical smudges of purple-black, the—what he could only assume to be concealer—wearing away at the edges and speckling the splotches with what almost appeared to be stars.

Those eyebags looked like one-way portals to the void.

"Yes, I was wondering..." If the barista was a little spooked before, he was downright terrified, now. The man's voice rolled like distant thunder and had the same effect good bass did, the vibration crawling up his bones and chattering his teeth against each other. "Do you serve biohazard coffee? Death Wish or Black Insomnia would work fine, too."

Do they what, now?

"Uh... no, sir, we don't. Those aren't exactly... safe for the general populous... so no."

A rumbling hum followed, and he tilted his head to the side. "Shame. Wat's your strongest brew?"

"An... Iced Expresso Roast Clover, sir..." If the Barista could back up, he would, but his feet stayed firmly planted to the slightly-offcolor tile the employees had all collectively agreed was the "talking to customers" tile... that was probably why it was offcolor, now that he thought about it.

"A venti of that works. And... How many expresso shots can you put in that?"

"Twelve..." His spine curled, dread slowly crawling up the vertebrae one by one and infecting them with its icy touch, the shiver slowly creeping out starting from his neck.

"Alright. Do you still sell 'add energy' packets?"

"Yes... but only one."

"One of those works—" The end of the words was stifled by a yawn, the man covering his mouth politely. Even so, the flash of obsidian-black fangs longer than one of the barista's fingers still caught his eye.

"Is that—is that all?"

There was a small moment of consideration before what the barista could only assume was an Ancient Eldritch God nodded, stepping off to the side to allow the people behind him to the front... if there were any, at least. It turned out, that the Eldritch being was the only customer left in the store.

"And... who should I address this to?"

"Jet or Kadoshi works fine, thank you."

The barista scribbled "Jet Kadoshi" down on the cup before passing it off, still unable to move from the offcolor tile despite the Eldritch God moving off to type on his phone in the corner.

The entire cup took a mere few minutes, but it felt like several centuries to him, who watched the newly-dubbed "Jet" type in a frozen stupor of deep fear.

"Jet Kadoshi," the woman manning the desk read off, glancing up as the Eldritch God straightened to come back over.

"Thank you. Keep the change," He passed the woman a pair of bills, paused to read the side of the plastic cup, then shrugged, and—right before their eyes—chugged the entire drink. All twenty ounces gone in less than a minute.

And then he was out the door.

The barista's coworker turned to him, passing him the two bills. "Who was that guy?"

"No bloody clue," he replied, glancing down. "But whoever he is, he's insane."

She perked a brow at him, gesturing to the cash. "Plat, anyone who pays in fifties is insane."

~To be Continued~​

 

[Technicolor Cat]

Venna was one of the first ones out of the doors as they opened. She knew where she needed to go, and she was more than ready to be done with being in a small room with a bunch of new people. She dropped to all fours when the door was just barely open enough and crept out with a natural ease. As soon as she was clear she bounced back to her feet and took off with a feline agility.

Traveling through the city was already a familiar pleasure. Her speed and physicality allowed her to traverse the cities alleys, rooftops and dark corners with ease, while her night vision allowed her safety. She had started doing it to feed her metabolism, which had swiftly taught her how to move without making any noise. Hunger was an effective motivator in that regard. It had already been natural to move noiselessly when she had started doing vigilante work, which naturally lead into rescue work.

She was a comfortably modern creature in the city now, even if she had to navigate a little strangely. All the road signs and billboards meant very little to her. She knew how to read the few maps she came across, but for the most part she navigated on memory and scent. She was pretty sure she knew where the tower was, but she had a slightly different plan for getting there.

For now she took a detour to hunt. For the most part she hunted like she fought, near-silently and with a clean efficiency. Hardly any of the creatures she hunted heard her coming anymore, from rats to pigeons. In turn she made she their deaths were quick and clean, and consumed them neatly and completely. She wasn’t inclined to wasting resources or playing with her food in that way. After she had caught a couple rats she doubled back and caught one of the scent trails she had already memorized, specifically the one with the odd green energy.

She followed the trail with a swift ease, it quickly getting fresher and fresher as she went. She caught up as the woman slipped into what she suspected was their shared goal. She went to follow when she accidentally bumped into something. Turns out she had been a bit too focused and had bumped into a rat, giving the creature quite the scare. As it turned to run she reached out and killed it with a brief flicker of motion. She promptly started to eat it, extra resources as valuable to her as ever. As she descended to street level and entered the building she noted someone entering ahead of her. When she got into the lobby they were already asleep on a couch. Tempting as that idea was, she left them to their business and followed the scent of her other teammates, eating her rat as she went. She came across three of them in conversation with each other about supplies. As she meandered into the conversation she finished off the rat with two last snaps of her jaw, one for the shoulders and one for the head. When she spoke a moment later after swallowing, her voice was satisfied in a distinctly catlike way, “Yeah, food I don’t have to catch would be nice. Handing out sleeping quarters might be a higher priority though, judging by how our last team member is sleeping on a couch in the lobby right now.”

 

[ScatheAriiasqDrayceon]

Jet lifted his head just as the sound of cloth dragging on tile worked its way toward him, He scarcely had the time to identify the sound as Yora before he was bowled over, off the table and onto the floor with an undignified squawk, where Baba proceeded to rub her face on his. He'd just barely managed to save his coffee (by draining the last of it mid-fall), but his wings knew no such mercy, and he winced as his shoulders made contact with the hard tile.

Jet loosened his jaws and let the can fall into the hand not currently occupied by paper, a set of distinct teethmarks dug into the sides. "That's alright, It's just a little bump," he replied, shedding the fake accent to reduce the strain on his voice. He softened his tone and allowed the light, British voice he developed into to come back, the sound more a soft hum than actual words.

"It doesn't look like they furnished anything, so we'll have to get mattresses... or hammocks. For now, we need essentials—" He was interrupted by Whipporwill... not that he minded. "Yes, food most definitely counts as supplies. Doorways can be last; they're big enough for most things we need, and even if something big comes up, it looks like there's a bigger one in the hangar upstairs... ah, yes. Security would be a good idea, but Seven can handle the digital branch. Toiletries are going to be a must."

He glanced back as someone else entered, feathered ears perking. "Are they? Huh—ah okay, we'll need to do a bit before it's livable, but for tonight, I can grab some air-mattresses and bedding, and you guys can sleep." He cracked open another can of coffee, keeping the rest of the pack tucked close to his chest because there was a coffee thief sitting beside him. "There are fourteen rooms in the residence floors, and five floors. They're the top few. Pick a room on a floor and we'll say that's your claim... sound good?"

 

[BittyBobcat]

In the meeting room, when the threat was more from the contractors (and whatever unsaid people they had backing them) than anything else, Dia didn't pay much attention to the other vigilantes. Now it was hard not to.

Night was tall. Uncomfortably so. He loomed a good two or three feet above her. Add to that the fact that he was clearly powered and the hairs on the back of Dia's neck were practically standing on end. Even with his seemingly relaxed demeanor, he screamed danger. Perhaps her new companions wouldn't like her sizing up their weaknesses, but Dia was thankful for her analysis all the same. Night's wings were less imposing with the thick web of white in her vision partially covering them. At the very least, if she ever had to fight him then she had a pretty large target to aim for.

While Night was dangerous for obvious reasons, magic lady (she really needed to figure out what to call her before she said that out loud) was dangerous for the exact opposite. She had no obvious weaknesses aside from the usual, and yet Dia had seen what she could do. The contract signing, the way she'd entered the lobby... she clearly had some sort of abilities beyond the average human. The thought of iron surfaced into mind in that relentless way that Dia was used to by now. What exactly that meant was frustratingly vague as always.

Regardless of her feelings toward the two, they seemed to have things handled for now, so she mentally listed them as provisional commanders. Dia dropped her gaze just as the doors whooshed open once again, admitting the kid. Dia wanted to be suspicious of her (caution was vital, especially now), but it was hard to when she promptly passed out on the couch. If nothing else, she seemed normal enough, and Dia had other things to worry about than the least threatening person in the room.

Other things being the light show that the cat lady was. The longer she looked, the more confused she got. Dia was used to the shifting, organic nature of her powers. Even weaknesses that seemed stable shifted, stretched, and flickered slightly -and the semi-opaque white blotches over her eyes with it. This was nowhere close to that. Cat lady's body lit up like a thousand lightbulbs on the brink of burning out. Flares of white sparked across her limbs with every step, interrupted only when larger flashes engulfed them for a moment or so.

Dia winced and rubbed her eyes through her mask. The warning headache that had been creeping at the edge of her senses faded as she blinked her powers off (fortunately, it was light enough that she noticed it only because of it's absence). No wonder-

The commanders were talking, she needed to pay attention. "Sounds good," She echoed Night. "Probably should skip the air mattress for me, though. I'm staying up." Even without the mysterious and (mostly) terrifying new roommates, she wouldn't be sleeping well. Besides, the promise of food loomed too close for her to -quite literally- sleep on it.

 

[Chronically Caustic Cat]

Yora glanced at each one of her new charges (because she had observed them long enough to know they were young and they were her kittens now thank you very much) with mild concern. The littlest besides Seven had trudged in and promptly passed out on the couch, the one with the blindfold was insisting on staying up, and while she desperately wanted to cook for the kitten, she couldn't.

So she set her sights on buying everything Night would need for dinner as well as basic breakfast and lunch items (granola bars, cereal, milk, bread, an assortment of deli meats and cheeses, eggs, rice) and beds. They had a whole day, though, so she went ahead and bought everyone California king-sized mattresses and basic frames and had them delivered to the building. They wouldn't fit in the elevator, but Yora was sure hauling them up the stairs would be a good bonding experience.

Once she returned four hours later with much more food than had originally been on the list, she took the elevator up to the residential area and ran into her first problem. There were no fridges. Sighing, she ordered the largest fridge she could find with same day delivery and in the meantime grabbed one of the bags, filled it with water and crafted a cooling charm from some copper wire she kept on her. The whole floor would be a fridge now, but necessary sacrifices had to be made. Speaking of necessary sacrifices...Yora added a full kitchen set to her same day delivery order. Including an oven, microwave, stovetop, sink, pots, pans...seriously, the people she had signed on with must be incompetent morons if they couldn't even anticipate the need for a kitchen.

While she waited, she began stuffing every available wall outlet with child safety covers. She had learned her lesson last time.

When she got the notification that the mattresses had arrived, she ventured back down to the lobby. Night immediately accosted her to inform her that No, they wouldn't fit in the stairwell, Yora. Yes, she would need to shrink them. No, he and the children were not helping, this was your idea. Which is how Yora found herself collapsed on a newly restored mattress in the room she had chosen for herself groaning about low batteries and "Night, babe, if you don't wake me up for dinner I will pluck you."

She didn't even want to think about the frames.

 

[Technicolor Cat]

Venna observed the going’s on with a largely neutral silence. If she was being completely honest she only barely understood what shopping actually was. She could get dumped into a random wilderness with not even clothes on her back and survive indefinitely, but she wasn’t super familiar with how actual human-adjacent types normally maintained themselves. Even after she had come to settle in this city she had survived mostly off hunting the various supposed vermin in the city, with occasional gifts from the people she helped. When somebody mentioned air mattresses for sleeping on she immediately wanted to ask what a mattress was and what air had to do with it.

She would have at least considered asking in a quieter moment, but everyone seemed to be busily discussing where to rest, what to do, and how to set things up. She played a game in her head, noting what she did and did not recognize. Hammocks she knew of, toiletry she did not. She knew what toilets were of course, along with hangars, and the other thing the tall man mentioned, but that was about it. He concluded by saying something about picking out rooms, which seemed strange to her. She was entirely done with anyone knowing where she slept but her, and had zero intention of ever having an assigned room again. So that wasn’t happening, not that she was going to mention it.

Shortly after that, the others began to disperse, either to stay up or to procure supplies. She wandered off wordlessly, uninterested in something that she didn’t really understand the parameters of or need for. If she was feeling inclined to being fair, she would have to admit that she was at least interested in more and more easily available food, but she wasn’t feeling all that fair. Honestly she was tired and a little bit irritable, not that anybody else would know that. She knew how to tuck her emotions away after all. She prowled deeper into the building, taking care to make no noise and leave as little trail as possible. As far as she was concerned she was leaving a blazingly bright trail behind her, but she didn’t have anything to disguise her scent anymore, and wasn’t sure if anyone else was a scent tracker anyway. She found herself a barren janitor’s closet, only really marked as such because it was tucked away and had shelves. She promptly scaled the shelves to tuck herself against the ceiling on the top shelf and curl up to sleep.

 

[ScatheAriiasqDrayceon]

For quite a while, Jet sat uncomfortably at the table, eyeing the electrical outlets as if they were about to come alive and try and kill him. Which... actually, usually wasn't too, too far off. It was only when Yora came in and covered them. Then it took a few elevator trips—scared twice by Roombas, which apparently occupied the floors—and a bit of time and work to get some semblance of a meal together. Since he didn't know anyone's' dietary restrictions, he made several, actually.

Most of them were Asian dishes of some sort, though there were a few European-style salads, and other miscellaneous dishes. If worst came to worse, he could make something else, anyway. Now he just had to—

"Installation complete. A.C.E.R Online." Came a slightly-familiar male voice.

Jet very nearly jumped out of his skin at the quiet voice from the ceiling speakers, feathers sleeking to his skin and a small arc of electricity shedding from his wings. "Ah, Acer. I take it Seven has already imported you?"

"Affirmative, though this state is only temporary. Seven requires physical access to the Tower before I am able to regain my usual functionality. "

He shook his head fondly. Acer was Flame's security-system; a self-learning AI that primarily handled internal systems. He kept track of things for them, and mostly stayed out of the way. Since Night was affiliated with Seven, he had to talk to the AI quite a lot. Seven was no-doubt going to wire Acer in as soon as they could.

"Alright. Well, since you're here, can you call everyone who's awake up to this floor for dinner?"

There was a brief pause as Acer seemed to process that, then "Conscious individuals notified."

"Thank you."

With that done, Jet meandered his way down to Yora's floor and knocked on her door with an absent hum, wings crossed over his back. "Dinner's ready if you're still functional enough to eat," he called, ears flicking.

 

[BittyBobcat]

Dia was beginning to regret her decision to stay awake.

It took too long to react when she heard an unfamiliar noise. Every move she made felt just a centimeter off mark. Thoughts came to her half-finished, like syrup through a sieve. Sure, it was typical at this point, but that didn't make sleep any less tempting. Besides, Dia wasn't stupid. She knew she couldn't stay awake forever. She could last another ten minutes, though. Another thirty, maybe (Thirty turned into an hour, then two).

Futile as the effort was, she kept pushing it.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of drowsiness and caution. Combing her room for cameras, memorizing escape routes (attempting to, at least), swiping a granola bar when no one was looking, whatever kept her occupied. She found herself halting her relentless plow forward only once. For a few minutes, Dia let herself sit with her back against the wall and her head leaning on her hand. It was nice having her own space for once. Though it was the closest comparison she had, her old bunk couldn't hold a candle against this (even if the thought of sleep sounded horribly appealing at the moment). That was just the heaviness in her eyes talking (it was very convincing). . .

"Dinner is ready in the kitchen."

She jolted from her half-sleep.

Rubbing her eyes, she cast a wary glare toward the ceiling where a speaker stared resolutely back. A few seconds rest made getting back up again an even more tiring affair. She debated not doing it at all, but she had come dangerously close to letting her guard down and that wasn't something she was looking to repeat (a quieter part of her mind pointed out that there wasn't a single person in the room -she shoved it down, unwilling to reflect on the other reasons for her sleeplessness).

With a yawn, she trudged to the elevator (she didn't have the energy to worry about the enclosed space). It took a long moment to remember which floor they'd put the kitchen on before she hit the button. As cheerful tune poured through the speakers (elevator music, Dia decided, was among the most annoying sounds on Earth) as the structure shuddered and began the slow trip down. It occurred to her only as she left the box of stupid, monotonous piano keys that she had no clue who had just spoken-

Dinner smelled heavenly.

No, no, wait first. Is it safe to eat? She'd slipped by once or twice while NightOwl was making it, and she didn't catch any suspicious behavior, but this seemed too far easy. They were all strangers to eachother, why would he go through all this effort for them?

Her stomach grumbled, protesting her hesitation.

At this point, she found it hard to care. Dia snatched a plate (telling herself it was a diplomatic effort on Night's part), found a seat (due to the lack of furniture, this turned out to be an empty countertop), and tucked in.

 

[Technicolor Cat]

Venna awoke with a start when the smell of food reached her. It was a minute smell across a great distance, but she caught it’s traces. Her first reaction wasn’t hunger though, it was alarm. Since before she had escaped the labship she had associated fresh hot food with danger. Before it was scientists waking up for the day and eating as they worked, or returning from eating. Nowadays it was a fairly reliably sign she needed to wake up and get out of wherever she had holed up to rest, whether it be guards or workmen arriving freshly to work with the smell of breakfast on their clothes or eating while they patrolled.

She was briefly confused when she came to awareness. Finding a place this warm and dry was rare, and more than that it was still fairly dark and quiet. It took her a moment to remember where she was and why. Apparently the trip the others had undertaken to acquire supplies had been successful. She rolled over on her shelf, ignoring the way her shoulder ground and twisted as she overused her flexibility in the narrow space. She stared at the blank ceiling above her, pondering the benefits of seeking them out. On the one hand, food, that she didn’t have to catch. On the other hand, interacting with new people right after she woke up.

Ultimately she decided she was going to go, but she wasn’t going to put in the effort to walk like a human. They were somehow teammates now, so they would have to get used to it eventually. She rolled back over and off the shelf, again ignoring her shoulder. It was probably only causing micro-tears that would be healed before she hit the ground anyway. She landed on all fours and didn’t bother to bounce back to her feet, instead simply padding off. She wound her ways through the corridors somewhat lackadaisically, taking corners carefully and mostly avoiding even the trails of her new roommates. By the time she couldn’t avoid them any more she was fairly close, and she took to the ceiling instead of the floor. When she came across the kitchen itself she peeked around entirely the wrong part of the door, noting which of her teammates were present. She made a slightly odd picture with her head poking over the top of the frame, followed below by her ears, and then below that by her hoodie which had flopped down after her.

She also noted the present food, which made any further decision for her. She dropped forwards, swinging slightly into the kitchen using her handhold on the doorframe. She turned as she fell,landing forewards on her feet and displaying both a feline grace and a distinctly feline skeletal structure. It wasn’t as questionable as her skeleton got, but it was distinctly not a movement human skeletons traditionally allowed for. She padded into the kitchen on all fours with her tail ticking a metronome beat behind her, only going up on two legs when she reached the counter with the food.

Her nose twitched as she appraised the food laid out, before eventually giving up on trying to figure out the ingredients. Hungry and unsure of what anything was she simply dumped a bunch of random food into the largest bowl she could find. She then promptly stalked off into a corner of the kitchen and jumped up on the counter, holding the bowl to balance with one hand as she did. Once she was settled in place she put the bowl on her lap and began to devour it at a slightly worrying pace. On the bright side her hoodies and pants were already a ratty enough mess that it was unlikely they could get worse. As she did she fixed the other occupants of the room with a careful and only mildly baleful stare.

 

[Chronically Caustic Cat]

Startling awake at the sound of knocking, Yora fell off of her mattress, groaning in the general direction of her door, "That better be you, Night, and it better be about dinner."

An amused huff let her know that it was indeed Jet and most likely about dinner, so she dragged herself upright and to the door. Baba was already there, scratching at the door like she was trying to dig a hole through it.

"Thanks for coming to get me," she yawned while attempting to faceplant into Jet's lusciously soft feathers. Unfortunately, he was already walking away so she just stumbled forward while muttering under her breath about plans to make herself a comforter from his molted feathers.

On her way to the food, Yora heard the unmistakable sounds of Acer and asked if anyone else was asleep and where they were. Skipped meals were not conducive to healthy children. Really only one had not woken up yet, so after a quick word to Jet, Yora took the elevator down to the lobby. The figure faceplanting on the couch asleep was adorable and Yora felt a little bad for waking them, but food.

Once she shook them awake, she gently guided them to the elevator, stepping away once she was sure they were back to full awareness. She was pleased to note once they got there that everyone else sans Arii had made it and were digging in.

Grabbing herself and the little one a serving, Yora made herself comfortable on the floor. She figured now was as good a time as any for introductions. Push come to shove, she or Jet could introduce Arii when they got here.

"Thank you, Night, for the food. Delicious as always. How about we put names to faces, yes? To everyone who doesn't know me, I am Dr. Yora Brooks, otherwise known as Dr. Fae. I am looking forward to getting to know and work with all of you."

 

[ScatheAriiasqDrayceon]

Jet only kind-of paid attention as people trickled in, ears flattened back in a relaxed manner as he picked at his curry. Honestly, he wasn't too, too hungry, but he ate, anyway, perched on a countertop like any polite queer would.

He hummed at Yora as she spoke with a shrug, opening his mouth to introduce himself only to be cut off with a resounding thud and a colorful selection of multilingual profanities.

Seven's voice—muffled slightly by the glass window—floated through the room. "GO—ow. Why do people have windows like these?" The person in question was standing on the windowsill, fiddling with the edge of the window—which apparently was on a hinge, because it swung up and allowed the vigilante-turned-licensed-hero in. "Godsdamnit, that hurt," they growled, rubbing the front of their mask and tucking the window back into place.

"Language, Sev! But nice of you to join us," Jet snapped, devolving into a chuckle while he watched them perk up and dart over to the array of food. Something red that notably didn't smell like blood was splashed all across their neck and chest, and their arms seemed to be coated in it, the color barely showing up against the purple of their suit.

Their wings and tail shuffled, scales hissing on scales and tile.

"Anyway," said Jet, switching back to NightOwl's voice briefly before returning to his own. "I am NightOwl, as I'm sure most of you are aware. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance." He paused and glanced back to Seven, who was busy lifting the bottom half of their mask and all-but attacking the food. They glanced up at him and shrugged.

"And that's Seven—or, the lesser-known version of their name, 'Asset Seven'."

Said vigilante spared a brief peak up before shrugging. "Charmed," they said in a dry, absolute mockery of Jet's accent, which seemed to be a regular thing between the two, considering the heavy sigh from the avian that followed.