Vine 2031: Children of Destiny RPG

 After the systematic destruction of the Collitard family,  the Lebeau Clan began to rise to ultimate power. Together with Gambler at it's head, the Lebeaus united to take over France until nobody not even the Champions of Peace or Omega Justice could stop them. The House of L's power was so great that others stopped opposing them and simply yielded to there rule. Years passed with The Lebeau strong hold at the top, manipulating and controlling almost everything around the world. Soon people saw that land was where the real power was and took control over there own parts of the world.   Others remained loyal to the former way of life and kept fighting never giving in to the tyranny of others and keep the legacy of heroism alive as best as they could.
 
In an act of revenge Lord's Angel formally known as Hawk finally had his show down with Gambler and killed him. The Death Dealer thought he had annihilated the whole clan but Angelique Lebeau survived and took her place as the head of the House of L. Under Angelique the House of L grew cold punishing and taking more land for themselves. 
 
Lords Angel thirst for  did not stop with the death of Gambler and the world became his playground leaving no one safe from his rage.  His power grew with his powerful children by his side, over the years and became even more powerful then Darkchild leaving everything in his path in ruins. Heroes and villains alike began to grow old leaving their children to deal with what had become of the world with promises of change and better futures at the tip of everyones tongues. With land to be taken and people to be protected it was up to the children now to do what their parents could not and somehow if at all possible make things right in the world. 
 

Island of Florida

He still insisted that it be called the White House, though no presidents have lived there to some time. Walking slowly around the campus he strolled room to room thinking about the past, thinking about her. As he stood in the Oval office with his eyes closed a voice interrupted him. "They are at it again. No matter how much we tell them to go away they keep coming back protesting......" He interrupted her mid sentence. "If I had your way child I would have no one to rule over." She put her hands on her hips in an obvious sign of defiance. "Would you have them march on The White House? Would you like me to let them stomp up the yard and kill us all?"  He looked at her a 22 year old image of her mother, he could never resist her charm. "Fine, Olivia. Deal with them how you wish." 
 
The doors opened and Olivia Anderson stepped out onto the front steps. The men on the street screamed and yelled throwing bottles towards the house, but she stood hands on her hips her face not giving any indication about what was to come. When they saw her the crowd became silent, until one man yelled and started to climb over the high fence. Soon others followed and charged the house. They were mere feet away when she Whispered. "Dust"  The men's bodies started to shed and blow away in the wind like that of a dust storm. The rest seeing the rioters lives lost with just a Whisper quickly retreated back to their lives of obedience to the Lord. 
 
" Well done Whisper" He spoke softly behind her. " Don't call me that! You know I hate that name."  She fired back at her brother, who stood in the dark with a hood covering his eyes. The fire still glowed out from under the hood as he spoke softly. "You've done it your whole life Olivia, you Whispered your will and it was done. I find it fitting."  He turned to walk back inside of the huge door way, "Should I call you Death then? Cause all you do is kill everything in sight! You've been doing that forever too!" She yelled back at her older brother, knowing that the jab would cut him deep. Nathan, or "Heat" as the papers called him, had trouble when he was younger controlling his powers. The lives that he had taken were uncountable. "Touche"  he said as he strolled back into the house, his hands in his pockets.  "It is time for dinner and you know how father is."  Sitting down at the long dinner table Whisper and Heat sat down with father over dinner. The feeling that someone was missing radiating through the room even 20 years after the fact.

“Yeah, Papi, Its gonna be another late night tonight. My client wants the new spring line by next Tuesday. You know how pressing the fashion industry is. ” Said a pleasant and youthful voice on the other end of the line.  “But you’re the one I’m concerned about. How are things back home?” The low, old and very gravelly voice of the girl’s father replies, “Everything is fine. Your mother and I are just enjoying our days together.”

The once Secret Agent turn Superhero, Frank Myers, sits in a plush, high back chair facing the open window. Staring at the evening sky, he talks to his daughter with a body that has now caught up with his age. After not going into his abstract form for many years, he no longer had the ability to do so. Without constantly realigning his particles, his body began to rapidly age to match how old he really was. His mid 70s.  His white hair has fallen off the top of his head; his face has sagged making his frown lines more prevalent; arthritis has set into every joint in his body. He honestly was at the end of his rope.

“That’s good, but you know what I really mean. How are things on the island?” she asks worried about the old couple’s safety. “This town still has its protectors. I honestly feel this might be the safest place in the world for me and your mother.” “Alright now, I don’t want to keep you up too much longer. Don’t forget to take your pills.” “I won’t.” “I love you, Papi. Goodnight.” “Night.” The two hang up their phones and as soon as Frank takes his hand off the receiver he can hear heavy flapping. Laya the Falcon lands on the base of the window. “How are you old, bird?” He says to her knowing that even though they have a special connection and even share the same powers, he could never actually tame her. She is as wild as the day she was born.

From his, bed the half sleep voice of Mrs. Myers calls out, “Come to bed, mi marido.” Laya’s eyes flash over in her direction with a glare of pure jealousy. After a quick look back at the Neon Nightmare, the falcon thrusts her wings and takes off into the distance. Frank couldn’t help but chuckle as he shuffled his feet toward his bed. Swallowing his last dose for the night he slowly enters his bed and pulls the cover over his body.

In the midst of Wellington, the capitol of the North Island of New Zealand, Winston Sharpe looked from his tower at the rift of water that seperated his domain from those who had escaped, to live on the South Island, which had since turned into something of a refuge for those wishing to be free from 'super-powered tyranny'. Winston sighed as he turned away, he'd let them survive there, build their own society of 'normals' as he had no need for their land, they had as of yet posed no threat and he always had more important matters to attend to, namely, managing his numerous duplicates abroad.

Since his teenage years, Winston had gathered a distinct mastery over his own powers, even if he'd time and time again lost all the power he'd gained through his research. Now seated in his throne at the highest point of 'Wellington Tower' as it had been dubbed, duplicate Winsti attached one of their own into the vast array of machinery that surrounded the seat. One duplicate began by splicing open the seated Winstons scalp, attaching a variety of electrodes to it, before the various pieces of equipment were turned on and the process began. The Winston seated in his throne, his hand grasping tightly at the arm-rests, his teeth clenched in pain as blood slowly oozed down his face, was instantly telepathically connected to every Winston on Earth.

In the Congo, which had since turned into a wasteland of violence with a continuosly fluctuating government depending on who had the biggest guns, or the strongest super-powered being backing them. Several Winsti were here working for a large, up and coming drug ring seeking to come to power through force, and with a big enough pay check, Winston had been more than willing to take part in conquering the Congo, acting as a one-man army. Said 'army' was still in the process of gathering enough weapons for a full-scale assault on Kinshasa. Back in Wellington, the Winsti enthroned and attached to machines grinned, he was fairly up to date on what was going on in Africa.

In Sana'a, the Capitol of Yemen, a small task-force of Winsti were creeping through the slums, which had in the past 20 years quadrupled in size, murdering various individuals who'd helped organise a rally against the government as they slept. In Dhaka, Bangladesh, Winsti were acting as the bodygaurds of a politician in the employ of a global heroin ring that had since begun to grow its poppy in the country in order to export its cheap labour. The people here had devolved into slaves. As the knowledge of what his bretheren were doing continued to flow into him, the Winston in Wellington began to let loose a noise that was a mixture of a scream and a burst of laughter as he thrashed about in his black throne, splashing blood about the place from his open head. Then he felt it. 

In Bucharest, in the Castle wherein resided the family and escort of the Draconian, the countries current ruler, another Winston attached himself to another machine, similar to the one in Wellington. The presence of the both of them, copying and absorbing the memories of thousands, if not more Winsti across the world became a tad much for them. Simultaneously, on opposite sides of the globe, the Winsti tore the electrodes from the brains and fell to the floor, panting in between bouts of vomiting up blood. They were both promptly reabsorbed by nearby duplicates and their knowledge shared across their respective estates. Returning to his masters throne-room, Winston bowed before the Draconian. 

"We have yet to hear word of him."

The city he grew up in was gone, Paris, the city of the lights and love. Now taken over by the very family he once swore his allegiance to that turned it into a safe haven for any criminal activity imaginable, the Lebeau dynasty. The image of the city was still intact, the lights were shining brightly, the Eiffel tower still stood as a beacon for the city, there were even loving couples roaming across the streets. But behind the scenes everything had changed, corruption was everywhere and it continued to spread. But this city was his, the Chabot Foundation had grown from a mere charity organisation to a great multinational company. And with his earnings he managed to keep this city under his control, law enforcers that were still loyal to the constitution were under his command, the city oozed with hope. Something that was scarce this time and day. Hence the name of the city was more fitting now than it ever was before, Los Angeles, the city of angels.

“Father?” A hand gently caressed his shoulder as he placed his own hand upon hers. A soothing voice that reminded him of a woman he once loved long ago woke him from his train of thoughts. “Time for our patrol” she said in a playful manner as she put her mask in place in front of her mouth changing the sound of her voice. As Precise looked at her he saw a reflection of himself that filled him with pride. She looked as stunning as her mother had once looked, beautiful black raven hair with dark eyes that seemed to pierce your very soul. Quite a contrast from the man that stood before her, his long black hair had made room for a short grey haircut, his face had visibly aged and every one of his worries could be read in his wrinkles. But all of that was gone as soon as he put on the mask that had made him a legend amongst these parts, the image of the panther. His still impressive physique was outlined in the black costume that he donned since he joined Omega Justice over 20 years ago. “After you Alesha..” He made a slight bow as he waved his arm to the side letting his daughter guide their way across the city. But as soon as he did he felt a sharp pain running through his back that showed his age. Watching her daughter leap from the tower with the agility and grace taught to her by the best she made her way into the darkened city with her father closely following, albeit at a slower pace.

As she swung through the city with the help of a grappling line he couldn’t help but feel a certain pride. She was all that he had left in the world, he never told her what he had done in his earlier life feeling a deep shame but also a great fear. She was sensitive to all that was around her, always had been. It was something that people with a manipulative mind could take advantage of. He had promised her mother to keep her safe, but lately he began to question his methods. Keeping her sheltered from the rest of the world might not have been a good idea but he had never dreamed the world would slip this far into darkness. As he landed in a crouched position he could feel all his muscles ache as she saw his daughter motioning to come closer looking over the edge of the roof into an alley. Three men were threatening a little girl and her mother, the girl trying to grasp the mothers dress as she was being pulled away from her half naked beaten down mother. It snapped something in Alesha as she leaped down without any warning throwing all caution to the wind. Using her telekinesis to slow her descent she slammed on the mans shoulder with her heel piercing the muscle tendons before somersaulting off of him. Immediately thereafter she used her fighting skills taught by her father to dispose of the second man sweeping the legs from under him before kicking him in the face when he was down. However, her lack of caution got the better of her as the third man backhanded her to the wall and pulled out his gun. Filled with rage seeing the blood stream from his daughters mouth Precise grabbed the mans wrist in an Aikido wristlock and stretched his hand out with his adamantium fingertips. With all his strength he formed a living sword forcing his hand into his stomach as the man screamed in pain and collapsed to the ground coughing up blood and trying to hold his innards in.

“FATHER! NO!!!” Alesha came from the side and pushed her father out of the way skidding to her knees towards the man. Taking off her gloves with her teeth she frantically tried to heal the man holding her hands on the wound. The faint golden light illuminated her immediate surroundings as started to whisper to herself ‘oh god, please, no..”. In the middle of the healing Precise pushed her backwards against the wall in anger and made her look at the woman and the little girl sobbing in fear. “LOOK!” He yelled and pinned her against the wall holding her face in their direction. “That’s what they did, they don’t deserve your mercy!”. Tears started rolling down her cheek seeing a whole new side to her father, he had outbursts and certain outlooks before but nothing like this. “You.. You can’t mean that.. You’re a hero… people see you as a hero, I see you as a hero”. Her tears made him loosen his grasp on her. “I’m not a hero, never have been. I’m here to make a safer world, not a better world.”. She collapsed to her knees as Precise loosened his grip. “I love you Alesha, but you can’t be so blind. Not anymore!”.

Her father kneeled before her and grasped her face wiping the tears away with his thumb while taking his mask off with his other hand. “Mother would never approve of this!!” She yelled out slapping him square across the face. For a second his eyes filled with rage but quickly dwindled down. “Your mother was strong willed, she would do…..” He stopped for a second “… she wouldn’t no, not like this…”. He looked down at the ground in shame because of what he just did. “This is why I let you live a sheltered existence.. you’re better than me, then your mother. I don’t want this life for you”.

Seeing her father in a new daylight was confusing to her as she had so much love for him. He had always been a troubled man, even more so after his wife died. She softly grabbed his head and raised it from the ground “Father… I..” before she could finish his blood splattered on her face followed by a loud bang. For a couple of seconds everything turned to slow motion, her father slowly falling to the side as she now stood face to face with the shooter, the man she had just partly healed. In shock she couldn’t do anything but stare until rage took over and let out a telekinetic blast towards blasting him against the wall. But just as quickly as rage came, grief set in. “Fa- fa- …father?” She turned his lifeless body around as she stared at the gunshot wound in his head.  “NO!” Frantically she tried to heal him but it was no use. The wound healed but the damage to the brain was already far too extensive. It took minutes to realize as she cradled his dead body in her arms “No..no.. I can heal you!” Her tears running down her cheek mixed with his blood forming a puddle on the ground.

Suddenly she heard the coughing of her fathers killer, a rage took her over as she placed her father on the ground and grasped his killers head. Slamming it against the wall yelling out “WHY?! I healed you!! I healed you!!” She let all her hate flow through her hands energizing her death touch, that slowly made the mans face witter away in front of her until there was nothing left but a grey mummified face. She sat there in shock for hours until she was finally brought to a hospital..

Forsaken 

2013- Somewhere in Africa

 Gracefully shifting her weight with silk like poetry the custodian of the LeBeau heir effortlessly avoided simultaneous attacks from all directions. "Pathetic. Again!!" she hissed, inciting yet another wave of the vaunted Venin Rose to descend upon her using a wide array of martial arts variants while her younger half brother watched from his seated position. His disinterest on open display. "I grow bored of this. Kill them already and let us retire for the evening." Arrogant, confident, and full of self-entitlement, Kazuhiko Acelin Lebeau was his father's son. Groomed from birth, like many before him, Gambler had allowed the Lady Tlieso to raise Kazuhiko for 10 years within the confines of her own illustrious clan of nobility, the Bayushi Clan. Before stepping in himself and immersing the Last LeBeau fully in his World, his image. But like so many children who have been afforded everything, Kaz had grown up contemptuous and by all rights a bonafide Sociopath. Like his father his greatest weapon was his superficial charm as well as his grandiose sense of self. And with the exception of his sister, his incapacity for love was evident to all.

"Angelique! I said..." but his spoiled outburst was suddenly cut off as the LeBeau Legacy submissively raised her hand before bowing to her royal guard dismissing there presence. "I do not understand why we waste time with such extraneous exercises when we should be out pressing my legitimacy. And why, can you tell me, have we not yet broken free from the shackles my father's murderer has restrained us with dear....sister? I grow tired of placating his rule and his impetuous children." It was true that although the LeBeau's still maintained their reign over the French nation it was only because the Lord's Angel had allowed it. His thirst for vengeance temporarily pacified as he had turned his sights on the World at large. But still he kept a constant reminder of his dominance hanging over his massive throne, the stripped bones of the deceased King of Kings himself, Gambler.

"Patience brother, we must exercise restraint in dee coming days. Dee son of Kurrent will not take his father's death lightly nor will those who held him close to dhere hearts. Let us lay in wait, let our enemies reveal themselves. We need to garner support and if need be, align ourselves wit dee rulers of dee surviving nations." Her elegantly seductive voice temporarily quelling the overly ambitious assassins temperament before a sudden eruption of laughter tainted the moment. "His son? His son? HA! He is but a boy wearing the guise of a hero, no doubt curled up somewhere reliving the nightmare you gifted him with. He is of no concern to me.

Simply shaking her head Angelique continued down the long hallway lined with magnificently hand crafted portraits of her families linage. Ranging from family to extended family and finally former LaS members that her mother had held most dear. As if choreographed by fate her black berry began to vibrate as she stood in front of one painting in particular. "When? How? He...he couldn't have, not like dat. No, no, dat is unnecessary. I want you to hand deliver a dozen crimson roses to dat exact location and make sure you are not seen." hanging up the phone she looked up at the portrait placing one hand on its velvety textured canvass before dragging her fingers along the golden engraved name plat that read, Precise. He had been somewhat of a father figure to the assassin in her younger days, rescuing her, protecting her as well as her mother during his campaign as the Les Assassins Silencieux's Commandant Dans Des Bras (Commander In Arms). His courageous actions during the siege of the Zero Squad's Tower were still regaled throughout France. Remembered by many as a true patriot, news of his death would soon cause an entire nation to mourn.

Two iconic legends were now dead and their absence felt World wide. Despair and misery loomed like am unshakable cloud of pollution as the Lord's Angel, backed by two of the most powerful mutants ever to be conceived, sat utop a kingdom of shattered realities.

"Children are great imitators. So give dhem something great to imitate - Anonymous"

Casually the Last Kenshiki made his way gracefully through the underground catacombs that resided beneath the lush beauty of the grandest city left remaining in a world which had fallen beyond the corruption of even devils and sinners. The underground had been taken over by Ryu Kenshiki and his partner the LeBeau princess Lady Copperhead, but they were not here through choice. Only a few years ago both had sat in the illustrious house of L intergrating themselves amongst the elite, but Angelique and her brother Kazuhiko feared an uprising from her top general and her cunning aunt, and so with out emotion or remourse Angelique ordered a hit, but like snakes the two hunted waited patiently raising a legacy of their own to one day overthrow and rule over perhaps the most infamous dynasty the world has ever known.
 
And now that Legacy was being backed by 10 guards whom were not deemed good enough to join the illustrious Venin Rose. As he made his way closer to his destination a young model burst out of his quarters, wearing nothing but a black lace bra and panties, soon after 3 more girls stood their, pleading for the boy to once again join them. Turning around Xavier flashed a cheshire cat grin, his eyes glowing in a Fuchsia shade of purple. Xavier was exactly like a LeBeau he was charming, manipulating and the world had a habit of revolving just around him. Today however his exitment was cut short, by the only woman who could resist that grin and the smoothness which seemed to melt from his voice every time he spoke. "XAVIER LEAVE THOSE TRAMPS.......YOUR FATHER IS WAITING"  Xavier signaled his men to escort the girls out of the catacombs before gritting his teeth and muttering something under his breath, but like a fox his mother heard all, she knew all that was going on around her. Lady Copperhead was beautiful, even though she was over 60, science had kept her looking half her age. 
 
Looking at his mother Xavier could sense that by stepping into the next room things were going to change, but for the better remained to be seen. "How is father?" Xavier spoke but his mind seemed elsewhere. "His condition has worsened, prepare yourself for the worst" The two entered a candle lit room, many of which had flickered out long before they arrived. Surrounding a large bed stood a guild of assassins and misfits, many outcasts from their own clans, many plucked from the streets, but now they were an elite unit of killers and thieves. In the centre of the decorative bed lay an old man, sick and without reason to cling to life anymore. His fraiil hands barley had the energy or the strength as he signaled his men to leave the room. Xavier and his mother made their was to two seats which occupied the side of th bed. "My boy" Ryu began to violently cough up blood "Darling are you..." Bella quickly rushed to her feet and attempted to help Ryu, only for her hand to be knocked away in a fit of rage. "I require no help" His arrogance and stubborness were still as strong as they had always been. Acer once again looked at his son "I leave my guild under your hands, you are strong, but you allow your own charm and greed get in the way of your true potential, you can be an elite" By this point Acer had began to cry "I wish I could have told my other two how proud I was of them, like i am of you, how much I loved them, how much I regret letting them go, just like I regret letting her go" Ryu slowly began to fade in an out, his life was now making its way to deaths door, but with his last ounce of stength he drew his son in closer "That dynasty is yours, bring down Angelique and Kazuhiko, you are a KING........Take the throne my boy" Taking his last breath the man known as Acer passed on for a second and final time.
 
Xavier and his mother left the room and began to walk along the catacombs. Lady Copperhead turned to her son and spoke in silence as not to alert the guards attention. "Your father has died, and yet you shed no tears, you show no sign of sorrow" Xavier looked at her smiling "It is like he says mother de throne belongs to me, afterall who do you think poisoned him?" Looking at her son she spoke only one word with sinister joy "Exquise"

2023

2031

 Molly Munroe sat on the train with her legs up on the seats, ignoring the disdainful looks from passengers who she had inconvenienced into standing. Arms crossed over her chest, she stared out the window into the black tunnels swooping by. Her earbuds shivered from the volume of the music she was playing. 

The train pulled up to the last stop on the line and Molly peeled herself up off the seat. She’d literally been riding the train all day. It was the only place she could blend in with a crowd while keeping on the move, which was the best way for her to stay alive. If she stayed in one place too long the mystical forces of Light and Dark would find her and kill her, or some-such BS.

Plodding off the train, Molly tipped her hood up over her head to conceal her electric blue bob. Rain lightly sprinkled the air, a small rainbow forming under a streetlight before a cold wind shot down the street dispersing it and only adding to Molly’s already sour mood. She was cold, hungry, and tired. All of these coupled with her generally disgruntled attitude only made her that much more abrasive. 

“Excuse me, miss?” 

Molly turned around in time to have the snot knocked out of her. Dropping to the ground, she rubbed her aching jab and glowered up at her attacker. No one. 

“What the hell?”Molly pushed herself up only to have her feet swept out from under her, sending her splashing painfully into a puddle.

“You’re not welcome here. Go away,”chided the disembodied voice. “We don’t want your kind here.”

“My kind? I grew up here!” Molly stood, dripping wet. She pulled back her hood and twirled around searching for the source of the voice.

“Your kind. You freaks with powers. All you bring is pain. Go away."

“I heard you the first time,” Molly grumbled, “but I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

In the blink of an eye a man stood before her, his body no more than some swirling black smoke. He had no features, just a vaguely formed body. Molly couldn’t resist and reached out, passing her hand through his torso. “What are you?”

“A ghost, I guess. A memory of the pain your kind brought to us regular people. When you got up in arms and decided to run the world we were the ones to suffer, us innocent people.”

“Look, buddy. This would have a lot more effect if I had even the slightest idea what you were talking about.”Molly shoved her hands in her pockets and shivered in the cold. She did have a pretty good idea what the guy was talking about, but she really didn’t want to get involved.

“The situations around the world, you don’t care? They are everyone’s problem.”A strong wind dissipated some of the spirit, but he reformed quickly. “Especially the power shifts in America.”

Molly raised a hand. “Look, I get it. You want revenge. That’s not my job.”

“You’re supposed to keep the balance between good and evil. How is the world balanced now? Do your job!”

With that the spirit vanished leaving Molly to feel even worse than before. Add to that the fact that she now had a job to do and you got one very angry, very annoyed nineteen-year-old. 

 “Fine. To the States it is.” 

Her picture hung on the wall in front of him. Her image frozen in time forever, she was his love. He sat and stared at her for hours on end, never moving just looking over every detail of her face. She would be forever young in his mind, forever his wife, forever his Mani. Above his chair hung the remains of her killer, bleached white bones the skull wearing a diamond in crested crown. The King of Kings he was called, a menace to the whole world, yet they hated him when he killed him. They jeered at him when he hung the bones a the front of the white house, they scoffed that a villain in a suit was replaced with a demon. Yet still they bow with fear and shudder at the mention of his name. …….his name. The name that was taken from his enemy, the name of his dark side. Lord’s Angel what he would have become sooner or later. The Angel became the demon, the bringer of death. Her picture hung on the wall in front of him…. What would her eyes see if she were here. Would she see her husband, or would she see him, The Lord’s Angel. Sitting on his throne wearing the Gambler’s cape he thought she would see someone else and not the man she fell in love with. Not Hawk………..

“The old man is sleeping in his chair again.” She whispered to her brother. “You do that to make me nervous, don’t you?”  He looked over at his sister who entered the dining room and sat down across the table from him. “Ha, you got me.” Nathan knew that with a whisper she would end the life of a nation. They sat and ate dinner together as a small part of a broken family. “Nathan he sits in there staring at her for hours on end, he needs to expand his kingdom, grow our power….” Nathan cut off his younger sister. “I’m sorry that you don’t remember her, she was beautiful.” Nathan said thinking back to his mother and the short time that he got to spend with her. Olivia sighed as she looked down at her food. “I remember her coming into my bedroom at night and kissing me…..but I don’t really know if it’s just a dream or if it’s real.” Her eyes watered as she spoke. “It was real…” Quickly she whipped her eyes and moved on, leaving her plate for the help to clean up. Nathan finished his meal and then clean up for the both of them.

CNN live from The White House

Charles Nolan reporting. We are live outside The White House, were our Pontifex Maximus has just announced plans to issue a curfew across the United States. “For too long there have been those who would dwell in the streets in the late hours of the night, bringing injustice and threatening the lives of our citizens. This has gone on far too long. We must put a stop to the moral decay of our great country. We will no longer look into the night and see those who would run across the roof tops, we will put and end to it once and for all.”

“So Charles, it seems to me that this is a direct response to the growing number of vigilantes who are opposed to The Pontifex?”

“Yes Susan, it would make it nearly impossible for these vigilante groups to function with any success.”                 

“Thanks Charlse, All Hail Lord’s Angel.”

“All Hail Lord’s Angel Susan.”

Loud electronic music echoed through the large studio space of the United States leading fashion designer, Fiona Myers. Although the States were held under the dark reign of the Lord’s Angel and his children, the arts and pop culture still managed to stay afloat while most everything else was destroyed. After all, even super-humans desire entertainment. Fiona has used her creativity instead of her super powers to stay out of the worldwide battle for territory.

Her hips sway to the long repetitive rhythms of the song as she danced around her manikin, draping fabric over it in a nonchalant manor. Though her methods seamed random and without thought, every move was deliberate and every placement was intentional. Her designs were abstract, colorful, and somewhat futuristic resembling her shape shifting abilities which were constantly changing. Ending the trancelike dance she steps back and admires her handiwork with a satisfied smirk. “Perfecta.” She whispers softly to herself.

She abruptly grabs the remote to the room’s speakers and turns off the radio; takes a few rolls of fabric and walks to the freight elevator. The sound of her stilettos hitting the ground resonated through the studio. With one flip of the switch the rows of florescent lights turn off one after another. The slightly rusted freight door clanks as she pushes it open. Once inside Fiona pushes the button for the ground level. During the minute or so ride to the bottom, the daughter of the Abstract prepares herself for what waits outside. She breathes deep, raises her chin, pushes her chest out, straightens her poster and then briskly walks out of the back of the building. The Designer has lived in the city for a year and a half now and knows that if she is going to survive she needs to behave though she is not intimidated by anything.

Moving ever so gracefully she appeared more like she was floating rather than walking. Once making it to the parking lot she was greeted by a trio of street thugs, who catcall and holler vulgar phrases at her. She tries to ignore them until they start to close in on her. One reaches out to her and says, “Ah! You jus gonna ignore me like dat?!” His rough hands grab her forearm causing her to drop the fabric. Not letting out and scream she firmly says “Let go of me… Now.” The three laugh, disregarding her patient attitude. In a blinding swift motion, the Strobe Light Seductress spins her arm freeing herself from the man’s grip and clutches his arm in the same place he grabbed hers. Tugging on him, the thug’s face moves in closer only to make hard contact with her elbow.

The sound of his nose cracking could be heard clear as day, followed by blood gushing out of his face. Letting him fall to the ground in agony, Fiona focuses her attention on the other two. Her eyes sparked with a strange multicolored glow and her hair started to move and swirl ferociously as if she was in the middle of a windstorm. The second man runs at her with his fist aimed at her face, but was evaded by something that seemed more like a sultry dance than any fighting dodge. Fiona has mixed the Latin dance moves of her mother with the strategic fighting techniques of her father to create her very one style of combat.

As the man passes her, he leaves his back exposed and she throws both fists at his lower back rupturing his kidneys. He too ends up on the ground, while the remaining man fumbles for his pistol. Once he finally gets a secure grip on the weapon and points it at her, Fiona becomes infuriated. Her body burst into broken Technicolor shards that spun around her darkened body. The street lights overload and break; car alarms turn on and then explode. Just like her father, whenever she goes into her abstract form electronics in her vicinity go haywire without any substantial means. In a feminine monotone voice, distorted by static she shouts, “Drop it!” The thug does as he is told and flees the area.

With a sigh the Abstract’s daughter calms herself and brings her particles back together to regain her human appearance. Still a tad bit angry she picks up her dirt covered fabrics and walks over to the bus stop. It wasn’t long until the bus arrived. She stepped on, gave the transfer and sat by the window thinking about what just happened as the sun started its decent.

 WHAM!!!

The young woman crashed right into the lobby, plowing through the nicely tiled floor sending parts of said floor high into the air. The echo of the hit that had sent her flying rumbled like a thunderstrike let windows all over the place vibrate. The perplexed customers of the lawyers firm that resided in the house looked shocked at the woman who had just intruded into their perfect little world.

Donara herself was not happy, not a little bit. She felt the rage rise high inside of her like waves that swap against the haven barrier during a wild storm. The dreaded warrior’s rage heavily gnawed at her sanity. Gritting her teeth hard and mumbling mean curses in the language of her home Asgard she lifted herself from the rubble and stormed outside again.

  Her opponent was a monster of epic proportions, towering over ten feet in high letting even the tall Donara like a dwarf before it. Brown shaggy fur encrusted with a patina of blood and feces covered its whole body, his hands sported wicked black claws and on its shoulders sat two malformed heads each jutting two tusk like teeth. Enraged as it saw her charge again the Ettin roared at her again, the sound further maltreating Donaras eardrums as much as the windows in the vincinity.

Construction workers had accidentally freed the creature slumbering under the soil of Florida two hours ago and since then it had been on a rampage. Dozens had gruesomely died between its manrending teeth the sky-aspiring skyscrapers becoming giant anonymous tombstones for them. Following the request of her adopted father Kurrent Donara had intervened. And found an enemy worth of her prowess.

For an hour this fight had now waged between them, none of them being able to gain an advantage over the other. Blow after blow had been dealt and had met super hard flesh creating the characteristic sound of thunder. Shocked citizens watched the clash of the titans from behind constantly vibrating windows. They were used to a lot, even if the island of Florida under the protection of the legendary hero Kurrent ranked among the safest places on earth it was still far from paradise, but this display of raw divine power was new even to them.

Screaming wildly she rushed the Nordic beast head on. It stood there and awaited her charge with open arms, the sharp talons ready to tear at her. In a display of divine might she hit it directly in the belly forcing it nearly a hundred feet back though the raw physical act seemed impossible. Foul air escaped its gaping maw as it passed its rotting teeth and was forced out of its lungs from the impact. As a vicious revenge it clawed at her back. Bloody stripes suddenly graced her back like the markings of a tiger. A mere mortal would have been bloody stripes by now. Again and again she brought her fist into its stomach making the beast roar only the more. Down and down came the claws on the other side. David against Goliath in a modern all out cage match. Blows strong enough to pulverize stone were dished out like they were for free.

How long that battle lasted Donara was not able to tell but the finish came when the Ettin grabbed her another time and threw her into the rubble of the same construction site it had ascended from. Shouting curses she quickly got up again when she noticed something sparkle amidst the abandoned ruins. Her sword. Her legendary sword of Asgardian steel that hs ehad lost right in the beginning of the match. Like Excalibur it protruded from the stone and waited for one who was worthy. Sparks lighted and died when she rudely pulled it out and charged the Ettin again.

The shockwave as they met let the windows burst, toppled cars over around them and created a crater in the ground. Both struck at the same moment.

And then there was silence. The two combatants stood behind each other, back to back, heavily panting. Donaras wild black hair was a mess, crazily trying to go in each direction at the same time and covering half of her face. The Ettin’s dirty fur dripped with its foul sweat. And then both dropped to their knees.
 
Only one of them in one piece though. As in bullet time the Ettins upper body separated from its lower body, strange alien organs falling out and soiling the earth, the impure blood hissing in the fresh air. It sent a last sigh to heaven if a creature as it was even allowed to do so and then it finally closed its red eyes and died.

Doubtingly the watchers of this fight, police, firemen, normal citizens, approached the fighting scene while Donara shakingly came back to her feet. Grim and somewhat proud she looked down at the abyssal fiend she just had slain. The dead were avenged. Her deceased mother would have spat on the beast but Donara knew better than to disrespect the beast for what it was destined to be. As well as to tell the Ettin not to kill she could have tried to keep earth from rotating. Both of them were what they were. It was a threat, an abominable monster and she was…

She would have liked to see herself as a noble and valiant knight, a guardian of humanity like her parents but her exile from Asgard proved her differently. She was a bastard, not worth of her heritage, a mongrel at that. Her adopted father Kurrent who had accepted her on the island of Florida, her brother quick, his heir, they were real heroes. She was just a copycat.

As if it had sensed her thoughts the big video screen on the main street changed channels once more. Where moments before dumb, brainless advertisement had flashed over the screen the serious face of a news reporter now spoke the words that hit her harder than the Ettin could ever have hoped to.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we from Channel Six excuse for the interruption of the usual program but this news just was too important to be kept from you. I… I am sorry… I have to gather my thoughts for a seconds, it is too unbelievable for me to believe….”

And with those words he, a grown man of over 40 years in an Armani suit who read the news of wars and murder for more than 20 year, wiped a single tear from his eye.

“Tonight… at three in the morning… Kurrent, protector of Florida. Was killed by the terrorist Angelique LeBeau. Again we excuse for the interruption and wish you all a good day, may god bless you. God bless us all…”

The following report about Kurrent’s life already eluded Donara. Her adopted father, Kurrent, The Electrical Ace, hero of millions… Slain. Like a common thug. Her own triumph suddenl felt hollow and judging from the faces of the bystanders they felt the same way. If he was not there to shield them from the LeBeaus, from lord’s Angel anymore. Who would do it? Quick and Donara who were seen as his children? Who were in fact not more than children at this point? Who lacked the experience so far? Despair and sorrow rose in her.

“RAAAAAAH!!!”

Spitefully she thrust her sword into the stone once more and sat down, hiding her face in her hands and crying for what she had lost. She had not only lost a revered hero, she had lost family. Numb fingers brought forth her cell phone and mechanically she dialled a number. It needed a moment before the beeping sound of the telephone disappeared to make room for a connection. Donara used that moment to gather her strength, focus, breath in deeply, collected her thoughts and all inner strength she could muster not to sound whiny at the phone. She did not know if she succeeded.

“Lincoln… Quick? Aye, Donara speaketh. Methinks we ought to haveth a  discourse…”

2014 - Omega Justice Mansion

2021 - The House of L

2031 - Sacramento, California

In the world of yesterday, Romania was barely more than a country known by its past, totally forgotten in its presence. The power had fled the once-regal country, the powers of legend and lore. Romania would always be a place of pasts…but one man wanted to give it back its future. His name was Florentin Cuza. He was a man…I mean, he was a dragon man, or maybe he was just a dragon. But he was still DRACONIAN! Running armies over the countryside! Enslaving the peasants! Running armies over and enslaving the people! And all the Wi-Fi connections! WI-FI CONNECTIONS!  

 The military report was a little more detailed: Draconian (Florentin Cuza) was an accomplished military tactician. As the LeBeau's rose to power, Cuza took advantage of the power vacuum in his home-country. The few forces that could be mustered against him had fallen like a sandcastle faced with the rising tide. Romania became a military power, just as the militant prince had dreamed of for many long centuries. True, tensions were at first high with the LeBeau's, but Draconian was smart enough not to take them on…and as he stuck to his small country, the LeBeau's returned this respect. It would be more work than it was worth to dethrone the Dragon King. 

After I was born my father told me one true thing, one single phrase that I believed my father was speaking from his heart “Im sorry my son, but you will outlive everyone. For this I am sorry.” It took me nine years and a body that looks as if it just turned 24 to realize what he meant with this. I watched for five out of 9 years of life my father do things others deemed sinister and vile, but what I saw was stupidity. He wanted the world in his palm he would tell everyone simply to scare them, but in truth he just wanted to make my life easier. By doing this he would eventually kill himself or drain his body to the point of no return. His actions made my stomach turn every time I saw it, as I grew up I couldn’t do anything to stop him. I could force my way into his mind change little things to help others, but he would find out and the punishment wasn’t worth it most of the time. But it all changed that day, when he took on the entire world it seemed. The day I betrayed my father, the day I stood by those my mother would.

2029

Sitting at my father’s “home” he would call it I watched as it was all televised. The efforts of the good trying to defeat my father.   For the first few moments of the fight, I didn’t care I knew the ones I cared for were not dumb enough to come out of hiding. They would stay hidden until they both rotted in the soil, leaving me once more alone with my father. But then it happened I watched as his shield flew past the camera slamming into the back of Darkchilds head. He hadn’t thrown it hard enough, he wanted to take his head clear off his shoulders. The very method I had explained to him if he ever got into a fight with my father, this damn fool was going to take on Darkchild the embodiment of evil. War Killer…”That damn fool” I thought to myself as I charged energy around my body charging for a teleport. I reappeared yards away from the fight. I watched in disbelief as War Killer stood toe to toe for few brief moments with my father, then out of nowhere Darkchild had grown bored of WK tossing him hundreds of feet into the air before he came crashing down hard.

Running over to him I fell on top of him beating his chest “You’re a moron dad.” This was the man who truly did love my mother, not the evil excuse for a sperm donor my father was. He smiled “Don’t worry Cobi, shes fine. She’s not enjoying the fact I’m out here alone, but lets hope it doesn’t get to the point she needs to come out right?” I lifted him up his old bones creaking like old wood, putting his arm onto my shoulder rage filled my body. Darkchild my so called father knew what this man was to me, the past few years I had been going to see mother, and in the process began a real father relation with War Killer. He trained me in using my powers defensivly, telling me the act of taking life is something you must think about let it weigh on your mind before and afterwards. That I never become like my father, I don’t remember how it happened but this was the first time that my mothers genes manifested inside my body. My body transformed into something feral, I put War Killer down to the ground and my voice rang through the now silent city “Father!!!” Darkchild hadn’t expected me to come, much less defend this man. The sight of WK at my feet me protecting him, it filled him with not only rage by sorrow. His eyes narrowed “Leave Jacobi, I will deal with you later.” He went to turn, but then I acted without thinking bursting forward my hands turning into large claws psionic energy flowing around them. I slashed at my father his chest opening in wounds, blood spraying my face the warmth of it disgusted me. Soon I realized why my father was so feared in this world, as he sunk a fist deep into my stomach launching me across the city through buildings. One swift blow I was out of the game, I laid watching as he turned his back to me hanging his head. I entered his mind, because my body may have been damaged buy my mind was much much more resilient “You bastard!!! This is what you want me to become? A killer? Never I will take you down, I swear it one day I along with the world will watch as you fall from your high horse trust me father, I will watch you burn.” He went to scream at me but I felt someone else enter his mind.

The moment I saw her it was as if the brightest of lights shined down upon her, covering her in a thin yellow light. Her powers were tremendous, she startled my father then he regained his composure he went for the killing blow trying to crack her mentally. I lashed out, launching a psychic attack at his mind sending images of the foulest things ever, none of these things would hurt him but it would distract him long enough. That was when this girl named Alex would put every single ounce of her power into one attack, the area around my father erupted in one mighty explosion. His body was gone, but I knew immediately he was not dead, he still had bodies to occupy but it would be a very long time before he would show himself again, the woman felt my psyche when I was inside my fathers mind with her. She rushed over to me, watching as my body healed itself she smiled “You could have done that with your eyes closed couldn’t you?” I smiled wide “Why would I want to interrupt such a beautiful woman showing Darkchild hes a chump?” She smiled to me lifting me up to a standing position. That was the day I decided to stay away from everything my father symbolized, I would continue my life helping others.

NOW

The child of Darkchild lays with his lover Alex in bed, they look into each others eyes for a moment before an alarm goes off. Jacobi sighs turning over to the night table picking up a com link he turns it on putting it to his ear “Yes?......no…cant be no ones that strong. No one could have….wait…it was her wasn’t it? Dammit! Yes Ill tell her.” He turns over to Alex, telling her that Kurrent was dead. Her head fell, Cobi never really saw much of Kurrent but his abilities were ones of stories throughout the years, but in her world he was something to be respected. He held her close whispering “We will find out who did it, I promise. And when we do, I will personally end their lives no matter who it was.” 

"Yes sir." Winston said as he raised his head and left the throne room of the Draconian. This duplicate had joined the forces of Romania many years ago and had initially acted as a large proportion of his army when he overtook the country, a job he still maintained in part, working as both the Romanian border security and reserve army, as well as this duplicates career as the Draconians personal advisor. Walking back through the candle-lit stone arch hallways, Winston sighed, it had been some time since any Winsti had conversed with the Lebeau family and he was quite anxious as to the outcome of their discussions. Another matter that was also frustrating him was the refusal of anyone in the castle to call him Mr. Sharpe, instead sticking to the codename of his youth as though he were the butt of some old joke. Even more annoying though was the Draconian's daughter, Draguta was brash, hot-headed, so like your typical spoilt teenage brat only this one was an immensely powerful superbeing who Winston was meant to babysit. Reminded of this job, Winston sent another duplicate down an adjacent corridor as he passed it to check up on the girl. Though he made it seem like the most annoying job in the world to most onlookers, Winston actually quite enjoyed his place in Romania, he was well established, politcally powerful and it was a nice feeling knowing you had your fingers in so many pies.  
 
In Santa Marina Del La Locos, the fortified city-state territory that existed by the border of the United States and what used to be Mexico, before the country dissolved years earlier, a Winston sat in a throne. His state was small, but that wasn't what mattered, the drug and weapon industry was booming. From Asia, drugs shipped into Mexico and Africa, from Africa, drugs were swapped for guns and different drugs which were then sent to Mexico and from Mexico, Winston could send his dupes out across America to sell his wares to the mess of drug-addled scum that now made up a major proportion of the American population under Lord Angel's reign. Winston Sharpe was head of the largest drug ring in the world and it funded all his projects and operations overseas, it kept the North New Zealand Government afloat. The best thing about it was that noone even knew it was him. Over the years Winston had found ways to utilise his cellular reproductive powers so that when he created duplicates they nolonger had to look alike. With skill and training, the drug runners and even the overweight, bearded King of Santa Marina Del La Locos looked nothing like the Winston Sharpe who ruled over North New Zealand, and noone as of yet seemed any the wiser.
 
In New York City, one such drug running duplicate was selling his wares. This Winston looked remarkably similar to Kurt Cobain and he glanced about suspiciously as three men stared with awe into the boot of his unsuspicious looking car, parked between two vans in the parking lot. Grabbing a pack of syringes and a baggy of heroin, the trio gave their cash to the merry Winston and went on their way before stopping and pointing at a pretty young thing making her way across the carpark. They began to yell at her and eventually, they reached her. Winston turned slightly, not exactly wanting to watch, only to hear the sound of a man screaming. Glancing back, Winston watched as the trio were turned into a bloody mess by the girl, whose body fizzled in and out of sight. Another one with powers. Winston quickly ran over to the bodies and picked up the drugs and needles from the thugs jackets and returned it to his car, picking up a small disc as he from under his seat, before following the girl onto the bus and taking a seat next to her. 
 
"You know," Winston smirked turning to her slightly as he dropped the disc by her feet, "you really shouldn't use your abilities so publically, haven't you heard of the curfew?"

Gearo stood on top of an old apartment building in the middle of San Fransisco, watching one man in the bustling streets. The man sat outside a café, drinking a cappuccino in peace. There wasn’t anything out of the ordinary about the man, except for a tattoo of the LeBeau crime family on his right arm. As he finished his drink, the man looked at the watch on his left wrist. Quietly, he got up from his seat and walked away from the café and down the street. When the man turned and made his way down a side-street, the adolescent automaton stealthily went after him.

The teen followed the man all the way over to the movie theater, but instead of going in, the man went behind it. When he was sure he was all alone, the man’s pulled out his cell phone and made a call. “Yeah, it’s me,” he said to the person on the other end of the line. “Are we still going to meet at the rendezvous point? We are? Okay then.” After he hung up, the man was grabbed by his ankles and hoisted up onto the roof by the adolescent automaton. “Alright Aramis,” said the teen to the man dangling in front of him, “I need to know where your boss is and you know where she is, now tell me where and we can all walk away from this happy.”

“Get bent bot!” said Aramis as he dangled above the street below. As soon as the words left his mouth, the teen squeezed the man’s ankles. Aramis screamed in pain until Gearo loosened his grip. “Next time you don’t tell me, I break your legs. If you don’t tell me after that, well, let’s say no one will be able to tell the difference between your face and the pavement. Now tell me where your boss is.”

“You’re bluffing,” said the man, “You’ve never killed anyone on purpose in your entire hero career. There’s no way you’ll go through with it.” Gearo squeezed the ankle again, but with even more force than last time. “That’s strike two, wanna try for three.”

“Okay! Okay! I’ll talk! I’ll talk!” said Aramis as the teen loosened his grip. It was then that the man told Gearo what he needed to know. Using his extendo-arms, the teen lowered the man to the ground and let him go. “Thank you, an ambulance is on the way. But if I find out you’re lying to me, I’ll come back for you and you will be leaving your hospital room in a gurney. And to make sure you don’t warn your boss,” the teen reached into the man’s pocket and pulled out his cell phone. With great ease, Gearo broke the phone with a quick closing of his hand. As his extendo-arms went back into his body, the teen’s rocket boots activated and he blasted off into the sky, towards his target.

Achilles' hand brushed across the cool marble surface of his mother's face, the woman he still held dear, he knew she always loved him unlike his father. Maybe that was what made him the man he was today, if only she could see where he was today, it would bring a tear to her eye, and probably not for the right reasons. She had died when he was seventeen, twelve years ago, though he was saddened by her passing it was not in him to shed a tear, it hadn't been in him to cry at all, not since he was a child. The crypt was cold but not damp, over the years it had been well kept, and the moonlight that seeped in through the glass ceiling resonated off the marble walls keeping the place bright. It was a silent place, a place to think, over the years he had lost many, a mother, a father, a wife, a son... the list goes on. Though he was not really sad for them, it shaped him into the man he was today, a cold heartless shell.
 
The com link buzzed and through came the voice of the faithful butler Albert 'the undying', he was well int the hundreds by now for sure thought Achilles. "Dinner is served master" was the message passed by an old frail voice that used to be a comfort to a young Achilles. The CEO of Wallace Enterprises did not reply, nor did Albert wait for one, it had been many years since a thank you was uttered past the twenty nine year old's lips. His hand retracted from the frame of his marble mother as he stepped down from the platform she was held upon and left the crypt, grabbing an umbrella on the way out. It was pouring down outside, not that you'd be able to tell from inside the crypt without looking up as it is entirely soundproofed from inside out. He let the umbrella up and in the darkness a light appeared, around the rim of the umbrella weaved into the material were tiny lights, perfect for sophisticated night goers, and on it was the insignia for Wallace Enterprises. 
 
As he walked down the stone steps motion sensors lit up his path, telling the outside lights where he was, allowing him a smooth journey cutting through the cold darkness. During this time on the twelfth anniversary of his mothers death he could not help but reminisce. It was back then that it all started going down, crime rates were at an all time high, and his father was hated, his radical ideas had gotten him into deep trouble, with the company signed off to William, Achilles older brother, Scott had nothing but politics, he gave up the superhero career to an older version of himself that had given his life to save the Earth. All of Scott's plans had turned against him but before he was kicked out of the House of Parliament he managed to sign some very powerful documents that put the power of the government back into the hands of the royal family, giving King William his rightful power, at the same time as signing an agreement that the Wallace's and the Windsor's forever be connected. So now it is arranged that Annabelle Louise Athena Rosalie Iona Wallace, daughter of Alexander Achilles Wallace, was to be married when she comes of age, and then Achilles' plan will truly come together.
 
It was just after Achilles' mothers passing and the denouncing of his father as Prime Minister that the LeBeau's took France for themselves, people Achilles' admired for having the right attitude, and so it seemed the integrity of Great Britain was in jeopardy as the whole world became a bargain bucket of land. Then at twenty years old just as William was thinking of making Wallace Enterprises public so he could go traveling Achilles took the company reigns and was then stated as his fathers replacement in the House of Parliament. From there everything came together, he and the royal family took control of Britain and Ireland to protect it from any unwanted outside visitors. They rebuilt the British Empire and made deals and agreements with other powerful people around the world, such as Lord's Angel and the LeBeau's, Wallace Enterprises was known globally and he was top provider on all weaponry, though in truth any of them would be happy to stab the other and take their land. They said he was to be afraid of the power they hold, but when your power rivals theirs the only thing to fear is death, and when you don't fear death, you become invincible. 
 
Achilles pushed open the heavy wooden doors passing two of his guards as he entered his house into the garage, he passed many fine cars, vintage and new, most manufactured by his own companies, he reached the other side of the garage to a bulletproof glass door, hitting a button to the side of the door it smoothly slide open allowing Achilles to step through into the kitchen he did not even give notice to any of his chefs he simply passed through into the dining room were awaiting him was his daughter and Albert. The dining room was long and wooden, accompanied by a long wooden table to seat twenty two but it had been years since it served for such a purpose. The room was even gloomier than the crypt, and much darker, even with it's many lights and grand windows allowing moonlight to pour in, the dark panels seemed defiant not to reflect any of it. Achilles stopped beside his daughters throne like chair, to match his at the other end, that had it's back to him, he put a hand on her shoulder but she did not look up, instead she just carried on eating her soup, it was then he noticed her hair and took his hand off her shoulder to brush it through her dark locks, silky as ever, just like her mother, but it now had an electric blue strip in it which was not there yeterday.
 
"Interesting" he said in an uncaring voice, "could you not of gone for something more original?" he asked harshly, but Annabelle was used to it and simply ignored, he stroked her smooth face and left her side to sit at the other end, she was as wooden as the table. He continued "You could at least of had our colour, red, fit in with this family for once" he finally reached his seat and sat down to his meal as Belle muttered "what family?" under her breath, but Achilles went on "Or you could of got our tartan... I know you don't like it Annabelle, but you are a Wallace" his voice was monotone, he expressed no emotion, Belle wondered if he had any, she wondered if he even loved her, so did he. Albert shuffled over to the tray in front of Achilles and he lifted the lid off of the meal, "Mutton, sir" he said almost as emotionless as Achilles himself "Enjoy." Achilles gave the signal for him to leave and tucked into his meal, the mutton didn't resist his knife at all and went down smoothly, it was cooked to perfection. There was only silence, except for the snapping of Belle's bread and Albert scuffling to resume his usual mealtime position.
 
Minutes passed until Achilles spoke again, "Are you giving me the silent treatment Annabelle?" he asked with no reply, not until Belle coughed and finally said "I thought you would be used to that father... then again you have not talked to a woman for years" she made her voice as cold as she could, Achilles just smirked and allowed his sky blue eyes to pierce her chocolate brown one, before saying "Untrue, I was talking to your grandmother just a minute ago" his smile was more unnerving than heart warming, Annabelle scoffed, "Oh yes, in that grand old tomb of hers... she's dead you know" Belle said resentful and filled with hate, she never knew her grandmother, nor the loving person she was, all she heard was from her father that she was the reason for this and so Achilles replied "on the contrary stupid girl she is alive in the things around us and the work I do" this made Belle silent, for a few minutes at least until she said "Where is my mothers grand crypt? how come she did not get the same treatment, she was your wife!" she almost shouted at him, but Achilles remained cool, pressing his finger tips together and leaning in he said "She didn't deserve one... my mother had me and your mother... had you" he said the slightest tinge of hate resonating from his vocals. 
 
Annabelle was taken aback, but her face turned from shock into a scowl at the blink of an eye, her soup was finished (she had become a vegetarian in spite of her father) so she stood up angrily, pushing the heavy chair back best she could, she stormed from only to stop at the door, turning he could see the anger boil and it took everything in her to scream "F*CK YOU!" at her father, and running off to her room sobbing, Achilles' eyes stayed fixed on the door, deep in thought, only when she disappeared up the stairs did he resume eating his meal as though nothing happened. Ten minutes later as he finished his meal in silence, could he hear the sound of marching feet through his house, picking up a handkerchief to wipe his mouth, he stood up, leaving Albert to take his plate, ready to greet one of his loyal followers, General Lockhart, his brother-in-law, he used to be a great assassin, now he was a great soldier "Sir, we have another one" he said, Achilles just nodded and left the house with the general, grabbing a coat and gloves as he left. Reaching the black Audi he turned and looked up to see his daughter yanking the curtains shut, before stepping into the car.

“So Charles, it seems to me that this is a direct response to the growing number of vigilantes who are opposed to The Pontifex?”

“Yes Susan, it would make it nearly impossible for these vigilante groups to function with any success.”                 

“Thanks Charlse, All Hail Lord’s Angel.”

“All Hail Lord’s Angel Susan. 

The moonlight high up in the mountains shown brighter then any populated area in the world. It was a sight to behold and Haley Riggs sat up on the roof, every night, regardless of the bighting cold, and gazed up at the moon. Her hair drifted in the breeze and she took in a breath of icy cold air. "Nice night." said a voice behind her. She spun around to see her father perched on a nearby tree branch. "Jeez, Dad, you scared me!" Paxton flipped through the air, landing gracefully on the roof beside her. "I thought I taught you better then to be scared." She smiled coyly and laughed, "Everyone's scared of something." Paxton sat down beside her and smirked. "You're right." he said, pointing to his face, "I'm afraid you and Lewis will inherit this." Hayley shifted her eyes between him and the clear night sky. "You never did tell us what happened to your face, Dad." she said. "Let's just say... I did some things when I was young, things I can never take back, and that I'll regret until the day I die. This is a permanent reminder."   
 
Haley nuzzled up against her father's shoulder and they both looked up at the moon. "I miss mom." she said, her eyes shimmering, wet with tears. "I know, sweety. So do I."  He held her tightly and looked out to the city lights on the horizon with determination. "I miss her more then anything. And we're gonna get her back." 
 
The next morning, in the twilight, when a cold gray hung in the sky, Paxton stood knee deep in the snow. His son, Lewis, opened the door and stepped out with a bow and quiver on his back. He wore a red and black coat with a dark red mask covering half of his face beneath the hood. "I gotta say, Dad, I'm doubting the superhero look." Paxton chuckled and they stood together, waiting got Hayley to come out. She finally stepped out in a black and orange skintight suit with her own bow and arrows. Paxton stood before his children, tossed them each a file folder, and said, "In 2010, an alien by the name of Kaligar Roxom declared war on earth and waged a battle against a handful of superhumans in Lebanon, Kansas. During the battle, the area was leveled in a nuclear explosion. For many years, the surrounding area was uninhabitable due to fallout. For the last twelve years, the sixty mile radius around Lebanon has been separated from the U.S. and converted into a prison state. It contains meta-humans and prisoners of a political nature. During my career as a crime fighter, I struck out against the Lebeau organization and Lord Angel's operation. Lord Angel used government connections to take your mother... and hurt me." Hayley and Lewis looked up at their father, their eyes turned white behind their masks. "So what do we do?" Lewis asked. Paxton tilted his head to the side, "We hurt him back." With that, he turned and raced through the forest. As he ran, he ripped open his jacket, revealing a red coat and golden arrow-shaped crest. He tossed his jacket aside and ran by a bow sticking out of the snow. He snatched it up as he raced past, swinging it over his back. Reaching into his pocket, Paxton pulled out a grey mask and pulled it over his face. Suddenly, the  red eyepiece over the right eye began to glow red.  Longshot was back.
 
Lewis and Hayley followed close behind. They were fast, nimble, smart. He couldn't be more proud of them. The government, the media, they had scared most of the heroes into the shadows. Those who remained were slaughtered by either Lord Angel or the Lebeaus. They had taken the inspiration out of the people. All the world needed was a gesture to let them know there were still heroes. And they were fighting back.

2014.....

Into the Gates of Hell...

2031....

 Angelique's black designer Couture gown seductively immersed itself around the aging beauties dignified curves as she gracefully mingled with the top of France's social hierarchy. On the surface, the extravagantly overindulgent soiree was a perfected model of excess and moral self-indulgence. Invitations had been hand delivered by imperial members of the Venin Rose in person as to avoid attracting any unwanted attention, each one stamped with the illustrious seal of the Chambre De L. However beneath the theatrical veil of affluence lie the hidden fangs of a conspiracy as an Illuminati Order, founded and led by a secret trinity of nations, had been in constant communications as they meticulously mapped out their ambitious plot. The ultimate Coup d'etat.

As check filled envelops continued to pass shiftily from hand to hand, the LeBeau Matriarch's sensory telepathic abilities began to spike causing a look a confusion to wash over her face minutes before the guest's attention were captivated by a mysterious whistling. Louder and louder the distinctive pitch resonated before vanishing. Suddenly and without warning, the entire Earth shook as a thunderous eruption of raw power sent a massive shockwave across the French landscape. The force knocking the unexpected off their feet and right on to their pertinacious asses. Instantly the Venin Rose appeared, surrounding the unexplained crater unable to see through the dust shielding cover of debris and dirt before finally catching the shadowy silhouette of the revenge fueled Goddess of Thunder, Donara.

No words were spoken simply the memorizing harmony of metal being released from its sheath as the clandestine sect of assassins converged. Sending the bystanders scurrying towards the safety of the Chateau only moments before the horrific death howls of Venin Rose consumed the court yard. Like poetry in motion the modern day Valkyrie gracefully unleashed an unequaled manifestation of power, innovation, and perfect body control, as she cut a path through the notorious killers. Displaying a thousand lifetimes of mystical god like combat techniques beyond the comprehension of most. Bullet nor blade could stop the controlled chaos brought forth by the deadly beauty. Her strength unstoppable, her speed unmatched. A compacted rush of air pushed forward by a flat accelerating surface, an elbow, crashed into the temple of an assassin while another was simultaneously impaled as Donara stylishly twirled her blade backwards with superhuman anticipation. Without breaking stride she continued. No muscle movements were wasted and flawless transitions evolved a series of moves into a complex configuration of choreography.

Ambitiously Kaz darted inside to remove the priceless katanna hanging under the portrait of his father before racing towards the battle only to be restrained by Angelique, "No, leave with dee guests. make your way to Romain and dee House of dee Two Dragons. We've worked to hard to fail now." instructed Angelique, ripping the blade from her eager brother's hand. "Leave dis to me. Killing heroes tis my specialty." Having evolved over the years Angelique's mutant abilities had become increasingly profound, which in turn gave the self absorbed heiress a new sense of invincibility. Flanked by several ceremonially attired Venin Rose assassins she advanced towards the expected war taking place in the once mystic courtyard. Quickly she accelerated to the head of the confrontation vaulting herself between two unsuspecting assassins utilizing the Parkour technique of Passement. Turning her body sideways as she floated through the air before placing her hand on a nearby shoulder self righting her body before continuing in an all out sprint towards her opponent. Running up the back of a dying assassin she skied upwards with her hands extended giving her body a swan like posture waiting until her descent before bringing her sword above her head preparing to strike. Only to feint the attack in an effort to induce a defensive reaction. Landing directly next to the Warrior Goddess Angelique wasted little time redirecting the focus of her attack into her telepathic ability willing into existence her Psi-Blade.

Its distinctive purple aura resonating from her clinched hand as she parried around Donara in hopes of positioning herself at the heroes back before attempting to leap frog onto the Valkyries shoulders, legs straddled around her neck, and driving the concentrated weapon of thought straight into her oppositions cranium. 

Another powerful strike. Almost he had succeeded in dodging. Almost. Where the blade was aimed at decapitating him it just slid his throat thoroughly. The main arteria was severed and spilled his blood in a wide arc spraying on Donara’s face and that of his fellow guards indiscriminately. Like in bullet time it hung there in the air frozen in time for a moment creating a curtain to close this scene and make room for the next.

Angelique surprised her with initiating the next act. Through the same drapes that had ended the previous one she descended from high above sword in hand and the late afternoon sun in her back like an avenging angel. The backlight made her not more than a black silhouette from a nightmare, almost insubstantial but Donara knew better than to assume this shadow could not hurt her. Maybe Kurrent had been right when he had compared her to her half brother and declared that she was so much more like their mother. Maybe after all she was the lucky one of the siblings. Maybe she would finally get her revenge now.

With flashing blade the cunning assassin landed next to the young half deity. The red light glistened on the blade as it cut through the air towards Donara but that was nothing she as a trained warrior was not used to. Reflexively she awaited the sound of clashing metal to supersede the swishing sound of parted air but to her surprise it did not come.

A feint. Cursing Donara quickly changed position and went into a counterattack with the long sword while holding the secondary weapon close to her trained body for a possible block. Unstoppable with the full power of 50 tons the tip of her blade raced towards the Cajun’s Heir eager to rend her perfect pale flesh. Only to meet empty air instead.

In a beautiful, perfect motion Angelique had gone into a somersault over her head leaving the hindering earth she seemingly did not belong to behind her. Arms outstretched like a swan the LeBeau Legacy soared over her and evaded her blood stained swords. Only to come down with full force. Donara felt her opponents strong legs lay around her throat cutting her off from air supply but that was not the problem. Donara knew her partly Asgardian physique enabled her to go without oxygen for hours. No, the problem was the sound purple light that surrounded the ancient samurai blade that the deadly woman used and that came towards her head quickly like a striking cobra towards the mongoose. And like a mongoose Donara would have to react quickly or die. This was no normal blade, the purple light spoke of the inherent telepathical energy that cut deeper than just skin and flesh. It cut the soul. Dangerous for even Donara getting stabbed with it in the head it promised a quick and merciless death.

For a millisecond all of her life flashed before the young thundergodess’ eyes. The few memories she had of her mother, her fight training with her godly father, how he had exiled her, how she had aimlessly wandered earth as an orphan and how she had found a new home in California, her recent fight against the Ettin and how she had found out about the death of her adopted father. Her life was not easy, all of it suffered under the betrayal of Lord’s Angel and how he had made the world into what it was now. No, she would not submit. She would not lie down and die like a sheep. She would fight on. To make it clear for Angelique, for the world, for herself she let out an epic warrior scream worthy of all of her parents: Risky, Lst Paladin and Kurrent.

2029: Champion City 

2031: Undisclosed Location 

Days went by as the archers raced south to Kansas. Paxton had raised them for years up in the mountains, secluded and isolated with no roads. They had been travelling on foot. They had cut through most of Nebraska by now. Soon, they would reach the former sight of Lebanon, the prison state of the U.S. government. They'd made camp for the night far out in a wheat field, beyond the view of prying eyes. Lewis had made a small clearing for them while Haley set up a fire ring and cover and Paxton gathered firewood. He came back with an armful of kindling, mostly. They needed to keep the fire low or risk being spotted. It was common knowledge that setting camp in a man's wheat field is likely to get you shot.  
 
Paxton patted the dust from his clothes as Haley got the fire started. He looked at his sun who stared up at the dull haze of the cloudy sky above. "We should be able to cut through right into Kansas by tomorrow morning. The prison'll be the first thing we see. Exact center of the country." he said. Lewis bowed his head, pulling his hood back and replied, "So they turned the heart of the country into a giant prison?" Longshot walked to Lewis' side. "Yeah." he whispered with shame in his voice, "We left you kids one hell of a legacy. But she's there, I'm sure of it. They took your mother from us and we're going to get her back." Lewis glanced over at his father. "What does she look like, Dad?" he asked. "Laurie was the most beautiful woman I've ever-" "Don't be cliche, Dad." Lewis interrupted, "Tell me what she was really like." The dark red cowl covering the top half of his face distorted his expression, but Lewis' emotions rang loud and clear. He and his sister had spent most of their lives without their mother, up in the mountains with no friends and no childhood. They'd had it all taken from them. "I've been Longshot since I was seventeen. It was all my life was, trying to redeem myself and do right. I couldn't show my face for obvious reasons. But one night, I'm  running on the rooftops and I accidentally slip in a puddle and I fall into the alley. When I open my eyes, I see her. She had this costume, black and silver, and she was good. She was fast, strong and knew a thing or too about fighting before I met her." Longshot peeled off his mask and held it at his side as he continued, "We worked together a couple nights, busting heads on her beat, carjackers and purse snatchers. But one time, when we were about to call it a night, she asked if I wanted to get a coffee. I told her I didn't drink the stuff, but she insisted. I told her I had a dairy allergy and she insisted. Finally, she realized I was hiding something and I had no choice. I took off my mask, expecting her to run or scream or laugh. But she didn't. She took her mask off and smiled. God, she had those emerald green eyes. She took me by the collar and we kissed. She didn't care what I looked like. She didn't care about my past, she loved me. And I spent every day we were together wondering how I'd gotten so lucky. She was everything to me. She made me feel like it was all alright, like I didn't have to do this anymore. She was my life, and best of all... she gave me you." Paxton's eyes began tear up and shine a glassy pale white in the shine of the full moon. He smiled and wiped a tear from under his eye. Lewis looked up at the moon as well, but with a stern demeanor. "If you loved her so much, Dad..." he whispered, harshly, "Then why'd you lose her?" With those words, he turned and walked past his sister, out into the field and took up his bow, taking aim at a far off bail of hay and fired as the sound of rolling thunder shot through the air.  
 
Paxton stood there, alone in the field for a moment, then put his mask back on and came over to the fire, dropping at Haley's side. "What kind of a chance do you think we have, Dad?" Haley asked. "Well, they have high tech security systems, sentry guns, electric fences and miles of barbed wire. They have guards trained as well as the Green Berets with the most up-to-date equipment and weapons and a central complex so hard to navigate, even the guards can get lost. Soooo... I figure we've got a pretty decent shot." he answered. Haley giggled and leaned up against him. "This is the first time I've ever heard you be sarcastic." she said. "Who's being sarcastic?" Paxton chuckled, "I taught you kids enough to take out an army. Oookay, that was hyperbole, not sarcasm!" 
 
There was a flash of lightning and a crack of ferocious thunder as the skies grew black and the horizon turned red. Lewis continued shooting with the same expression of restrained rage, every arrow digging into the hay bail with a soft THWOK! The thunder storm continued and Paxton looked to the south. Tomorrow, he would see his wife again.

A convoy of vans and cars steadily streamed its way across the Texas landscape; each car had a single driver, their vehicles literally filled to the brim with weapons that had been poorly concealed under blankets. The Border officials were easily bribed and were likely presumed they were only smuggling people and drugs, something the government hardly seemed to take seriously anymore. Each driver was nervous with anticipation; it wasn’t now long till it all wrapped up one way or another.

In New Zealand, a Winston fell from a throne, his scalp open and dripping blood before he was reabsorbed by the surrounding duplicates. They stood in solemn silence as their heads filled with the knowledge of what was taking place in the world. Across the North Island, the army was ordered to set up defences.

In Romania, the Draconian sat on his throne, tapping away at his armrest as a pair of Winsti dragged in his daughter. Sitting upright, the Draconian glared at her, “Draguta. Where was she?”

“Out in the countryside, killing rebels.” The Winston on her right sighed, “She did quite an impressive job of it too might I add.”

Florentin mused on this briefly before spitting, “It doesn’t matter, Draguta, you are of royal blood, you can not go acting so impulsively and aggressively without planning things through.” Wyven just grunted, deciding it was best not to talk back to her father, she instead settled on setting her glower upon one of the Winsti, who cowered slightly.

The other Winston continued to talk, “Kazuhiko Lebeau is also on his way and we have word that we are finally fully prepared to launch –“ The Draconian had raised his hand, signaling for the Winston to cease, before signaling again for Draguta to leave the room before Winston could continue again, “to launch our arsenal.”

Originally Fiona planned to disregard the other passengers and just enjoy her ride home alone, but one man with hair resting on his shoulders had other ideas. He chose the seat right next to her and leaned in to start talk talking. Before he could speak she raised her hand a little, with palm facing the stranger and said without turning her head, "I've had a crazy day, today. So if you're some kind of creep, just leave me alone. Coprende?" With a strange smug yet friendly tone he said, "You know,  you really shouldn't use your abilities so publicly, haven't you heard of the curfew?" Her stomach dropped as she instantly realized how careless she was. Jerking her body around to face the man she says intensively, but keeping her voice low enough so no one around could hear, "You saw?! " then mumbles to herself "Caramba! Papi would be so disappointed."  After the man's words marinate in her mind she responds, "What do you mean curfew? I've been in my studio all day. I haven't heard anything."

Listening to the man's explanation Fiona says. "Curse that devil...!" she picks the disc off the floor and places it into her hand bag. "Wait, what do I call you?" The man tells her his name then steps off the bus. Fiona stays on the bus for a few more blocks going over, in her head, the rush of information she had just received. Her father wasn’t a superhero, vigilante or even bad guy. He only used his powers and connections to get through life without anyone bothering him, but those were different times entirely. It seemed as if every town across the world was either in turmoil, run by crime lords and drug dealers, or was lucky enough to have a super-powered protector. New York City was once thriving with superhumans but hasn’t seen the likes of one in ages. Drugs had moved in the city but no real organization has become strong enough to control the trafficking.

The young designer figures, “Who better than to protect the city than me?” An unknown superhuman who was skilled in a fight, knew the city, and seamed harmless until the attack. Once at her stop, she exits the bus and sticks the key into her lock. Entering her studio loft apartment she tosses her fabrics on the couch and practically runs to her room. Swinging open her wardrobe, clothes start to fly as she looks for the perfect outfit. Throwing the montage of clothing on a manikin she says with extreme certainty. “All black would make this.”

The news circled the globe like some unstoppable disease, on every television, on the tip of everyone’s tongue, Angelique Lebeau was dead. It had barely been half an hour since the video surfaced on the French news, Angelique walking out of her mansion, composed, disciplined and graceful, only to be showered in a barrage of bullets that virtually shredded her in moments, leaving several large splatters of blood strewn across the wall of her estate. As Angelique fell to the ground, several soldiers, clad entirely in black quickly sprinted up to her. One checked her pulse and gave the signal for another to shoot her in the head to finish off the still breathing tyrant. Despite the poor quality of the video, the sadness in her face was visible as she stared up the barrel of the mans rifle before her life ended with a bang.

 “Do you have a speech prepared?” Winston asked Kazuhiko as they landed in Bucharest.

“I’ll make one if needs be, as for now my presence might best be a thing kept hidden.” Kazuhiko replied, not looking at the man as Winston nodded, escorting him off the plane onto the tarmac of the secluded and empty runway.

It wasn’t long before another story erupted across televisions and computers worldwide. A video showed Florentin Cuza, the ruler of Romania standing at a podium, dressed in full royal regalia as he glared out at the crowd before him, his mouth arched in a slight grimace under the weight of the news he bared, “People of the world. I stand here now as a world leader, a voice of the people and it is under such a title that I deliver this message, for the sakes of all those who cry out for help. For too long now, the world has seen little more than suffering. For too long now, even in supposedly first world countries people go hungry. Jobs have halfed, poverty is rampant and with them so too is disease, malnourishment and depression, the world is in a state of chaos and darkness and people ask why? Do we blame ourselves? Has the global society finally totally fallen under its own weight? No. No, there is a man at fault here, a single man who has left nothing at all but ruin in his wake! Since the Lord’s Angel came into power we have seen terror on a global scale! The world-wide depression has only gotten worse with each passing day he has remained in power! The drug trade has increased over five hundred fold in only fifteen years! Crime and anarchy have run riot under the supervision of a madman who considers himself a god amongst men! The people of America have been crying out for aid for too long and we have been cowering in fear! I have had enough of it! I will not stand for the intolerance! I will not stand for the villainy! And I will not stand for the insanity that has been brought upon us all by this man! I, Florentin Cuza, declare war on Lords Angel!”

In military bases across America, lights would flash, sirens would wail. Over the Atlantic, dozens of Nuclear missiles flew through the air, flanked by fighter jets making their way towards said bases. Missiles were fired in an attempt to halt their flight and destroy the nukes in mid-air over the ocean, though these proved futile, only succeeding in destroying little more than a quarter of the nuclear devices as the jets blasted the anti-missile weaponry out of the air.

“Have you heard from my sister?”  Kazuhiko asked as he sat with Winston in one of the lavishly decorated guest rooms of the Draconians castle.

“No, though do not worry, she should be fine, you know she can handle herself.”

Kazuhiko glared at him, “I’m not worried, merely curious.” Getting up and stretching his arms, the last Lebeau glanced over his shoulder at his escort, “And so, the video?”

“It’s already been shown on news channels across the world. To the masses, Angelique is dead due to mysterious black-op forces. We can frame and blame whomever we please.”

“You are quite the actor Mister Sharpe.” Kazuhiko smirked as he sat back down.

A duplicate began to emerge from Winston as he selectively forced cells to undergo mitosis. The clones muscles were less toned, skin smoother, hair longer, wider eyes, eventually a replica of Angelique Lebeau sat next to the Winston from whom it spawned and it bowed to Kazuhiko, “I’m honored sir.”

2031:  2 Days Ago......

The morning broke, but this place of oppression remained a perpetual, abysmal grey. The dirt was nearly as it had been when Lebanon was first decimated, scorched and hardened beyond mending. A single long, narrow road stretched from the only opening of the gate in the south to the far off northern end of the prison state, passed the horizon line at the entrance, even. Guards patrolled their stations as others  looked from watchtowers positioned every several yards along the perimeter. Towers stretched high into the thick clouds and a monorail with windows turned black carried guards and prisoners high above the ground to transport them to their cells, to inspections, or to executions. The hours of the day went by and not a single escape attempt. Nothing noticeable, as the guards would shoot any prisoner who was lucky enough to open their cell door dead before they took ten paces down the hall. Finally, the sun set and darkness fell over the massive prison. 
 
  The only light at this hour was the flashlight of the passing guard and the occasional scan by the searchlights. A guard high up in the watchtower gasped as a blur came flying from the darkness at blinding speed and struck him in the shoulder. He reached for his radio to call for aid, but a small golden cylinder on the side of the arrow shot a puff of gas into his face and he lost consciousness, slumping down in the corner of his crow's nest. With the link in the unbreakable chain of defense broken, three figures, decked in shadow, slipped over the fence and raced silently towards the nearest building. Taking position pressed up against the wall, they waited as a guard rounded the corner. A gloved hand rapped around his mouth and pulled him backwards, taking him down and tucking him away in the shadows. One by one, they ran around the corner and raced down the row of buildings. The magnetic whistling of the monorail overhead passed them and the leader aimed his arm in the air, firing a cable and swung around, landing on the roof. The other two followed.  
 
A faint light coming from the windows of the train illuminated their faces, the masked and hooded faces of Warrior, Sharpshooter and Longshot. Warrior pulled the hood of her orange cloak off of her head, letting her blonde hair flutter in the wind. "So what's the plan?" she asked. Longshot pulled out a folded up piece of paper and flattened it out on the roof of the train. "Laurie would be held around the heart of the main prison complex surrounding the refineries." he said, running his finger around the center of the colossal prison where all the roads and train tracks converged on one cluster of massive towers. "This rail will take us right to her. We dock on the west station and slip out of sight then, well, I thought we'd wing it." Sharpshooter cracked a smile. "I think we can manage that." he chuckled. Longshot patted him on his back. "Attaboy!" he laughed, stuffing the map back into his pocket. The three stood up and faced the strong wind, gazing up at the fierce towers drawing closer. Soon, they would mount their assault and rescue the lost member of their family. After that, they would together bring about the return of the heroes.  
 

Inside the Central Tower

He heard his sister, felt her incomprehensible might that was so like and yet so unlike his own. And then it happened. She had cried out in a thoughtless moment, feared for her father like both of them did and had forgotten about the effects of her irresistible voice.

Olivia, or Whisper as the public called her, was the ultimate proof for the creativity of words. The Jews are sure that god willed the world into being by speaking the right words, words that are lost to mankind now. For that the Rabbis studied the Torah and the Talmud   in eternal search of the same words that had started all life.

Whisper had found them.

Every of her syllables bent reality around them, violated and broke it like a child does with a toy. The very basic foundations of all that was were at her command. With a single whisper she could create and destroy worlds.

Nathan was not without power himself. He could eradicate nations, whole countries, perhaps even the world in a blazing nuclear wave of heat that raced over the ground. He was stronger than any atomic bomb, the ultimate nightmare of other regimes like the re-established UDSSR. With pride he had annihilated former friends and foes of his father alike feeling the incredible power boiling inside him but at the same time fearing it. A sensational tickling, the perfect mix between power to vanquish anything and anxiety to use it.

He loathed his powers but at the same time he loved the feeling whenever the hot plasma rushed through his veins and warmed his body. It was like back in the times when his mother cradled him. But at the same time he had witnessed the destruction that came forth from his hands, burned people to crisps and killed millions. If it had not been for the power of his sister… god knows what would have happened. His memories were a shrouded maze in this regard.

Now that the irresistible command reached his ears, reverberated in his eardrums and the reality altering powers of his sister took control of him he remembered it again. How he had destroyed the hospital after the death of his mother and how she had saved them all. How he had cried in the nights so often, horrified by death and decay around him, that he had peed in the bed and wanted to forget all this. His shame. Again his sister had turned the heat away. How he had argued with his father for the first time as a teenager and had burned him in his rage. Again his sister had reverted it back to normal.

No, Olivia was wrong. He could not save. Saving was her part. He could only destroy. In this moment as the heat once again rose in his body he had the final epiphany. They were a perfect balance. The legendary siblings. Good and evil. Yin and Yang. And he was the negative one. Without his sister to counter him he would get out of control.

But this time she was not there. Even worse, she commanded him to do something. Save him. She knew that meant destruction. But now that the siblings’ powers combined for the first time, that she used her powers to force him into action the final cataclysm was certain.

Slowly using the thermal streams he rose into the air and felt how it began. From deep within. Where all his rage burned. The image of his father going at Hunter like some wild animal was the trigger. The fire fanned up stronger than ever before. It was time to end this.

Ironically it did not hurt. Although he had felt it burning in his chest all those years letting go of it was somehow… relieving. The red halo around him increased as his fingers began to dissolve. A chain reaction that rapidly worked its way up his arms consuming all his flesh till he was not more than a blackened skeleton hanging there in the air. His feeling of pain had long gone when his skeleton disappeared also disappeared. He could feel it how every single one of his atoms exploded, how it freed its entire energetical potential equal to an atomic bomb. But his will held back the blast till all of them were gone, till they would all explode at once.

And then, as the last fibre of his brain was gone, as there was the combined power of   uncountable a-bombs he exploded. A last scream of his, thundering and ear-drum bursting, rode with the blast wave.

2031 

2011 

 Longshot stood at the end of the train, glaring down at the strange world of twisted metal decked in shadow that raced by below him. The wind battered against his chest, but he stood rigid, sullen and wanting to be alone with his thoughts. Warrior and Sharpshooter sat farther back on the train together, not saying a word. A tear welled up behind Haley's mask and she peeled it back, letting the tear run down her face. There was a callous look to Lewis as he kept his hood drawn over his head and looked to the dark horizon with his lips clamped shut and his eyes narrowed. Even with his feelings held back, his lower lip quivered a bit and he felt a sinking feeling down somewhere inside him.  
 
Suddenly, from every direction, there was the banshee scream of alarms and the thunderclap of boots trampling the ground. The alarms had been raised far back in the heart of the prison and took some time to spread outward, just now catching up with them. Soon, every guard in the prison and every officer in the northern part of Kansas would be on the sight. Without warning, Longshot dove from the monorail and his children followed, racing towards the fence. One by one, they pounced from the rooftop and dove clear over the barbed wire fence, an impressive feat. Longshot took two arrows from his quiver and held them between links of the fence, pressing his feet against the fence and propelling himself off in a back flip before the electricity in the fence could faze him through his insulated clothes. He landed safely on the ground and the two followed suit, doing the same maneuver with the same grace and agility. They all froze in place when a search light landed on them and a guard yelled, "FREEZE!" Longshot fired an arrow into the man's stomach and he fell to the wayside. There were sirens in the distance, coming down the road. The police were on the way and a small army of prison guards were marching through the nearest opening of the gate, now aware of their position. The three ran as fast as they could across the charred earth, towards the hills off in the distance. 
 
Meanwhile, the warden marched in his grey overcoat and gloves alongside his personal detail of guards. "We've got a trail, sir. They put another man in the infirmary, but we're right on their heels." said one of the guards. "Good." replied the warden, pushing his glasses further up his nose, "I want you to find them before the police. Kill the kids, I want the father alive." "Yes sir." the guard said, marching on with his rifle lowered. 
  
The break of dawn was near, but the sky was still a heavy black aside from the shaded blue on the horizon. It was a cold night, it was a starless night. Longshot bounded up the hill, crisp pine needles crunching beneath his feet. Sharpshooter was close  behind and Warrior wasn't far off either. "They're moving fast. We can't stay ahead of 'em forever, Dad." Sharpshooter said between heavy breaths. Longshot had nothing to say, he only kept marching through the dense forest. "What should we do? Dad?" Sharpshooter asked, getting no response. Suddenly, without any sign, Longshot simply stopped walking and fell to his knees. Sharpshooter was a bit afraid to step forward and ask what was wrong. The archer's breathing grew heavy and he wrapped his arms around his head, trying to force the thoughts from his mind.  
 
Longshot paused for a moment. His ear caught a sharp whistling in the silence, faint but sharp. He spun around and cried out, "HALEY!" Before she could realize what he was warning her about, a spurt of blood shot from her arm and a patch of dirt further up the hill burst. The bullet had only grazed her, but the wound already burned and it tore out a piece of her arm. She stifled a bit, clutching the wound and running forward with her head kept low. "Get out of here! Now!" Longshot ordered. As Sharpshooter ran, he was grabbed by his arm and pulled towards his father. He looked down the hill between the trees. They guards were drawing nearer. "Listen to me." said Longshot, staring into the eyes of his son, "You have a shot. And it doesn't matter if you hit or miss, but no matter what, you have to take it." Lewis looked up at his dad, perplexed. "I don't understand." he said. Paxton pulled the mask from his face and handed it to his son. "You are Longshot now." he declared. "Dad, no! I can't-" Paxton grabbed him and brought his face right up in front of his son's. "There's no time to argue!" he growled, "This isn't a world for an angry old man with ideas for an old world. Go out and be the hero the new world needs. Take care of your sister." He embraced his son and whispered something in his ear before bolting down the hill. Lewis looked down at the mask and raced up the hill to join his sister.  
 
The guards pointed up the hill and handed the warden a pair of binoculars. He looked up and smirked. "I thought he'd make us work for it at least." he chuckled. Paxton dashed down the hill, taking up his bow and shouted, "Come on!" He put three arrows to the string with explosive attachments and fired, shouting, "You've already taken everything, come on! Take a little more!" Explosions went off all around them. Guards were sent flying to the ground and a tree cracked and moaned and plummeted to the earth. "Come on!" he cried. The guards marched up to meet him, the warden slowly making his way up the hill behind them. As the guards came up around him, Longshot swung his bow, striking one in the jaw and sending him falling to the ground. Another grabbed him from behind and he jabbed him in the stomach, breaking free and kicking him into another guard. He swung away, fighting the guards as they came, but finally, they overpowered him and piled over him, tying his hands with a pair of riot coughs and beating him down as they did. The warden stood there, hands in his pockets and looked down at the defeated Longshot, forced to his knees by the guards.  
 
The warden held out his hand and a guard stood at attention, handing him his pistol. He stepped forward, putting a bullet in the chamber and put the gun to Paxton's forehead. The light of the sun was just beginning to reach the horizon and his finger tightened around the trigger. Paxton muttered something under his breath. "What was that?" asked the warden. With hate filled eyes, Paxton looked up at him and whispered, "I forgive you."  
 
BLAM! 
 
A thin trail of smoke tumbled from the shell as it fell to the ground. At the same time, Paxton's body fell to the ground. Far off in the hills, Lewis and Haley watched and she cried on his shoulder and he comforted her. They turned from the horrendous scene far below and carried on. The warden lowered his gun and looked to the men. "Well, come on!" he ordered, "We still have the kids to find!" He hiked up the hill, the group of guards following behind.  
 
The small cave was a good enough hide out for the time being. It wasn't all too easy to find and the guards might pass by without noticing. Haley's eyes were red and her cheeks were still wet with tears, but she was finished crying. She was ready to act. She reached into her bag and pulled out her laptop. She powered it up and started typing away. "Lewis, come over here." she said. Lewis was sitting at the mouth of the cave with his hood and mask drawn back, looking down at the mask of his father in his hands, the red eyepiece stitched into the grey fabric. "Lewis?" Haley repeated. He turned to her and walked down the cave. "What is it?" he asked. Haley gestured to the screen and explained, "I've linked this computer up to CNN, NBC, CBS and a helluva lot of personal computers. You're live in twenty-five seconds." "What?!" Lewis asked, confused by what she'd told him. "Didn't you ever read the old newspaper clippings on Dad?" she asked, "He was always acting out and fighting against the corruption in the world. He used to make arrests and go up against politicians. We're in a world with corruption tenfold. The world needs a Longshot who can respond tenfold. Dad wanted to bring the heroes out of hiding, to keep people from hiding in fear and speak out. He left it to you. Five seconds." 
 
Without hesitation, Lewis put the mask on, realizing that it didn't fit him quite right and he had to adjust it so that the lens would line up with his eye. He took a knee and cleared his throat, speaking into the camera which was going live to millions of screens all over the world. "Hello. Some of you may not recognize me. Allow me to introduce myself. My name's Longshot, and for longer then I can remember, I've fought against a system of greed and fear. I've been gone for a long time, but that idea of making the world and all the people in it your property persists to this day, and it's only growing stronger. I want all of you who are scared, all of you who want to fight back but don't how, I want you all to know that you are not alone. In truth, I've only been Longshot for a few minutes. My father passed it on to me before he was executed by the man put in charge of a prison that lobotomizes anyone who doesn't agree with the men in control. As long as we hide, we give them all the power we need. We give them the power to take what they want, be it our food, our money, our homes, our children... or our parents. We give them that power every second that we hide. I am asking you, go into the streets, march on your masters, look them in the eye and say 'NO'. And if you're afraid that you'll be alone, don't be, I'll be there. My sister will be there. Heroes across the globe will be there. We cannot win unless we take the chance to-" he was cut short when the crack of gunfire echoed behind him. He turned around to see the armed men lined up around the cave and the warden standing there, smoking gun aimed at the sky. He turned the gun towards the both of them and stepped into the cave, the guards following behind him with their rifles fixed on the two archers. "You think you're clever? You think you can make the problems of the world go away with a few pretty words? It doesn't work like that, kid." said the warden, putting the gun to Longshot's forehead. "And I think someone needs to teach you a lesson. Like father, like son." "This is a live feed!" Longshot said, "This is going out as we speak. If all your guards don't put their guns down and surrender to me right now, then the entire world is going to watch a government official execute two kids with a camera." Reluctantly, the warden signaled to his men. "Put 'em down. Get on your knees." he ordered. They all dropped their guns and put their hands behind their heads, dropping to their knees as Haley went around to collect and dispose of the guns. "Good." said Longshot. "Now get down!" he shouted, kicking the warden in the knee. 
 
The warden cried out in pain and dropped to his knees, letting the gun fall from his grasp. Longshot picked up the pistol and pressed it against the warden's temple, gritting his teeth and tightening his fist, about to pull the trigger. Haley froze in shock as she looked at her brother, ready to execute the man who'd killed their lobotomized their mother and killed their father. Just as he was about to pull the trigger, he tossed up the gun and caught it by the barrel, holding it to the warden's face and kneeling down to eye level. He said three words, three simple words to the warden, "I never would." He turned to the laptop and spoke directly to his audience and declared, "You have a chance to remake the world and make it better. When you form your new world, make the basis of your society a man who NEVER would!" with that, he tossed the gun aside and cut the feed, leaving with his sister who'd handcuffed all the guards and the warden. They marched out of the cave, not stopping once to glance back at the men they'd left behind. They didn't know what effect their actions would have on the world, but they had a future ahead of them and it was theirs for the taking.     

His feet touched down on top of a high building near the coast. The wind blew his hair slightly as he made his way across the roof top observation deck to a pool open to the high night sky. There he saw a man swimming laps at a relaxing pace. When the man got to the end of the pool he slowly waded out, flushing the water from his ear before being handed a towel by a dark haired beauty in a sleek one piece bathing suit and high heels. The man, obviously in top conditioning dried off as he made his way across the pool deck over to where Hawk stood.  

His hand extended and a smile broke across his face when their eyes met, “Hawk so glad to see you. Welcome to my home.” Shaking his hand Hawk did not meet his smile. “It would seem that crime does pay after all Gambler.”  

The men exchanged small talk while smoking cigars under the moonlight. The beauty that Gambler only referred to as Bella’, floated around quickly but without much notice bringing them drinks and predicting Gambler’s every need.  

Finally the men got down to business moving into the interior of Gambler’s mansion. “There are several of what I’ll call “my kind” that are not paying their proper respects towards their elder statesmen. These men and women need to be dealt with. Of course, I being the leader of many, cannot simply rid myself of these men while I am seeking political power. As you can see for the time being, I am just a servant of the people.  

“So that is where you would like me to come in….?” Hawk asked with an obvious sarcasm. A smile crossed Gambler’s face.   
 
Back at The Wolf Pack headquarters someone whispered "I don't think so...."