Sasha Belov's Story

Sasha took another swallow of his hot chocolate and continued reading the local newspaper, only glancing up momentarily to eye the newcomers to his regular diner.

Sasha sighed. He liked this diner since it was out of the way, but it appeared the forces that be was making this a hot spot.

Ah well, he thought, breaking off another piece of his cinnamon bun. Won't be the first time this place gets a little noisy. He popped the piece into his mouth and smiled, enjoying the warm morning sun as it landed on his back. Maybe he'd overhear something more interesting than the paper he held.

Richard smiled and took Ichiro's hand, shaking it politely. "Mackenzie. Richard Mackenzie. Pleasure to make your acquaintances, Ichiro and Yue." He gave a slight nod in the direction of the waitress. "You two must be regulars here I take it? I'm new to town myself, been here about three days. I have to say though, this place seems to attract some pretty interesting clientele." His eyes flitted over to the shorter girl a moment, as if to indicate to the two next to him just one example. Of course, he also included Ichiro and Yue in that, something about them, and their relationship, seemed odd. Brother and sister duo, with one being the other's therapist?

The waitress now made her way over to Sheri, with a pleasant smile on her face, but a little off put by the strange behavior of the girl so far. "Ready to order yet hun?"



The girl at the front desk did a quick up and down of the tall individual who stood there, a little damp looking from sweat, smelling of freshly smoked weed, and swearing quite profusely about the radio in their room. The girl flushed a little in shock and embarrassment. "The ah... The wake up call ma'am? Is the ah, is the button not working? On the sound system on the bedside table? The umm, hotel switched from using voice commands a few years ago. There were issues with ah, feedback loops from the loudness of the system. Were you... Were you not told about this last night ma'am? When you requested a wake up call?"

Shuffling around some papers, the girl's face continued to redden. She needed to move the papers around to seem like she was doing something so she could avoid any confrontation or other awkwardness.

All in all not a bad day, but did it really have to start this way and this early? Nothing like getting called out of bed at 4 am for a fluttering valve. Then batch quality verification had to be done by 5 am, color, vol%, smell, flavor, chemical profile, mouth feel, the whole works, all so everything would be bottled and ready to ship by 8 am when the truck would come, today they had 40 minutes to spare. Why did they even need to pick up the beer this early, aren't trucks allowed near the resort after 10 or something? In any case that'd be 1000 bottles of premium product going to the kind of resort where asking the price of something proves you're at the wrong address. Funny how branding works, never ran any ads or promotions, no flashy labels, just a title, quality product and a low quantity, and boom you're considered a brand with high standing.

"If you see John tell him valve 32's actuator is completely fucked, he'll love my emergency measures. I'm going to get myself some breakfast and a cup of wake me up, haven't eaten anything since dinner."

Devon grabbed his trenchcoat off the coat hangers in the office and walked out. Only one place nearby(ish) with decent coffee and food this time of the day, well two but he doubted the guys would appreciate him gorging himself on their lunches.

As the diner came into view he noticed a... woman, girl?... walk through through the entree and immediately decide against entering. Perhaps it was too busy for her liking? Either way it was the only place he knew that served decent coffee within his fuel range. He soon found out as he opened the door and looked inside. Yeah, packed at least for this time of day. Devon sighed and walked further into the diner passing a fashionably dressed man sitting in the booth nearest to the door, a man who gave him more than just a passing glance as he made his way to a nice empty stool at the counter.

He looked through the diner for a moment to get a better idea of the company around, a couple of nervous types it seemed hopefully they weren't planning to bring any trouble and everyone on their own, aside from that group of three... Not quite, a group of two the third just joined the conversation just a couple of seats away. In his casual fascination with the company around he was almost startled as the waitress asked to take his order.

"A black coffee, a bacon, egg and cheese sandwich and a blueberry muffin, please." As the waitress scribbled down his order she sniffed for a moment and gave a puzzled look. Devon returned a look of confusion for a moment before coming to his conclusion. "Malted barley and maybe a hint of spill from bottling." He said with a bit of a grin on his face. At least she didn't immediately draw the conclusion he had been drinking at 7 in the morning.

After being presented with a mug of dark brown and steaming hot wake me up and taking a couple royal swigs of it almost too big for how hot the beverage was Devon turned his attention to his phone. Lot's of viewgrabbing of the major media outlets as always, with only a few worthwhile articles... And a business e-mail, a rather large reservation for one of the higher end brews currently sat aging in the basement from a familiar name. Seems his brand was really catching on at the resort.

”Ready to order yet, hun?” Sheri had been sitting at the booth for nearly 20 minutes at this point, and the waitress had clearly gotten impatient. She considered brushing her off again, but the diner had gotten so crowded in the interim that she felt it best just to give the waitress something to work with and keep her from bothering her again.
She flipped through the menu that had been sitting untouched up to that point, looking for something that looked even remotely appetizing. ”Uh…. eggs.”
”Scrambled or sunny side up?”
”Sure.”
”How many?”
”Yeah.”
The waitress rolled her eyes and walked off. Sheri glanced around to make sure no one was paying attention to her. A few had noted her presence when she walked in, but they all seemed more interested in their own stuff. She would need to act quickly if she wanted to get this done and get set up at her vantage point before the target arrived; it was already nearly 8 am, which meant she had spent far more time on this than she’d anticipated.
After one more quick check to make sure no one was paying attention (was that woman at the bar keeping an eye on her? No, it was just her imagination) Sheri flicked her eyes to the seat in the booth next to her, then focused her mind and felt something fall over her like a shroud; this particular ability wasn’t very strong, but it should at least help keep people from paying attention to her. She got up, leaving an exact duplicate of herself in the seat she’d just been looking at, and moved toward the back.
She moved to open the door into the kitchen, but stepped back when she heard someone on the other side. The waitress came out with a tray holding another customer’s order, walking right past her without even a glance in her direction. Sheri slipped through before the door closed, stopping for a moment as the change in temperature between the lobby and kitchen struck her. The heat coming off the machinery made the whole back area more humid than she had expected.
She moved through the kitchen, keeping her head down while checking for any method of ingress that her target might be able to slip through. She ducked into the stock room as the cook walked past, her eyes landing on what she was looking for in the process; another door opening into the back alley, used when taking out the trash or bringing in deliveries. Now she just had to figure out how to keep it closed.

"The pleasure is mine, Mackenzie-sama," replied Ichiro as he shook Richard's hand in his iron vice-like grip. "Yue's the regular, I literally just got off a plane last night."

"It's usually quieter in the mornings," Yue explained as she carefully applied an even coat of butter to the top of each pancake. "Lunchtime though... you almost can't get in the door." Ichiro absently slid her a dipping sauce cup from his area of the counter, into which she carefully measured the syrup.

"People go where the work is, I guess. I'm an Occupational Therapist, specializing in recovery from bone related injuries in su-sports," Ichiro explained, flinching slightly when Yue quietly jabbed the toe of her sneaker into his ankle. She was busy dissecting her pancakes into evenly sized squares to then be coated in a small amount of syrup individually prior to consumption.

Yue's eyes did routinely wander around the room during their conversation, picking up on the new arrivals and carefully observing the newer arrivals. She was beginning to feel uneasy, and shifted back and forth in her chair occasionally, like she just couldn't get comfortable. She had a hard time placing what was making her feel so uncomfortable, besides the young girl in the booth sitting eerily still... and the second newspaper reading patron in the corner. When did he arrive? Was she just noticing him? Was this the '90s? She hadn't seen a physical newspaper since grade school, but there are suddenly two in this one place. That by itself was enough to make the whole room feel off. Yue also felt like there was a pressure in the air: like there were too many gods watching this one spot while the dice of fate fell towards the table.

"Daijobudesuka? (Are you okay?)" Ichiro inquired with a slight note of concern.

"Kuki ga omoi... fuyukaidesu. (The air is heavy, it's unpleasant)," she replied.

"Su-sports?" Richard asked bemusedly. "Sounds like it could be dangerous. But no doubt rewarding." He gave them both a soft smile. "But I agree, I've come to enjoy this spot quite a bit too. Quiet, good food, interesting people. A nice little corner of town."

Meanwhile outside, someone was making their way towards the park in the center of the neighborhood, someone who would be recognizable from the files in Sheri Galloway's possession.

Further in the distance, down another street, a group of men was starting to form up on the corner. They seemed innocuous enough at first, but the group steadily continued to pick up extras...



Maxwell continued to read his paper as time passed on, and as 7:00 continued to march on towards 8:00, he took notice of a woman who'd passed him by a second time, and then a third. Upon the next pass, his eyes remain fixed on his paper, though his voice did not.

"Lovely day out isn't it miss? Good time for a nice walk through the town. Or the park perhaps. It certainly seems to have caught your interest it would seem."

The French Toast was genuinely the best meal Henry had eaten in a long time. The sourness of the blackberries contrasting with the sweetness of the French Toast and the syrup? Breakfast heaven right there. And a glass of cold milk to wash it all down...he couldn't even begin to describe how distraught he felt once he cleaned his plate.

…

…..Well, he was planning on lying low for a while. And he hadn't eaten very much in a while either, so...Henry signaled his waitress. "Ma'am...I'd like another plate and a refill on my glass. If you don't mind!" he spoke cheerfully with a booming laugh as the waitress nodded and hurried off to another customer. This place was getting packed. All sorts of strange characters...a few he was certain gave a cautious glance his way. It wasn't anything he was too worried about. None of them seemed like the one's after him. If they were, he would recognize it instantly. Tension so thick, one could cut it like a butter knife through that delicious French Toast.

He leaned over on his table, putting a hand to his chin, looking around the restaurant. There was someone else, reading a newspaper. Good. Anything that made him stand out just a little less would help. He couldn't stay here forever though, much as he'd like too. But as long as there was no sign of the danger to come, he was more than willing to kick back for a bit. Maybe take a tour around town to see what's new once he feels it's safe enough.

Sasha brushed the few crumbs off his jacket, folded his newspaper, and stood, stretching. He'd already settled his bill, so he gave the waitress a cheery nod as he brushed by the other patrons. Slipping the newspaper in a trash can by the door, he stepped outside and took a deep breath of the morning air.

Glancing over at the nearby park, Sasha noted that his favorite bench had been taken by a silver-haired man who was also reading the paper. Sasha's eyes narrowed, but he walked over to another, less favorite, bench and sat down, giving the man a cool glare. The man didn't notice, however, as he was busy waylaying a Hispanic...

Sasha blinked twice as the scent hit his nose, and did a double-take. That was no woman. Unless Sasha was completely mistaken, the woman walking was actually a shapeshifter.

So not only the diner but the park, Sasha thought. Fate's hands are in motion. He immediately began scanning the area, looking for any signs of disturbances. If there was one thing Sasha had learned during his tenure with his homeland, it was that Fate never played nice, but it always played fair. Something was about to happen.

Sasha considered moving away from the area for a moment. He'd spent the last few months in Atlas City keeping his head down, working a normal job, doing normal things. He wanted no reason for the government, any government, to be suspicious of him. If he were forced to use his powers now, that might all be for naught.

Sasha's mouth tightened. Unfortunately, he was no coward to run from Fate. So he remained on the park bench, seemingly relaxed on the outside but coiled tight as a spring. Que sera, sera, as they say.

Within the depths of a storage room echoed the tinny tsk, tsk of a hi-hat. It petered out, followed by an "ah, fuck". A neck cracked. Wrists rolled. And in came the kick.

Stashed away in the corner was a figure in a loose tracksuit, curled over a drum set. Scabbed fingers held the sticks and flirted with a simple 4/4 rock beat without any thought behind it. Distracted to the trained ear. Dark eyes fixated on a tiny phone screen and the crappy audio coming from it.

"- sure, maybe - Really Hope We Don't - but I think punk is the sound this generation needs. I really do."

A twiggy woman leaned back in her seat, shaggy red hair falling over her face and caught in her lip gloss, legs wide apart and boot resting on one knee. One sleeve fell off her shoulder, showing off a brutal burn as confidently as she flashed a grin. The interviewer asked something muffled out by a stream of blast beats.

"-eah, it's - ri - back in Queens, when I, ah, let's say dabbled in vigilantism - oh, shut up! Shut the fuck up," the woman turned on the audience, who had let out a collective sound of dread at that 'v' word. Her finger pointed accusingly at them, but the sarcastic tweak of a smile made it impossible to tell how serious she was. "You have Logan Price up here talking 'bout snorting coke behind the wheel, cut me a break." A mixed response. Laughs and 'oooh's. She rolled her shoulder and turned back to the interviewer. "So back in Queens, when I was tripping out hard on LSD, I hallucinated that I stopped a gas station robbery..."

The figure's drumming sped up. Their breath hitched in anticipation, for something.

A chant flooded through a stadium. Rows of lighters raised up towards a dark, moonless sky.

"So, Vicki, it's no surprise to you what I'm about to say, surely, but you've been declared quite the controversial figure," the interviewer at last threw at her, the topic she'd been dancing around the interview. The woman rolled her eyes and her hand, goading him on. "You've been under a lot of pressure to join a hero's organization lately. How have you been coping with that?" No answer, just an unimpressed raised brow. The need for a cigarette itched at the back of her head. "Well, do you feel that what you're doing now is good enough for the hero community? With your -"

"Let me stop you right there," she interrupted with a raised hand. The laid-back persona she presented before was stripped away in an instant. "The hero community? What is that?" The interviewer opened his mouth again to regain control of the conversation, when she leaned forward, her elbows pushing her legs apart. "Actually, let's talk about that. Heroes. Look, I didn't get that moment in my life when a superhero lifted me from the rubble, cape fluttering and skin radiant with, shit, radiation. Hendrix, The Pixies, Velvet Underground - those were my heroes."

The chanting faded out in the stadium, it had gone on for too long with no reward, when suddenly - the clash of a symbol, and a spotlight on a translucent white backdrop, revealing the silhouette of somebody behind a drum kit. The stadium was back alive, this time with screams.

The figure's drumming devolved into a frenzy. There was no longer a rhythm to it, or you were just too slow to catch it. Sweat splashed onto the drums and jumped as her sticks crashed down beside it.

"Thirty million superheroes across the world, and is that even counting those that aren't putting on costumes and fighting crime?" The woman slipped a cigarette packet from her back pocket and lit one on stage, ignoring the looks the crew was giving her. Her leg jiggled with agitation. It translated on camera. "That's my community." She claimed, pointing her cigarette at the interviewer. She took a drag, then like she wasn't able to bear it any longer, stood up. "Here's a secret about supers - well, it ain't a secret, let's call it an ignored fact - most of us get it from shit. A lot of us could have gone our entire lives without being super, or realizing we’re super, if shit didn’t happen to us. So. In the spirit of doing right by the hero community, I’ve got a message for kids at home." She turned towards the screen and pointed her cigarette right at it.

"Next time someone tries giving you the Uncle Ben speech, you say... Fuck. That." She took another puff, and the interviewer behind her looked off stage for help. "You don’t have to sacrifice what you want to be because of the shit that happened to you, or shit you didn’t ask to be born with. So yeah, to answer your question. I think I’m doing some good here."

She returned to her seat with a bounce, swinging her leg up to rest her foot on her thigh again, and gave pause. The figure dropped threw her drumsticks down, their wood smeared with red, and hunched over, panting. "I think I am." Repeated over the phone's warbled speakers.

The hum of ghostly back up vocals joined the drum solo, echoing from every corner of the stadium. The crowd swung their lighters, their shouts morphing from, "Cold Front! Cold Front!" to "VICKI! VICKI!"

Then a sudden whoosh of air blew over the crowd, snuffing out every flame. All lights went out. The music cut shot. The stage went dead. The crowds were left anticipating in a jet-black stadium.

When the lights came back on, they were focused on a white-clad figure, their fist raised high and clutching a microphone. Other black clad and masked band members were posed behind her, their hands poised over their instruments. Vic waited for the excited crowd to calm down before she brought the mic down to her lips to say, in the flattest voice imaginable,

"Hey, Atlas City."

The crowd cheered. A little less excitedly than before. Vic shook her head with a grin.

"Sorry. We can do that better."

The white coat she wore dropped to her boots. She clutched the mic with both hands as the band suddenly slammed down on their instruments, and she screamed,

"LET'S MAKE OUT!"

---

Vic listened to her illegally uploaded performance through earphones with far too good quality to be subjected to such a mess as she stared into the window of a newsagents. She could barely hear her own voice over the crowd screaming the lyrics. Her eyes flicked between the magazines on display. To her left, a woman's magazine, where articles were written criticizing her decision to hold a signing of her leaked nudes, right next to bikini pics taken by some pervert when she wasn't paying attention on the beach, next to which was a snarky remark about her weight. To her right, a 'respectable' news source, where her latest live 'outburst' was scrutinized, as well as her lack of a statement on whether supers should all be registered by the government and made to carry identification. Vic's tongue rolled to the back of her mouth as her eyes refocused, settling on her reflection instead of sensationalist titles behind it. A cap, hoodie and medical mask hid her face. The disguise made her look like a teenage delinquent, and she felt like it, from the way the store owner was eyeing her up. Her back molars bit down on her tongue, hard, and she entered the store.

All the stuff in those magazines she could find on her phone, anyway.

Soon Vic was skating down the path, carelessly weaving between pedestrians with her hands in her pockets and clutching breakfast. She dismounted at the park, flipping the board up with her foot and resting it against a bench before flopping down beside it and unwrapping 'breakfast' - an ice cream bar, covered in sprinkles and shaped like a clown, with a big red gumball for its nose. She hooked a finger around her mask and pulled it down for a bite.

Snap.

About three bites in, she heard the dreaded sound of a shutter snapping.

"Jesus," she muttered, looking around, "Here?" Her eyes locked on to some guy across the path crouching with a camera, and she pulled back up her mask, grabbed her skateboard and stood up. She did not need the internet to get a hold of her eating a Candied Clown at 7 am. As she sped up, a voice followed after her.

"Vicki? VickI Vortex. Tobias, from Apex Media."

No, no, no, fuck off.

"Vicki Vortex, with your history of vigilantism, the public wants to know-"

"Dude, it's the first thing in the morning. How long have you been following me for? I know that you finding me here isn't a coincidence," Vic snapped all in one breath before she'd even finished turning around to him. A camera went off and she retracted, squinting at the man's face. "Oh, shit. You."

Tobias Flanagan, the independent 'journalist' famous for jumping celebrities with hard questions in moments they least expect it and getting embarrassing or incriminating answers as a result. "Where is the camera?" She asked calmly. As Tobias raised the camera in his hands, Vic snatched at his collar and flicked away the teeny body camera attached to it. "Unless you're asking about the date of my next tour - no comment. Kindly fuck off." She turned, pulling down her mask, and aggressively bit off her ice cream's nose. Her teeth clanked against the ice hard gumball. Despite her trying to get away, the man persisted.

"How do you feel about privatizing supers? With the rise of private hero institutions worldwide, would you feel more comfortable being involved with the NAHLA, or a private company? What is your comment on the superhero idol culture ?"

"Will you stop it?!"

The man was wheezing out his questions. Without realizing it, she had begun to thin the air around him.

The park began to see more activity trickle into it, and not quite so slowly as Maxwell would have liked. A young man had entered a little while ago, seemingly from the direction of the cafe. Coupled with the Hispanic woman before him, he was starting to get a little concerned. Kingsley was supposed to be meeting with him soon, and he started to question the effectiveness of the location. No turning back though it seemed. But now... Now there was yet another matter to contend to.

A young woman had been in the park as well, wearing clothes typically associated with 'punk', as well as some kind of medical mask, an odd fashion statement perhaps, but not unseen. She wasn't a problem however, it was that she had picked up what appeared to be a rather annoying tag that Maxwell considered to be... Distasteful.

He sighed, laying his paper down on the bench next to him, standing up and straightening his tie. "Would you excuse me for just a moment?" He asked with a polite smile of the Hispanic woman. Maxwell walked over to the other woman, and the man with the camera, and upon reaching them, placed a hand on the man's shoulder. Something was off. The air felt thinner. Was it Maxwell? No, he'd been fine before... It seemed likely it was the girl.

No matter though.

The man with the camera turned to look to Maxwell, who had a pleasant, polite smile on his face, while grabbing the camera the man held. "Excuse me sir, but it appears to me you're disturbing this young lady. You also happen to be disturbing me." He pulled the camera away from the man, tossed it to the ground, and brought the heel of his shoe down on it, crushing it into various, quite unusable pieces and fragments.

The man looked astonished for a moment, then close to becoming furious, but before he could protest at all, he began to sway a little, placing a hand on his forehead and doubling over slightly. Maxwell smirked. "Oh come now, it's only a camera, I'm sure you can afford a new one." The man looked to Maxwell cautiously, his face contorted into a mix of fear and confusion, and a bit of pain from the head ache that had appeared from nowhere.

"Run along now." He said with an unnaturally warm smile. The camera man, despite his strong inclination to refuse this order, obliged them in the end, staggering away to no doubt find something to ease the the throbbing sensation in his head. Maxwell finally turned to the young lady with a smile and nod. "I'm terribly sorry you had to suffer such rudeness miss. Are you alright?" He asked in a gentle, pleasant tone.

Jericho watched the man depart, their eyes zeroing in on a woman who looked as if she had missed many a meal, and who probably needed- The thoughts slammed to a stop, mouth opened to drag air in between three sets of teeth.

A long hiss, a quick and silent sigh. Their skin prickled and the urge to claw, and bite, and bludgeon, and stab and rip and tear-
Jericho shook their head and laughed quietly to themselves. The man was a super! He stank of it, reeked of power hidden beneath the skin!
Their head turned over the shoulder and scoured the park until they locked on another man, sat on a bench just ever so further away. The ever so faintly familiar scent of something like themselves wafted over. A reptilian grin flashed over Jericho's temporarily painted lips, before fading as quickly as it came. 'She' turned and rushed to the silver haired man, and the masked, punk, woman.

"Hey! That seemed like a bunch, you okay there sweetheart? ... Is that what paparazzi is like? Or was that a stalker? What a cunt. Bite his balls off, someone should, yeah." Came the rushed, almost excitedly breathless voice, a low alto, almost as if the 'woman' had a voice too big for her height. Her accent seemed vaguely Boston born, but with a Hispanic lilt that otherwise would have gone unnoticed. Her eyes locked on the masked woman, a shiver passing through the bones of her own body as she realized... Yet another Super. Here. In the park.

W̶̰͂h̴̳͚̊̓a̵͓̐́t̵̬́͌͜ ̶̳̆͌f̵̬̝̓̕u̷͚̯̽̽n̷͔̓̎.̵̧̋.̷̨͘.̴̺̿̓

'She' couldn't stop the shiver that passed through her yet again, the immediate, instinctual, need to consume and assimilate. But she could stop herself from acting on it. And when she took note of the thinning air surrounding the woman, and felt her lungs shift below the surface of her skin to better adapt for it, she simply stopped talking and stepped back. Behind the silver-man. To give the poor thing some space. And to watch the world with an expectant eye.
Speaking of which...

Jericho's hair silently swirled with ink for a moment, though from a distance it could be mistaken for the wind pulling some strands of hair loose. And under the hair, close to the skull, six pairs of 'holes' formed on the flesh. The world became that much louder for Jericho, and that much clearer for 'her' hearing. She tried to angle herself in a manner that would be behind the silver-man as much as possible, but she couldn't guarantee anything. Oh well, not like it would matter, right?

If there was one thing Alex was grateful for one with all the changes that happened to his body, it was probably the fact that he could still get his cardio in. The burning in his lungs and muscles was a welcoming feeling, it made him still feel like he could improve himself. That he was still human and not some invincible demigod. He kept his breathing steady and began to slow his pace as he came close to the end of his run. It was a shame he couldn't run at a full sprint if he wanted too, but the thought of him accidentally cracking the sidewalk from his feet slamming into the concrete at full force wasn't a good one. That was an easy way to out yourself as a super. You read stories all the time of people with minor powers outing themselves on accident all the time, from damaging restaurant silverware to floating off the ground cause you got a little too excited. Yeah, not gonna end up on some YouTuber's top ten list of dumb supers outing themselves in public.

He checked his phone for messages. Jericho was out and about. Hopefully not causing a scene. He too a deep breath and gathered his thoughts for a moment. Jericho was at the part, nothing wrong with that. They could take care of themselves and already ate, there was no reason to worry . . . yep, none at all . . . damn his paranoia. Alex figured it was better to wing by the park and check in then to keep worrying.

Didn't take long to get to the park, he compromised with himself to jog the way there rather then run in fear of an incident from his amorphous roommate. Jericho didn't survive this long on their own being stupid. But Alex would feel better not leaving them to possibly commit some form of social suicide what would end up in the internet, again. Couldn't use that disguise anymore without anyone recognizing the colorful trash eating dumpster diver of Atlas city. Not that Jericho entirely cared but second hand embarrassment was a powerful thing and Alex would rather be spared the cringe.
After a few minutes of trying to remain casual in his search he finally sighed with relief. No crowds in sight, looked like they were chatting with just two people. A relatively sharp dressed man and . . . wait a moment. He could swear he recognized the woman, questions for later. Alex jogged up from an angle that would make him easily visible to the three and made eye contact with Jericho first.
"Hey Jemma! figured I would still find you here. Was gonna grab some things for lunch before heading back home and wanted to know what you were in the mood for." He looked to the man and woman present before glancing at Jericho. There was a hint of something wild in their eyes that was barely noticable. Might be a good idea to divert attention. Alex turned his attention back to the others before sheepishly scratching the back of his head. "Ah, sorry that was rude of me. Barging in on you guys like that. My bad. Alex chuckled a little before relaxing his posture slightly, trying to come off as friendly as he could. Even so he still almost towered over the others present.
"Jeez, where are my manners? He held out a hand towards the silver haired man first. "Alexander Dalton, at your service." The man gave off a professional air to him, Alex figured being polite was the best course of action there. The punk looking woman though, Alex swore he had seen her before and it was really nagging at him now as he gave her a glance and a smile.

By the time she was interrupted, Vic had noticed what she was doing... and she didn't exactly stop it. On the contrary, she just watched as Tobias's face went red and his last words trailed off in a cough and a wheeze. Intently. The green flecks in her eyes seemed brighter as she stared the choking man down.

Then a hand grabbed his shoulder out of nowhere, and she blinked, and Tobias sucked in a deep, much needed breath. Vic glanced over to the tall, silver-haired stranger, and in a moment too fast for her to form even a single judgement, the camera was violently splattered across the pavement. She stared at the massacre. The rest of her ice cream drooped off her stick to splatter beside her sneakers.

"... Ha!" A sudden, breathy laugh burst from her. She stuffed her hands into her pockets as she watched the stranger ward Tobias off, her mouth still left hanging from the last she opened it. A genuine grin threatened to spill over and she sealed her lips, ignoring their twitch and chewing her gum. When the stranger turned to her, she took her time to finish blowing her bubble and answered with a pop!

"Yeahhhh..." she dragged out, looking him up and down as she did so. Spick and span in a business suit and tie and wearing the professional charm of a car salesman. Not the sort of person anyone would expect to spontaneously lay waste to thousands of dollars worth of personal property. "... you-" Before she could add anything to that thought - another interruption. Vic raised a brow at the woman's enthusiastic punishment proposal and stretched her lips thin, giving her a mock-thoughtful nod.

"Yeah, fair. Personally, don't think they're fit for a dog, but," she ended that thought with a shrug and looked back to the business man. "I'm good. Don't worry about it." Her sneaker unintentionally nudged the colorful breakfast sludge she'd dropped before as she intentionally nodded down to it. She picked the already flavorless cheap gum from her mouth and flicked it over to join the camera, then shuffled a cigarette pack from her shorts pocket and lit one up. "Always a plan B. You're looking wicked, by the way." She added, eyes flicking up the woman's tight leather pants to her startling gold lipstick.

She took a drag, and almost immediately felt her rumbling, baseball-sized stomach crunch down to about the size of a golf ball. "So, ah," She cocked her head and her eyes crinkled at him. They were sparkling with interest and narrowed with suspicion, but not the dreading kind - more of the kind one looks around with when they hear the rustle of a chip packet. "... Who do you think you are?"

She didn't get her answer, not before somebody else barged in and - HOLY SHIT.

Vic's brow shot up like it was trying to match the giant in height. In an instant, it was decided that she was not going to be tilting her head back for him. This man would be satisfied by eye-to-throat contact or nothing at all.

"Ummmmm." Vic very clearly vocalized as the man's hand was passed over to her. She chewed on her tongue as she regarded it. "Scarlet." She very clearly made up on the spot, courtesy of Grateful Dead's Scarlet Begonias blasting in one eardrum loud enough to be heard faintly by all present. Then she smacked her palm against his instead of shaking it, then looked away. "Barge anytime, but you missed the good part. Nothing here now but a..." A glance to the camera and melted ice cream puddle. "...boulevard of broken data and dreams. And no skating. Which I came here to do, so..."

She took the cigarette from her mouth, picked up her skateboard by its end, and backed off slowly as she raised her mask. Her brows lifted like she might have had a smile behind it, however sarcastic it was.

"Thanks for the concern babes, but I'm just gonna... goooo..."

Sasha's concentration was interrupted by the chaos erupting before him. Frowning, Sasha stood and stretched, walking idly over to the growing group of bystanders. A man had stopped a young woman, complaining about her music or some such. Another woman was attempting to stop the man, but was not having much luck.

Sasha stepped forward and grabbed the man's shoulder, squeezing down in a quick but decisive manner. The stranger's eyes rolled into the back of his head, and he collapsed, unconscious. Sasha caught the man before he could fall, and eased him down to the pavement.

"Th-thank you," the older woman who had been attempting to help said. "What did you do?"

"Just something I picked up at my self defense course," Sasha assured the woman. "He's just unconscious, but make sure the police know what happened." Sasha turned to the young woman, who seemed extremely uncomfortable. "My apologies, young miss. I'll be happy to escort you home, if you'd like, or perhaps you'd rather be on your way?"

Maxwell had allowed himself a small smirk when the girl had let out a laugh at the ordeal they'd put the camera man through. Seems the moment had been mutually enjoyable, much to Tobias's expense. She seemed like she was about to say something else until another presence had arrived behind his back. The girl from before.

Did she know him or something? She'd been getting awfully familiar with him, he almost felt like she might try to devour him or something if she could. The girl with the now medical mask confirmed she was doing well now, to which he responded with a slight nod and smile. "I'm pleased to hear that." As she pulled out a cigarette pack, Maxwell felt the desire to obtain his own, as well as the permission to do so. He pulled out a small gold case and popped it open, pulling one out for himself. As he placed it back in his pocket, the girl responded with a question.

"So ah, who do you think you are?"

He gave a soft smile. "I'm-" And before he could say another word yet ANOTHER person had arrived to the group. The man seemed to know the woman behind Maxwell, Jemma apparently. He seemed strangely familiar to Maxwell if he were being honest, not in terms of looks or anything, just a feeling he got from him. Maxwell took the man's hand and shook it with polite firmness. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance Mr. Dalton, Miss Jemma. Maxwell Landon, equally at your service." He gave a cordial smile to each of them, and to the masked girl who had now introduced herself as Scarlet.

She began to work her way out of the group, seeming to be preoccupied, or wanting to be preoccupied, with other important exploits. "A pleasure Miss Scarlet. Take ca-"

Another noise sounded off. Louder this time.



Richard smiled as both Ichiro and Yue explained the nature of their expertise's, and he took a quick moment to enjoy a few bites of the food that had newly been brought to him. After a quick gulp of orange juice, another man at the counter had butted in, putting in his own two cents about Yue's profession.

Richard was feeling pretty relaxed at this time, but he'd begun to notice that he was one of the only people in here that seemed to be feeling that. Both Yue and Ichiro had seemed off. The large man with the French toast had seemed off. The girl in the booth had stopped moving practically. He almost started to speculate that these people might be here for a revenge killing for last night, but nobody had seen him in any way. The only person who would know who he was would be that dead drug slinger, and unless his power involved regenerating his body from literal ashes, he very much doubted that was the case.

Maybe it was him though, making them a little uncomfortable or something. He'd started to wonder if they could... No, no he had been pretty good about that too, slim chance they could see, the waitress certainly hadn't. Richard inwardly shrugged. Besides, this Yue woman did look pretty tough, and he contemplated saying so but her flustered response to the other guy gave him the impression that maybe he should respond with more tact and consideration.

"Exercise is good for the body, mind, and spirit they say. Whatever it is you're teaching, I'm sure your students appreciate it, and probably get as much out of it as you do." Richard gave a kind smile and understanding nod to Ichiro and Yue.

Richard took a few more bites of food and a sip of orange juice while the door to the Diner opened again. He had contemplated what the real deal was with Ichiro and Yue, and the other people in here. Seemed all to be quite odd, but he tried to ignore it. The sound of those loud feet touching down on the floor was quite distracting however on its own, but Richard felt the need to maybe offer a little bit more small talk to ease Yue and Ichiro's minds. And maybe learn a little more about them.

A tall, looming figure behind the group placed a hand down on a shoulder. Yue's. Before anyone said anything the counter had shuddered, knocking over Richard's food and drink, as Yue was hoisted from her seat, and flung across the room behind them. Her body briefly passed in front of Henry as she crashed through the window next to him and toppled out into the street.

Richard had bolted up from his seat just in time to turn around and watch a hulking mass of a man leave the Diner. He was at least 7 and a half feet tall, decked out in a long, black leather trench coat, and wearing a... A Puritanical hat. The same garb as the Witchfinder Generals. Outside stood 25 more of them, all lined up in the street, effectively building a wall that kept Yue and the diner barricaded.



"YUE BAYUSHI! YOU DEGENERATE FILTH! DEMONESS! PERVERSION OF NATURE! YOU STAND ACCUSED OF CRIMES AGAINST THE WITCHFINDERS! THERE SHALL BE NO TRIAL FOR YOU, YOUR GUILT SPEAKS FOR ITSELF." One of the men seemed to roar at the woman.

The others were all dressed quite similarly to each other, but some held guns, while others seemed to be injecting something into their necks... Within a few moments, those who had taken the injections began to wield new powers, but only two types, no other variety. Some of the men seemed to be wielding fire, and the others some kind of pale sand or something.

It was salt. The Witchfinder Generals were particular about their powers, so they bought these from one source and one source only, possibly located somewhere in Asia. The fire was a straightforward enough power, but the salt? It could be wielded as though it were a sand storm, a storm that could rip skin open and burn the flesh beneath. Some had even suggested the power could turn the enemies of the Witchfinders into salt, their bodies burning in agony as they slowly morphed into the substance.



Looked over to Ichiro for a moment, then the others. The girl still seemed like she hadn't moved at all. Richard dropped to the the ground by the booth Henry sat at, pulling Ichiro with him, and using the seat as cover. He waved to the other patrons to get down and away from the windows. Richard quickly scrambled through his pockets as he pulled something out and started to put it on his head.

"Pardon me Ichiro, but I have to break a few laws quickly." He pulled down his balaclava over his face, and pulled off his jacket to reveal the shoulder holster under it, equipped with two pistols. Richard pulled both out, donning one in each hand. "Any chance I can give Yue a little cover?" He asked Ichiro, who he hoped might have a better angle for a view outside.

"Ah," Sasha said as Yue was thrown threw the window of the diner he had oh so recently been a patron of. "Never mind, lass, looks like I have some other business to attend to."

Turning from the cat-besot woman, Sasha began walking forward toward the group of angry men he recognized as Witchfinders. As he did so, he slipped off his jacket and dropped it on the ground, a smile coming to his lips. It had been too long since he had used his powers in any real way.

"Fire and salt, eh," Sasha said, his skin beginning to change color to nearly black, starting from his hands and moving up his arms quickly. His smile turned into a grin as the color wrapped itself around his face, transforming it into what could only be described as the face of a devil - pupil-less red eyes, lips peeled back to reveal sharpened fangs. His hands spread, his fingers lengthening into sharpened claws.

"Witchfinders," Sasha growled, his normal tenor voice now having dropped into a gravelly snarl. "Why don't you step away from the girl and... play with me a little?"

There it was. The second plate. Empty. It was probably a bad idea to attempt to order a third. His money should be used for finding some sort of lodging...but once all that was said and some when would be have a decent meal breakfast ever again? A true dilemna.

...at the end of the day, there really wasn't too much of an issue with treating himself to more helpings. He waved at the waitress once more. "Ma'am," he laughed, catching her exasperated look as she likely predicted what he was going to say.

He froze before he could speak further. Events had begun to spin out of control far too fast. A man in black fling a woman across the counter, right past him through a window. And that man wasn't alone either.

There were more, enough to make up a small army, surrounding the diner. All dressed in a similar garb they shouted out their intent. And revealed themselves to be Witchfinders. Henry had heard of the group by their reputation and while he had no encounters with them personally he was sure they were no friends of his. Or most people, by all accounts.

But that woman they were after, they called her a demoness. So, she was a super. Henry sighed to himself. He knew Atlas city was kind of a hotbed for this kind of activity but to think he's mind himself wrapped up in it within hours of arriving...this wasn't what he was here for. Henry spun around, checking for an exit a way out where he could sneak past these crazies gathered out front.

He turned his head. There was a man near the counter. He put on some of burglary mask on...what, was he picking now to rob the place?! Not particularly good timing on his part. Henry stood up slowly from his seat he definitely wanted to leave now, but...his eyes shifted to the side.

There were others, the waitress and some customers, huddled under a table, afraid for their lives. Glass shards embedded in them from the shattered window. Henry closed his eyes and took a deep breath. In a rush he told them, "Hurry! Get back to the kitchen!"

And luckily another element emerged. The Witchfinders were under attack though he couldn't quite see who had done so. No matter. It was the perfect cover for the diners and servers to make their escape and hide in the kitchen.

And then there was the robber... "Hey yo Burglar!" He shouted. towards Richard. "You can rob this place all you want later, but right now....I think it's best to save whatever ammunition you have for them!" He asked, drawing a weapon of his own. An odd looking pistol, it seemed.

Wish. Granted.

She was about to turn and reply to Richard when she felt, more than heard a presence behind her. A huge, meaty hand clasped down on her shoulder, and she scrabbled quickly for her phone but she only manged to knock it clattering to the floor along with her half finished plate of pancakes before she was hurled across the diner. She barely managed to cover her face with her arms as she crashed through the window and landed sprawling on the pavement outside. Yue exhaled slowly, her ears ringing as they shouted at her, her body alight with that vibrating numbness she'd come to associate with pain.

The Witchfinder leader barely had enough time to finish his declaration. Yue had sprung to her feet and charged the line with terrible swiftness, her burgundy eyes flashing red for one fraction of a second. Several panicked gouts of flame and salt winged past her as she drove her fist into his solar plexus. Yue felt the man's rib cage crunch under the impact as he was lifted bodily off the ground and thrown into a heap on the pavement. It wasn't more than a second or two, but the sheer savagery of her retaliation stunned the mob into hesitation. Just long enough for her to gather her thoughts.

"Help me get the customers out of danger first, they're focused on her! Yue can handle herself, Mackenzie-Sama," Ichiro replied, hand shaking as he lifted his phone to his ear. "Yes, twenty or so assailants attacked us over at Atomic Anne's Diner... Ichiro Bayushi. Yeah, oh! Send at least one ambulance: they spilled my sister's coffee. Yeah I'll stay on the line," he said, speaking to the emergency operator with practiced coolness. He was tense, clearly fighting the urge to rush in and help, but remaining in control of his breathing.

It wasn't a good situation for her: there were far too many to fight without her powers, but she couldn't risk her identity. The problem was that her powers were not subtle, and using them for even one second would reveal her identity to anyone with passing knowledge of regional supers... not that it seemed to matter as the Witchfinders were able to track her down and identify her by name. Was it too much to hope that knowledge had been isolated to her last encounter with them?

"B-BITCH!" One of them recovered faster than she thought, and there was suddenly a gun brought to bear on her. Yue darted towards him, bringing her left hand around and slamming the knife edge of her palm into his wrist feeling the bone crack. The gun went off in her ear, and she felt a stinging line stretch from her elbow to the back of her shoulder. Hopefully just a graze. She thrust her palm into his chest with a hollow thud, knocking him to the ground and sending the pistol skittering. She didn't stop moving, driving one heel into his groin as he hit pavement and the other into his face, literally running over him to barrel into the man behind him and knock him sprawling into his comrades.

They were starting to recover and get organized again, but hopefully she had caused enough chaos and disarray in their ranks to buy time for people to get to safety. Yue sprinted across the street, sliding over the hood of a car. She grunted as she caught a spray of salt in her side, and rolled into a small alley between two shops. She slid around a corner as bullets started to whip past, biting into the bricks, spraying dust and shards into her face. Hopefully she could lose some of them in the park, and scatter enough of them to fight on more even grounds.

The sound of crashing glass and gunfire caught Jericho's attention first, the overwhelming stench of adrenaline and fear caught second... And the absolutely, quite nearly blasphemous stink of super powered beings sucker punched the Polymorph so hard in the olfactory senses that they staggered. They spent only a brief moment, not nearly long enough to truly consider the consequences of stepping in, before their choice was made.

Then, with a bright cackle that did not nearly fit the voice of the woman who stood beside Alex, Maxwell, and 'Scarlet', a noise like an oversize cicada burst forth from the Polymorph. It drowned out all thinking for a moment, though when the ink began swirling violently around 'Jemma', perhaps thinking wasn't necessary. The flesh vanished and exposed organs that were nothing like the proper human anatomy, muscles and nerves and bones of bright silver-y sheen ripped their way into the sun before quickly fading from its light. They were replaced by the same beast Jericho had transformed themselves in to the night before.
The cicada-like scream continued droning on, and in pockets and along walls, on desks and on wrists, within a radius of about thirty or so feet... Phones and cameras, or any other small electronic without proper shielding, fried itself and shut off. Permanently.

Jericho, however, did not wait.
They instead leapt forth, darting forward like a demon sent straight from the bowels of hell. And CRASHED into the backs of some strangely dressed men, their weight alone snapping and cracking bones. The blade-sharp protrusions from their snout sliced into the back of the neck of one such man.
From the beastly maw came a scream like no other, like a cougar was blended in with a train whistle, and then brutalized by a booming undertone that rang the eardrums of the nearby 'Witch Finders'.

Another scream rang forth from them, the man-made monstrosity, and their metal-stinger-tipped tail whipped about and sank into the shoulder of a man who's gun rang forth projectile idiocy at a woman who barely dodged its bite. The blades on Jericho's face were wet with ichor, and their heart was pounding harder and louder than it had in a while. The cicada drone continued on, as yet more small electronics failed their owners. A claw swiped out, ink swirled, and sheets of iron plating layered over Polymorph J-3's skin. Their attention turned towards an apparent ally, another Changer whose form was that of a devilish beast.
J-3 screeched a greeting, and turned to snap their maw with deathly force at a nearby gunman.
A searing wind of salt scoured across their shoulders, but the iron simply held for yet a moment more. It would eventually scrape away, and the flames from nearby Witch Finders would soon burn and harm... But...

The slaughter was on, and no hesitation would be spared for the meat.

Sheri cursed at herself as she fiddled with the hinges on the back door, finagling them in such a way that they wouldn’t open if the target tried to come through here. It took several minutes of effort as she considered, attempted, and then reattempted several different solutions that wouldn’t be easily seen or removed before the man got here. The cook passed by twice, giving her a funny look the first time, but she just said ”Maintenance!” with the best fake smile she could manage and he immediately lost interest in her presence.
She’d got it just about into a state she was satisfied with when there was a sound of glass shattering at the front of the diner, followed by the sound of shouting. Her first thought was to slip out the back if there was trouble here... only to be reminded she’d just jammed the door shut when she tried to open it. ”Shit.”
She turned and slipped back toward the front. She quickly stepped to the side as staff and a handful of customers fled back into the kitchen; she decided not to mention there was no escape this way. They’d figure it out. She turned to look back up front, only to see a crowd of goddamn Witchfinders gathered outside, in a fistfight with the woman who’s been at the counter, and someone else she couldn’t see. Three of the men who’d been in the diner were also still here - two taking shelter behind the bar (was one of them wearing a balaclava mask? In 2045? What is this, the IRA?) and the third looked like he was about to go join the fight outside. Good for him, Sheri thought. Buy me more of a distraction. Oh, and her double was still in the booth. That was kinda funny. She dismissed it, and it dissolved in a burst of static.
It was a shame this job would turn out to be a bust, though, she thought to herself as she slipped around the counter toward the door. After all, it wasn’t as if Mr. Alan Kingsley would be stopping by for his coffee after… after… She froze where she was standing, within arms reach of the balaclava man, as her eyes fell on someone through the window, at the other side of the park.
Her fucking target.
She threw herself around the counter, jumped onto a booth table and tumbled out of the window, before breaking into a dead sprint through the meleeing crowd. Her hand flew to the PPK tucked into the back of her jeans under her coat, her fingers wrapping around the top of the grip with her forefinger resting along the length of the barrel. One of the Witchfinder’s spotted her as she dropped her stealth, and she ducked under his arm as he reached for her, putting her gun in his face and channeling a stunning nerve blast through the handgun at point-blank range without ever turning her eyes to him.
Sheri folded herself nearly in half as she vaulted over some mutated monster a mere instant after it tackled two more Witchfinders to the ground (Where the fuck did that come from? Am I gonna have to deal with that?) and then she was across the street, boots pounding over the grass as she made a beeline for Alan Kingsley. He spotted her, and as he turned to run her eyes flashed a brighter shade of green and two exact duplicates of herself appeared 20 yards ahead, following one very simple command: catch the target.
Alan bolted, adrenaline making this otherwise out of shape man move faster than he ever had in his life. Sheri dismissed her clones, then summoned two more further ahead, gaining ground with her doubles until they were practically on either side of him.
”Leave me alone!” he wailed, struggling for breath. He stumbled and fell as he reached the street, rolled, then was back up, sprinting left. Sheri stopped and fired another nerve blast through the handgun, hitting Alan in the back of the knee. He fell a second time as his entire leg suddenly went dead, cracking his chin on the asphalt. ”Please,” he wheezed. ”Please don’t hurt me.”
Sheri walked over, stuffing her gun back in her pants and dismissing her duplicates. She pulled a thin voice recorder out of her pocket, then lifted Alan up slightly by the back of his shirt, kneeling down to look in his face. ”You’re Alan Kingsley?”
”W-what?”
”I need you to confirm,” she said, clicking ‘record’. ”Are you Alan Kingsley?”
”Y-yes,” he answered. He was starting to cry. Gross.
Sheri dropped him, then clicked play on the recorder to confirm she’d gotten his official confirmation.
Nothing happened.
Click. Click click. Clickclickclickclickclickclickclick- she through the recorder on the ground, and it bounced and skidded into the gutter. ”God damn it!!”

It was rather amusing to watch her stumble around trying to find the words, like a tall vase only a light tap had been enough to throw her off balance. Her brother on the other hand did not seem phased in the slightest, rather he seemed very excited then again given his previous behavior he seemed to be of the excitable and enthusiastic kind. At the very least one with significant knowledge of muscular structures, which makes perfect sense in a way given his claimed profession. The other guy gave a considerate response, but he couldn't shake the fleeting feeling that there was an underlying message to it that he just didn't quite get.

He had considered making a response of his own, but seeing he kind of had his mouth full of sweet blueberry goodness and a rather imposing figure made his acquaintance with the girl, a rather physical one. Devon jumped up from his seat narrowly avoiding the hot coffee's sloshing from staining his pants only to leap over the counter a second later as he heard the sound of a large piece of glass shattering behind him. He looked around to see how the quint diner had just turned into a battlefield, Mackenzie had pulled Ichiro towards the booth where the man with the newspaper had sprung into action as well. The others all seemed to either have huddled beneath some cover or having made a mad dash to the kitchen, like any other place it'd probably have a backdoor at the very least to avoid bringing the ingredients through the customer section of the diner. Outside it seemed a group of witchfinders had gathered up to assail Yue, though from the glimpses he managed to catch of it she seemed to hold on quite well given the situation popping some moves that didn't gel with his mental image of fundamental Tai Chi.

Not that whether she was telling the truth was of any importance at this moment, as Ichiro had said she was holding her own for now and seemed to have some assistance joining the fray, they needed to get the others to safety first. Running into the kitchen he found himself faced with the kitchen staff unable to open the backdoor. Fuck... Inward hinges, those aren't going to bust from a little ramming attempt. "Stand back!" He yelled assertively as he grabbed one of the guns from his coat. A bullet directly applied to each hinge ensured the hinge pins were shattered beyond function and a forceful kick to the hinged side of the door later left a doorframe damaged and a door ejected from it into the alley behind the diner, leaving a safe exit route for the customers and staff.

From the sound of things Yue was pulling the fight through the park, away from their kitchen extraction route. As far as he recalled there were no big obstructions in or directly around the park, if only he could... Bingo, fire escape a reachable one. He jumped up on a dumpster (shouldn't those be some distance away to prevent just what he was about to do?) to a small ledge next to the fire escape and jumped up to the railing of the fire escape. Clambering over the railing and up the set of ladders he rushed his way up to the roof with a mixed grace of a cat by looks and Thor the god of thunder by sound.

Once on the roof he walked towards the edge where the sounds of battle came from, no raised ledge unfortunate, but fortunately a good view of what was happening on the streets below. It seemed the Witchfinders found themselves assailed by some kind of beast and something even more monstrous near the diner, the latter making carnage enough to turn those of lesser constitution vegan for the remainder of their lives. A bit further away a group of them were running towards an alley guns and abilities blazing, that would be where Yue had gone. Devon looked around a bit to see if he could get to a better position to cover that alley, no luck. At best there was the option to cross over two more buildings to get an angle on the street on the other side of that alley, but anything that'd allow him visibility into that alley would require jumping some rather wide gaps.

Not quite desiring to lower himself to the degree the assailants had he made the decision to avoid using anything too lethal... for now. As such he aimed a bit away from the group near the alley allowing his projectiles to home in on their targets and giving the Witchfinders the idea of being surrounded by gunmen on all sides with the hopes of causing a sufficient distraction while he made his way to a vantage spot for the other side of the alley, to provide a more accurate fire support for Yue when she exits the alley. He unloaded a mixture of bullets aimed at disabling them, destroying guns, breaking hands, putting bullets through calves and restraining one in the sticky mess that was structural fire foam.

Laying on the pavement, coughing up globs of blood, the head Witchfinder started to barely stir and regain his senses, just in time to witness several of his men being attacked by terrifying looking beasts, monsters, demons.

"Th-the demon- *HACK* The Demoness! She brings her servants with her! Destroy them! SEND THOSE UNNATURAL CREATURES TO PERDITION!" He cried out.




Richard saw the larger man at the booth bolt out of his seat and over the diner counter, calling out to him to help deal with the Witchfinders, and to... Rob the place later? He was confused for a moment, then it occurred to him not only what he wore, but what he had said moments before. Ichiro's words broke through Richard's moment of embarrassment, focus on getting the civilians out of here. The short girl from earlier appeared to have entered the diner again from out of the kitchen, and before anyone could say or do anything, she bolted out and towards the park? And the guy who had been at the counter with them had gone into the kitchen, and several of the staff had gone with him, only a few others remained pinned down in here.

Ichiro had been on his phone a few moments, and it became clear that Ichiro wasn't just a therapist. Sounded a lot like he was some kind of cop. Not great for Richard. Giving a slight nod to Ichiro, Richard began to assume a crouching position as he got ready to take action. "Oh and Ichiro, I ah... I'm not a burglar or anything like that... I ah... I'm in witness protection..." He feebly lied. Once he felt he'd attempted his best possible subterfuge in the moment, he raised a hand towards the shattered window, and to the others. After a few moments, a faint frost began to appear, and where the shattered window had stood with a hole in it, it now was becoming a full sheet of ice.

The ice was too crystalline to see through, and caused the room to dim slightly. Richard quickly ran over to some of the other staff and guests, quickly trying to usher them into the kitchen, where the guy from the counter had seemingly gotten the back door opened. "Alright, get out of here as quick as you can! Stay low, stick to the back alleys, and get into some kind of building! You need to take cover!"

He looked back to Ichiro now, nodding his head to the kitchen. "You need to go too, unless you're able to help out here." Richard raised both pistols to the opaque windows now as the power went off, some kind of shriek emanating from the street out there.

One more thing to worry about.

As some of the Witchfinders tried to chase down Yue, others tried to get a handle on the situation with Jericho and Sasha outside. Richard had noticed the man from the booth was now holding some kind of glowing gun, a laser gun? Weird, but he'd roll with it. "Hey! Aim for the shadows with tall hats!" He called out to Henry. A steady stream of bullets began making their way down from the rooftops, and soon after another hail of them exploded from the windows of the diner. Richard had begun to open fire through the glass, shattering the pane that had previously stayed in tact.

Three Witchfinders were grazed or hit, scrambling to take cover or falling to the ground as Richard opened up on them. One tried to crawl away from the gunfire and Jericho, but before he could make it far his hand landed in a pool of blood that quickly froze solid around his hand.

His screams of terror echoed across the street as his doom became sealed with that hand.



Maxwell felt himself tense as gunfire and violence exploded on the street next to the park. "That is... Problematic." He muttered. Just as he finished, the girl who had been called 'Jemma' disappeared and turned into some horrific monster, the likes of which Maxwell had never imagined. As the creature bounded off into the fight, he couldn't help but cock an eyebrow. "And that is... Rather interesting." He mused, almost a tiny bit pleased. He'd just witnessed something he was now quite interested in getting a better understanding of...

That brief pleasure was fast cut short however. Mr. Kingsley was outside the park. Running. With a girl chasing him. Maxwell's eyes narrowed as he chewed his lip. "This day has been full of surprises. Some more pleasant than others." He quickly gave a nod to Scarlet and Alex. "I'm terribly sorry, but you'll have to excuse me. This mess may have just put a client of mine in grave danger, and I must go help him. Mr. Alex, Miss Scarlet, it has been a pleasure." He gave them both a kind, warm smile, a slight bow, and turned to go find Kingsley...



Not long later, the silver haired man found Kingsley on the ground, and a shorter girl standing over him, likely a super.

"Excuse me Miss, but can I help you?" He asked in a light tone.

Maxwell came off as formal as he looked, though the air around him was giving Alex a sort of hair raising feeling that he couldn't quite place. Guy must be rich and powerful or something like that. Always came off as some sort of different breed, that's the difference in social classes for you. Scarlet on the other hand came off a lot more chill and casual, definitely more his kind of person. Unfortunately Alex never got the chance to really start talking due to the sudden sound of crashing and gunfire.
Alex's head snapped towards the general direction right as the screaming started. Shit, that sounds really bad. And only getting worse by the second. Sure enough, as if on cue, Jericho had exploded into a writhing and screaming mound of flesh. Dashing off towards the growing chaos just as their form settled, followed by the sound of electronics frying themselves.
Alex quickly fumbled for his phone on reflex and almost swore at the burnt out screen. He had just gotten that thing replaced after last time. Throwing it to the ground with an annoyed groan, He had a moment to notice he and Scarlet had been left behind by Maxwell during his small fit of annoyance.

He looked down at Scarlet as he pulled his hoodie on and zipped it up. "Hey so, I would explain but I gotta go after my roommate . . . the thing that was that girl just now, and try and keep them from going totally ape shit. Just, please don't tell anybody what you just saw. I gotta go. Now."

With that, the threw his hood up, he turned on his heel and bolted off. Alex only began to pick up his speed after getting a good distance away from "Scarlet". His feet tore into the ground as he ran well past the speed of any normal human. Alex ran a hand across his face and let his force fields shape over his head and effectively obscure his face under his hood while still allowing him to see. other plates and panels of simplistic, glowing blue armor rippled into existence around the rest of Alex's body until he looked like some form of ethereal knight.
Finding Jericho wasn't hard. Alex almost slowed down at the scene before him. The entire vicinity of the diner, inside and out, was in complete pandemonium. All of it seemed to stem from the strange and similarly dressed men Jericho and others appeared to be fighting off. Well . . . Jericho was more so having an early lunch rather then try and fend off the screaming men. All of which were screaming out of either fanaticism or terror. Alex took little time to contemplate who these people were as one of the man's hands erupted into flames which were soon pointed in the direction of Alex's friend. Fuck. That.

Alex ran full tilt towards the man. "Over here Asshole!" The flaming man only had a moment to turn and register what was happening before a quarter ton of armored superhuman crashed into him with the force of a speeding truck. The shoulder charge sent the Witchfinder flying, landing with a a loud thud. Satisfied with the results, Alex didn't hesitate to charge his way towards the next man in similar garb wielding an automatic weapon before giving him a swift kick between the legs. The civilians the man had been terrorizing before winced reflexively as the witchfinder dropped to his knees, his voice i soft and high pitched scream of intense pain. Alex turned to place his body between the civilians and the battle. "Get to safety, now!" it didn't take any more convincing before he heard people scrambling away. Good, he really wasn't wanting to have to keep an eye on paralyzed innocent bystanders when he had to keep . . . that in check.
Alex made a few steps towards Jericho. "Hey big guy! You still in there?" He tensed and swallowed hard as his eyes and hands flared with blue energy. Anticipating he he was going to have to bubble his friend any moment. he never liked having to do this, but he had to help keep Jericho under control.

"Yareyareda ze (good grief)," muttered Ichiro as his phone cut out suddenly. He tried in vain to get it to turn back on for a few moments and then shoved it in his pocket, taking a quick moment to collect Yue's phone from the ground to see if it was working. "Nope, do your thing Mackenzie-sama. If I got mixed up in what's going on outside One-chan would have my hide, I'll help keep the other non-combatants out of danger," Ichiro replied, glossing over the "witness protection" comment and giving him a light slap on the back. At that same moment he silently and deftly slipped a card into one of Richard's coat pocket: a plain white thing with Ichiro's name printed on it along with his phone number scrawled hastily across the back. Afterwards he slipped out through the kitchen during one of the brief pauses in gunfire.

Yue had taken cover behind a large tree near the edge of the park when she'd heard the chaos erupting back at the street. She also didn't want to draw any breakaways too far into the park to avoid endangering any civilians that might be there. She took a quick moment to peek out and see how many had followed and was surprised to see she was receiving support from someone on a rooftop back by the diner. Of the small group that had broken off to chase her, most were disarmed, with a couple on the ground holding their legs and one entangled in... riot foam?

Of course she couldn't pass up a gift opportunity like this. Yue bolted from cover, charging the one closest to her. He had his back turned to her, and did not spin around in time even though she heard "Oh fuck!" shouted from one of the other Witchfinders. Yue jumped, using her momentum to kick in the back of his knee, her opposite knee cocked to her chest. As he started to fall back she drove her heel into the back of his head and rode him straight to the ground, rolling with the momentum to avoid falling. The second was only two lunging steps away and simultaneously received crushing palm strikes to his chest and gut, knocking him sprawling into the foam.

The last two that were standing were on either side of her, and she had to take a step back to avoid a fist. Yue caught his wrist with one hand, swiveling on her heel and driving the palm of her free hand into the back of his head. His shoulder gave a satisfying pop as it twisted out of its socket causing him to scream as she knocked him to the ground and had to dive out of the way of a screeching gout of flame. She felt the heat on her back as she rolled into a sprint, keeping her head low and circling around, each step driving her closer. Finally she juked under a second blast, feeling the flames catch her right arm. She ignored it, driving her fist straight into his face, taking two large steps past him, brute forcing him off his feet and crushing him straight into the pavement.

Yue exhaled slowly as she rose up. She didn't have any restraints, but she knew someone watching who did. Yue dragged them two at a time into a pile visible from the rooftop Devon was standing on. When she was done she tapped her wrists together in his direction and pointed at the pile to signal that he should foam them.

The chaos wasn't over though, she could still hear it boiling over in front of the diner. She knew this was the perfect opportunity to escape, but she hesitated for an excruciatingly long moment. At the very least she couldn't leave while Ichiro might still be in danger, so she started running... back towards the diner. She vaulted up a dumpster in the alley, using her momentum to run up the wall a few steps and then leap to the opposite ledge, which she used to pull herself to the rooftop with practiced ease. The ledge overlooking the street was only a few steps away where she perched in the shadow of an air conditioning unit, crouched like a predator surveying its next kill.

Seeing Cannonade on the scene brought a frown to her lips... they were the embodiment of everything she disliked about "professional" heroes. Though Cannon's presence should be enough to mop up the rest of the Witchfinders without her having to intervene. The more concerning problem was the out of control monster on the street. Someone wearing a hoodie seemed to be trying to calm it down... regardless she couldn't just let it run wild with her brother nearby.

Yue took a deep breath, preparing herself for the backlash of what she was about to do...

"SON OF A BITCH!"

Vic went from covering her ears to protect them from the horrid, cicada like screeching to tearing the popping earphones away from them in a flash. She snatched the phone from her pocket, eyes darting between its dead, dark screen and the screaming flesh alien, and clicked the buttons on the side of the screen to no avail. "Hey-!" Her head jerked back up to Jemma, eyes blazing with fury, but the thing was already bolting towards the action. She shook her head and glared at the sky, trying to look for the angel above who'd just let this happen to her. "Fucking shapeshifters," she exasperated. With the same tone of somebody who had just been cut off in traffic.

Business man left, calmer than the average citizen fleeing the park for safety. Tall glass of water took his leave, too, running towards the danger zone. Vic was left behind with no music to drown out the melodic lure of bones cracking and gargled screams in a superpowered smackdown. She sucked in her cheeks, crunching down on them with her molars, dropped her skateboard on the ground, then mounted and rolled the other way.

Hey, she was a rockstar, not a hero.

She had a reputation to keep, sure, a controversial one, but not one where she was labeled an active vigilante. That would be a little too much for her agency to tolerate. Or the law. And it wasn't like she could just stand by and watch the show, either. @Vicki Vortex, is this you watching a terrorist attack and doing nothing?! Yeah, piss off.

Besides, these things got out of hand, fast. Especially in a place like Atlas City where the super per square mile ratio was way out of wack. Think punching a person in GTA and how quick that escalates. Somebody was gonna die. That was pretty much what she thought she could hear going on back there, and if she was being honest with herself...

... it sounded awesome.

Nobody can see your face, anyway.

She didn't think about it as her skateboard lifted up from the pavement and she changed her course. She came soaring quietly over the scene, hands in pockets, like an unenthusiastic Silver Surfer with bad posture. The chaos was even better than it sounded from the park and had its own celebrity guest star. A streak of red hair slipped from being stuffed in her cap, but she didn't think about it. She was fixated on the monster tearing through Witchfinders like they were gore filled pinatas. She didn't take the time to figure out whose side anyone was on. Frankly, she didn't give a damn.

Out of nowhere, a Witchfinder found themselves knocked to the ground by the blow from a heaven sent skateboard to the back of the head. Vic plummeted down from the sky, hand gripping the skateboard's front. As the Witchfinder fell forward, she followed, her wheels grinding their skull against the pavement. She hopped off, snatched her skateboard back up, and turned around as her fallen victim lifted their salt-crusted hand towards her, to deliver one, two, three, four - an exorbitant amount of bashes to the head. If anyone looked now, they'd see a random civilian who'd wandered onto a superhero movie set and was giving it their damn best - bloody - shot.

Witchfinder out cold, she shook the blood from her board, rested it on her shoulder and turned back to the monster. Then gave a little flick of her fingers.

Superhero and Van Helsing wannabe alike suddenly had a wall of air shove them aside, thick enough to feel like a solid force. She cleaved a straight line through the battle - a path straight to the monster. She immediately drew her busted phone from her pocket and ditched it at it. It bounced harmlessly off its hide, but got its attention.

"Hey, creature feature," Vic murmured under her breath, glaring down at it with undeniable murderous intent. "You shouldn't have cut off Bob Weir." Her grip on her skateboard tightened as she prepared to launch herself at him. "Or been the biggest motherfucker at this joint."

Jericho turned, focus locking on a new target; through the blur of combat haze, irritation and excitement built into a roar. The sound of a lion’s deafening call, mixed with the warbling shriek of an elk underwater, and undercut by keening tone that warbled glass and eardrum alike.

Vic's heart leapt as the land shark charged her. It was a non-too-regular reminder that it was still there. Regardless, she ran right for it, taking the skateboard off her shoulder. She pushed it along the ground, letting it run ahead of her and through the creature's legs, as its reach breached just a mere several meters from her. Five. Tw- Without a sound, she was gone. Particles exploded out, then faded into nothing. A gentle breeze wafted past Jericho's face.

Whomp.

Vic materialized behind them, feet plonking down on the skateboard. She skidded around, raised two fingers, and mimicked a little "Pow!" of a gun. The creature was pushed forward by the world's strongest air cannon - that was restraining itself. Just a little puff, enough to stumble it. An adrenaline-spiked grin flashed across her face, hidden by her medical mask.

Man... it had been way too long since the last time she'd nearly died.