L.A, a crappy apartment, #1408

Higgins clumsily opened the door, arms filled with groceries. After setting them down on the tiny kitchen table, he chucked his keys in the bowl and pressed the message button on his phone.

"You have, three, new messages. *Beeeeep*"

He leaned over from the kitchen and raised his brow in surprise. "Three? Jeez, I really hope that isn't old man Delainy again..." He muttered, already a week late on this month's rent.

"Message one."

"Looking to help out your local neighborhood? Come on down and volunteer! The Gothic City refugee center is looking for all the help it could get in aiding those in need. For more information about services and donations, please go to our website at WWW.GothicNeedsUs.com. Have a great day!

Higgins walked back into the living room, slurping up some leftover noodles from the fridge, the only thing that hasn't expired yet. He still couldn't believe what happened in Gothic, more so glad he moved just months before it all went down.

Memories of when Gothic Burned raced through his mind. It was the last time he saw Kurt, the time he helped amputate the Archer's arm and replace it with a Trion prosthetic. The ex-agent pinched the brim of his nose, reminding himself that he had to catch up with him sooner or later. Gather up the courage to admit he was secretly his nemesis POW.

"Message two."

"Higgins! I know you've been using the fire escape to avoid me! Don't think I've forgotten that you're late again on what you owe me this month. *Sigh* Look kid, I really appreciate you saving my little girl, but with how things are right now? I can't afford to lose the lease on this building... I'll giva you a call on your cell if I don't hear from you"

"Crap.." Higgins groaned heavily, instantly ridden with guilt about not having the cash. Having a burn notice from the M.H.A did not make getting a real job easy for him. It turned out being a very small time "hero" didn't pay all too well. He slumped down on the couch and looked down the hallway, where he could see his green and yellow suit hung up in the closet.

"Message three."

"Dude, It's Clay. You need to call me back as soon as possible! You're in serious trouble, man!"

The cohort's head jolted up at the last message, falling off the couch in an attempt to get back up quickly. "Oh that CAN'T be good." He spoke frantically, grabbing the phone off the hook and quickly dialing a twenty five digit phone number.

He paced back and forth in the living room, chewing on his thumbnail as the phone just kept ringing and ringing. Finally, the other end picked up. "CLAY! Duder please tell me that was some sort of joke or something. Y'know, the kind where you break a two year silence and call me thus risking my location sort of joke?!" Higgins shouted into the phone, dashing over to the blinds and peeking outside.

M.H.A Special Agent Clay was on the other end of the phone. Long time friend of Higgins during his agent days, and served as his source on the inside. Clay himself was pacing back and forth in his office, loosening his tie and closing the blinds. "Higgs, I need you to be 1000% honest with me right now. Have you gone back to being POW? Robbing banks, the works?"

Higgins held the phone away from him, staring at it in complete confusion. He brought it back to his ear "What the heck are you talking about?! I quit that YEARS ago!"

It was true. Higgins remembered the day he realized the people he hurt, the wrongs he had done. The day he had a moment of clarity and stopped his own criminal stint. Why would Clay be asking that sort of thing?

Agent Clay sighed heavily, rubbing his face. "Not according to our intel. There have been reports about you- Well, someone going around dressed as POW. Robberies, the suit, he even has the gauntlets that were confiscated years ago." He explained sternly, flipping open a folder on his desk and sifting through surveillance images of said robberies. "Look Higgins, whether it's you or not? The board thinks it's you. They're... Heading your way as we speak. With intentions to lock you up in SuperMax..."

Higgins' blood froze in his veins, almost dropping the phone. "WHAT- WHO- OH CRAP. I HAVE SO MANY QUESTIONS." He screamed in a complete panic, already sprinting to his room, grabbing his suit off the coat-hanger and started to get dressed.

Clay checked his watch and looked at the intel feed he hacked into earlier. "They're at your location man. You need to act now. I have to hang up, they're going to get suspicious if I stay on this line any longer... Good luck."

"ThanksClayI'llcallyoulaterbyenow!" Higgins threw the phone against the wall and now used both hands to struggle putting his left yellow boot on.

M.H.A tactical units were already marching up the stairs, weapons loaded with tranqs and beanbags. Two men crouched on each side of the apartment door, signaling that they were ready to breach on the count of three. When the few seconds were up, the door was kicked off it's hinges and the four units tactically entered the apartment, covering all corners and exits.

Yet, they found no one. "Sweep the building. Nobody leaves without me hearing about it." Their squad leader harshly whispered.

Higgins, now fully dressed in his custom green M.H.A field suit, was clinging to the ceiling rafters. It took every fiber of his being to not mutter his usual frantic banter, instead focusing on how he was going to get out of this. Four fully armed agents, three windows, a utility belt filled with gadgets and a closing time frame before one of them eventually looks up.

Very carefully, Higgins pulled out a small silver ball. After taking the time to aim, he chucked it into the bathroom, where it bounced off the wall and loudly clinked around in the bathtub.

"Over here!" One of them shouted, cocking his shotgun and stomping towards the bathroom to check it out. The others covered him while he inspected the noise, leaving the kitchen window perfectly unguarded. With a silent swing, Higgins landed on the open window frame and was ready to step out onto the fire escape. Until...

Hall & Oats, "You make my dreams come true" started blasting from Higgins' pocket. It was the ringtone to his cellphone. No doubt old man Delainy calling about that rent. Higgins shut his eyes in complete humiliation. "This is the worst escape... Ever... Of all time..." He announced at room volume, no longer having any reason to be stealthy. The agents all turned the corner and took formations. "HIGGINS! FREEZE!"

Just before they could pull the triggers, Higgins' was quicker on the draw. The cunning coward had already dropped a bunch of pellets on the kitchen floor, which exploded and flooded the entire apartment tear gas. Higgins latched a hook to the railing of the fire escape while the agents choked on the nonlethal fumes.

With a leap of faith, he leaped off and let the belt's wire support his weight during the descent. "YES! I'm still bad ass sometimes!" Higgins cheered with glee. Unfortunately, his gadgets haven't been maintained in some time. The wire snapped about halfway down. "AAAAAGH!" He wailed like a girl, helplessly flailing down onto a closed dumpster, proceeded by hitting the pavement.

"Uhhhhh... I think I broke my everything." Higgins rolled over and held his sides, moaning in pain. While looking up, he saw that the agents were now on the fire escape, with their weapons aimed down at him.

"Not good!" Higgins' eyes widened and rolled forward onto his feet, just in time to avoid a volley of tranqs. The green clad hero sprinted down the alleyway, using the time it took those agents to get back downstairs in getting a head start.

The agents would find Higgins chucked a magnetic disk onto their SUV sometime before fleeing, disabling the engine permanently.

Higgins was in the wind, and on the run. Who was posing as his ex-alter ego POW? How was he going to clear his name? Who could he turn to that would help in his cause?

• Name: Terry Higgins
• Alias: Higgins, The Pest, POW(Formally)
• Age: 32
• Birthplace: Toronto, Canada.
• Occupation: Spy, adventurer, former bank robber and criminal, former M.H.A agent.
• Hair: Blond
• Eyes: Green
• Skills: M.H.A agent training. Parkour training. Ninjitsu hiding training. Field medic. Engineering. Fluent in over twelve languages including sign.

The fallen, the standing and everyone in between. Here is where you can look at who has been an X or who is currently an X. And yes you can have your X character placed on this log.

Triple "trip" Mayhews

• Name: Trip Mayhews
• Status: Alive
• Age: 20
• Born in: Boston
• Civilian occupation: Auto mechanic
• Criminal record: Yes
• Skills/Assets: Skilled mechanic, criminal personality and reasoning, hand-to-hand fighter, improvisational thinker.
• Number of experienced situations: 1

The Outback

Pitcher took one last sip from his canteen and a bit on his sweaty forehead before slipping the visor back onto his face. Gun runners, again. It was just another day as seemingly one of Australia's only heroes, with the exception of the trip he was trying to plan while doing all this.

The boomerang thrower pulled out his smart phone and went to his contacts, selecting Kurt for a call. And as that line buzzed, Pitcher was drawing a boomerang from his belt, glaring at the Jeep 70 yards away. The angle was perfect, the downwards speed from the cliff would make this a cinch.

With his luck of course, he got the messaging machine. "Dammit.." Pitcher grumbled and held up his boomerang, calculating the shot.

"Yeah, hey Kurt. It's Mason, your cousin? Just checking if we are still on for meeting at the airport the day after tomorrow. Would appreciate if you hit me up with an answer here soon..Thanks." Pitcher clicked his phone just before chucking his boomerang with full heat, fanning of into the distance.

There was that long silence, it felt like forever. But finally, the feint sound of a window shattering on that jeep and a ceased wheels made the vigilante grin. A man wearing blue and white, that's pretty visible, ten seconds max before they notice.

So Pitcher went to work, leaping off the precipice and expertly navigating the rocks below. This was all so natural now, practicing since he was a teen. There it was, right on cue. The two gunmen driving the jeep noticed Pitcher, knowing who exactly it was too. Pitcher's footfall upon the rocks were accompanied by gunfire crackling up the stones around him, the air hissing as led passed by his covered ears.

A boomerang in each hand now, sent spinning off into the air ahead. One headed straight for the closest gunner, striking him right against the jaw while the other boomerang was busy slashing the second gunner's arm to force a dropped weapon.

An edged boomerang drawn, clutched tightly in Pitcher's gloved hand. The jaw smacked gunner had the clutched edge run along his knee, the marksman not stopping to see him fall over in pain. Running momentum was turned into leaping speed, Pitcher planted his boots firmly against the cut gunner's face to knock him out cold.

The masked man cursed under his breath however, looking over at the remaining man who was pointing that AK right at his face, no choice now. An underhanded toss sent that edged boomerang right in his forehead, killing him instantly.

Pitcher popped open the back door of the Jeep, giving a friendly smile to a bound child. "Don't worry, you're safe now kid.." Was the words of comfort he chose for a terrified and crying child.

The next flight to Gothic

Mason tried to get as comfy as he could in a terrible airplane seat, reaching over a larger fellow to grab the newspaper from the trolley. His bag ridden eyes scanned over the headline of a girl returned to one of the wealthiest families in the land down under, small details of a masked man committing the rescue.

Sure it was pride fulfilling and thrilling, but it sure did a number on Mason. A small split on his chin from a knife fight with a hunter and large bags under his eyes from tirelessly travelling through the harsh wilderness. But that was about to change, at least for a while.

Gothic City, America. All it took was a call from his cousin Kurt for Mason to be on the first flight Stateside, not really sure what to presume will happen. What he was certain is his grumpy attitude would no doubt force it's way to the surface by the time the plane lands..If the person next to him didn't stop snoring..

Lenox hill hospital. Six hours after the siege of Kamelot

"Mr.Mayhews! Sir if you can hear me please blink once." The doctor flashed his pocket light over Trip's eyes a few times. He didn't blink in the slightest, his eyes were a pale blue. "He's not responsive and we are losing blood here by the second. Get him a bed!" The orders were carried out in the chaos and panic that was in the form of a hospital.

"The emergency room was packed with Kamelot employes and siege bystanders..And that's me right there, and I'm about to die in twenty three seconds before they even get me on a bed. Here I thought it was going to be a chill evenin' but I was sooo wrong. Sooo wrong."

Kamelot. During the siege.

"It was night fall during my last run of the day. See I own my own motorbike courier service here in Manhattan. And who woulda thunk my last shipment was to a neighboring building of Kamelot. First time even being around this fat-cat empire, and it was already giving me some bad vibes.

Parked my bike and made it as far as the lobby before the shit really hit the fan. Masked gunmen came barging in right after me, literally the same time I was stepping in. Shoved to the floor at a blink's notice. Woulda fought the bastards but I was raised in the shittiest part of Gothic, and I know when you don't tick off a pro with a gun. So I had to keep my face down on the ground.

So ok. No big deal right? Some sort of shoot up that I just needed to keep my face against the tiles for...Wrong. Someone...SomeTHING came stomping through those doors. This mule son of a b!tch looked like he had been roiding it up before he could walk. But again, I just kept my head low.

Now I don't know if I told you this already? But I f*cking hate superheroes, and I was unlucky enough to be born in a goddamn age where they are everywhere. In a perfect example, when I man made out of goddamn fire comes running in AFTER this mountain did.

Woulda run, trust me. If it wasn't for the fact that this d*che started to heat up the lobby before I could run out and get on my bike! Mother f*ck...So I did the next best thing and ran for the stairs, get up to another floor.

This only worked for..About ten minutes before fire started coming out from the floor and the entire damn building started to shake. I was trapped by rubble in seven minutes of trying to escape...Then the whole building came down on me and who knows who else...

Lenox hill hospital. Present.

"So I died. White blanket. Another one of the dozens that died at the f*ckin' siege...But then she came along...Liked to call herself Beatrice. She was a demon queen from down under..Hell..Not Australia. Also happened to be the first to tell me I was dead, annnd going to hell. Might have forgotten to mention that I was a petty thug back in my teens, did alot of shitty stuff and it seemed it was coming back to bite me in the ass.

Fear not though, as if you were. Beatrice offered me a deal. She dug that I was a courier, saw some sort of poetic irony in it. And offered me a job as her new "courier"...Two things things though...One? Instead of packages, it's souls for her to feed on. And two? I can look like my old self when I am off the clock, but when I am on the job?

Downtown Manhattan

"AAAAAAAAAAUGGODPLEASEHELP!" A local big shot mobster screamed while getting dragged behind the back of a flaming motorcycle. A hellfiery chain wrapped around his body that was slowly sapping his soul from the core. "Ooooh SHUT UP! You sound like such a P*SSY! BAHAHAHAHAAA!" Hellion AKA Trip Mayhews cackled like a demon while looking back at the corrupt soul, his bike weaving through rush hour traffic like a bat out of hell.

Manhattan

His feet tapped against the water, sounding like small bombs going off at each stomp, his panting was a hurricane breeze and that sweat, the smell of fear. Rizo Sebenta, mobster and part time drug peddler...Not for long.

As if the sweat wasn't enough of a trail to go by, the smell of booze and cheap women did wonders as well. Double Dare sprinted across the rooftop, the darkness of his world splashed with his four remaining senses to guide him along in this pursuit. His special awareness sending out pings to shape the environment around him. That's a clothesline, that a wall, a gap between buildings. It wasn't sight, but it certainly wasn't any less.

Finally though, a steel solar panel gave the leg up as Dare bounded off of it, taking a leap of faith to the alley below. The wind rushed past his ears to depict that chubby form that was Rizo looking up at the red clad hero. *Click!* Went the hammer belonging to the gun in his pocket, one he didn't get to pull out due to Dare being ready, spear chucking his staff right at Rizo's jaw.

Dare's red boots clomping onto the ground painted the nearest surroundings, it was tight space. A ping showed that Rizo was clenching his jaw with his left hand, reaching for yet another weapon with his other. The smell of crusted blood was introduced to Double Dare's nostrils as the switchblade was drawn via a loud click.

The creasing of Rizo's undersized suit and the blade splitting air was more than enough prep for Dare to weave past three, no, four clumsy swipes. Before finally, Dare got to reply. Hay maker crunched against Rizo's jaw. Dare's ears tingled along with his knuckles at the noise before a aimed kick at his awkwardly placed knee, hearing the kneecap creak within the flesh, an old wound healed? Well it was one that was reopened now.

Loud, pained screams flung out in jagged sound waves, harshly depicting the alleyway all the way up to the rooftops. The red goggled Dare put his boot against Rizo's mouth and cocked his head slightly.

"Was just seeing if that bribe from the Humaniacs gang holds it's weight for that court date tomorrow...I guess not hey?"

Manhattan, The New York state supreme court building...

The entire courtroom smelt of anxiety and tension, the smell of a dozen people's sweat was going to drive Tom nuts in this stuffy room if this case wasn't won quick.

Tom Breda tapped his cane a few times on the tile floor before clutching it gently with both hands, his red glasses looking on over to the smell that was a bruised Rizo at the bench. "Mr.Sebenta, is it not true that you are affiliated with the gang known as the "Humaniacs" no?" He raised his red brow, knowing that the bribe money Smitts gave this punk was crushed by his intimidation. "Y-Yes Mr.Breda.." He spoke sheepishly, knowing the man that he was being questioned about, a fellow gang mate was about to go to prison. "And is it not TRUE that Mr.Smitts here sexually harassed Ms.Dalern over there...In which you bore witness to the entire event!? You ARE under oath Mr.Sebenta..." Tom pointed his finger at this rapist sitting over beside his lawyer, a cocky grin on his face. Rizo looked down in his own shame, afraid the red suited vigilante, which he didn't even know was standing before him, would strike again if he were to lie for the sake of his gang.

".....Yes....." Rizo spoke in half a whisper, about to tear up. Not for the crimes he has done, but for the shocked glare both Mr.Smitts and the jury gave to Rizo.

"No further questions, your honor..." Tom says calmly before tapping his cane back on over to the side of Ms.Darlen.

The case was eventually closed, Smitts was clearly found guilty of rape.Tom opened the courtroom doors while smiling, only to be attacked by the hundreds of smells and noises Manhattan was infested with, opening up his pitch black perception to the shapes that made up this massive city, feeling good about another case won.

Earth...

Static invaded a few of of Earth's televisions that belonged under a specific satalite, though not all of them. Gothic assumed it was Mr.Smiles returning for a moment, most thought it was going to be some sort of villain. But no, the static switched right on over to the Silver Synthetic, Jack Trades. Where he seemed to be was space, as for Earth was behind him, using a television satellite to reach out to it's people. After a long silence, he finally parted his lips.

"Hello, humans. I am the Silver Synthetic, a machine, built by someone who wanted to see the best in a human soul. I have been among you for some time now. I have had many faces, many attitudes and views..But now I am finally complete, this is who I really am, and who I will be until the end. What you seem, this silver visage is no disguise, or alter ego...It is me. So let it be known, that I have nothing to hide from my enemies..Can they say the same?

Since my evolution, I have rode along the vastness of the cosmos. I have seen beautiful things, and some dark ones. But I want you, the humans of Earth to know...I will protect you. I will stand alongside your planet's champions when I am needed, no crime too small, no cataclysm too big.

Thank you for viewing...If you did so. I will return the specific station back to normal now...

Jack pulled his hand out of the satellite, his silver hand morphing from a spike, back to default form. A smile formed on his face, though worry was behind it. It was true that if Jack was to be flying around and fighting injustice, the human's at least deserved to know who was on that board. But this could have some interesting impacts once the broadcast went mainstream.

Even so, after leaning in, Jack went sped off to think alone for a while.

Two weeks since the international space station, Earth's outer orbit...

It had only been two weeks, two weeks and so much happened. He met some good people, made a whole new world...And upgraded. Jack Trades, once a rubber fleshed man, then an experimental hero, but now..Now he was refined. The machine's body, a liquid metal. Able to withstand the temperatures, the tension of trauma that space was naturally equipped with.

Now though, was time for the first field test. Jack stood tall on his board shaped solar battery, looking onward into the vastness of the cosmos. "...Now." Was all the silver synthetic said calmly before bolting forward. Right off the start, Jack had surpassed the speeds of all recorded man made space crafts, and there were no signs of reaching his limits.

"Come on.." Jack excitingly leaned a bit forward while grinning, faster, faster. The planets were coming and going even quicker now, how much faster could Jack go? Leaning forwards even more, the board start to hum, he could feel the solar energy beaming out of it. "YEAH! HAHAHA!" The mechanical magician laughed with joy as stars were starting to become blurs now, the board now giving off a waving noise.

Until finally...Warp speed was achieved

Now Jack's metal body was shaking like it was made out of pudding, slightly frightened. Planets went by like flickering colors, stars weren't even visible anymore. What sort of speed did Jack just achieve? Not even Jack's possessor could compute everything at this speed, he had to stop, now.

And so he did, the tunnel seemingly ending as soon as speed was decreased. Jack was quick to calculate his current location via the constellations nearby to behold...He was a whole galaxy away from Earth...

".....Oh...."

International space station..

It had been two weeks, two whole weeks without any supernatural activity. Where did Jabari go? Ambrosius? It seemed as if all key factors vanished in some sort of improbable void. This didn't mean that Jack was still busy as always.

"It would actually be fantastic if you remained calm sir, the more you struggle, the more oxygen you use in your reserves thus leading to lack of..You're not listening are you?" Jack asked the astronaut who was floating about in space while a strange solar blast was flailing him about, all while the machine was tightly hanging onto the tether that snapped during some sort of explosion. Calculations were finally aligned, Jack tugged on the rope as soon as the blast had the organic moving in the right direction, pulling him back into the breached pod of the space station.

"I hope you organics are aware, you have had a cyborg in your midst long enough to perform this act of sabotage..Running through your crew list, there seems to be only one that would be suspect.." He explained calmly while picking up some destroyed large scrap and placed it against the hole, using his laser eyes to weld the seams.

"Who the hell are you!? What the hell is going on!?" The space suit removed his helmet and started to back up from the robot. Jack simply smiled while scanning the repairs, making sure it was air tight.

"Ahh yes, apologies. Jack 0f trades, robotic life form. Like the new look? Of course you don't, I am certain you haven't seen me before!" He oddly joked while turning over and started to walk down the corridor. "Contact ground control and tell them you have a spy on the station..And it's being dealt with now.."

As Jack walked through the glass hall, he couldn't help but glare at his reflection through the corner of his glowing eyes. When it came to looks, it was all but trivial to a machine, for if they wanted to, especially one who was built with nano tech, they could look however they wanted. He was almost self conscious of his appearance due to being built with a program called "s0ul3", something that made him think and feel like a human being.

Jack closed in more and more towards the A.I signal, until...There he was, a cyborg who was wearing a space suit, arming yet another bomb to blow a hole in the space station. "STOP!" Jack shouted as he sprinted towards the would be saboteur, tackling right in the middle of a transportation.

Within moments, the two were floating about in space, a few miles away from the space station. Nothing but silence in the great vacuum, a quiet struggle between the two as Jack morphed his fingers into sharp claws, ripping at the false human's face to reveal some more robotic features. With elegant brutality, he drove his claw into the eye port of the machine and pried it open slight, seemingly shutting it down.

Now was the thread in the needle part, using his finger as a USB and digging through the machine's hard drive and searching for...There! The remote shut down for the timer on the bomb that was placed, deactivated.

Jack's red lips curled into a smile as he saved the international space station, taking but a few moments to realize that he was in fact speeding towards the Earth, now at comet speeds. "Oh dear..." Jack said silently in space before his body started to burn up...

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