Super

A young girl with a faint scowl in her eyes trudged about down a street in New York that was quite unfamiliar to her. A cold breeze tossled the wavy black hair on her head. Most of the hair was a short, fluffy mess; it stuck out in all directions, giving the appearance of matted bear fur, only longer. Some of the hair on the very back of her head, as close to the neck as it possibly could be, was still very long and was tied into a braid that ended just above the girl's butt. The braid swung slightly with the girl's frustrated steps.

The girl was on the short side, obviously very early in her teen year. She walked with the swagger of a grown woman, however; a warrior who had lived through horrific battles. She was nothing short of imposing, though her figure was scrawny and her frame appeared frail. For clothes, she wore a grey pull-over sweater under a thick, black hooded coat (a lead pipe had been carefully stashed within said coat). An old wool scarf was wrapped around her neck. She had a pair of dark, navy blue leggings that had been pulled over a pair of knee-high socks. Attached to the leggings were worn-out suspenders that had once belonged to a loving father figure. One strap reached up over the grey sweater, where it should be. The other hung down around her leg. For shoes, she had a pair of worn-out canvas flats. Not the most desirable choice for cold weather, but the girl made due.

"Har. Tzis is a funny trap; very cute execution." she mused to herself grumpily. "I may have to break code of silence for tzis one. Make quick work of tzem for trying to make a harlot out me. If I wanted to join brotzel, I wvould have stayed in Russia," she observed with malice. The voice she spoke in was dyed lightly with a Russian accent. It did not completely consume her speech, but it was still rather obvious. She was trying her best to learn English as quickly as she could, but it was still broken. She slipped up a lot.

Around her neck she wore two dog tags, each with the name "Yuliya Abarnikov" etched into them in Russian. They also had her gender and Russian hometown etched into them, also written in Russian. The tag on the left had the Russian word for "minor" etched into it, as well. The back of the dog tags were beautifully crafted, each a work of art depicting something different. One had flowers layered over each other, the other had an etching of a wild tiger drinking from a river on the back. These had been the last present's that Yuliya's kind stepfather had given her, right before the last time she had seen them. He had wanted her to have something to remind her of the good times they had shared in Russia, though they paled when other dark memories reared their ugly heads.

Yuliya paused and wrapped her right hand around the dogs tags. Her eyes fell to her feet. For a fleeting moment, she remembered how she missed him. She wondered if she'd ever be brave enough to go back home; to ask his forgiveness. No, no. Not this time. She couldn't go back to him as she was; a self-serving gutter urchin. One day though.... Maybe one day.....

"Stay healtzy, pops." she muttered. "Cause one day... One day I wvill finally beat you at tzumb war, you dexterous bastard." She chuckled to herself quietly. She didn't know why she always thought of him when she was marching into situations like this. Maybe because he was a heroic kind of guy; the kind who would break human trafficking rings in half with his own two hands.

She released the dog tags and began walking again, now entering a shady row of warehouses. They reeked of crime and contraband. A multitude of warning bells went off in Yuliya's head, putting her on high alert. She hadn't died yet, and she certainly wouldn't die here.

She passed over a few buildings, then finally arrived at the destination she had been looking for. Just another dusty old warehouse, seemingly. Yuliya had a hunch that something more was inside, according to the weird paper she had been presented with. Something more sinister. She shifted her shoulders around a bit, pushing the lead pipe away from her shoulder blade.

She knocked on the beat-up door. No answer. She hadn't been expecting one; it was only an alert for the people within.

"'The Giver should be tzankful,' so says Seisetsu," she said loudly, pronouncing everything as clearly as she possibly could. Her nose crinkled up as she said it. "What a stupid, bullshit password. Reciting my 'ABCs' would have been less humiliating," she thought to herself. The door slowly creaked open, jolting her from her thoughts. With a few cautious steps, she was inside. Her body was in full survival mode, her mind snapped into focus.

She carefully began to descend into the belly of the beast.

The door to a casino flung open and a rather happy young man stepped out. The sounds of a few agitated men could be heard in the time the door was open. "He had to be cheating, there's no way anyone's that lucky!", "It was like he knew everyone's hands!", they said. But he didn't care what they thought. It wasn't like he actually cheated, he'd just gotten lucky. "Man, Poker's fun. Might have to do that more." The boy spoke to himself as he closed the door behind him and set off in the direction of his home.

Despite the cold weather, the boy wore rather light clothing. A black pair of men's workout pants with a blue stripe down the side of each leg were his pants of choice. They weren't the best for keeping someone warm, but they were so comfy. His shirt was a loose-fitting black T shirt. About the only thing he was wearing that looked normal for the weather was his footwear. A pair of black sneakers with blue soles and a white pair of mid-length socks, the latter being covered by his pants.

His skin was a bit pale, since he'd been spending a lot of time home or at the casino, but his blonde hair went fine with the skin tone. It was about average length for a guy, maybe a little bit longer, and it looked like he hadn't even bothered to comb it down. Because he hadn't, of course. He surely looked like an idiot, going into a casino with such an appearance, and in cold weather too. But he walked out with pockets full of money and no amount of poor clothing choice could change that.

He walked at first, but upon remembering something, he broke into a run. "That's right, there's a new episode of The Walking Dead today! Oooh I hope I didn't miss it!" He exclaimed as he ran down the side of the road, getting more and more worried about missing his precious TV show. "Come on Lucky, you can do it...." He muttered as he neared his apartment, only stopping to rest as he reached the door. He almost flung it open too quickly to notice the note pinned to it....

The note seemed to be instructions. To what, he didn't know, but it was addressed to "Finn", so it had to be for him.... "Urgent....yadda yadda, location, yadda yadda....Full cup spills over? ....That's....nice....but Walking Dead...." He looked at the door, then back down at the note, torn between whether to follow the note or go watch TV. "Aaaaaw, fine!" He moaned as he slipped the note into his pocket and began running.

He noted that the directions seemed to be taking him to the "bad" side of town. It was a bit worrying, but surely if who ever left the note on his door knew where he lived, they wouldn't bother going through the trouble of dragging him all this way if they were malevolent. Especially since he wasn't really anyone special.... "This better be worth it." He said to himself as he entered a row of warehouses.

This area definitely didn't look very safe. Finn definitely didn't FEEL very safe either. "Who ever left that note better have a good reason for dragging me out here...." He muttered as he slowed his pace to a walk. Knowing the crowds he associated with, it was probably either someone playing an elaborate prank on him or a gambler whom he'd played against looking to get their money back. He very much hoped it was the prior.

He passed by a few warehouses before stopping at the one he was fairly sure was the correct one. It didn't really look special, but what ever was special about it was probably on the inside, not the outside. He slowly and hesitantly approached the door, knocking on it in the hopes he would be let in without having to say the silly passcode, but there was no answer. "Right, password....uh...." He muttered to himself as he retrieved the piece of paper from his pocket. "The....full cup spills over. You know, you should really think of better-" He fell silent as the door slowly opened, with no one at the entrance to open it. "Okay, that's a little creepy."

He peeked his head in before slowly taking a few steps inside. The first thing he noticed was a young woman whom he didn't recognize her as a friend or someone from any casino he'd been to, but still assumed she may have been the one to leave him the note. "Hey, uh....this from you?" He asked as he raised the note with one hand.

The fire danced merrily, crackling in the large fireplace. Sera stared deep into the fire, as she had been for the past hour. The rest of the world had faded away -she couldn't even feel the ground beneath her, so entranced she was into the fire. The man is like a modern-day Batman, she mused. Or maybe James Bond. She wasn't quite sure what was going on -it was rather like starting to watch an action movie in the middle or end of it.

A loud knocking sound interrupted Sera's concentration. She jumped to her feet instantly, startled by the sudden sound. The knocking repeated again, and Sera crossed over to the door hesitantly. Who on earth would come to her door? She hadn't ordered any supplies recently. She looked through the peephole to see a very dirty man dressed in rags at the door. She backed away quickly, her heart starting to pound quickly.

She darted up the stairs and into her room, where she hurriedly flung open the doors to her wardrobe and hit a hidden button on one of the door hinges. A secret trapdoor sprung open in the wardrobe, revealing an assortment of blades and heat-resistant gloves. Sera grabbed a pair of gloves, slipping them on quickly, before grabbing two knives and darting out of her room again.

The knocking continued for a few more minutes, while Sera wedged herself in the crawl space beneath the stairs. She was hidden behind a dozen boxes and several heavy trenchcoats -left behind by the previous renter of the apartment. She knew it was a risk to trap herself with nowhere to run, but she figured that if they found her like this she was dead anyway, and this way she would at least get in some cheap shots.

The knocking soon stopped, and Sera held her breath, sure she was about to hear the sound of the door splintering or some other such ominous sound. Nothing of the sort happened, but Sera refused to move. She was going to wait them out. They weren't going... to get... her.

The next thing Sera knew, she was jolting awake in a dark closet with an enormous pain in her neck. She hissed quietly in pain before maneuvering herself out of the closet warily. Sera looked around her house, expecting a trap to spring any minute, but nothing occurred. Maybe the guy had just been in the wrong place.

She crossed over to the door and peered out but saw nothing out of the ordinary. She opened the door a crack and looked around. Thankfully nothing seemed wrong. She turned to shut the door and noticed a scrap of paper pinned to the door. She grabbed it and shut the door, looking over the strange paper.

The paper had directions to a warehouse somewhere in the city and a passcode on it: "Mu". There was also a strange symbol -a calling card of sorts. Sera frowned. She had seen that symbol somewhere before -but she wasn't sure where. Should she go? Dare she go?

If she was going to go, she wasn't going in blind. She gathered up her knives and stashed them at strategic places under her clothes in hidden sheaths. She had at least fifteen knives on her by the time she had filled all of her sheaths. Then she donned a mask she had had designed for her night-time outings. It was made of a light metal alloy that was surprisingly tough for its light design. The metal was stained various hues of red, orange, and yellow to simulate fire, and feathers of similar colors were also attached to the mask, particularly on the edges of the mask and protruding above the eye holes, as if to represent her eyebrows.

There was also a thin metal band that cinched around her head so that the mask wouldn't fall off. Sera knew that the mask looked kind of silly -like she was going to a dance rather than fighting crime- but she preferred to attract attention with the mask than for others to look upon her scarred face.

Finally ready, Sera set out for the said warehouse, prepared for an ambush at any moment. When she finally reached the place and stated the passcode, she was ready to jump out of her skin at every sudden movement. She noticed the two people ahead of her -a man and a young-looking girl, but she said nothing, content to observe her possible adversaries rather than draw attention to herself.

"What the fuck man, why'd you hit me?" a bulky older male snarled.

Ohshitohshitohshit No. No. No. No. No. No. NOPE!

This was definitely not good. He had simply been walking along, and he had let his guard down and a man had slammed into his shoulder, purposefully looking for trouble and Nick being the unfortunate victim, when he had spaced out. Now he was on the ground with a bulky tattoo-infested man standing over him, looking ready to knock his lights out if not worse.

"I-I'm s-sorry! I didn't mean to," the smaller younger male had spoken, picking himself up and dusting himself off. He hoped to talk his way out of it, but it seemed that the bigger man wasn't going to take the peaceful route as an option. The bigger man had pulled back his fist and launched it forward in a fist of fury at Nick, who had been fortunate enough to dodge it through being quick enough to flee.

He had to shove his way out of the forming and crowd, mostly some droogs of the man's and people filming the fight for evidence and a chance to get on the news. The leeches had been denied their five seconds of fame as Nick managed to shove his way through the crowd, his gloves keeping the sharp tips of his mechanical claw from leaving scratches on other people and his long sleeves keeping his arms hidden.

He had to get out of here, before the friends decided to step in and assist the trouble maker in the chase. He made his way through the crowds of New York, crossing the sea of yellow taxis with the occasional blot of a normal car, several people followed, chasing after their chosen prey in hopes of having a bit of fun with the rat.

Thinking, he looked to see where he was, knowing he probably wouldn't be able to outrun these menaces for long. He would need somewhere empty and held electronics, some way to get the hell away. Nick couldn't fight back against that many, even if he did, that would mean he would have to use his claw. His claw was too unique to be swinging around without someone noticing, it would get him to be hunted down if he left survivors, and he wasn't much of a fan of murder.

Looking...Starbucks...Croc Shop...Panda Express...There! A Mom and Pop antique store, he rushed in, flinging open the door a little too harshly and causing the bell signaling a customer to go berserk. An elderly lady was behind the counter...shit. They were getting closer, they would search the shops around this area most likely what was he going to do if they-

"Hello young man, in a bit of trouble?" the elderly lady questioned him.

"Uh...yeah I guess you could say so," he responded, "I'll leave before they get here,"

"Nonsense, get in the back," she suggested, opening a panel that separated the sales counter from the rest of the store such as storage and employee room.

"But-"

"I know what i'm doin' lad, just get back there,"

Nick, running out of time, decided against trusting the elderly lady, "Ah no thank you," he turned to leave before she could say anything. He exited the store only to find the entrance surrounded by the thugs. They advanced on him slowly, forcing him back into the store. He could hear an elderly sigh behind the counter.

"YE FILTHY HOOLIGANS GIT OUTTA MY STORE!" Nick turned to look at the elderly lady to see her wielding a shotgun it gave a click as she readied to open fire, and the unarmed gangster wannabes fled the scene, favoring not being shot by an elderly woman.

Nick, thinking that she was serious, had also fled with them. He didn't know if the lady actually had it loaded, or if it was an antique she was just threatening them with, but he did not favor the chances of him being caught in friendly fire if it was. The thugs had scrambled, and he was able to get away and return home.

He quickly fled to his apartment, ignoring the arguing landlord with a family across the hall, and slammed the door shut. Their argument ceased as they heard the sound of many locks behind his door, and simply resumed arguing after a moment of silence.

He heaved a huge sigh of relief, and pressed his back against the door before slowly letting himself slide to the floor. He remained there, trying to settle his rushing heartbeat. Once he felt calm once more, he picked himself up and plopped himself on the couch, trying to think.

Should he move again? Would they track him down? What about the elderly lady? Was she in any danger? What was he going to do? He probably could have taken them on, but that would have ended badly. What to do, what to do?

Knock, Knock! There was someone at his door. He jolted awake from his half dazed state, watching the door. The knock sounded once more, he got up, slowly and silently making his way towards his computer, reaching his hand out to it and keeping an eye on his door all at once. He waited, another knock. Suddenly, the sound of banging. He slammed his hand against the monitor and disappeared.

All was silent, he knew of nothing but the time. He didn't know if his house was being raided, he didn't know if it was just fine and he was freaking out. All he knew, is he wasn't coming out for another few hours. Once that had passed, he would come out and check up.

To his luck, everything was normal! He looked around, making sure nobody was camping out around his apartment. He returned to his door, and checked through the peephole, there was nothing. He opened the door, leaving the chain lock attached, and spotted a note tacked to his door. He swiftly grabbed it and brought it in to the room to read, curious and fearful as to what it was.

Death threat? Eviction notice? Family Death notice? No. It was a rather strange note, with directions to some strange place with a password. What to do with this? What if it was a trap from the men from earlier? There was too many possibilities, he wouldn't go, even though it said urgent. That was that.

...unless...what if it was that man and he was holding that old lady hostage? Shit. He had to go and at least check it out. He swore under his breath, and slipped on his coat. Might as well go now.

--

He had arrived at the location, but he had decided to wait it out in a nearby ally across the street and watch the entrance, he had seen several others walk in. Two women and a another man, none of which looked familiar. He didn't hear any pained cries coming from within the building, or any type of guard around the building. He eyed the building up and down, his suspicion level off the charts.

He forced himself forward, standing around and chickening out might cost someone their life. He pulled up the hood to his coat, keeping his face in the shadows of his hood. He shoved his hands into his pockets and approached the door the others had gone through, "Bankei's mirror is quite the little joke..." he mumbled to the door, not wanting to speak clearly. The door clicked open, and he slipped in, closing it behind him. He said nothing to the others who seemed to still be standing around.

It seemed to be some sort of meeting, but what for? He had come around about ten minutes after the last person, and kept a bit of a distance from the others. His hood was still up and his face bent downwards and his shoulders a bit hunched, tense from the situation and frightened for his life, wary about just how much he could have just walked into some kind of trap.

...

...

What to do now?

I'm shaken from my sleep. She's careful to touch the right shoulder. I open my eyes and see a blank, like staring in the mirror. Except she has hand painted a white circle on the front of her mask. Ensō symbol. It's a Japanese symbol meant to represent peace, harmony, and what they call nen, which translates to something like "the act of putting your mind in the present moment". Whatever it means to her, I don't know.

"They've all arrived. All the passwords cleared and facial scans are calling matches to the pictures you've given me."

I move to get out of bed. As I get up, my left shoulder aches tremendously. It's still tender from last night. Thankfully, I didn't hit anything important. It should be manageable in a week or two. I examine the work Zen did on the wound. It feels like it's been sewed up already and the bandages are good and tight. They'll need to be changed later today.

I chuckle to myself. Just one more scar.

It takes me a moment, but I notice she also reset my nose with my mask still on. Respectful. We've never seen eachother's faces. Then again, I think maybe we have. I think the lines between face and mask blurred for us a long time ago.

I take off my bloodstained mask quickly and grab one of spares she keeps around. I vist often enough to warrant it. With a fresh face, I push myself off the bed and get dressed. I forgo the trenchcoat. The vest, shirt and tie will do for now. As I pull tight my gloves, I notice my hat upon a hanger. For a moment I'm stunned. I can't believe she went back to get it. Reckless. Sweet, in its own way, but reckless.

New shoes clacking on the concrete floor, I walk out of the bedroom and into the control center, I have of humming machines and wires with a number of screens and keyboards. At the moment, all the screens are devoted to security measures. Cameras, heat sensors, metal detectors, x-rays, the list goes on. A flea couldn't sneak into this place without her knowing it.

I walk up behind her as she's sitting in her chair. She gives me a sit-rep.

"The Red Wonder has what looks like some kind of lead pipe underneath her clothes, the Firecraker has knives. Lots and lots of knives." She points to the one who just entered. "This guy is definetly the cyborg. He can pull that hood up all he wants, that arm is lighting up like Christmas on my scanners. God, I want a closer look at that thing so bad..."

"Wipe the drool off your chin, Zen."

"The heart doth want what the heart doth want, Bogart. Anyway..." Points to the blonde. "This kid, however, is completely clean."

"Of course he is. No need for weapons when you've got 'luck' on your side."

She laughs. "I can't believe he can't figure it out." She pauses. Swings around in her chair to face me. "Come to think of it, how the Hell did YOU figure it out?"

"Easy. No one is that 'lucky'. I watched him for awhile, and soon his powers became the only logical explanation. 'When you've eliminated the impossible, whatever remains...'"

"Okay Sherlock."

"Is everything ready?"

She turns to me and tilts her head."Bogart. How long have you known me?"

"I'll take that as a yes."

"Long enough, I see." She turns back around and fires off a few keystrokes. "By the way, remember how I was repairing those auto-turrets when you stopped by last week."

"Yes."

"Well, Happy Birthday, they're ready. I've got one statio-"

"Don't. One of them is a Psychic, remember?"

"Right... Well, I won't tell you where I'm going to be watching from either then."

"Good." She springs out of her seat and reaches behind one of her computers. She produces a high-powered rifle. Military grade. Bolt action. .50 caliber slug. One bullet is roughly the length of my hand. Conventionally used to pierce the outer armour plating on tanks. The round can sear flesh just by passing roughly a foot away from the body.

Neither of us are taking our chances.

I give her a nod. "If we keep our wits about us, nothing will go wrong."

"Right."

"Go. Signal me when you're in place. I'll be entering from the upper stairs."

She nods and heads off. It will only take her two minutes to get into place and set up. I stare at the moniters. All four of them standing there. I wonder what they're thinking? Are they wondering why they're here? Afraid someone is going to attack them? We'll only use our weapons if we have to. I remind myself that these are people, on the inside. They experience like I do. Think and feel. Hunger for food. Thirst for water. They're vulnerable. They bleed. Still, I can't help but categorize them as "Other" in my brain. Something to be feared, or at least cautious of.

My mind flashes back to last night, in the elevator. The looks those people gave me. I saw fear in their eyes as well. And why not? I may very well be crazy. I'd have to be to do what I do. Still, I'm good at it, and those people knew it. They knew that, if I was just a little more crazy, I could have killed them too, along with the filth that tossed himself out the window.

But the people before me, they are on another level entirely. Had they known, or had the inclination, they could have easily thwarted what almost happened last night. Nick could have disarmed the bomb from the inside, and there would have been nothing they could have done. Their bullets would have melted before even hitting Sera. Yu would have had all the back up she needed. And "Lucky"? He could have sleep walked into the building and come out without a scratch.

I try not to blame them, but I can't help but clench my fist. Where were they? How could they? With their gifts, how can they stay with the small stuff, while I'm left to clean up the big messes? Am I the only one here who cares? The only one willin to stain, scar, and burn his hands to keep people safe? The only one who gives a damn!?

I hear my heavy breathing.

My fingers dig into my palm.

My shoulder aches...

...

A green light flashes on the console.

Showtime.

I grab my hat, place it snugly on my head, then stroll towards the stairs. My footsteps echo on the metal staircase. One by one I ascend until I reach a heavy metal door. I turn the lock and there is a heavy thump as the mechanics clunk into place. As I open the door, it screeches. It has rusted after all these years. I walk out onto the catwalk and shut the door behind me with a bang. It resonates through the building, bouncing off the walls.

This place used to be a printing press. Ironic.

Below I see all four of them in the flesh. My spine tingles. I begin walking down the stairs.

I speak with my usual rasp to hide my voice, but loudly so everyone can hear.

"Let me start off by thanking all you for responding so quickly. While you couldn't have know, time is of the essence and you have saved me the trouble of actually going out and tracking you down individually.

"Now, keeping in mind precious time, I'll keep this short. Last night, at approximately 10:20 PM, there was an attempted bombing at the New World Trade Center in Manhattan. The perpetrators had in their possession a device with enough payload to easily level the entire building, along with any other structures in a four block radius. They were armed with millitary level tech and weapons and were highly trained, organized, and above all, dangerous.

"Their plan was thwarted, but I have reason to believe that this was only a small cell in a much larger organization. At this moment, I have no idea what their motivations are, nor what they are planning. All I know is that they will strike again. And next time, I might not be able to stop it.

"Some of you may have heard of me, some may have not. You may call me whatever you like, but most know me as Shade. I've been protecting this city for years, staving off one thing or another. I manage well enough on my own, but this thing is beyond even my abilities. So I have brought you all here to introduce myself and to ask you for your help.

"Each of you has been gifted with extraordinary powers. Powers that, so far, have been squandered. It's high time you learned how to effectively use them, come out of the bush-leagues, and start doing some real good.

"It is up to you to accept this offer or not, but I would stress that it really is in your best interest. I can train you, make you more effective, help you help others. You've been gifted with extrodinary abilities, it would be a crime to not use them to the benifit of others."

I pause a moment. Let it sink in.

"If you wish to stay, stay. If you do not, leave and never come back. I

"f you have any questions, now would be the time, though do not expect an answer simply because you ask."


I stand there, arms crossed, my blank face staring at nothing.

Sera turned to take a look at the man speaking to the small group. She felt a tiny bit of satisfaction when she saw that the man also had a mask on, though this mask was nowhere near as flamboyant as hers -simple black mask with no holes to show any part of his face. Sera's eyes narrowed at the almost accusatory tone to the man's words.

"I won't pretend I know anything about you, but I'm quite certain you've not had mine, nor any one of our lives. Don't pretend to understand our motivations or feelings, and never say -indeed never imply- that I, at least, don't care about this city, or the people in it. 'Wasting my powers' indeed." She spat angrily, clenching her fists. Smoke began to curl upwards as her skin began to heat up in her anger.

"I'll help you -I won't let mothers or children be harmed because of my pride, but I'd suggest that next time you need someone's help, don't insult them while doing so. Not the best way to get their help, in my opinion," Sera growled, before taking a few deep breaths. She was certain this man was not the only one here; she couldn't afford to be seen as a threat. As she calmed herself, the smoke curling away from her skin began to fade.

Sera looked around at the other people, guessing that they were like her, with powers beyond the normal. She wondered what their responses would be. Would they be insulted like her; would they jump on the chance to learn more about their powers? Perhaps they wanted to be left alone. She looked back up at the -so far- silent man, the feathers on her mask waving slightly with the movement of her head. Who did this man think he was, anyway?

The man spoke of a bomb, what bomb? Oh, yes, it was on the news. He had been falling asleep as the story came up, but he remembered it none the less. It was raw bloodshed, and a man had assumed to be fallen from the very top. Not much was released to the public, but it was identified as a terrorist attack. Too big of a scale for him, nothing he could do about it he had assumed.

The man continued on, speaking of how he had stopped it, which brought Nick to the idea that this man was like him, but probably more capable of combat. What did Nick have? A Claw. That's it. Unless there was some kind of military grade drone just lying around, he could do practically nothing to fight.

Then the powers talk came up, Nick's eyes widened. How did he know? Panic rose, he was being watched and he didn't even realize it?! Shit. Shit. Shit. How? Was this a trap after all? Nick kept himself silent despite his pounding heart, he could practically hear his own pulse in his ears. He listened still, waiting for the man to finish his speech. The topic of 'wasting' their powers came up, and one of the females fired back at the man almost immediately.

Though he agreed with the girl/woman about the motivation, he was still highly doubtful of his ability to help. What was he going to do? Hack into their systems and get useful information? If this man found out his little secret without him even noticing, then he probably didn't even need him. What if it came to combat? What was he going to do then? Scratch them to death while being shot into swiss cheese?

He may have a slight advantage in combat, but when it came to guns, it was a no-go, he'd rather get out of there before the safety was even taken off than to fight them. However, there was something that struck him, how the man had said it was in their best interest to help. Was that a threat? If they didn't help was the man going to turn against them or use those that are going to help to declare him an enemy? This man seemed to have known everything about him, what if he were to release his information to every enemy he had made in this city out there? It would take years to get back under the radar if he was not already dead.

He remained silent, waiting for a response from the others and any questions they might have. He fought with himself over the decision, the 'threat' willing him towards the 'yes' side, while the will to live told him to get the hell out of there and pretend this never happened. His hands shoved themselves a bit deeper into his coat's pockets, his indecisiveness and tear between the two decisions getting to him a bit.

He looked back to the man after the girl had spoken, then to the rest of the group that had gathered here. Would anyone dare to say anything after that? Anyone else in agreement? Was someone going to refuse? So many questions, so many variables, possibilities...what if this turned into a huge fight? He should have brought a cell phone or something, something to hide in or get away with.

So there he sat, waiting, thinking, and panicking, wondering just how these other people were going to react, how things would go down, and how much of a facade this whole thing really was.

One of them speaks up. "The Firecracker" as Zen said. Impetuous.

I stride towards her, slowly, until I'm close. I can feel the heat coming off of her. I lean in close. I don't lower my voice. I want the rest to hear. Keep my voice level, calm. She doesn't frighten me.

"In return, I would suggest you don't pretend to know what I know. I assure you, it's far more than you think. I know about your accident. I know why you're bitter. Why you spend your time alone. Why you wear that mask.

"It's only as a courtesy that I don't say your name with these people. I am giving you that because I respect your safety.

"Now, I suggest that you calm down before I cool you off myself."

I turn. "That applies to everyone here. Those who wish to keep their identities hidden have the right to that. Though, once again in the interest of time, I would be best to simply assume I already know everything about you. And I mean everything...

"Now, anymore outbursts?"

Fury pounded through Sera's just-cooled veins. She glared at the mystery man angrily. How dare he presume to know anything about her?! He may know of her actions -how she didn't know or care- but he could never understand what she went through! NEVER!

Her eyes flashed at his threat and she had to forcibly stop herself from seeing just how the man would respond to having his head explode into flames. She turned away from the man, breathing harshly as she tried to contain her anger. Obviously this man knew a lot about her, meaning he knew exactly what she was capable of. That meant that he had to be extremely confident in his own skills to risk pissing her off like this.

Who knew what kind of powers this man had? He obviously knew that people existed with powers beyond the norm. This might be because he, too, was a person with powers. Sera took several deep breaths in and out. "Fine. But I don't understand what you think we can do that you can't, if you're so confident in yourself that you can openly challenge us, knowing exactly what it is we can do."

Sera didn't know what powers the others had, but if her own powers were of any indication, they were all pretty powerful. For the man to challenge all of them at the same time... this guy might actually be Batman for all she knew.

A few more people arrived, sticking to the edges of the room. It didn't seem like anyone was overly interested in chatting and Finn was beginning to feel that perhaps he was unwanted. Maybe this was some private party and he'd been given an invitation by accident. He didn't bother trying to talk to the newcomers, since they clearly didn't want to.

Then he heard the raspy voice of the fifth appearance. Finally, someone who wasn't completely antisocial. He listened respectfully, not wanting to turn this man off to talking as well by being rude and interrupting him. But slowly, as he listened, he began to think maybe he DIDN'T want to talk to this man. He had clearly been mistaken for someone else, someone with "powers", and this "Shade" seemed to have a....threatening tone to his voice....

But wait! If he had been mistaken for someone else, then clearly who ever was SUPPOSED to come wasn't going to. Maybe this was his chance to be a hero. If what the man said was true, maybe he could be trained to be able to do something good for the world. He just had to pretend he WAS someone with powers. It was decided, he'd stay and take the creepy man up on his offer, under the guise of some superhero, and eventually he would learn to be the hero he was expected to be. If Shade really was able to stop a bomb singlehandedly, surely he could make Finn into someone useful.

Just as he opened his mouth to speak, however, someone else broke the silence. The rather antisocial girl in the....interesting costume. She argued with Shade briefly over the apparent threats mixed into his speech, but was quickly silenced by even more threats. Then the mysterious masked man proceeded to blatantly threaten everyone in the room with him. If the others really had some kind of superpowers, this man was playing with fire.... Someone needed to try to cool the atmosphere down a bit and it seemed like no one else was interested in attempting to, so....

"One outburst coming up." He started with a joke, hoping someone would appreciate it. "I'm all for being a hero, but not if you're gonna go around threatening everyone. From the sounds of it, you want a team. A team should be built on trust, not fear." He said as he took a few cautious steps towards Shade. This man worried him a bit, but if things got heated, he could always just run away.

"Besides, I for one am an open book. There's not really any secrets you can threaten me with, so you'll have to be nice to me instead!" He said in a cheery tone, trying to show he was only trying to lighten the mood and not trying to challenge the mystery man. This guy probably had some big guns if he was confident enough to challenge a bunch of people with powers. The last thing he wanted at the moment was to piss Shade off.

Yuliya looked at the man who had apparently called them all here, then took a look around at the others. She counted only one female, besides herself... the runaway blinked. This was not what she had expected from an experienced sex trade. Where were the pimps? The loser men in the room didn't look like pimps; the only one who came close to any "pimpness" was the one with the mask. So he was the pimp, but then who were the other guys? The muscle? Yuliya's face twisted into one of disbelief. Really? This was the kind of muscle that the pimp was letting hang around? Yuliya slowly looked around again, her gaze resting on the one wear the hoodie. There was NO way he was the muscle. He was a bottom, no questions asked.

Yuliya took a few gentle steps forward, but only to allow herself to see better. She didn't want to cross any boundaries.

"You are pimp, yes?" Yuliya asked quietly, her accent-tainted voice wavering from something other than fear. She was stifling giggles. "And, us... wve are the harlots you're preying on?" A couple of giggles escaped from her lips. "R-really? Is tzis a harem? Or a host club?" After that, Yuliya collapsed, no longer able to contain the laughter. Her back heaved as she toppled over onto her knees and laughed until she was ill, a few tears trailing down her cheeks. "Wvat.... wvat kind of idiot...?!" she gasped. "Unless this is tzat kind of place. Exotic... I guess....." After a few moments, the laughter subsided to chuckles.

As the man began talking, Yuliya's face fell completely. She listened very closely to what he was saying, her face shifting into a frown. At least he wasn't running a sex trade after all. But, why were American current events always so calamitous? Not that they were any better in Russia.... but Yuliya hadn't been expecting to be responsible for more than putting bread in her mouth (and sometimes in the mouths of other children roaming the streets, if she was feeling like being a bleeding heart) and finding herself a lukewarm corner to sleep in at night, if she did sleep.

After he finished talking to the other girl, Yuliya stood up.

"Ah... yes, Mr. 'Shade', wvas it?" Yuliya asked. "Your story really resonates wvith me, yes. I suppose I wvas squandering this 'great gift' I hawve all tzose years in Russia wvile my birth fatzer rode me like carnival pony. I could have contributed so much to pedophilia wvith all tzose clones I didn't make. I feel as tzough I'wve lost out on so much now." Her voice remained calm, as if she were stating nothing but truths. "As for your proposition... You seem like a good person. I understand you must be worried about tzese people, but vigilante justice does not put a roof owver one's head," Yuliya sighed, rubbing her head in thought. "I just recently had a falling out wvith the tutor who wvas sheltering me. Tzere are no real employment opportunities for a 14 year old who speaks broken English. I may not be here in tze next couple of months, and a dead carcass is of no use to you," she observed. "I honestly don't see tze point of you asking homeless urchin to help you fight terror, but if you are so adamant tzat you arrange tzis meeting, tzen I suppose I should at least give it tzought. But keeping myself alive is priority. Otzerwise I am no more tzan smelly paperweight."

The proposition seemed like a bit much for a 14 year old living on her own, but something was striking a chord with her. This guy... he was sounding a lot like her step-father. A real stand-up guy. Yu liked that about him, at least. She was torn though, even if this was the better cause... she just couldn't risk dying from something as unceremonious as malnutrition before seeing her stepfather again. She had sworn she would return to him better.

"Tzere is much for me to consider... tzere is someone waiting for me, you see," Yu said barely above a whisper. She sat down with her legs crossed and put her head in her left hand, her right hand finding the dog tags. She looked deeply contemplative; her face like stone.

I should have suspected this. They seem confrontational. I've riled them up. I probably should have chosen my words more carefully. I wonder if I should be in the shadows somewhere with the gun and Zen should be down here doing the talking. Maybe she would have better luck. I really need to work on my communication skills. Interrogation and persuasion are two very different things. I tend to forget that.

I turn around walk away from the group and give myself a moment.

I face them.

"These are the facts:

One: There is a powerful organization that has the ability to hurt a lot of people. A lot of innocent people.

Two: You've all been gifted, and despite your past or your motivations, you are not working to your full potential.

Three: I can help you reach that potential, and in return all I am asking for is your help.

Four: Should you accept this offer, you will be provided with amenities and shelter.

Five: I cannot, obviously, garuntee your safety.

With these facts in mind, I am giving you the chance to make the right decision. If you decide to stay, then stay. If you don't want to stay, if you want to go back to the way you've been doing things, then leave.

Now."

I cross my arms and wait for their decisions.

Sera couldn't believe her ears. The other woman who was here... she wasn't even a woman; just a girl; just a child; an innocent! She glared at the man -Shade, he had called himself. He responded to hers and the others' words in one go, laying out facts like he didn't even care what any of them had said. Sera shook her head. She wouldn't let innocents be hurt -this girl had been hurt and she hadn't been there to prevent it and it all made Sera just want to explode! She noticed that smoke had begun curling from her fists again and she sighed.

"I've already said I'll help you," she said quietly, trying not to convey the fury that she felt inside. "But... bringing children into this? I don't care what kind of powers she has; a child should be protected, taken care of, not thrown into a war! No matter what their past is," she added, looking at the girl with a sorrowful look. "Don't make her fight; or the terrorist cell won't be the only people after your blood," she growled, turning her attention back to Shade.

Firecracker is speaking out again. I'm really starting to become annoyed with her attitude. The Gambler is right. It is going to be hard for us all to work together if she keeps butting heads with me.

Getting very sick of this already.

She just jumped all over me for questioning her own past, motivations, and competency. She thinks she knows this girl, that she's a sweet little child that needs to be protected. No. She's past that, and it is unfortunate.

I won't treat her like a child because she isn't one anymore.

I stay silent.