Realistic or Modern Never Normal - A Superhero Vigilante RP

[CloudyBlueDay]

"There's a fine line between justice and murder. Are you the one that wants to cross it?"

"If you do, there's no going back."
​

 

[CloudyBlueDay]

ARC 1: UMBRA AND HIS MIGHTY


CHAPTER 1: It Begins Here (aka, Ditch Wants a Minifridge)


?

Exactly one day ago, the vigilante named Ditch had hacked every device in Millennium City. It was an impressive feat -- one that could've been for a number of reasons. But Ditch only used it for one thing. To send a message.


"People of Millennium City," They began, voice garbled and twisted by an audio editing software, and face covered by a skeletal mask. Not even their eyes showed through. "My name is Ditch. By now, you all have heard of the rising evil, Umbra."


"Any other person might tell you not to fear; but I am not any other person. You should be afraid. Umbra is a man who will stop at nothing to get what he wants, and with a power like the one he holds, many of us will be unable to get close. He has already killed many innocent, and abducted a vigilante by the name of Suiren, one of the most powerful supers I have seen."


"She was nothing compared to Umbra. This alone should petrify you."


"Now that I have alerted your attention to the horrors Umbra can create and manipulate, I offer you a promise. I refuse to let him conquer this city. I will do everything in my power to stop him from doing so. No matter what it takes, even if it takes my last breath. I will not rest until everyone can rest, knowing that he is vanquished.


"I am coming for you, Umbra. I know you are building an army so I will bring one of my own, and I hope every person you plan to sacrifice in place of your own demise takes the chance to run while they can, because you will fall."


The broadcast ended, and everyone's devices returned to normal.


Moments after that, you received a text, or an email. It was personalized, riddled with bits of info that a stranger such as Ditch shouldn't know, but they did. They were contacting your personal phone number or email, and calling your by your vigilante alias. It was clear Ditch knew. Alongside the personal greetings, each message said the following.


"4315 Racket Avenue. Tomorrow, midnight. Come alone. If you're followed it means the end of us all."


---


It was an abandoned warehouse. 4315 Racket Avenue was dirty and filled with trash. It was clear no one had been here in a long time, at least, no one except bums and druggies and the like. The double doors to the warehouse were open just a sliver.


It was unclear what the warehouse had been used for because it was near completely empty. Any sound would easily echo and bounce of the walls. It was eerie, mysterious, and certainly uncomfortable for anyone walking in there without knowing what was to come.


But, as you stepped farther in, you realized it wasn't a warehouse. It was an auditorium. There were a few moldy, but once very lavish chairs spread out across the open space, the others probably being ripped up from the floor and taken at some point in time, and a stage at the very end of the room. The wood of the stage was covered in mold and dust, the once red curtains were torn and chewed and a dark muddy maroon color. It was, to put it simply, disgusting.


There was a hanging platform maybe fifteen feet above the stage. When this place might've been running, it looked like it would be used for effects. There was a switchboard attached to the rusty railing, for lights and sound, and a bucket of shredded paper, perhaps to be passed off as snow. It looked very unstable, but that didn't stop someone from resting on it.


Yes, the infamous Ditch, clothed in a black hoodie, jeans, boots, and gloves, and the recognizable skeleton mask. They were obviously not revealing their identity, at least, not yet. Their clothing was loose and baggy, and it was still incredibly hard to tell their gender. But hey, it was better than a meeting with a compute screen. A large backpack lay on the floor of the platform beside them. They seemed to be fiddling with the switchboard as if it were a toy, the lights in the warehouse flickering on and off, on and off. They were bored.


Despite the old age of the place, Ditch had somehow gotten both the switchboard and the lights to work just like new. They seemed to care little about the instability of the platform they stood on, in fact, they didn't look like they cared at all.


Ditch was waiting. Waiting for the people they'd contacted to arrive. The digital watch on Ditch's wrist struck midnight. The coolest hour to meet, after all.




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TAGS

Robert Compton - @DrCompton - Superspeed


Evie Sparks - @Hexagon - Magic Kiss


Kylie Shields - @RadGalBri - Sound Manipulation


Amina Roberson - @Akeira - Weather Manipulation


Zoe Harrington - @Vampunk - Metal Skin


Antonio Hernandez - @ambiguities - Air Manipulation


Timothy Hart - @The J - Super Engineering


Alexander Smith - @Quiet Is Violent - Echolocation


Hester Able - @Volfy - Sleep Manipulation


Melanie Sauda - @Detective Rascal - Darkness Manipulation


Raphael - @ViAdvena - Energy Blasts


Noa Morgan - @Rissa - Magnetism Manipulation


Patrick O'Malley - @Red Thunder - Portal Creation


Thea Malone - @Bhlow - Healing

 

[The J]

Timothy Hart

"Scrapyard"
​

Tim's Workshop


Tim was up late, as usual, working on the suit. One of the pistons on the right arm had been a little stiff earlier out on patrol, and he suspected it was something to do with a lead pipe that came reasonably fast in its direction, held in the hands of a thug whose little group he'd picked a fight with. Normally it wouldn't have had even such an effect; it must have been a lucky hit. Still, it wasn't like fixing it was a huge struggle. All he needed to reverse the effect was another metaphorical lead pipe, taking the shape of a solid thwack from a mallet or two.


A quick test proved that the "percussive therapy" had been successful, and Tim took the arm out of the vice, fitting it back onto the suit, which hung from a heavy frame. Casters on its base allowed him to wheel it into a storage area where he kept the rest of his vigilante gear. Turning the key in the lock, and scrambling the combination, he made his way back home for the night.


As he neared his flat, his phone buzzed in his pocket, ringing and lighting up a second later. He hadn't set it to ring, so he took it out of his pocket, frowning, as a Ditch made his speech. He had known about Umbra coming to Millennium, but kidnapping Suiren? He'd seen her in action, and all that water could do some sever damage.


The text message, however, piqued his curiosity greatly. Ditch wanted to meet him? Well, he seemed trustworthy enough... so Tim decided irresponsibly fast to go to the location tomorrow night.


4315 Racket Avenue


Timothy constantly checked over his back as he walked down the alleyways and side streets. The hum of the suit's engine, the hissing of pistons and valves, the clunk of metal plating, all of it made being hard to track quite difficult, but he did his best to ensure that nobody was following behind him.


Finally, he reached the meeting place, and was greeted by a decrepit auditorium as he walked inside. The lights seemed to be flickering, struggling to stay on, until he saw the dark figure on the high platform - Ditch.


"Hi Ditch. I'm Scrapyard... well I guess you knew that, with the suit and all... but anyway hi" he said, perhaps a little nervous. Ditch was way more big-time than he was, not to mention a lot less reputable. He had no idea what the man would do, though he hoped it'd be well-intentioned.

 

[Vampunk]

Raising a pierced eyebrow Zoe Harrington took a look at the message she received from the guy who called himself Ditch, his invitation written in almost cryptic fashion, addressing her by her street name, the ONE silly name that just stuck.


Metallica was just way too ironic, literally, but it was what she was known by nowadays, after having become quite notorious among the thugs prowling the streets at night.


It did beat "Metalhead" like her gang used to call her and it did have this certain ring to it while conveying just what kind of crazy her powers were.


Some had fancy powers like hauling energy projectiles, others could control the very elements. Her power was neither flashy nor did they come with overwhelming offensive power.


She was a survivor, always had been, getting into fights as soon as she could walk, her mother always having to patch up her scratches.


But these kinds of cuts and scratches were a thing of the past, her power making sure of that.


For some might be able to unleash phenomenal destructive power Zoe was able to withstand those displays of destruction, her power being the ultimate defense in form of her body being able to cover itself in metal plating, hardening her skin with a dark grey layer of iron.


Others would tire and get overwhelmed, their bodies fragile, but Zoe would endure, always having been hard to keep down.


But she was no hero, just a girl who didn't like it when people abused their power, be it some pesky street thugs or even bigger fish.


She did not actively hunt them down, taking justice into your own hands was a thing for suicidal idiots who wanted to play hero, no she just cleaned up the streets whenever she was nearby, being more of an opportunistic vigilante than a real guardian.


But hey, she did manage to beat up enough bad folks to be contacted by Ditch, she decided to take it as a compliment.


Her fingers brushed through her wicked red Mohawk as her eyes wandered around the alley, searching for 4315 Racket Avenue.


It certainly wasn't the most pleasant of neighborhoods but she felt safe enough, and who wouldn't? Dressed in studded leather jacket, black combat boots, torn jeans and fingerless gloves did really convey the message of "Don't you dare try anything stupid", being able to shield yourself from damage was just the icing on top.


Finally her eyes managed to make out the entrance to what seemed to be a really worn down auditorium, determined steps carrying her towards the abandoned building, gloved hand extending to open the doors.


Her gaze fell upon a walking junkyard, having heard of him before, and the figure dressed in a hoodie and skull mask, Ditch probably.


Crossing her arms in front of her chest Zoe leaned against the doorway, raising an eyebrow at the two figures in front of her.


"Yo, I guess I'm at the right place judging from you two weirdos."


Her eyes came to examine the two of them thoroughly, herself not being very informed on the other vigilanties on the streets, her entire knowledge on them stemming from rumors and TV broadcasts, herself not really being interested in working with others but this Umbra fellow did prove to be a really tough nut to crack so the last shred of responsibility in her did bring her to at least check this whole deal out before deciding if they really needed someone as bull-headed as herself in their freakshow.

 

[Bhlow]

Thea Grace Malone

Over 24 hours had passed since she had received the text message from Ditch, along with countless others she had no doubt, and the same emotions still gnawed at her. She was excited, the familiar rush was hard to contain as she cast her law books aside in her scrawny apartment and anticipation fought through her cool exterior. Attending a lecture on the rule of law had been the test of her abilities to multi-task earlier that day, as while she exchanged information with other students about the message from Ditch to the city - promising Umbra would fall, and the fearful citizens were eager to believe this, Thea's mind also spun on the message she had received from Ditch, the personalised one to herself, which frankly unsettled her, and scared her.


Like a coward she had ran from the threat of Umbra, she had seen Suiren be taken, hiding behind a nearby wreckage at the scene, but she hadn't stopped it - or helped her. She had justified her fear as her survival instinct - she wasn't strong enough to help, she would only get herself killed, and so she hid then, and continued hiding. But maybe Ditch was right, it was time to fight - maybe.


Other than that, her mind was also trying to (unsuccessfully) study for finals. If she flunked out of University now, all her work would go to waste and her dreams of being a lawyer by day and a vigilante by night would hide in the shadows with her - that couldn't happen. But studying had to wait. Thea gathered up her vigilante gear, the navy jumpsuit fitting onto her like a second skin, revealing her back, and she removed the contact lenses she wore which made the flow of her eyes dimmer, meeting the radiant eyes in the mirror as they shone blue. Her eyes were her curse, at least that's how she saw it. The blonde picked up the holster, already prepped with her small pistol, a tranquilliser and a very small, expandable first aid kit. The former were precautions, just in case, and the latter, contrary to what someone would expect was for her, not for others - after all she was the one who always ended up going home injured.


Lastly, she grabbed her motorcycle and apartment keys. Her motorcycle was her pride and joy, and she had never loved a material object so much. Her motorcycle; Silent Hawk, had been hard to get - being produced only by the US military it contained a hybrid engine that could run on diesel, gasoline, jet fuel or on pure electricity, which meant she could get into a scene of crime and escape in total silence, the motorcycle not emitting a single sound as it veered out into the night. The short blonde sped through the night, leaning forwards on the motorcycle as the wind ruffled her hair - which still managed to remain straight, leaving her to wonder if her hair had superpowers of it's own. As she rode up nearer, she saw what looked like a giant machine; maybe a robot in the distance.


The most uncomfortable thing about this whole situation was that she would go in and reveal herself, up to this point she had made sure that everyone who saw her face was either too disorientated to be able to describe her fully from their injuries, or dead. The latter meant that her reputation suffered due to the scope of criminals she killed, but it did mean that everyone knew the name "Oracle" while no one knew her face. But without a mask, which she now regretted not investing in, her identity would no longer be secret. Another figure seemed to make it's way into the rundown warehouse, and Thea finally sat up in her motorcycle, slipping off gracefully. It was time to stop being scared and act.


Thea walked up to the warehouse, slipping past the figure - a female she had just seen enter who stood at the doorway, and analysing the scene in front of her, Ditch and the suit - thing were there, with cheers between them all, making the warehouse look like some kind of auditorium - one that was past it's expiry date . At the very end of the warehouse, there was another door, one that presumably also ed outside, but other than that there were no other escape routes which made her uncomfortable, so she chose silence as her greeting to the other vigilantes.

 

[DrCompton]

The Cave...





Bobby had been sitting on the couch, flipping popcorn up into his mouth. It wasn't much of a challenge now because Bobby's reflexes were so fast at this point that he could adjust himself to get the popped kettle every time. When Ditch appeared on Bobby's screen Bobby sat up a little more and watched with interest. Then he yawned, and slouched again. When his phone buzzed he picked it up, and sat straight up again, "What. CARL!"


Carl Street opened his door and poke his head out, looking toward his super powered friend, "Yeah. I saw the weird vigilante kidnapping stuff too, its-" Before he could start the next word, Bobby was off the couch and in Carl's face, holding up the cryptic Ditch message. "DUDE! What if its a meeting of Supers! To form a League of Avengers or something!"


While millions of possibilites streamed through Bobby's mind, his eyes glowing with the possibility of a unified group his mind came to a standstill with one particular scenario: A trap. "Or it could be a trap."


"Dude, what?"


"A trap. You know, an ambush to kidnap and or kill the other supers and vigilantes in the city?"


"Dude."


Bobby nodded in agreement, "Dude." But then he looked at Carl, "Well, we've got to go. If its not that scenario and I miss out on joining the League of Avengers -- By the way, why can't we come up with a better name for me but we came up with that immediately, don't distract me --, If I miss out on joining them I'll never be more than Speedy on Seventh Street."


"Oh nice alliteration."


Bobby nodded, "Even though we live on 21st street, but thats besides the point. So we're going. Well Im going."


"Yeah, I mean.. You'll share everything right?"


"Or die." Bobby had already reappeared in his outfit, then looked at his watch, "Alright Dude." with a two fingers salute, Bobby was gone.





The Meet!





Bobby ran through the cars, sometimes having the run onto the backs and over them when the jerks didn't use their turn blinker to come into his lane. Bobby slowed as he got closer to the warehouse, He and Carl had deduced that if he slowed down instead of just suddenly stopping, that it'd keep the grip on the bottom of his shoes longer, by about a week. He'd stopped just as he put his hand on the door and he opened it, ready to run away if he decided it was a trap. Instead he saw four people, he let go of the door so it'd close.


A man on the stage, who he figured was Ditch. "Also what kind of a name is Ditch. Unless that isnt his name. Must check on."


The Trash Man. "Dude come on, you come up with that like. this second but we're still stuck on Speedy."


Miss Intimidation "Thats definitely her name. Definitely."


And.. Girl? "No. Well. Yeah Girl. I mean she... looks normal, I dunno she'll probably be a secret atomic bomb or something."





Bobby smiled as the door behind him finally clanked shot, "Hi guys! Im not late am I?" He lifted the tinted goggles, his eyes slowly fading from yellow as he waved. "Im Speedy."

 

[Quiet Is Violent]

"...The facts are inevitable. We need a better police force. We need it now." Alexander concluded. He flashed a smile at the crowd and then at his opponent. Who sighed and packed up his notes. That's one more title for the amazing Alexander Smith. Alexander packed up his briefcase as well after being awarded and applauded. He was unstoppable.


Then his phone went off. So did everyone else's. Gasps were heard from the crowd. Alexander's smiled faded. A villain, more powerful than Suiren? That couldn't be possible. It just couldn't. Could it be? Then his phone went off again. 4315 Racket Road. Midnight. Alexander put away his phone and looked at the crowd. The debate was now decisively his, but did he want it now?

*****

​

Alexander stepped out of his house in a black teeshirt and jeans. His sneakers' soles were worn thin, but that was by design. It was easier to see out of these shoes than the others. He brought his guns as well, which he wore at his hips. The night was dark, but that wasn't a problem for Alexander. He could always see.


Racket Road was just a few blocks away, so Alexander had time. He needed that. He was going to meet Ditch. And that's terrifying for him. "Thumper" was a newbie, and only known by a small amount of people. It seemed strange that Alexander was chosen, of all people. He was barely a vigilante. But he was chosen, so he had to help out. Right?


The meeting place was creepy. It was old, dusty, and looked like at least three murders could have happened there. Alexander shivered slightly. It was an auditorium. Of course, Alexander was familiar with auditoriums. He wondered if he could go into the orchestra pit. He's never allowed down there during debates. It'd be fun. Alexander looked at the crowd growing and bit his lip. There were real heroes here. He was just a nobody compared to these people. "S-sorry, am I in the right place?" Alexander asked, not to anyone in particular. "I got this message..." Alexander blushed.

 

[Volfy]

[border]Hester Abel


[/border]

[border]

Hester had been browsing the internet when Ditch’s message first appeared. She’d sat there, cross legged on her couch, listening carefully to what the message said. It was confirmation of all the rumours and whispers which had been circulating the city. Umbra was up to something. Personally, Hester had planned to live life as normal, despite the rising threat . All she had to do was stop her vigilante activities and she was safe. Her face had only ever been described by some of her targets, and even then she made sure what they’d seen was a distorted, twisted version. Designed to terrify them, and give her alias some form. What if though… If Ditch had found out who she was, then maybe Umbra could as well. It was a risk she wasn’t going to take.


The following day, when it came close to midnight, Hester set out. Donning a dark red hoodie, jeans and a pair of pumps, she made her way towards Racket Avenue. Thoughts of what she might find there sped through her mind. Was this an elaborate double cross on the part of Umbra. Was it a hoax? Who else would be there? Would anyone else come? She couldn’t help but wondered, if others did show, who’d they be. Whether she’d recognise any from the news or web. The name ‘Krueger’ was her only claim to fame, but most others had an open physical presence and identity. Hester had kept her anonymity for almost ten years and now she felt very exposed. “Maybe one of those god awful masks some of them wear isn’t such a bad idea after all.” she mused. With that, she tugged up her hood and made sure her long black hair covered as much of her face without obscuring her vision.


As she approached 4315, Hester slowed her pace. The place was a dump and looked like the sort of area that bodies got dumped in. Not particularly classy in her mind. Ignoring the terrible surroundings, Hester went into the warehouse. She glanced at the figure in the doorway, taking in the women's punk like appearance. Hester didn’t say anything to her but instead carried on into the building.


Once inside, her gaze took in the others in the room. A figure wearing the same skeleton mask from Ditch’s broadcast stood on a metal platform above a stage. Presumably Ditch. Around her stood several more people. A girl she failed to recognise, a guy who she also didn’t know and Scrapyard. A vigilante she’d heard small talk about but little else, and a boy she once again didn’t recognise. Hester uttered no greeting to those around her, choosing to size them up with a cold stare instead.



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[Detective Rascal]

Mel's father had been there when the message from Ditch had come up on the screen; both of them were watching tv together, actually having a fun time and being a family, and then the grim reminder of life went live in front of their eyes once again.


Me's father had sat though the entirety of Ditch's message in silence, and Mel was only half paying attention to the masked man's stance as she watched her father's reaction. The pleasant time they were having was twisted into something else now, the room almost crackling with the tension coming from both of them on the couch.


He knew, of course he knew, about Mel's nightlife, and though while the father-daughter duo did work together on the Shadow's vigilante life, her father changed whenever the Shadow was brought up. Mel was worried, always worried for her poor father, but even she knew that she had gotten her sense of justice from him, and not her dead mother.


The buzzing of the notification from Mel's phone after the message on the tv woke both Mel and her father from their trance-like state. Her father had looked at her expectantly, and Mel responded to that look by checking her phone.


An email, with a personal message to the Shadow, had popped up in Mel's inbox, and her stomach dropped. She had been so careful to keep her identity secret, and most people didn't even think the Shadow was even human. Her father's suit was a near perfect costume to keep her hidden, and mostly safe, while Mel was out.


Mel didn't bother to try and hide the email from her father either. He was a genius, and even someone who wasn't a genius could figure out that an email popping up right after a broadcasted message had to come from some source that was related.


Handing over the phone Mel's father read over the email a few times before handing it back, letting Mel read it again just one more time. There wasn't much of a pause after that before Mel's father spoke.


"What do you think the percentage of chance is that this 'Ditch' person is actually Umbra?"


"Do you think this is a trap?" Mel shot back.


"It is either a cleverly disguised one, or an actual cry for help. And my dear Mel, I do not want you to walk straight into a trap with the intention of help." Mel's father said with such concern, and Mel felt conflicted with what she was about to say next.


"I'm going to go either way."


"I know love, and I wouldn't have expected anything else." Mel's father replied with a very tired smile, and Mel smiled back. It was an agreement, she would go, and hopefully, she would come back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

​

The Shadow sticked to the darkened alleyways and the shadowy places while on her way to the meeting place, keeping to the dark areas so that she wouldn't need to overexert herself with using her power to keep herself hidden. It was a trick that worked well within the city center, since the Shadow didn't have to fight against the light too much if she was already in the dark, but as she moved further and further away from the city and closer to where the meet point was, the less the Shadow needed to hide in the shadows of her own creation.


The warehouse door was open, not by much yet open all the same, and the words Mel's father had said trickled back into the Shadow's mind. This looked very much like a trap, and she was going to walk straight into it.


The darkness that came with the Shadow's power held onto to her suit like a kind of calm fire; the edges constantly moving to a flow that seemed to have no reason, yet did so anyway, and made the Shadow herself look like a futuristic robot that was on fire. An intimidating look to the usual onlooker while the Shadow was out doing work, and a look that most police officers now worried about, but the Shadow didn't know whether her appearance would affect whomever was inside waiting for her.


Quickly walking out in the open, and then walking through the door of the warehouse, the Shadow was ready for an attack, but found none. Instead there were a bunch of people already there, and none of them seemed to be exactly ready to amubush.


Currently, the situation seemed to not be a trap, and more like a meeting between strangers. The person on the stage, with the same mask as 'Ditch' wore in the message from the day before, was tinkering and seemed to be waiting just as much as the others, and that calmed the Shadow a little. Maybe this was a cry for help, and not a trap.


Without a greeting or an introduction, the Shadow kept walking, passing a few others till she got to a seat that still looked somewhat okay, and sat down. This seemed to be a meeting, and if it were, the proper etiquette was to at least sit. It would have also been polite for the Shadow to introduce herself, but the suit didn't have speakers, so it would've it taken too much effort to lift the mask up enough to talk, but that was a flaw in the suit that the Shadow couldn't get around. Maybe when the suit got replaced the Shadow would finally have a way to talk without revealing at least a small part of her face.

 

[Epyk]

Evie Sparks

​

Evie heard the bradcast as she was walking through a local casino, searching for her next target. Her high heels clicking on the tile floor, her silk red dress draped over her body, and a pistol hidden in her small handbag. Looking up at the big screen sports TV, Ditch appeared. Although her face unphased and stern, she couldn't help but feel a little scared on the inside. Umbra, already killing innocent people, definitely gave Evie a reality check. As Ditch's message stopped, Evie continued to walk along the path. Suddenly, her phone buzzed. Retrieving her phone out of her purse, Evie saw that it was a personalized message from Ditch, but referring to Evie by her alias name: Bliss. It sent chills down Evie's spin, yet still showing no exterior emotion. Ditch wanted her on his team. Hesitant, Evie put her phone away and headed back to her apartment.


The next day, Evie ultimately decided to meet Ditch. Evie put on a black lace dress, with matching heels and handbag. Evie thought to herself, "If I'm gonna fight evil, I might as well look good doing it." Driving to the location, Evie started to get a little jittery. She wasn't afraid of her current environment. Late nights in alleyways were usually where she worked. She was more afraid of Umbra. If Umbra already captured Suiren, then how the hell are a couple of ragtag vigilantes gonna stop him? Maybe if she made out with Umbra. Blocking the thoughts out of her mind, Evie parked the car near the alleyway.


Once again, her heels clicked on the pavement. She studied her surroundings, but the weren't very pretty. Looking ahead, the warehouse looked like a big dump. Evie then looked behind her, making sure there was no one following her. She didn't hear anything come from behind her, nor the warehouse. Picking up her pace, Evie headed in the warehouse, which was not really a warehouse. It was an auditorium. Evie was certainly pleased that all of it wasn't entirely grotesque.


On the stage, Evie saw Ditch. His famous skeleton mask is easily recognizable. At least now, Evie felt welcomed and safe. Around her, she saw seven other people. three men, four women. First, she saw the man in the metal suit. The first word that came to Evie's mind was "Junk," and easily dismissed the boy. Next, Evie saw a woman with a pink mohawk. Evie thought to herself, "You're not intimidating anyone, Honey." She then saw the blonde girl. "Fragile," she thought. Next was the goggles guy. Evie thought, "Annoying, but a little cute." The last guy had black hair."He's gonna need some help," Evie thought. The next girl had long, black hair. Evie thought to herself, "God damn you're tall." Finally, it was the African American girl. "Honey, that suit is not helping your figure," Evie thought. Sure, judging wasn't nice on Evie's part. However, there's no room on top for the best. Evie kept all her thoughts in her head and took a seat.

 

[Red Thunder]

Patrick O'Malley

**Safety Bunker 1:


Classified Location**
​

It had been a good night. The serial rapist that he'd hunted down would live out the rest of his days absolutely unable to dominate himself over anyone the same way ever again; the Reaper's knife had made sure of that. The figure in the leather jacket had taken him to the nearest hospital, of course. There he'd get tended to and set loose again; damn worthless cops. But at least one worthless being's disgusting actions were removed from society's equation. The Reaper had considered removing the problem altogether: the rapist might still find some innocent to damage. But no: if left to live, he would continue to spread the fear of reprocession. And that was worth the risk. So he'd dropped the scum on the hospital's doorstep and disappeared without a trace.


'The Reaper'. Patrick always thought it was a moronic title, as moronic as the flashy costumes vigilantes such as he wore these days. If you did your job right, the criminal would be in far too much terror or pain (or both, preferably) to gain anything like a reasonable description of them. But 'stupid is as stupid does'. It just didn't make sense, drawing attention to oneself.


Like that damned Ditch. Patrick was sitting at his work station, field stripping his weapons, when that damn message came across his television screen. He cast an impatient glare at the skeleton-faced figure before looking back at his .45, scattered out in pieces before him. What a piece of shyte, he muttered, the Irish accent he'd picked up from his long dead parents cutting through the mostly quiet room like the knife he now hurled at the television. What an idiot; catch Umbra off guard if you want to fight him. Don't announce it to the whole damn world. But then his phone went off, and he looked down to read the personalized invitation. And promptly snarled.


Shyte.


So much for staying out of it. Restraining himself from harming this particularly piece of technology, Patrick went back to his work, already formulating his approach.

**4315 Racket Avenue**

​

To be early is to be on time. To be on time is to be late. And to be late is unconscionable. Patrick smiled as he recalled an old proverb his mother used to love. If that was the case, he'd strive for truly being early. At 10:30p he had been near the location. Using a pair of binoculars, he'd spotted an inviting but barely open door. It was as good an entry as any. He willed a Gate into existance beyond the doorway and inside the building to the closest dark corner he could make out. A ring of pale white light appeared on that wall, just large enough for a man his size to crawl through. To his immediate right, a sister Gate shone out, and through it he could see a bit of the building's insides. Satisfied, he stuffed the binoculars back into his leather jacket and peered in; it looked safe enough for entry anyway. Shifting his rifle more snugly across his back, Patrick got down and crawled in.


He come out onto a dirty floor. By the looks of things, few people had strode across this surface for a long time. But that didn't matter. Instead, using much the same strategy he'd just employed, Patrick found himself a darker more recessed corner of the warehouse from which he could observe the entryway in a more concealed position. He canceled the Gates and took a knee, leaning against the wall for support. Glancing at his watch, he nodded: it wouldn't be long now.


One by one other vigilantes began filing in. The first, and one or two others, spoke up, naming their host. It gave Patrick a disconcerted feeling: the Irishman had been thorough is his examination of the warehouse from his position. That Ditch could sneak past him like that was, he admitted begrudgingly, amazing. But others yet filed in, each drawing the attention of others, so Patrick stayed where he was, content for now to observe.

 

[ambiguities]

ANTONIO HERNANDEZ

​

His home was eerily silent as he entered the familiar environment, the smell of vanilla extract hitting his nostrils. A breath of relief escaped his lips. She's asleep, the falcon is in her nest. Antonio couldn't be bothered to hear another one of the woman's lectures regarding his late night rendezvous, at least not tonight. He glided through the small house and made his way up the stairs and into his room. The last twenty-four hours had made his mind slightly twist in contemplation. This 'Ditch' person had only now made themselves known, while Umbra had been a threat for a while now. Umbra. The name alone sent shivers down his spine. The man was a monster, the type of monster that didn't deserve a story, because he's real life. He couldn't compare to the boogie man or Freddy Kruger, they looked like saints compared to him. "4315 Racket Avenue. Tomorrow, midnight. Come alone. If you're followed it means the end of us all." The address was accompanied with a message, This "Ditch" knew who he was and what he could do. Antonio knew where he stood. After all, he started this thing with the intention of helping people.


His phone rang, an annoying default ringtone echoed through hushed space prominently. Antonio winced as he fished his device out of his pocket, scolding himself for not putting it on silent. He glanced at the screen for a moment before swiping answer button before putting it to his ear. Rico's voice was clear and booming out of the speaker, "Well I'm currently outside, guarding your bat-mobile. Also deciding whether or not I should hop in this babe of a car and speed the fuck away because a ride like this-"


"Shut up Rico," Antonio hissed in annoyance. "You're a real asshole you know that? Here I am, trying to do a good deed for my superhero friend who's meeting up with some guy who may potentially just be a serial killer. You're as ungrateful as they come." Antonio rolled his eyes and hung up the phone, shoving it back into his pocket. Rico had been the only one who he had told - well, found out- about Antonio's vigilante status. Although he seemed like a moron, he gave props to his friend for figuring it out. It was an added bonus that Rico worked with him at John's Auto Repair, they used the tools and the work-space to their advantage, hence the so called "bat mobile".


Antonio's attire wasn't his usual get-up. Instead he opted for a leather jacket with a cotton hood, one of the few clean things that hung in his closet. He walked over to his dresser, moving it away from the wall so he could reach over to the back and grab convenient black box sitting behind it. Inside it sat AMT AutoMag III pistol, the metal glimmering against the moonlight. He hoped that he wasn't walking into a trap of some-sort as he safely tucked the weapon back into it's hiding place. Antonio had never found a reason to use it, the only reason he bought it was a means of protection as he was trying to control his powers when he was younger, that and for his Aunt. When the day comes when he finally tells her, tells her about everything. The reality of what the city holds, the real danger he sees on the city every night.


A honk yanks Antonio out of his momentary daze. El bastardo. He rushes out of the house, careful to maintain the silence as he exited his home. Antonio's eyes narrowed into slits as he scowled at Rico. The 26-year old man was standing next to his tow-truck, sunglasses propped on his face. He walked up to him, slapping him on the back of the head. "People are sleeping," he paused, "And what's with the sunglasses?"


Rico grinned, "I look bad ass, don't I?"


"No, you look like a moron. Do you see the sun?"


Rico groaned and took of the sunglasses, "This friendship is based off of your insults and I'm tremendously hurt by that." Antonio sighed, nodding as if he agreed. Rico was one of the only people Antonio trusted and probably his best friend. He was the asshole and he was the goofy moron, it's how they worked.


Antonio strode over to the car that was currently concealed by a thin black plastic blanket. Yanking it off, he took a moment to marvel at his creation. It was a slick black 1967 Ford Mustang Shelby GT500, modified with bullet-proof tires and a few other necessities that made it feel as good as it looked. When he had initially got the car, it had been a hot-mess, and granted, it took him a few months to actually get it to move without breaking down. The masterpiece took 3 years to get it up and running and there were still a few kinks that he and Rico needed get sorted.


He held out his hand, his eyes glued to the car. "I didn't hear a thank you." Rico muttered, dropping the keys into his palm. Antonio managed to pull his attention away from the car and focused on Rico. "Thank you." A small smile tugged on the corner of his lips before he pressed the unlock button and slid into the car. His hands immediately grasped the wheel as he stared at Rico. Though he would never admit it, Rico was worried. When Antonio showed him the personalized message he had received from Ditch, he was skeptical. He was usually the person who'd be all for him headbutting into danger and rounding up criminals.


For assurance, Antonio held up a thumbs up, smirking. He inserted the key into the ignition, revved the engine and sped off to his destination.


When he arrived, he parked a good distance away as he observed the abandoned warehouse. It looks sketchy enough. He squinted, his eyes making out a figure entering the building. Ah, seems like the team is being assembled. Antonio wasted no time getting out of his car and locking it, He tugged at his hood to try to conceal himself a bit more. Casting a glance over his shoulder, he started his mini-trek to the building walking at a leisure pace. The entrance was left slightly ajar, and from the crack, he took notice of how the supposed warehouse had the interior of an auditorium, and he could see a few people scattered throughout. He walked in and instantly his eyes landed on the figure who wore a familiar mask. Ditch.

 

[Akeira]

Amina Roberson

​

Tagged: N / A

​

Amina Roberson reflected on the cell phone in her pocket, still wondering how Ditch had done it. The last twenty-four hours had been a blur, as the young woman wrestled with herself on what to do. She had been in her 2 PM lecture, when the mythical vigilante filled her screen with his announcement. Ditch. The news of Umbra and Suiren did not surprise her, but the thought of her beloved city falling dampened her spirit. She was determined to not let that happen, and it seemed she was not the only one with that drive to save Millennium. ”4315 Racket Avenue. Tomorrow, midnight. Come alone. If you're followed it means the end of us all.” The text message on her small screen read moments later, causing Amina to raise a brow at its cryptic tone. She knew it had to be from Ditch, but she still speculated how he knew. Addressing her as Amazon Rain, Amina did not know what to make of the note, as she made sure to separate her vigilante persona from her personal life.


Amina contemplated the message for the next twenty-four hours, resulting in her current predicament of daydreaming while fulfilling a lawyer’s coffee order. Before she knew it, there was far too much vanilla syrup in the caramel macchiato before her.


“Shit.” She cursed under her breath, her olive green eyes shifting left and right in an attempt to cover her tracks. A coworker of hers named Marie looked in her direction before chuckling to herself, shaking her head, as she continued to create her own drink. Instead of responding, Amina gave the other woman a private smile, rolling her eyes and making the drink again from scratch. Consequently, the lawyer was irritated that his drink took so long, even though the young woman apologized profusely. Fortunately, she did not mess up again during the day, but Ditch’s message remained in her thoughts. She worried about the call being a trap, wondering how many other supers had gotten the same cry for help. Despite her uncertainty, she knew she had to go, as her skills would be beneficial in a battle to fight their way out…If it came to that.


The blonde thought about possible strategies on her way home from the coffee shop, listening for whispers of Ditch’s broadcast on the bus. Rather than participating in the growing discussion, she kept to herself, peering out the window every so often for her stop. Exiting the bus minutes later, she made her way up to Jordan’s apartment, where she was staying for the time being. She buzzed up and took the metal elevator to the third floor, fumbling with her key for a minute before getting the door open. “I’m going out tonight.” Amina stated without a pause, making her way toward the kitchen to grab an apple. In response, Jordan simply looked up from the script he was reading, giving her an understanding nod. “Don’t wait up.” Amina called over her shoulder with a reserved smile, knowing Jordan had protective-older-brother-syndrome like her other brother, Michael. Luis had that solicitous nature too, a thought she tried to push from her head, as she made her way toward the bathroom she shared with Jordan.


The blonde took a quick shower to rid herself of the coffee stench, moving toward her room to dress for the night’s adventures. Amina dressed while her hair dried, soon adorning the familiar pine green garb, black boots, and gloves that constituted her vigilante costume. The vigilante looked into the mirror and released her curls from their confinement, smiling at the way they framed her face. She fastened her holster around her waist, ensuring she had her blade and enough bullets, if an emergency were to occur. Lastly, she fetched the black mask she kept in her top drawer, staring at her reflection and slipping on the disguise.


As soon as the mask was on, Amina Roberson disappeared, and Amazon Rain came to life.


Amina nodded in approval at her appearance, waiting until it was close to midnight to leave the apartment. At that time, the young woman scaled the fire escape outside her window to the streets below. Once her boots made contact with the pavement, her right hand latently rested near the trigger of the pistol in her holster. She glanced both ways before journeying toward Racket Avenue on foot, occasionally looking behind her to see if she was being followed. Upon arriving at the address, she scrunched her nose slightly at the state of the abandoned warehouse, but the trash and eerie appearance did not bother her.


She had been in worse places, when Luis was alive and dealing.


With another glance over her shoulder, the female vigilante made her way inside, while her hand still lingering close to her revolver. Amina ventured further, holding her head high, as the warehouse became more unnatural and mysterious with each step. While she expected the interior to be as grubby as the outside, she was pleasantly surprised to find an auditorium. Her olive green eyes scanned the room for a familiar face, but it was hard to tell without walking further into the hall. Exposing herself by walking further, she recognized a well-known skeleton mask, which eased her concern, and she moved her hand away from the weapon she bore. There he was in the flesh. Amina strode toward the stage with a regal smirk, now being able to identify some vigilantes based on their attire. She took a seat near the others, acknowledgements some with a gentle nod. “Hello.” She voiced discreetly, peering at them behind the black mask and letting it conceal her truth.

 

[CloudyBlueDay]

?

Upon the entry of Scrapyard, Ditch perked up and leaned over the railing of the platform, causing it to creak and protest, but they cared not. Though no facial features could be seen, their posture was bright and excitable. Ditch waved a gloved hand, and said a happy "Hello!" that sounded quite perky despite the audio scrambler twisting their voice.





"Yo, I guess I'm at the right place judging from you two weirdos." Ditch let out a snort. "Offense taken." Continuing to look on from above, Ditch watched as fellow vigilantes began to trickle into the large space. Oracle slipped in. Speedy made a peppy introduction. A stuttering Thumper seemed to need reassurance this was the place. "You are indeed, in the right place. And the message was sent by yours truly."


Ditch stayed quiet for a little longer, allowing people to settle in, like Shadow, who took up one of the seats. "Reaper, by the way. You can come out of your dark corner now. It's been long enough, hasn't it?" Ditch cupped a hand over the skeletal mouth on the mask, shouting in the direction of the Irishman. After that, Ditch began to point at every single vigilante that had entered the room, mumbling "One, two, three, four..", counting all the vigilantes that had arrived. "I messaged a lot of vigilantes, but I thought at least half of them would write it off as a trap to Umbra." Ditch paused. "Hmn. Does that mean you're stupid, though? Eh. Maybe just curious. I'd go too if I sent me a message."


"Annnnnnyway. Let's get this show on the road, shall we?" Ditch grabbed the backpack and slung it over their shoulder, then climbed on the railing of the floating platform, causing it to rock back and forth, squeaking and creaking, like a big swing. This didn't seem to bother Ditch one bit, as they jumped down from the platform and landed on the stage, which also, croaked out it's protests. And this still did not bother Ditch.


It was then that Ditch pulled off the skeletal mask, revealing long golden blonde hair and a satisfied look in her hazel brown eyes. Ditch was very clearly female.

Spoiler

"Alrighty." She announced, the audio scrambler no longer on and revealing her true voice. Out of her jeans pocket Ditch pulled on black-rimmed glasses. "Glasses and masks don't go well together. Luckily I'm just near-sighted." Ditch yawned, and then blinked. "Oh, great! Now I can see all of you clearly! Fantastic." Ditch took a seat on the edge of the stage, glancing at her watch. "There might still be some others who gotta to show up, so before we get this going we can do some sorta Q n' A. Sound good? Ask me shit." Ditch held the skeletal mask tightly in her hand, so that anyone who would enter now would see she'd been wearing it moments ago.





She spoke so jovially, like it was all fine and dandy, as if she hadn't called them all to talk about a serial killer. Was this the same Ditch who had delivered such a serious, passionate message to the entire city just a day ago?




?

TAGS

Robert Compton/Speedy - @DrCompton - Superspeed


Evie Sparks/Bliss - @Hexagon - Magic Kiss


Kylie Shields/Siren - @RadGalBri - Sound Manipulation


Amina Roberson/Amazon Rain - @Akeira - Weather Manipulation


Zoe Harrington/Metallica - @Vampunk - Metal Skin


Antonio Hernandez/The Nightiwnd - @ambiguities - Air Manipulation


Timothy Hart/Scrapyard - @The J - Super Engineering


Alexander Smith/Thumper - @Quiet Is Violent - Echolocation


Hester Able/Krueger - @Volfy - Sleep Manipulation


Melanie Sauda/Shadow - @Detective Rascal - Darkness Manipulation


Raphael/Party Crasher(Ravi) - @ViAdvena - Energy Blasts


Noa Morgan/Lecto - @Rissa - Magnetism Manipulation


Patrick O'Malley/The Reaper - @Red Thunder - Portal Creation


Thea Malone/Oracle - @Bhlow - Healing

​

 

[Quiet Is Violent]

Alexander Samuel Smith<p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_06/upload_2016-6-22_0-42-52.png.d9e695aac2eb2295e8c49e3f1a954ea8.png" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="136971" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_06/upload_2016-6-22_0-42-52.png.d9e695aac2eb2295e8c49e3f1a954ea8.png" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>

Alexander smiled. He also got goosebumps. It's fucking Ditch, Alexander thought to himself, you should be screaming with excitement. But that wasn't the case. Instead, he was just smiling lightly and looking around. It almost looked more like a mask-and-gun show than a friendly get-together. That's what it is, dumbass. Alexander scolded himself. He was almost tempted to take one of the seats, but they were all moldy. Call him picky, but Alexander doesn't like moldy anything. That includes penicillin.


When Ditch started addressing the others as well, Alexander looked at each of them. Then she mentioned The Reaper. Alexander cursed himself silently. I should have checked my environment, he scolded himself internally. He frowned and leaned against a wall, even though that itself was in shoddy shape. He closed his eyes and scanned the room. His signals bounced back with minimal information. Other than The Reaper, it didn't appear anyone else was hiding.


Whoa, wait, is Ditch a GIRL? Alexander thought, bewildered as Ditch took off her mask. His jaw dropped slightly and his eyes widened. A hot girl, nonetheless... Then Alexander slapped himself. She's a famous vigilante. He's a nobody. Alexander swallowed the lump in his throat and forced a smile. This'll be a hell of a ride.

 

[Red Thunder]

Patrick O'Malley


**4315 Racket Avenue**



​

From his corner, Patrick made a face. 'Reaper'. Damn nickname. But now everyone knew he was here, so there was little point in remaining hidden. Standing from his crouched position, Patrick stood up. He did a quick check of his secondary and tertiary weapons: the pistol was secured in a tactical thigh holster, and his sheathed knife was strapped to the small of his back. Good. Lowering the rifle to a ready position, he walked out to join the others, his leather jacket creaking a bit as he did. Or at least, to a position in the rear where he could keep an eye on both the participants and the door.


Then Ditch ditched the mask.


His vaguely perpetual scowl turned up in the shadow of a sneer.


"Alright, you want shyte?" His brogue echoed through the old space, Patrick not really bothering to hide his scorn. "How the bloody hell did ya know that Suiren was kidnapped? If it was Umbra what did it, the shyte you expect a load of rookies, pretenders, and small timers to do about it? And most importantly..."


His sneer deepened perceptibly, and the point of his gun raised as he casually indicated their de facto leader with it.


"Why didn't you warn us it were gonna be a sleepover, Miss Ditch? I coulda brought me niece's make up."

 

[Volfy]

[border]Hester Abel

[/border]

[border]

Hester remained standing as she observed the other vigilantes carefully, trying to assess each of them. More people filtered in with the group as time passed, most she failed to recognise, others she recalled mentions of. She was growing impatient now and didn’t attempt to hide it. So when Ditch finally began speaking, Hester straightened up, listening carefully.


"I messaged a lot of vigilantes, but I thought at least half of them would write it off as a trap to Umbra. Hmn. Does that mean you're stupid, though? Eh. Maybe just curious. I'd go too if I sent me a message. Annnnnnyway. Let's get this show on the road, shall we?”


Making no move, Hester kept her gaze firmly fixed on Ditch, watching the figure as they climbed down from their spot above the stage and took off their mask. Or, her mask off. It took Hess a moment to take in Ditch’s features, but she failed to react much beyond a raised eyebrow.


“There might still be some others who gotta to show up, so before we get this going we can do some sorta Q n' A. Sound good? Ask me shit."


Hester opened her mouth to ask a question when the man who Ditch had called 'Reaper' spoke."Alright, you want shyte? How the bloody hell did ya know that Suiren was kidnapped? If it was Umbra what did it, the shyte you expect a load rookies, pretenders, and small timers to do about it? And most importantly... Why didn't you warn us it were gonna be a sleepover, Miss Ditch? I coulda brought me niece's make up. " Hester was right with the man, also curious as to how Ditch knew about Suiren, until he called them, or more importantly her either a rookie, pretender or small timer. None of which sat well with her. “I’m not sure who you’re calling ‘small timer’ Irish Rambo. But sure as hell it isn’t me. I-” Hester curbed herself there. She’d almost exposed her alias.


Settling on giving him a glowering look instead of any insults, Hester ignored ‘Reaper’ and went back to looking at Ditch, and opened her mouth again.“I have a question. How did you find us? The ones who don’t show themselves. Or hide their faces.”


It was said in a cold, stony sort of tone, devoid any of the friendly joviality with which Ditch had spoken. Hester eyes were glued to the other woman's. In her mind, someone being able to track her down was a serious potential threat. One she couldn’t let remain. It seemed unlikely that Ditch was or would use their real identities against any of the gathered vigilantes, but it was possible.




[/border]

​

​

 

[The J]

Timothy Hart

Scrapyard




4135 Racket Avenue


Tim wasn't sure what to make of Ditch right now. Her message was serious and grave, emphasising the danger Umbra posed to the city. Now here they were, joking around. It seemed such a shift, but then again, maybe she just wanted the city to take her more seriously. Anyway, that was besides the point. He kept listening.


When her mask came off, he was surprised to find she was... kind of hot. Luckily, nobody could see his eyes widen in surprise behind his helmet, and he kept his thoughts to himself. He was again jarred by how informal she was - not that he minded, it just seemed strange to him, and he couldn't help fixating on it. His train of thought was interrupted by her final question. He started thinking through what he would ask as the others piped up. He didn't like this Reaper guy - he thought he was the shit, he reckoned, and a typical grumpy Irishman to boot. Irish accents were awesome... but his was just so rough, making him harder to understand.


Next the dark girl started trying to sound smart, too, though Irish Rambo wasn't a bad name for the guy. Her question was a good one though, except perhaps it was rather obvious for himself. It's not hard to follow behind a stomping, rust-covered hulk without being spotted.


He decided to follow with a question of his own. "Like Irish Rambo says, how the hell do small-timers like us manage to take down someone as powerful as Umbra?"

 

[Bhlow]

Thea Grace Malone

If there was one thing Thea didn't enjoy, it was sexism, and although this meet up didn't appeal to her in the slightest - the attitude of the reaper was even more frustrating. She had no doubt that he would tone down his attitude if Ditch had turned out to be a macho man.


"Why didn't you warn us it were gonna be a sleepover, Miss Ditch? I coulda brought me niece's make up." Thea pursed her lips at the comment and turned her glowing eyes towards the figure. "Hey - she might be 'as mad as a ditch' as you say in Ireland, and quite literally at that - but get some respect, you certainly need it you swine". She curled her lip in disgust at his attitude for a moment before casting her perpetually shining eyes over the group, the new comers, the ones who had emerged from the shadows.


"And it's true" she cleared her throat for a moment, falling silent "Suiren was kidnapped, I was there". The blonde trailed off for a moment, her eyes focusing on the wall behind everyone "...and it certainly wasn't pretty to see one of our own fall. But that doesn't mean that we all have to give up immediately, from what I know, a whole load of small timers can put up a hell of a show". She refrained from mentioning that even though she was being motivational, in reality she would probably be the first person who would be knocked out when it came to a fight, considering that when it came to hand to hand combat, her feeble attempts at a punch were - well, feeble. Instead of continuing her motivational talk, Thea turned away from the pairs of eyes in the room, feeling slightly self conscious. The petite woman hooked her right hand over to trail the crescent scar on her left shoulder distractedly as she went back to listening to the others bickering.

 

[DrCompton]

Robert "Bobby" Compton

​

"Whoa! No way! You're a girl!" Robert had been just as shocked as everyone else when Ditch had taken off her mask, "Man thats awesome, I definitely didn't see that coming. Because of the voice thing. I guess, I dunno that was rude of me, I mean why wouldnt you be a girl." Robert shrugged, "And are we really doing this as a team? I mean we're already bickering, which is cool, the angst I like, nice atmosphere. Also why did you pick this place, dont distract me, look the whole team thing, it makes sense, sure we've got a punch of nobodies, me, but Umbrella. Umbra? Whats his power." Bobby shook his head, "Umbra is one guy, if all the vigilante's in the city unite surely he can't beat us all." He grinned. It was awkward, then suddenly he was leaning up against Patrick, Patrick's knife in his hand. Bobby tossed the knife up, planning to balance the blade on his finger, "By the way, if we're gonna be buddies or whatever, you guys can call me Bobby. Im fine telling you my first name caus-" The blade had hit Bobby's finger and immediately began to cut into it. A microsecond into the cut, the blade was back into Patrick's sheath and Bobby was standing next to Evie, sucking on his finger, "Holy cow thats sharp. Also Irish Rambo is hands down the best vigilante name I've ever heard. As the treasurer of the League of Avengers-" He leaned toward Evie, "We can vote on the name later." then leaned away as if he hadn't been addressing the group anyways, "Treasurer of the League of Avengers, I put in motion we formally change Reaper's name to that. What was I talking about..."


He looked around the room for a millisecond, "Oh right, names, we should tell each other our real names. Or I mean, names I can call you guys besides your vigilante names." Bobby smiled, wiping his finger onto his pants. Bobby's eyes had grown yellow with the short bursts, but now only the edges of his pupil had the golden hue. "Also did you invite the heavy hitters? Where's Lava dude? Or Hummingbird. Heck we need her cause she'd be the face of the Avenging League?" The sentence ended a question, as if Bobby was asking if the name was better.


Finally Bobby took a breath, the entire time he'd been talking, not letting anyone have a chance to reply. Again he was looking at the room, "Oh. I uh. I tend to do that when Im nervous. The talking thing. Yeah." He smiled again, scratching the back of his head.

 

[Vampunk]

So the infamous Ditch was actually female, the revelation seemingly leaving Zoe cold, the punk just raising a pierced eyebrow at the person responsible for their little meetup.


But there were always those who seemed to make a ruckus out of virtually nothing, as was the case with this "Reaper" fellow, him resorting to calling names and calling this meeting a sleepover did make Zoe grimace, her lips shifting into a crooked sneer.


Taking two long steps towards Patrick she poked the Ex-Police on the shoulder.


"On second thought it might have been wise to take some of your niece's make up. Some eyeliner and glossy lipstick might just make you look somewhat decent."


One thing about being able to become almost indestructible was that you could be as offensive as you possibly could with no fear of retribution.


It did not help that Zoe did have a history of being way too inconsiderate with her choice of words, usually resulting in some "misunderstandings" and people seething with rage.


Not that she'd mind but Patrick's statement was a bit low and Zoe did not hesitate to answer his sarcastic tone with a hefty portion of attitude of her own.


"Besides, you might need some makeup to patch yourself up. I doubt that your butterface would survive an encounter with this Umbra fellow. Especially if you're up to jesting with him, doubt a guy like him would just share some friendly beers with you."


The fact remained, Umbra was a threat, and Patrick wasn't really helping their cause, or maybe it was more of Zoe wanting to test the group's limits to see what kind of people followed Ditch's call to arms.

 

[Quiet Is Violent]

"Alright, you want shyte?" Alexander heard Reaper say. Alexander smirked. Ditch could handle this. But the Irish Rambo continued. "How the bloody hell did ya know that Suiren was kidnapped? If it was Umbra what did it, the shyte you expect a load of rookies, pretenders, and small timers to do about it? And most importantly..." Alexander's hands balled into fists. Rookies, pretenders, and small timers? Fuck this guy. Alexander's more robust side began to show.


"Why didn't you warn us it were gonna be a sleepover, Miss Ditch? I coulda brought me niece's make up."





Alexander lost it then. "FUCK YOU!" Alexander shouted at him. "Bitch you hid from us in a goddamn corner until Ditch told you to stop being a wuss and show yourself. You really think that patronizing her because of her gender is the way to go here? Hell, you're the one with a walking target between your legs."


(I'm so sorry)


@Red Thunder

 

[Epyk]

Evie Sparks

​

Evie scanned the next two vigilantes enter the auditorium. Just like the previous vigilantes, Evie judged the next blonde haired woman. "God, what's up with all these people wearing masks? Plus, if you're gonna wear a mask, at least wear a cute one." However, the Hispanic who walked in caught Evie's attention. The boy was very handsome, causing Evie to slightly bite her bottom lip. Trying not to be noticed, Evie turned back to Ditch.


Just then, Ditch pulled off her mask. Evie was kind of disappointed. She was secretly hoping for a hot guy under that skeleton. Just as some of the vigilantes started participating in Ditch's Q and A session, one of the speakers made Evie smile."Hey - she might be 'as mad as a ditch' as you say in Ireland, and quite literally at that - but get some respect, you certainly need it you swine." the first blonde girl who entered stated.





"Hmm. Not as fragile as I thought, Blondie," Evie said to her. Evie always appreciated a woman sticking up to the bigger man. Especially with Evie usually being to the runt of the group size wise. She received a new appreciation for the girl. Finally, Evie flashed the blonde a smirk.


Then, goggles guy started talking. And talking. And talking. Evie rolled her eyes at all of his statements. "Bobby, honey," Evie said when he finished speaking, "Breathe." It took all of Evie's energy to not get up and make him drop dead on the floor. Luckily, Evie restrained herself.





Listening to the group's questions, she thought about the answers herself. How were they supposed to take down someone so powerful? How did she find us? And most importantly, why us? This absolutely boggled Evie's mind. The pieces of this puzzle just weren't coming together in her brain, which was frustrating her. Just as she was trying to decipher Ditch's plan, Evie came up with a question of her own. Evie stood up from her seat and said, "Ok, honey. Here's a question for you. Why should we trust you? I mean, you did hack into all of Millenium City's electronics and gathered our personal information. How do we know we're not looking at Umbra right now?"





Chaos was already inducing. Many of the others we putting the Irish fellow on blast. Sure, she liked blondie's comment, but now it was getting out of hand. Mohawk girl and the black haired guy started going off on him as well. Evie sighed in frustration as she thought, "Do I seriously have to work with these guys?"

 

[Akeira]

Amina Roberson

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Mentioned:

@CloudyBlueDay , @Red Thunder , @Volfy , @Quiet Is Violent
​

Amina smirked lightly, as Ditch addressed the auditorium's inhabitants, sinking further in her seat and listening to the remarks. She seemed to be the last one to arrive, as no other vigilantes walked into the abnormal warehouse after her. When Ditch called out 'The Reaper,' her head snapped in that direction to see a man crouched in the corner of the large room. For a vigilante, her first impression was that he seemed even more shy or ill tempered than she was herself. ”I messaged a lot of vigilantes, but I thought at least half of them would write it off as a trap to Umbra. Hmn. Does that mean you're stupid-“ She let Ditch drone on for a few before raising her brow, feeling a little offended, when he questioned their idiocy for following a cryptic message. "Well, what did you expect? I can't speak for the others, but how was I supposed to know it was really you?" She expressed aloud, projecting her own personal uncertainty of attending that evening.


She is still in awe that the mythical Ditch stood before her, wondering what his story was. As some of the vigilantes were mysterious beings, she was interested to gain a bit more insight on each and every one of them. Just as she was about to ask a question, Ditch did the unexpected by climbing down from his spot above the stage and taking off his mask… except Ditch was not a he at all. She was a female that could not be much older than her. The best reaction she could muster was a surprised expression, which she supposed was matched by other vigilantes in the room.


"Does that mean we all have to take our masks off?" Amina uttered, running her right hand through her blonde curls, as she began to feel anxious. Despite knowing these people from their heroic actions, she felt like she was in no condition to divulge her true identity; especially considering how plain Amina Roberson was in comparison to the exotic Amazon Rain. While she waited for a response, she twirled her blonde curls, refusing to make eye contact with any of the others in the audience.


There might still be some others who gotta to show up, so before we get this going we can do some sorta Q n' A. Sound good? Ask me shit."


Amina brainstormed what she wanted to ask, when 'The Reaper' spoke. She rolled her eyes at the crass tone of his words, looking in his direction once more. "How do you think she knew? She's freaking Ditch, for f-'s sake." She said a bit louder than she originally intended, giving him a sickening sweet smile before turning around to face forward once more. The young woman found herself looking over again, when he made a sexist comment, her olive green eyes taking on a blue shine, as she glared at him. She felt an electric current run through her and balled her hands into fists, continuing to stare at the now dubbed Irish Rambo with irritation. Rather than saying anything, she watched him, debating whether or not to jar him for being pigheaded and prejudice.


The blonde loss some of her vexation, as the vigilante coined ‘Krueger’ asked an excellent question about how Ditch had found them. ”I have a question too. How do we know this warehouse isn't being tapped by Umbra right now?" She voiced with caution, glancing up at the rafters in uncertainty. As ridiculous as it may have sounded, Amina wanted to make sure the building was secure before she spoke freely. She let the others consider her point of view and listened to other inquiries, believing a few questions were valid and nodding in approval. Unfortunately, that was when things took a turn, and chaos ensued. Before she knew it, a decently attractive vigilante dubbed ‘Sticky’ was yelling profanities at the Irish Rambo. She sighed at the growing conflict, knowing they would have to sort out their differences, if they hoped to defeat Umbra.


”Both of you need to calm down. How the hell are we supposed to do this, if we’re at each other’s throats?” Amina reasoned, looking at Sticky and the Reaper, as her green orbs glowed blue once more. ”And you…” She voiced aloud, glancing at the Irish man with glimmering blue eyes. Without a second thought, she sent a minuscule jolt of lightning in his direction, which would only be enough to give him a small shock. ”Show a little respect, yeah?”

 

[RadGalBri]

KYLIE SHIELDS

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To learn that Kylie wasn't on time to the meeting wouldn't surprise anyone that actually knew her. She was honestly quite terrible at keeping track of the time and left way too late to be there promptly. Of course she switched taxis three different times to make sure no one was following her, scouted the entire surrounding area of the building to check for traps and surveyed the other supers while they went into the warehouse. She was extremely paranoid and couldn't understand how the others so nonchalantly entered the place without checking much before, but then again they probably didn't have as much to lose as she did. Things for her were much different.


She had wrestled with the idea of coming the past 24 hours, and just last minute decided to go. It could have so easily been a trap, but on the other hand, Ditch probably had some valuable information that could be of use to her. This could be either something incredibly bad or entirely good, she wasn't sure yet, but her pessimistic nature made her prepare for the worst. It would honestly be a little naive to think that this wasn't coming from malicious nature, but what if it really is Ditch and they're trying to do some good? What if he just needs help?


Teamwork had never been her strong suit, but she took a leap of faith. Ditch would know better than to ask her for something without anything in return, or at least she hoped he did. She desperately needed new info in order to keep her personal searches going. This seemed to be her only option at the moment.


After double and triple checking everything to make sure it was safe, she finally entered the abandoned building cautiously. There were already many people there, chattering - or more like bickering - back and forth. Observing the blonde girl at the front she saw the Ditch mask in her hands and cocked an eyebrow. A girl? she thought. Well, that's a surprise... She hoped things wouldn't get much weirder than it was already, but she had a feeling things were just getting started.


She hung back for awhile before making her presence known to figure out the context of what everyone was talking about. She stepped forward in her vigilante costume, no mask on but dark eye makeup applied to shield her identity somewhat. Her hair was let loose in it's normal jet black waves. She would probably be recognizable to others as The Siren since she had been in the news a little too often lately.


The brawny Irish man seemed to be getting the brunt of the attacks from the other supers, and Kylie had to hold back laughter as he was getting dissed left and right. There were so many people she didn't recognize, but that didn't come as a surprise. It was hard for her to keep up on other people's business that she wasn't directly affiliated with.


These people were already rubbing her the wrong way. Everything seemed so disorganized, something that she hated, but she stuck through until the others were done spouting off questions. She got straight to the point. "Who are you affiliated with?" she asked in a raspy tone. "Who is helping you?" Ditch couldn't be doing this on her own... and if she was then that's impressive. She also wondered if Ditch herself was a super, but figured she would find out as things went on. Her mind was going a thousand miles a minute as she waited patiently for some answers.