Time for a recruitment, wouldn't you say? (Open to ALL Knightwatch Members)

Spoiler:

Rey Adrian Miller and Nathaniel Xavier DiMartino also known as The Ranger and Cor Domitor had done it. They had officially restarted G.U.N. with the same ideals, same goals, and same truths behind what used to be the world’s greatest Hero organization. Yet, it did not have the same name as that organization, nor did it have the same founders anymore for they were either ‘dead’ or simply in hiding for whatever reason they themselves had. No, this organization was named in honor of one of the worlds’ greatest heroes, even if he was no longer alive and so carried some of the same values. Knightwatch it was called and it was named in honor of none other than The Black Knight, and tonight they would be getting their recruits. Tonight they would all meet at the Abandoned Warehouse that was the secret entrance to the Knightwatch’s Lair.

He stood kneeling down on a metal bar on the second ‘floor’ of the building looking out at the street light lit sidewalk down below him and out as far as he could see, which was exactly a mile, trying to determine who would be the first to arrive and who would actually respond to their ‘message’ or invitation of sorts. He still wasn’t quite sure how Nathaniel had gotten all of the messages out to the super powered individuals and he wasn’t going to ask either, the man was almost as big of a stalker as (Stalker) Black Arrow himself had been when he was still active. That of course though was besides the point, at least to Ranger it was, as he sat there watching everything within his sight that went on whether it was the street or the sky above, this city was his to protect now along with Atlanta and he was going to do just that.

Sure, he hadn’t been doing a very good job of protecting either of the cities the past couple of months, what with him retiring his hood for a while and then the court case between Clement Industries and Doctor Clement himself, and then when Ranger off on that ‘adventure’ to find the Elven Princess Miri. Finally he of course spent the last month putting together this group of sorts, trying to find what remained of G.U.N to see if they wanted to try once again to bring back the organization. Most of them didn’t see the point but after meeting with Nathaniel and talking over some ideas they got it done, well mostly. There was still the process of initiating the new recruits and seeing if they had what it takes to be a part of the group.

That of course was what they were going to do tonight, once all of them showed up he or Nathaniel would tell them what the organization was all about and introduce who they were or something dumb like that. After that, just like how the old G.U.N had chosen their recruits these newbies would have to prove themselves in combat. Whether said combat was going to be against him and Nathaniel or against some random super villain that decided to do something tonight he hadn’t decided yet, but it didn’t seem like he had too long to decide either as off in the distance he could just make out the form of someone approaching. The first new recruit was on their way, meaning the others surely were not too far behind. A stray smile made its way onto the Crimson Archer’s face as he saw a man with wings off in the distance as well. It was show time.

[[ Earlier that day ]]

The windy city of Chicago, Illinois seemed to be the settled upon place of residence. The Capore family had been living there for nearly a month now and had only not been here a couple of times. This place was not all that bad. Though he was not a fan of the weather. It had been cold and cloudy for most of the time spent here. Not of his preference.

John walked down the apartment building's stairs to where the mailboxes were located. He unlocked the slot and reached in and pulled out the mail before reclosing the box. He searched through all the letters what many liked to refer to as 'junk mail' as he traveled back up the stairs. Going through the letters he noticed a strange looking one addressed to him. "Whaa?" he thought looking at it. John came to a stop on the 2nd floor staircase and looked around. There was nobody in his line of sight and he could not hear anybody coming. With this in mind he stowed the letter away in the back of his pants and got back to walking up the stairs.

John proceeded up five more floors of staircases before making it to the seventh floor where their residence lie. He pulled out his keys and unlocked the door so he could get in. He closed the door behind him as he looked around and saw that his father was not in the living room. John set the mail down on the table and went to his bedroom where he locked the door behind him. He pulled the letter out and sat down on his bed and opened it. John read the letter to see what it said and was curious.

[[ Later ]]

John Capore was now walking the streets towards the destination indicated on the envelope. He had his mask in his bag that he would put on as he drew closer. He was only a couple of blocks from the place when he sneaked away from any place where he could easily be spotted and found himself a good hiding place and a safer route to the desired location. John wondered what this was all about. The person whom had sent him that invitation seemed to know him to some extent. It was definitely intriguing enough to get him to actually skip a night where he had planned to go on a video game playing spree and instead come all the way out to this place. Hopefully it was worth his time this whatever it was. Not some foolhardy stupid thing that he would regret for the next few days or however long it would be.

He noticed he was in the warehouse center. Not a place he had much luck with in the past. Up ahead he saw the place. It was a rundown old warehouse that wasn't even fully constructed. It's like the crew just gave up during the process of building it. Two figures were there among the rafters and seemed to be waiting for arrivals. He sighed and steadily walked closer until he got up to them and pulled out the card. "Excuse me. Is this the place where this thing was indicating me to come to?" he asked of either of them hoping one of them would respond in kind and tell him that it was. He did not want to have to keep searching since he had no clue where else to look.

”Mysterious message for me, well that is so not suspicious.” Pat muttered to himself scrutinizing the message he now held within his hand. Luckily the place that this stupid note listed was in Chicago, so no far travel, something that he did not have the money to pay for. Patrick leaned back against the wall, the dim light of the nearby lamp illuminating the small piece of paper, as he read it over once again. Curling his lips, he read over it around ten times until he soaked up everything that the letter said and folded it into his pocket.

Dustin was out doing whatever he did and that left Pat alone, and with the loud as hell neighbors sounding like they were readying their nightly ritual. Loud, obnoxious music pumping through speakers, not that the music would persist forever. No, there would be a sound of another kind soon enough, but Pat had learned to tune it out. Also he had other plans, luckily this abrupt meeting would not mess with his date, which was around three days from now, so there was time. Pulling a single link switch, the lamp went out, and the room was dark save for the light permeating through the curtains.

Stepping through the front door, he found himself remembering something almost instantly, and cursed under his breath for forgetting something like that. His car was still in the shop, and just like him, he did not get a damn rental. He could have gotten a taxi but then again, Pat was running low on money as it was and it would take too much to go from there and back. More than he had anyway, so he would have to think for a moment and then he got an idea, though it would not leave a certain person happy. Reaching into his pocket, Pat dialed a number on the cell phone and waited for an answer.

”Hello?” The male voice would say, sounding a little annoyed at the intrusion on whatever he was doing.

”Well erm....Brandon, I know you may be busy but could you possibly give me a ride. My car had some major problems and.....erm stuff, so i'm without a ride. I'll pay you back later or something.” He said with a weak smile, though that did not transmit through the phone. Facial motions never really did.

”Fine, I'll be there in ten minutes.” He took a minute to reply but it was what he wanted.

”Thanks.” He said sweetly before hanging up and then came the waiting.

It took around thirteen minutes for him to drive around the corner in a rather expensive car, something that looked European with the top down and his eyes covered up by pitch black sunglasses. He was what you would call a surfer boy, with wind swept hair and sun tanned skin, as well as the usual muscle shirts and plaid shorts. The contrast of Pat, who was dressed up in a simple shirt with the outline of Pikachu in it and faded blue jeans, as well as a leather jacket with a hood that could hide his face if put up.

”Take a seat and tell me where we need to do.” Despite his eyes being near invisible, he could see the slight raising of a blonde eyebrow.

”Your brother care that you're just going out like this?”

”I dunno, but Aaron never seems to care what I do anyway, always busy with whatever. Not like I have to deal with that family bullshit.”

Pat read off the address to him, Brandon nodding as he pressed a foot to the gas and they were in motion. ”thank you for this, I really appreciate it.”

”No problem” he said with a grin, white teeth flashing. They were most likely whitened professionally but either way, they looked stunning. It took around ten minutes but they were there, a large warehouse that looked...half assed as best. ”if you need to I can pick you up, this part of the city looks pretty shady.”

”nah, i'm fine.” Pat said before making his way to the meeting point, with his hood pulled to the point that the upper part of his face was veiled in shadow. He stepped over some of the junk littering the scene as approached three people.

”I'm here.”

Chicago. Her mother's hometown. It was nice to be back here. She walked along the street, wearing the only piece of clothing left from her burnt coustume; the light blue. boots that came up to her ankles. She stared down at her boots and sighed.

At least it was in Chicago. Where her mum had decided to billy the children to moving. At least she'd found another team. She hoped it wouldn't be like the Legion. She wondered about how they'd be.

She looked up and realized that she arrived at the warehouse. And that she had almost bumped into somebody.

”Sorry,”

Wolf looked down from his vantage point on top of the warehouse at the people who had been arriving. He was wearing his full costume but it was covered up by a pair of baggy jeans and a dark grey hoodie. His face was hidden by his mask. "Well I guess there's not much point in waiting any longer. I'm not going to learn anymore out here." The boy walked up to the very edge and smiled. He enjoyed doing this; he had to be careful where he did it though. One time he nearly gave a woman a heart attack. He leaned forward and allowed his body to fall. The wind swept through his hair and batted against his tail. A split second before he hit the ground he broke out his swan dive and landed on his feet; barely making a sound. He slowly walked to the people grouped together.

Campeon had been rather busy for the last few months. It would seem that he had simply dropped off of the face of the earth shortly before the insanity with the other dimensional invaders came through. You would think that he had been standing there alongside his fellow heros and Talons to give them a hand defending his adopted home from the widespread destruction. Well, to say the least, he fell off of this hemisphere and had headed south for the last few months like the mighty muscle bound tropical bird he is.

He had gotten word from some of his contacts in Puerto Rico about some fishy business going down en La Carribe. So, as any good superhero does he had headed down there to check it out. Turns out that someone had been using his home island as a stepping stone for smuggling all sorts of nasty stuff into the U.S, arms, drugs and illegal meta-human enhancers. He got to work quickly, smashing things up, beating up enhanced thugs and handing them off to the local authorities. No biggie. But What Campeon had discovered was the line ran much more deep than that, it was more than the average over blown operation of ambitionous movers and shakers , he had just pulled the weed but the roots were still there. So Campeon (Somewhat stereotypically) became quite the gardener. Moving, shaking, and lots punching,
Campeon thought he had cleared up everything until a faithful night in El Yunque. Some Alligator-man, thing gotten the drop on him, Campeon didn’t know exactly what hit him, a scalely green semi-trailer with a Brazilian Accent? But whatever it was it set Campeon right on the warpath. Well after he recovered from the brutal beating and his rumble in the jungle. He realized he needed to step up his game. But there isn’t much stepping up to do while laying in a San Juan Hospital room, recovering from a mysterious beat down. He was going to continue his blind, bullheaded crusade when a letter came to him with a dollar bill inside. “Interesting” Campeon thought to himself, waiting for the day where he would be released, his treatment rather slow and surgery free due to his incredibly durable flesh.

But the time came and Campeon was released from dingy hospital in San Juan, after asking his abuela and abuelo for their blessings and a quick visit to the Cathedral he made his way northward, to the windy city. Slowly and steadily, asking for favors and riding the rails up to Chicago with most of his gear slung in a duffle bag over his back.
He found himself in Chicago a few days before the date listed, So he figure he’d tour a bit, learn abit more about the town he’d never worked in before. Out of sheer chance he encountered his “Abuelita” the kindly old woman who ran the empanada stand on his patrol route, she had been displaced by the attacks in New York and had offered him a place to stay for a few days. How can resist a warm bed and fresh empanadas. No one, that’s who. It was nice.

The night came and Campeon headed out to the address wearing classic striped Strong-Man pants and a tank top, with his massive duffle-bag slung over his shoulder and a small cake with a trio of candles. He walked slowly and out of the darkness he noticed a few figures enter the location, “Fellow party guests I assume.” He slunk his way into the warehouse, nodding at the others gathered inside before lighting the candles.

“Feliz Feliz Cumplianos, a te quires a mas in su-…What? Did no one else bring gifts? What a terrible birthday, Hopefully our hosts make up for it.”

He smiles up at the duo on the higher level.

The afternoon sun was slowly fading away, the people chatted and laughed as though nothing were amiss. He couldn't blame them, unlike the other beasts, these ones were used to oddities amongst them. What was once a unique and terrifying phenomenon was now mundane and trivial. Day after day they endured a constant onslaught of exposure to the fantastic, so much so that it had become the norm. Heroes in capes, ancients beasts and shapeshifters ran amok, traits that were once outliers seemed to have become the majority. One in five of these things were born with some mutation that could be ascribed as 'superhuman'. That was why, in that dingy cafe on the outskirts of Chicago, no one thought to bat an eye to Adamus strange appearance so long as he didn't disturb the peace. The strange neon light that seemed to waft off of him like smoke and his eyeless gaze did little to unnerve or intimidate so long as his manner was benign. Luckily for the various customers at that oh so ordinary cafe, his manner was just that.
The waitress had come and taken his order -a cup of espresso and a chocolate croissant in case you were wondering- without incident and brought it eighteen minutes and twenty seven seconds later. Adamus knew that was how long she had taken to the second because his pocket watch had ticked precisely one thousand one hundred and seven times before the plate containing his food had touched the tabletop. Now you might be wondering how he knew that, or for that matter, how he even heard it. The timepiece was located in his breast pocket after all. I didn't mention that? I really should have.

Moving on, he knew because it was the only thing worth listening to in the entire restaurant.

The beasts were gibbering on about nothing with each other, trivial nonsense unworthy of being included in his study. Not like the fascinating little article before him. It was something the people called a 'comic book'. As part of his study into the human concept of morality, the masculine thing known as Adamus had picked up several stacks of such things. The woman at the counter had called them riveting tales on the epic struggle of good versus evil, a true masterpiece of the literary arts. He preferred Hemingway. Regardless, if this was what the beasts considered good then he would be obligated to thumb through it at the very least, and thumb through it he did. The tale contained therein was simple, a man in a brightly colored outfit was robbing the legal tender from one of the beast's monetary storage deposits. He monologued in a cliche and unimaginative fashion for several pages before an equally gaudily dressed man burst in through a wall, ignoring the open vault door in favor of a more 'dramatic' entry. The pages seemed near copies of one another after that, each half of the pair spending several panels repeating themselves with slightly different words in each bubble. It was drivel, pure, unapologetic drivel. Yet the poor anthropologist endured until he finally reached the various advertisements shoehorned in at the end of what he now assumed to be some sort of elaborate prank on the reader. Some sort of joke that the publishers of this piece were playing on the idiotic masses.
Standing up, our hero left several dollar bills on the table and walked out, tossing the comic into the garbage. The sun was still out, though fading fast. The 'birthday party' wasn't for at least an hour. He had time. Did he? The meeting was to occur when his pocket watch struck seventy three thousand, eight hundred ticks. He had nearly eighteen hundred ticks left to enjoy the scenery. Or did he? He believed so, though he might have lost count somewhere in the six thousands. He didn't normally do that, but attempting to keep two separate times and persevere through the asinine writing of the comic book was a bit of a strain on his sensibilities.

Walking into a building, he strode past the receptionist and took the elevator as high as it would allow. He was alone in the small metal box, its consistent hum soothing him until the irritating chime sounded. He glided out of the elevator and across the room, entering the emergency stairwell. It wasn't long before he was on the roof, enjoying a view of the Chicago skyline. Tick-tock, tick-tock. His watch ticked on and on, though at some point beyond his comprehension he lost track of it. I suppose you could call it a fit of whimsy, some half remembered dream experienced by one who did not sleep. The lights of the city and the sounds washed over him, the senseless and immaterial layer that passed for his skin seemed to experience a brief moment of sleep, the remnants of a breeze making their way to him. It was only an instant. Or was it? He couldn't tell. However when his sense resumed, the sun had set and he could feel his time was off. Reaching into his pocket, Adamus clicked open the watch.

Seventy four thousand, seven hundred.

In the time of beasts, he was fifteen minutes late. This was not good, punctuality was important, and yet... If he attempted to walk, he would no doubt miss the window by which the supposed festivities were supposed to occur. Looking down, he began calculating which way would be faster. By ground or by bullet. Perhaps by blade? No, blades took too long and were a messy ordeal. A bullet might work, though then he was wasting a shot. The ground appeared most favorable. Very well. Stepping up over the railing, he spread himself out, feeling the gust of air pass around him as he came closer and closer to terminal velocity.

I will die.

The impact with the ground came. Hard and sudden, pain unimaginable to the human senses would be flooding through him now were he still conscious, or even alive for that matter. Lucky him.

I am dead.

Blackness, a musty smell that one with no sense of such things wouldn't notice. The space was cramped, yet he wasn't all the way there yet. He could feel the fade and the solidification simultaneously.

I died.

The poor lighting conditions were definitely on the receiving end of his trip. He was inside something, something small and cramped. Cracks of light ushered forth from the sides. He was inside a box of some sorts.

I am alive.

Pushing open the lid, it fell out without resistance, a loud crash coming from wood impacting a concrete floor. He had arrived at his destination. Looking around, he saw the light source that had revealed his location. fluorescent and barely passable, they were clearly installed to save legal tender by the locations owner. One more acquainted with the man might have called him -and I quote- 'A cheap bastard'. Adamus however, had no such thoughts on the man, nor the lights themselves. He was busy looking at the small menagerie that had gathered. The one in red reminded him of the two characters in the comic book, though not as much as the foolish beast with the animals ears attempting to creep upon the rest. In the doorway stood a man holding human confections. Did he really believe this was a party or was it some attempt at the humor known as 'sarcastic irony'? The rest were of little interest to him, though the man with large wings made him blink. Or, her would have if Adamus possessed such a capacity. Lack of eyes kind of impairs that you see. Regardless, not deigning to address the various beasts individually he spoke but a single line as he strode forward.

"Num poteris loqui hac lingua?"

One by one they arrived, one slowly after the other in their own strange and interesting ways. The ways they came were either by walking, by car, by falling, or by rising out of a coffin like the last to arrive did. The Ranger was not sure how many people Nathaniel had truly recruited but the six in front of him seemed to know this was where they were too meet, and that was enough for Ranger to start with the ‘introductions’ and all the other formal jazz. The invite didn’t fully explain the purpose of being summoned to the ‘abandoned’ warehouse and so that job fell onto him and Nathanial. This of course meant if fell onto his shoulders more than anything. It was nothing against Nathanial, but he was not the type to explain things, instead he acted on whatever seemed to come to mind first.

With a nod Ranger jumped down from the rafter, using the metal ‘pole’ or column to slow his fall before touching the ground. He first spoke to the man in what he assumed was Latin from the dialect he picked up. “Etiam sed non valde bene,” He spoke out pausing while trying to figure out what to say next “Lorem Chicago, anglicus poteris loqui?” He had hoped it came out as what he wanted it to, but like he said he wasn’t the greatest when it came to speaking Latin. The most education he got on it was in ninth grade literature, and boy did he hate that teacher. Looking over at the other five he sized each and every one of them up, all looking different the last. They certainly had collected a wide verity of individuals for this group and that was just the way Ranger wanted it. If they were to be anything like G.U.N. it would be best if they all had different specialties and strengths.

“Well, I’ll start. I am The Ranger former member of G.U.N and The Phantoms before that, as you may have noticed, unlike the invitations shows this is not truly a party.” He said shrugging to the man with the gifts, “although we do appreciate the gifts and if you want we can all have some sort of party like deal later it is about time we got down to business.” He removed his bow from his back placing it up against the column besides him and continued to talk. “You were all brought here tonight because we have been watching you, and have decided that you have what it takes to bring back G.U.N, except this time we won’t be calling the group by that name as it has been used twice now and each time has fallen apart. No, we will be known as Knightwatch to honor the late Black Knight. None of you have to join, the choice is yours but I do hope you will consider it.”

((crappy post is very crappy…))

The cool night air of the midwestern city carried with it a tension created by the ongoing events that were occurring at an abandoned and broken down warehouse. What was about to unfold was looking to be a very compelling and dramatic moment to witness, especially for those who were to take part in all of it. Forcewave had been the first of the 'guests' to arrive at the location designated by the letters that had been distributed. The two men there seemed to be waiting on a lot of people to arrive. His own arrival had not caused much a stir in them making this theory clear and obvious. Sure enough it would be proven true. Mere moments after he showed up others started to do so as well. None of which he recognized however. The only person he knew of was from nearly a year before. It was Ranger sitting up on the rails. Last time he had seen him that he was aware of was back during the assault on New York. It was actually rather nice seeing him again. At least he knew he was alive and such. He also wondered what he was doing here. Why was he part of this distribution of invitations to him and the others? What was he and this other guy hoping to accomplish with this? Hopefully answers would come soon. Forcewave had an inkling of an idea for what this gathering was about. He had personally witnessed circumstances such as these before and all likelihood based on what he knew about one of the people here history might soon be repeating itself.

Forcewave curiously looked around at the others that had also been invited to this warehouse that night. An assortment of course. If his theory was correct then everyone gathered here had powers of their own beyond what people were normally capable of. Metahumans, as they were most commonly referred to as. A gathering of metahumans. Perfect for what he believed was what was happening on this night. There were five others besides him that arrived shortly afterwards. One was rather calm as if they were expecting such a thing, another seem extremely scared like if they felt something really bad was about to happen. Two were independently excited and showed it in different ways. One of which even brought a cake. He was definitely excited for this little arrangement. The last of which was a bit unusual due to having come out of a coffin for whatever reason. The collective ensemble was certainly here for something.

Finally answers seemed to be coming. Ranger jumped down from the rafters and now stood before them to address the ones that had been brought here. As soon as he was done speaking Forcewave's initial reaction in his head was "I knew it. Another hero group." Now, would he join this one like he had done so with the last two he had been offered to be apart of? For some reason the concept was not very hard to sell to him despite his usual standard of skepticism. It just seemed like a naturally good idea and reasonably something he felt he should try to participate in. This Knightwatch as he had called it was certainly presented forth as something much bigger than the other two. A sort of revival of G.U.N was an interesting concept. What could they bring to the table that would allow this possibly soon to be formed group to have a bigger impact than just some random collaboration of people that had been brought here who have thus chosen to use their profoundly strange ablities for a rather noble purpose.

The winged one took up the presentation where Ranger left off. More in depth analysis and reasonings for the importance of this meeting. He seemed to be certainly more interested in getting this going. The determination in him to encourage these invitees to agree to join this Knightwatch group. After he finished speaking it seemed that now was the time for them to make their decisions on the matter at hand. With the opportunity to now speak available to them it came to time to do so. Forcewave spoke up rather quickly to provide his assessment of the situation. "Well, This is a good thing to create. I guess I'll try and do my part in this. Not sure how much I'll be able to help but more or less I'm in." he stated to the both of them and to everyone else around him.

One by one, the rest arrived, some proving more interesting than others. There was one that brought a cake, something that made him remember an important fact, that he did not eat. Instead of eating before he arrived at this anonymous meeting, he decided not to and that left him with a lightly growling stomach. He said something in a language that sounded vaguely like Spanish, but of course Pat would not understand it, considering that he flunked Spanish hard. Then there was the guy rising from an impromptu coffin, speaking in what could possibly be Latin, or whatever, not that he understood a damn word of it.

For a birthday party, this seemed a little too formal. No presents, no cake and no booze. Worst party ever in his opinion, but he wasn't going to openly gripe about it, not around these serious looking fellows. He would be unsure how they would react, and anything unexpected could lead to trouble. Digging his hands into his pockets, Pat felt over the small phone, almost out of habit before he moved them to run along his pants leg slowly. Him and another of the people attending were dressed in simple street clothes, well the one with the cake was dressed rather casual compared to everyone else as well.

He had the look of a fighter, someone who knew what they were doing, or at least what he had expected of some sort of kick ass fighter anyway. There was also the strange shorter male and what looked like a young girl, not the best of people to be out this late at night, especially in a city like Chicago. He swore that New Yorks destruction had only brought an influx of its criminals into Chicago, the next best place to fuck shit up. There simply was not enough of the police force to deal with the meta human criminals now, and that lead to problems.

Considering his unwillingness to join the most ineffective force of peacekeepers in the world, and his disinterest with Dominus, he didn't really have much choice when it came to how his city fared really.

With all of them here, it seemed like they could begin in earnest, with what looked like a man in red beginning everything, talking about some sort of group kind. It sounded like one of those far fetched hero groups that always ended up separating, but then again he had never really been apart of one and the best he knew was from reading comic books. He didn't seem as uptight as Pat was lead to believe when he thought of the masked types, and he seemed pretty cool; though he would have to learn more about the man behind the mask before he could make that call. Then came someone else who seemed to carry some sort of authority, wearing a mask and feathered wings sprouted from his back.

This one made a speech that sounded like a cliched speech, meant to raise their morale or something; possibly get them to consider joining this little venture of theirs. The name within itself seemed to be a play upon something, perhaps knights for justice? Either way something within Pat found an interest within this proposal, though he wasn't sure what that interest was exactly? Perhaps he wanted to make a change within the world, or it was something else; either way he was interested.

”I guess I’m in.” He would say simply, with a crooked grin forming upon the lips barely touched by the shadow of his hood.

Elle popped in a stick of gum withiut much enthousiasm. Another group recruitment? The last hadn't been the best. And to her, this place seemed like anoter boy band....with olfer guys. Not good. Not that she'd care if anybody stoped to taunt her about her age.
In her backpack she carried the result of a failure to join a group. A communicator in a watch form. From a good team gone bad. Maybe they could stop them if she joined. The little gadjet would be a great help. And afterall, she had promised to come back.
Would she give it to them? Maybe. Or maybe not. Depended on how welcoming they were.
She blew a bubble casually. “I guess i will,”

Shadow Wolf stared at the strange man who had come out of the coffin. Did he think he was a vampire or something? Then he asked everyone if they spoke Latin, in Latin. At first the thought was just a joke, but maybe this guy did think he was some kind of Nosferatu. Wolf responded in near perfect Latin. "Ego fatuor Latinum." He spoke and read quite a few languages, he wasn't fluent in all of them though. Latin was one of his favorites because of how many other languages had their roots in it. A man who came down from the rafters responded in Latin to the man from the coffin; telling him that he spoke some as well. Then he welcomed him to Chicago and asked if he spoke English. Then the man who came from the rafters started giving a speech. Wolf listened intently and learned that this was supposed to be some sort of super-hero group. The idea sounded good to him, he had almost joined one in the past but that's when Banshee happened. He quickly shut the woman out of his mind, he did not want to think about that psychopath or what she did ever again. He had heard of GUN before, but didn't know very much about them. He wasn't convinced just yet though. If he joined it would be a huge commitment, joining groups like these wasn't something to be taken lightly. He needed some time to think it over. Another man started speaking. The tone in his voice was different from the first man's, he sounded confident. Then there was another voice coming from the man, but he wasn't moving his lips. The man whispered some threats and then the voice stopped, and he went back to talking. When he finished Wolf was closer to joining but still wasn't convinced. "This sounds nice and all, but I have one question. And I want a truthful answer because it will determine whether or not I'll join. Is this the kind of group that goes around killing villains? I don't want to kill anyone and I won't support people who do."

(Not my best)

Campeon blows out the candles on his cake and sets it down on the warehouse floor and when there is a space during The Ranger's speech he lifts his duffle bag and drops it down onto the warehouse floor. When it impacts the floor a rather notable plume of dust rises from the impact. Maybe its kinda heavy? He smiles and nods as each of the others enters the ware house. To each of them he offers a smile and a wave to each. Sizing them all up and attempting to make a guess as to why there were here. It was all rather mysterious and it made things interesting for Campeon, they all seemed rather mundane with the exception of the one with the wings and the one that rose from coffin, slightly less mundane in appearance but no less mysterious. Who knows? They could fire flaming tigers from their eyes for all that he knows. Campeon shrugs as he thinks about this he takes a seat on his duffle bag with his hands knitted together, listening rather attentively.

"This seems pretty good." He thought to himself, he stood and unzipped his dufflebag, retrieving a handful of paper plates and a cake knife. As he was bent over the winged man flew down and began speaking. Campeon realised he missed the flight as he turned around with a slight frown “Hopefully I can see him pull that trick again later” He thinks to himself as he sits down on the dufflebag and he begins slicing up the cake into good sized pieces and placing them on the paper plates and occasionally glancing up to show that he is still listening. Rather serious stuff but Campeon understands that, but some levity is always needed. He goes back to the Dufflebag to retrieve some plastic forks people start responding to the offer, rather flatly and with not much interest seemingly. This bother Campeon slightly, How are we supposed to arrive something like GUN, some great organization that he heard about back home in Puerto Rico, with apathy and lukewarm responses.

Campeon stands and smiles with a plate and cake in hand, looking about to everyone. “Hello, I am Campeon. I would be very intrested in joining your Knightswatch Mr.Ranger. If we are to be teammates I figure that knowing some names would be nice yes? Feel free to take part in the cake by the way, nothing builds rapport like a shared meal. I find that cake increases this effect.”