ALERT!: There's a Blackguard in the Apple(Blackguard only)

"Tokyo was a disaster. Spark users everywhere. Some weird half-dead thing. A total shit-show. Glad you took my advice, and decided to go wtih a safe-house instead of mobile bases," said Victor as he slung his bag across his back and shut the door on his car. He tilted his head up to look at the building, and sighed. "Couldn't find us a nice mansion to use? Gotta be a skyscraper?" he asked, before moving forwards and into the building. "Alright. I'm inside. I'll call you when everything is set up," he stated. As he did, he reached up and pressed a button on his earpiece, ending the call. At the front desk, he stopped and glanced at the security guard there. The man looked up at him, and raised an eyebrow.

"Can I help you?" asked the guard.

"Katrina Russell sent me. Should be a number of keys for me, and about 12 or 13 other people coming in shortly to join me," replied Victor, as he stared at the guard.

"Right. Here's the keys. I'll send up the rest when they get in," the guard responded, as he handed over a keyring and gestured towards the elevator. "Floor 13."

Victor nodded, took the keys, and headed towards the elevator. Just as he pushed the button, he heard a throat clear behind him. He spun around, his free hand coming up with his Karambit in hand. He stop just short of cutting the throat of a woman who, amazingly, hadn't moved an inch. Her eyes were locked onto the knife for a moment, before they came up to meet Victors.

"You must be The Asset. I'm one of Miss Russells employees. I'll be helping you set up the house here in New York." Victor nodded and lowered the knife, before slipping the knife up his sleeve, and into the wrist sheathe.

"Shouldn't sneak up on people like that," he remarked, as he turned back to the elevator and stepped away. As he did, the door opened with a ding, and three people got off, talking amongst themselves. Once the elevator was empty, he stepped on and waited until the woman had followed him before he pressed the button for the 13th floor. It didn't take long to get there, and he was silent the whole ride up. Once they had reached the floor, he exited the elevator, and moved down the hallway, towards the collection of rooms Katrina had gotten for them. After opening all of them, he dropped his bag in one of them, and turned to face the woman.

"When everyone else gets here, start setting up. I'm going to clean some stuff up," he told her, before closing the door on her.

A Half-hour Later

Victor was cleaning one of his Colts in the office he had chosen, with a T.V. on playing background noise. Laid out infront of him on the table were the rest of his weapons, each taken apart, cleaned, and then put back together and loaded. The Colt he was working on was the last one, and he was just about finished with it. He leaned forward and blew a bit of dust off the slide, slid the magazine in place, and pressed a lever on the side.

The gun slid forward with a loud CLICK, and he pressed the Safety down. That done, he began slipping the various weapons into their holsters, before he slid the Mossberg into his bag again. That done, he lifted a hand up and ran a finger along his jaw-line for a moment. He reached his hand up to his hair line, and was about to pull the skin there back to do a quick clean up when there was a knock. He paused, and lowered his hand to his bag. He stood, moved towards the door, and stared for a moment, before opening the door. The tech stood there, her hand raised to knock again.

"Oh. There's someone at the door? A young woman."

Victor tilted his head for a moment, before nodding and pulling the Mossberg from the bag. He set the bag on the ground and moved towards the door. "Don't come out of that room until I call you," he told her, as he racked a round into the gun and peered through the peep hole. A woman stood there, sipping on a straw set in a large plastic cup, and playing on a phone. Victor reached a hand out and opened the door. "Can I help you?" he asked through the crack he had opened. The shotgun was pressed against the door, aimed right at the woman.

Gabbie had been working hard at the college ever since she first met Katrina. She was actually in the middle of one of the experiments they seemed always to have her in. She was just getting strapped down to have weapons tested against her when her phone rang. She tried telling them that she needed to answer her phone, but when they refused; she lifted them off the ground and took her phone anyway. "Hello?" Gabbie answered, and then nodded. "I'll be there as soon as possible!" Gabbie waved to her friends and closed the door, hearing a loud thud and multiple complaints.

Gabbie left the campus at a breakneck speed; knowing that Katrina would be mad if she were late. That's when she saw it. The worst thing that Gabbie had ever seen in her entire life.

Burgerzilla was going out of business! She quickly ran inside, and after some flinching from the employees, Gabbie just had to ask. "Please! You have to tell me it isn't true!" Gabbie asked in a panic. "Is what true?" The pimple-faced new manager asked. "You know exactly what I mean! Is Burgerzilla shutting down?!" The manager nodded. "Sorry, little girl, but we just can't afford to keep the place running. Do you want, like... a milkshake or something?"

Thirty minutes later, Gabbie left with a doggie bag, and the new managers resignation in hand. She wasn't sure if she would ever be able to come back to this place, but she certainly hoped it would still be here when she got back.

She arrived at the airport not long after and got onto the plane that Katrina had arranged for her. She had to levitate the entire time, which was more difficult than one might imagine. She had to hold herself to the ground with nothing but her big toe to avoid being thrown into the back of the plane causing catastrophic decompression, and what kind of idiot would intentionally cause that? A shiver went down her back as if some sort of entity banished from this plane of existence by some sort omnipresent deity was sobbing at its stupidity. She shrugged it off and glanced out the window.

"Wow! New York! They say that if you can make it here, you can make it anywhere!" She looked around, realized it wasn't all that great, and started sipping on what was left of her soda, which she had refilled thrice on the plane.

After another refill, she arrived at the door of the Blackguard safehouse. She pushed a button for the speaker. "Hi! This Gabbie from San Francisco! I got a call from Katrina Russel about needing help setting something up?" She waited, and realizing no one was going to let her in; she just sort of... walked inside.

"Can I help you?" The guard asked. "Hi there!" She said, staring up at the man. "Can I help you?" The guard repeated, a bit more forcefully. "I'm Gabbie, Katrina Russel sent me. I'm supposed to meet someone called the... The Asset? What a strange name..." Gabbie said, noting the oddity of the womans instructions. "Thirteenth floor." He said, opening the elevator door. "Thank you! I'll be sure to pass on how helpful you were..." Gabbie tried looking for a name tag but found it impossible. "Thirteenth floor." The guard repeated, to which Gravvy nodded. "I'll just call you Dave. Bye, Dave!" She then hopped in the elevator and went up to the 13th floor, checking her phone and drinking her soda.

She knocked on the nearest door and waited. Soon, a man with a rather large gun was staring down at her. "You must be The Asset! Hi! I'm Gab- er... The Anomaly." She said, using her Blackguard name. "You aren't gonna shoot me, right? That'd be a really poor decision on your part and I'd hate to have to replace this soda with something a little more... substantial." She said, looking him up and down, before sliding past him and into the room.

Miguel wasn’t running until he realized how late he was.

Ducking and weaving around cars in congested traffic while feeling his legs burn from exertion after a while. He could keep going but damn would he regret it after a bit.  Ducking and weaving around the people in their vehicles at speeds that made most people turn their heads. Eyes wide in the mild surprise that came with seeing someone run faster than any human had the right to without being a blur.  He wasn’t an Atlas, a Bolt or any other speedy type out there that got all the news coverage. Not since he managed to stop that shooter from unloading into a school once.

It was always hard to parse out where he was supposed to meet the boss lady with how often he was expected to travel about. Find the odd mage who was willing to craft a portal for him and to dig the money from his pathetic savings to pay them. Still he was in New York, dressed in the same short that revealed his tattooed arms and the camo patterned cargo shorts which felt like they stuck to him from the wind pressure. Luckily his phone was able to give him directions, though he had to pause to actually read up on his phone and not smash through one of the many buildings peppering the city.

He sort of just walked in like everyone else seemed to be doing. Hands buried into his pockets while eyeing down one of the guards who seemed more tired of something.

"Russel send you too?”

”Woah, how’d you know? Handsome and observant too.” He grinned toothily with a wink, approaching without worry and keeping eye on the elevator that would  ”thought I would be first, but can;t always win I guess,” He muttered to himself, stepping through the sliding metal doors and waiting.  That came boring elevator music playing as he waited with a steady tap of the foot against the floor. Humming to himself and allowing the sting of exhaustion to wear away from his muscles.  Water really sounded nice right now.  Soon enough he reached the Thirteenth floor and picked out the door of the safe-house, knocking on the door just loud enough to get an answer.

The Asset would peek out to see a 6’0 hispanic man drenched in sweat and with arms covered in sleeves composed of nordic runes. ”Warmaster here. I was suppose to be meeting here for some reason,” He stepped through without concern for the gun which was likely on him. Approaching the nearest mini-fridge, grabbing a water bottle from it and upending it into his mouth. Clear liquid dribbling down his chin and into his shirt which quickly soaked it up.  That didn’t stop until the bottle was emoty. ”so dudes, what’s the business?” He fell into a seat, one leg very casually propped over the other and his form just slumped as ge considered the two now arrayed here.

Marshall was seated in the back of a cab, playing tetris on his phone while listening to his favourite pop artist in his headphones. The screen blinked and altered colours from time to time, really flashing out in an attempt to keep the player somewhat entertained. The young man was fairly distracted with his game, his cab stuck in the hell that was rush hour in New York around this time. When he finally made a wrong move, the stack rose up until that all too familiar failure music played and the screen shifted back to the main menu. It was then that Marshall had lost interest in said game, and chose instead to just listen to his music while patiently waiting for the cab to reach it's destination.

A half hour later the cab finally dropped the young lad off, holding his phone and a duffel bag over his shoulder. The bright eyed young Marshall would crane his neck back as he tried to see the top of the magnificent tower where he was apparently supposed to meet with the rest of the team. He pushed through the glass doors, the steel handles cold to the touch, and made his way into the equally magnificent lobby area where a lone desk and desk jockey sat. He approached the man and gave him a polite smile, pulling the duffel strap more onto his shoulder as it had slipped somewhat from walking towards the desk.

"Can I help you?"

"Oh, um.... yes I was called here by Katrina. I'm meant to meet up with the others. Are they here yet?"

"Thirteenth floor then, the others are up there already."

Marshall smiled brightly, finally given the chance to meet his other teammates face to face. He could barely contain his excitement as he waved goodbye to the desk man and made his way towards the lift. With a gentle press, the button lit up and soon he was in the box, the elevator music drowned out by his own phone's selection of pop. Once he reached the thirteenth floor, he stepped out and made his way down the corridor towards the nearest door, still smiling as the anticipation built even further. A light rap on the door would indicate he was there, waiting patiently whilst using his free hand to stroke some of his somewhat curly hair out of his face as it naturally fell over his forehead and draped over his hazel eyes if it werent brushed away.

The young hero was dressed very sharp actually, wearing a charcoal coloured vest over a standard white button up with his sleeves rolled up past his elbows, and a black tie tucked into the vest. His pants were black, pressed slacks and on his feet were shiny black slip-on smart shoes. He could have been mistaken for a young businessman rather than a super hero. This was just what he was used to wearing around his old job at the office..... the office that was blown up as a test.

"Hello.... anyone here? The bloke at the front desk said the others had already arrived? I... um... I forgot my keys." He spoke up through the door, his excitement getting the better of him and turning into impatience as the anticipation was killing him.

Victor blinked, but moved to the side to let the girl in. What the hell is Russel doing, hiring children? he thought to himself, not for the first time. He, did, after all, have a complete dossier on each member of the Blackguard on that handy flash drive Russel had given him. He shook his head slightly, and then moved to close the door. He had it shut and was moving away, when there was another knock on the door. Victor frowned, and turned back to the door, Mossberg at the ready. The person at the door this time was a 6-foot tall Hispancing man, dressed like he had been out for a run, and smelt like it. The man introduced himself, sort of, and then moved into the room, where he pulled a water bottle from one of the mini-fridges, and started to drain it. Victor tilted his head and kicked the door shut, gently, as he lowered the shotgun. He let his eyes wander between the two new arrivals for a moment, before nodding.

"I'm Victor Shaw. You probably know me as The Asset," he remarked, as he leaned against the wall near the door. "As for what the business is, Russel sent us here to set up the first of many safehouses we're going to be using. This one is going to be our test house, so we can plan for the expansion of the network in the future. For now, we're waiting for one more person to arrive. Once he gets here, we're going t--..."

Victor was interupted by another knock at the door, and he turned to look at it. The shotgun came up again, and he looked through the peephole. The young man on the other side was dressed very sharp actually, wearing a charcoal coloured vest over a standard white button up with his sleeves rolled up past his elbows, and a black tie tucked into the vest. His pants were black, pressed slacks and on his feet were shiny black slip-on smart shoes. Victor allowed his eyes to narrow, and he tilted his head again, still staring through the peephole. After listening the man on the other side, Victor frowned very slightly, and almost reached up to press a button on his earpiece, before letting his fingers tighten on the shotgun.

He loosened his grip on the gun, though, and set it down behind the door, before opening it, and staring at the young man. "I'm sorry," he said, staring at the well-dressed man, "but I think you have the wrong place. We're not a business," he replied, staring at the man, his eyes narrowing slowly as he did. Then he blinked, and let his eyes focus on the mans face. "Ah... Yes. I recognize you. Russel sent you, did she? Another child, to work as her secret police force. Well, come in. Before anyone wonders why you're standing there with your thumb planted deep," he remarked, stepping back from the door. As he did, he leaned down slightly, to pick up his shotgun.

Once he was inside the room again, he made his way to an empty chair, and lowered himself into it, laying the Mossberg across his knees. "So, we're here because we're setting up what is, hopefully, a network of safehouses for our new group to use while we're doing jobs for Russel. You three have been chosen to help me set this place up for one simple reason. You were closest to New York. Or were doing the least amount of work she cared about. Now, let's go ahead and get introductions out of the way. I'm Victor Shaw," he offered, before standing and offering a handshake to the other three.

Gabbie watched as the Asset worked, not moving an inch from the door as another man, larger than the Asset came in soaked in water. Admittedly, Gabbie wasn't very impressed by either of them so far. Her eyes wandered around the room, and spotted nothing of interest; so she just played on her phone until she was spoken to.

Another person walked in and mentioned that he forgot his keys. Gabbie rolled her eyes and set back on the couch. Mumbling under her breath. She didn't like any of them so far. This sucked. She wanted to be back at home watching TV, or sleeping in her stasis chamber.

Finally, "Victor" got to explaining why they were here. 'A safe house, huh? Sounds stupid.' Thought Gabbie, but made no effort to say so. She was, after all, incredibly durable, and shelter didn't make a difference.

When he asked for introductions, Gabbie was the first one to stand up. "Hi everyone. I'm Gabbie or Gravvy to my friends, but call me Radiant or "The Anomaly" on the field. I'm new to your planet, but I'm not some child that Ms. Russel has hired for her private military. I'm actually 16 billion years old, and I know that's young; but just trust me; I'm very much not a child." She said in response to Victors comment at the door. Gabbie then sat down, before realizing her mistake and standing back up. "Oh right, probably important to let you know that I'm actually a black hole. Like... literally."

The empty plastic crunched between his fingers and was disposed of with a skillful toss into the nearby wastebin. Eyes scanning lazily over everyone that ended up coming in here. From the little girl, to the serious man and then the well dressed cute guy who seemed like he had come to the wrong place.  Well he couldn’t accuse Russel of not having an interesting taste in agents. A single brow arced as the man known as The Asset spoke up. Sounding like one of those serious types that belonged in a spy thriller. Pounding bland love interests and shooting up people with shiny new gadgets that he always wanted when he was a little kid.

The roulette of his mind did the work and found itself focused on one who seemed like the least belonged here. Smiling at him in the cocksure fashion that came with being himself.  ”Miguel Moreno. Friends call me many things, and i’m sure i’ll get to know all of you. Some more than others,” A wink  shot to the awkward one before he stood up and shook Shaw’s hand because that seemed like something they were supposed to be doing.  He was supposed to be working with a black hole, which sounded like an interesting concept.  Plenty of people around here that he could learn more about, and maybe even fight alongside should the situation come.

He pat a seat beside him and directed Marshall to sit beside him. ”So what exactly do you mean by set up this place? Are we some kind of glorified moving force?”

Marshall tilted his head slightly at the comment of his attire, suddenly making him feel as if he were probably over dressed for the meeting. His fingers lightly gripped the collar of his button up, looking down at his clothes for a brief moment before making his way into the room. Returning the warm smile to his face, he gives the room full of people a gentle wave before accepting the seat offered by the larger, Hispanic fella as he plants himself next to him. Marshall wanted to sit a respectable distance from him, but also did not want to appear rude or distant.

He waited patiently for the stiff guy to brief them, explaining what they were supposed to be doing at the moment in their brand new base of operations. The younger looking hero's eyes were focused on the young girl as she explained that she was not a child, but in fact billions of years old... and a black hole. When it came to the tall Hispanic one, Marshall offered an innocent smile towards him after the wink. He was unsure of the notion, but he felt he seemed friendlier than the other two heroes at the moment. Then it was his turn, straightening his collar before he stood up from the sofa.

"Oh, well... my name is Marshall. I... admittedly... never came up with a hero name for myself. I don't mind you guys just calling me by my real name, I'm not really hiding or anything. I have wanted to be a hero for a long time, and I'm pretty excited to be here!" As he finished up his small speach, he grasped Victor's hand gently to return the shake. Marshall wound up shaking his hand longer than necessary, nerves getting the better of him. However, his voice was full of optimism and good intentions, like that of a young starry eyed boy, before he took his seat back on the sofa next to Miguel. He couldn't help but feel he was the not quite in the same league of these other heroes. What would their powers and abilities be compared to him.... heck the man next to him, Miguel, seemed far stronger than he was.

Victor pulled his hand back from Gabbie, as she either ignored it or didn't see it, nodding slightly at her "revelation" that she was a black hole, then turned and gave Miguels hand a firm shake. At the mans question, Victor grinned slightly.

"No. Well, sort of? We're moving in some equipment that will come in useful, but, we're also testing to see how we do in unfamiliar places, to see how well we get along," he replied, before turning to face Marshall. He listened for a moment, tilting his head. The young man didn't seem to sure of himself as he gripped Victors hand in his own and shook it, admittedly for too long. She sure hires them green, he thought to himself, as he turned away from the three and towards one of the windows looking out over the city. He stared down at the bustling streets for a moment, before turning back towards them.

"We're waiting for some of Russels tech people to get here. They're bringing some stuff to help us set up the safe house. They're also going to be our support team, and in the future, they'll be one of each of them in each safe house, or nearby, in case we do need them," he continued, as his hands twitched towards his back. He gave them a little shake, and glanced at each of them in turn. "While we wait for them, go ahead and familiarize yourselves with the suite of rooms that Russel has provided us with. We're going to be using them for the next few days. You could also take the time to get to know each other. We are, after all, going to be working together from now on," he continued, before he moved to the chair he had been sitting in, picked his Mossberg up, emptied the chamber of its round, and started moving towards the room he had been in. As he did, he turned to glance at the three.

"I've got to go back in here and make a call. If you need me, knock as loudly as you can," he stated, before he made his way into the room and shut the door behind him. Once in the room, he placed the Mossberg on a table, sat in the chair facing the T.V., which was still on, and sighed softly. He gave himself a shake, and then reached a hand into his pocket, for his phone. He took it out, pressed a few times on the screen, and leaned back in his chair, as he waited for the person on the other end to answer.

"Yeah, it's Shaw. You sent me Marshall, Miguel, and the Anomaly to test our first safe house? I couldn't get a few people who aren't going to bring the building down if they sneeze too hard?" he asked, as he watched a news report about the weather play over the television. "No, I can handle it. No need to bother Jessica. But still, these three? I couldn't get The Revenant, or Truth? Neither of those two can blow up a place by sitting down too hard." He listened for a moment, his eyes still focused on the T.V.. And then he frowned. "Hold on," he stated. "There's an emergency broadcast going on," he continued, as he reached out for the remote, to turn the volume up.

A feminine shape had appeared on the screen, dressed in white, form fitting armor that looked as if it belonged in a Sci-Fi movie, with designs of flickering flames that moved as if they were alive across the surface. Brilliant orange cloth was draped over her shoulder as if a cape mixed with a cloak.  The stream was first static, as if the camera were being moved until focused on her. Dark red splotches settled across the white expanse of the cheek of her armor.

”Good evening good people of New York and beyond. I’m interrupting your daily pointless media to bring you a short message,” As she spoke her hands were in motion, dripping with dark red liquid. ”The New York incident is still fresh in the minds of many, I’m sure. Watching your city be flooded by the tides of an army run by a madman. A wake up call cretins on the internet would call it. ”

There was a blur and she was holding a tablet, flicking through something with a swipe of the finger.  ”Yet I can see the people aren’t awake enough. They continue to call for inane action. The deaths of metahumans and camps even,” She chuckled. ”this belief that if you intend to round us up like your fellow men of the past, that it’ll go as you want. I believe it’s time to fix that false view, ”

Screens split, showing a few men through amateur footage unleashing beams of white light that tore through a building and brought it crumbling to the ground in great plumes of dust and smoke.  Screams sounded, punctuated by the sound of her applauding. ”New York will be first. An example of what’s to come and what to expect. We will not be forced to hide in the shadows of our inferiors any longer.  If you wish to see something to fear, we will show you.  When your streets run red with blood and citadels are brought down to ash.”

The camera panned out to reveal what had once been a news crew with blood painting the walls and their parts spread across the room like the morbid leavings of a butcher. ”This is also a call for my metahuman bretheren. Join me. They’ll only fear you, so make that fear your own. If you think you can stop me, come and try Atlas. I’m sure that you’re watching me now."

She paused, bright blue energy forming around her right hand and extending it towards the camera. ”I am Amaterasu, and this is our revolution.”

The broadcast went dark.

Victor dropped the remote and lurched to his feet. "Drop whatever you're doing and find a television, now. New York is under attack again. Some lady calling her Amaterasu. She's calling out Atlas," he remarked, before he pressed the End Call button. He grabbed the Mossberg from the table and moved to the door, nearly jerking it off the hinges as he pulled it open. "Alright, ladies! New orders. Some crazy lady is attacking New York. We're going out to put in a good days work. Drop whatever it is you're doing, and get whatever gear you need for a fight," he barked, as he, one-handed, racked a round into Mossberg. "Things are gonna get ugly."

Gabbie nodded to the instructions and sat her phone down on the table. She looked around the room and saw that her team was shaping up to be very impressive. The entire crew was muscular, and she was pretty sure that the weapon the man who greeted her was using was deadly to most humans. She picked up a box with her gravity manipulation and began nudging it upstairs.

The research team arrived not long after, and Gravvy helped where she could. For a little while, she just went about her business. She was just transporting a television upstairs when Victor exclaimed that someone was attacking New York. CRASH! The television fell with a resounding noise just before a second crash signaled that Gabbie had flown out the window.

So they were waiting for tech stuff? He nodded along as if understanding what was being said despite barely even understanding the finer points of the laptop he used to look up videos of cats and porn. For now he seemed to listen and mostly tried to make small talk with one of the new guys. Mostly the one he had taken time to target as someone to flirt with. Likely seeming overly friendly, but only to the eyes of someone that didn’t know how he worked.  All was going well until the actual chaos started. First with the news broadcast, though he had the feeling that wasn’t sanctioned by the network.

He considered the screen a few seconds after it turned back to normal programming and he turned to Marshall with a smirk. ”Well, didn’t expect to be getting things moving this early but looks like we got us a crisis. Lets hope you’re any good in a fight,” He shot to his feet,  rolling his shoulders and patting the young looking man on the shoulder. ”if you are we might even get to fight together, ” The others would likely take a more conventional method of getting to the street but Miguel had other ideas. He ran to the nearest window to see one of those meta guys lasering wildly, smashing out the window with a single strike.

With a leap he was in motion and they barely had the time to see him coming before he slammed the man into the side of a building. Concrete cracked and broke under the superhuman strain as he continued to slam his fist into their head as hard as possible. The two of them swerved through the air with his strength being the only thing that kept him from falling off, though his grip began to grow even tighter with continual hits despite not doing any damage.  

What the hell were these guys made of?

It wasn’t often he met people he couldn't hurt with his strength but when they came around Miguel tended to be forced into a more defensive game. Luckily one method managed to even his odds, which was shoving his fingers into their eyes which seemed to  cause them to let out a scream. Trying to slam him back first into buildings, hurting them more than him. At first. Then the guy began to hit harder, causing his back to scream in protest and then the two falling to the ground like a meteor.  Not that he had an issue. Let the guy hit him. Let him make him stronger because that would just benefit Miguel in the long run. With a flip backwards he made some distance, landing on the roof of a car as he watched the man with blood streaming down from his eye sockets hunting him out.

The eyes were a ruin so that made things easier for him. That was until they seemed to disappear into a blur and he was being pushed through a wall. His ribs screamed in pain as he realized fist was slammed against them.  ”S...shit...” Was all he managed was he was thrown through a van, and the foundation of a building.  There he lay stunned for a moment, trying to take in the breath that had been knocked from his body.

Marshall waited patiently for the briefing to be done. Admittedly, this wasn't what he expected, however there was no way that %100 of hero work was exciting, so he just accepted it. After the stern man was finished, he looked around the room at any possible things to set up or move. He had no idea where to put anything..... seemed like he should have known, but didn't. However, before he had a chance to get up, Victor was back with the crisis alert. The broadcast was dark and eerie to say the least, leaving Marshall with a sense of unease and discomfort that made his tummy turn upside down.

He was relieved when it was shut off, and even comforted when Miguel showed a bit of faith in his abilities. At this point he had to wonder if the other members were aware of each other's abilities and fighting experience. "Oh, heh.... yeah. I've been in a few rumbles here and there." He played this off as a soft joke, regardless of his nerves as he has never been in an actual 'super' fight.... ever. Another feeling of unease fell over him, hoping that he would indeed have it in him to help the rest of the team with the crisis. Inhaling briefly before standing up, he was taken aback by the sudden way Miguel just leapt from the 13th floor of a building without even thinking about it. Marshall did not possess the courage to do so, also... he had never tried it so he was not sure if he would survive.

The young, sharply dressed man made his way toward the lift once more, pushing the button and heading down to the lobby. Once he was out of the lift, Marshall made his way towards the glass doors, pushing it open only to be greeted by a somewhat large fellow who seemed to be emitting hatred and anger. He took a look at the man and his tremendous stature, unsure of what to say or do at the moment. With another soft inhale, he finally spoke up to to large man. "So.... are you.... a bad guy?" The man gave him a nod, giving Marshall the impression that they were proud of the fact before he lunged a massive fist towards the sharply dressed man with the force of a locomotive train.

In an instinctive move, Marshall was only able to lift his hands to block the punch. The strength behind the punch was quite impressive, however had no effect on Marshall as he had stopped it dead in its tracks. The man's fist was indeed large, especially compared to Marshall's fairly smaller hands, though it was clear that his strength was far superior to this particular meta guy. This made him feel somewhat confident, his fingers clutching the man's hand before he pushed him away with great force. Despite Marshall's superior strength, he was only able to throw him back into a parked van where the large man left a deep dent, the van curled up at both ends from the impact. The meta goon pulled himself from the van, twisting the metal out of the way as if it were simple foil. It was then that Marshall realized that he may have to put a little more oomph into these fights. They weren't back alley muggers, they were super powered goons who were hurting innocent people. This was his hero moment.

Victor moved towards the door, slinging the shotgun on a shoulder as he did. He was about to open the door when a resounding CRASH sounded. He turned back to see a hole in the nearby wall, and a television on the floor, shattered.

"I'm not paying for that," he remarked, before moving to the hole and staring out. He saw Gabbie moving away, into New York, and then, Miguel falling through the air and colliding with out of the destructive metas. He sighed, and turned away, to see Marshall leaving, heading towards the elevator. The assassin nodded slightly and was about to follow him when he noticed the box Gravvy had moved into the room before. On it was stamped OLYMPUS AMR RT-20. He grinned, and lowered his Mossberg to the table next to the box. Victor opened the box, and sighed softly at what was cradled inside.

"Katrina, if we make it out of this alive, I might just kiss you," he remarked to himself, as he lifted the RT-20 anti-material rifle from the box. Snuggled next to the rifle was an ammo box. He lifted it as well, and moved to the hole in the wall. He lowered himself to the floor, set the bipod of the rifle up, and propped the rifle on the floor as well. He opened the ammo box and chuckled softly to himself. Nearly 300 rounds, placed in the box, and all of them SAPHEI rounds.

"Jesus, fuck, woman. How much did one of these cost you?" he mutted, grinning as widely as possible, as he lifted one of the bullets and loaded the rifle. He lowered himself to the gorund fully and adjusted the scope slowly, moving the rifle as he did. Finally, he was happy with how it was set up, and he took aim. His target? The building-breaking meta that had just slammed Miguel through a van, and then a building.

He stared down the scope set on the left side of the rifle, and squeezed the trigger.

SHOOM

He watched through the scope as the bullet tore through the air and then into the back of the man standing over Miguel. His view of the man through the scope was interupted for a moment, as the bullet exploded. During the moment his view was blocked, he took the time to reload the gun, and then peered back through the scope. The meta had turned away from Miguel, and was facing towards him. Looking rather angry, and not at all as dead as he should have been.

"Hmm... Let's try again," muttered Victor, as he aimed the gun a little higher and squeezed the trigger again.

SHOOM

This time, the bullet met it's target, which disappeared from view like a melon exploding. Victor stared through the scope, at Miguel, waiting for the man to stand and begin moving.

Fragments of the ceiling above him cracked and fell down on him. Mild irritants compared to the pain that was blossoming through his chest from the impact of the flying metahumans. They were stronger than he thought, enough to take many of his hits to their face without much damage and hurting him like this without much seeming effort. He drew in a breath and shove away a surprisingly large section of ceiling from his chest and jumped to his feet with a low growl working through teeth pressed together. His blind enemy looked around for him until a loud boom echoed through the air hitting them in the chest and only less than a moment later their head exploded into a shower of skull fragments and blood.

Emerging from the section of collapsed building he gave a thumbs up in the direction he assumed the bullet came from and turned attention once again to pick out another opponent. Already hew as beginning to feel the desire to pick a fight with someone, because that was just part of how he worked. Well, this situation required he didn’t hold back. So maybe he could show off a little for the team.

Which meant drawing on the essence that he gained from his mother, the deep burning power flowing through his body. His skin turned an ashier color, hair the color of fresh blood and eyes  molten gold with a tail composed of scaled flesh and tufs of hair that lashed out at the air before wrapping around his waist like a belt. Two ram horns curled from his forehead, resting large and prominent on his head in a threatening manner.  ”Oh yeah, this feels way better,” He said with a wide smirk, prominent canines visible as he looked around for the next enemy.

It just so happened that Marshall was fighting that one but his own  battle lust didn’t care for it. So with a single step he propelled himself through space even faster than his norm, slamming a fist into the side of the metas fade and propelling them into the ground. This time it felt like he were doing something, reverberating through his knuckles all the way through his entire being. Slamming a foot down onto their chest, face and any other part before they could fly out from under his attacks. Punching him away and unleashing a beam of heat to Marshall who had also seemed to toss them away with ease.

The young man's eyes lit up as he watched the goon pull himself from the wreckage with ease. There was both excitement and anxiety building up inside of him at this very moment. Raising his fists up, it was obvious that Marshall had no actual fight training, relying solely on the fact that he was so damned resilient. However before he was able to react to the goon, in what seemed like the blink of an eye, the goon was buried in a gorilla sized crater and was being smashed into said crater by what seemed like a very dark version of a Super Saiyan..... or a demon. Regardless, Marshall was just frozen in awe as the goon was beaten down into the ground repeatedly.

"Whoa...." A moment passed and the city was quiet for a very brief moment before out of the smoke and crater came a super heated burst of plasma. Unable to even understand what was coming towards him, Marshall had no time at all to avoid the beams as they hit him hard, even harder than the fist. The young man was thrust backwards into a nearby wall, the shape and size of his body creating a perfectly chiseled outline inside the wall as the beam continued to light him up. "AAH!!" The super heated beam had no effect on his physiology, luckily enough, however was powerful enough to physically move the young man which, before today he thought impossible.

Lifting his hands to block the beam, people on the outside looking in would see the searing beam causing his skin to glow slightly, the same glow one would see coming from hot iron in a blacksmith's stoked flames. "UNGH!!!!" He was able to at least block the beam, the reflecting heat bouncing off his durable skin causing a flare and rendering him blind for the moment. Sightless now, he struggles to pull himself from the wall and block the beam with his hands, his teeth grinding together as he endures the extreme temperature. Though his skin was durable, his clothes were normal and even as he blocked the beam with his hands, the residual heat singed and even burnt large sections of his vest and shirt, leaving only tattered cloth dangling from his slim figure after only moments.

Unsure of what to do, as he was at the mercy of the extreme heat being blasted towards him, Marshall lifted a single foot before slamming it down onto the ground. The tremor would put any earthquake to shame as the street, concrete slabs, post signs, pretty much everything within the immediate vicinity shook and trembled as the street and foot paths all crumbled around them. The cracks and unstable ground created a moment of weakness for the goon as the large man stumbled and broke sight, the beam shooting over Marshall's shoulder and slicing a section of the building behind him off like a piece of cheese. This would create an advantageous opportunity, however, Marshall took the moment to instead nurse his singed skin for the time being. Despite how durable he was, and the beam having no real lasting effect on him..... it still burned like hell!

The young man huffed and puffed over his hands, shaking them slightly in the air and attempting to cool them off. He could feel the burn several layers deep into his own flesh, as if the beam had been trying to burn a hole right through him.... which seemed like the goon's plan. He even hunched over slightly, tucking his hands between his thighs and feeling the soft fabric against his tender, burnt palms. "Ow.... ow.... hot hot hot..... damnit, that stings!" At this moment, he seemed unaware of Miguel's transformation, focused entirely on his hands and the burning sensation in them. While Marshall was tending to his hands, the goon was still tripped up, having ceased blasting out his plasma beam while trying to regain his balance on a now crumbly and uneven street.