"They're just scared, I suppose. Not that hard to understand, considering what the FCL does, but still. We'll just have to prove that we're very human, and not hostile, right?" The kid said, Arthur had almost missed him. "They'll understand it eventually."
"Pretty much." Arthur said, wistfully. He let the anger slide from him, no matter how little he wanted it to. "Who needs to lie about the Jews when Godzilla steps on half your country? Hell, who even knows if we are still human? Maybe they're right. You remember the Beast? That Bertrand guy from New Marais? Even the FCL! We're..." He didn't know how to complete that thought.
"Not normal." He said at last. It was very nearly all he could say. Dangerous was the word he almost said, but checked himself. Telekinetically, Arthur pulled the lighter from his pocket, and spun it around in the air, just over his hand. No, He thought bitterly, We aren't human anymore.
"Calm down, it's just a bit of friendly teasing. Though I imagine in-fighting to be a particularly common weakness associated with superpowers, yes."
'Crap, fuck, joking, abort.' Mary bowed her head a little, taking a step back and chuckling nervously to herself. Yeah, too much confrontation followed by a stretch on inaction. Or something stupid like that, so long as she had an excuse.
"To them, we're already the villains. The Beast saw to that..."
Mary's skin crawled at that. She used to think The Beast was an army or something, not just a single guy with way more power than morality. The message coming from Hemlock, who she had seen kill people wasn't exactly comfortable either. Didn't seem like a bad guy, though. Just a lot smarter and a lot more dangerous than her.
"What's going on in here, guys? We can hear your bickering all the way in the game room. Quiet day getting to you?"
'And like that we have reached clusterfuck territory.' Mary didn't like groups so much. At least that she was an active member of. Too much to watch for, she just smiled and backed up a little. "Nothing much," she muttered, as Assault started working on fixing things. She smiled a bit at his responses, backing up just a little bit more.
"No harm, no foul, right? Guy and I will have this fixed before you know it, and we'll make sure no nefarious bags plot another attack."
"Sounds good." She said, instead of just a normal goodbye as she slinked out of the room. She didn't have exercising clothes on, not good to try and work out without them. She headed off to the rec room, maybe see if something good was on TV. She looked around who was inside- Hemlock, Icarus, Kuo. The killers of the group, not her kind of people. Not her kind of people at all...
"-find those Cartel assholes' base of operations. My guess is the boss'll have us deal with them tonight. Can't wait to fry some fucking dealers."
'Cartel? Sounds easy enough.' Mimic made her way around the group, trying to ignore the group and the conversation about books. TV was her goal, TV was life. And full of bitching kung fu moves. She plopped down and reached for the remote, muting the volume and just started channel surfing.
"Ya know what? sure what the he...." She began before Marrow spoke up again.
"Enough with the damn coffee, fool! You gonna ask that every time someone comes in!? Look, y'all might like to have all this free time on your hands but I don't, okay. Just makes me wonder what the hell all the scum in this city is up to."
"Aw hell man I could tell ya that, liken their wounds from the last fights, gettin ready to try again." She spoke shaking her head. "You wanna head out on patrol or somthin, see if you can't catch a few on the streets, go for it. Hell I'd probably join ya. But sittin here board ain't gonna help."
She nodded to Sky and Arthur as they walked in and began chatting with the others. for a few minutes she just listened to her music and the discussion around the room. Happy that for a change things were quiet. Then Arthur said something odd.
"We're...Not normal. They're right to be afraid."
Anna had to laugh at that. "You just now getting that man?" She asked chuckling. "Of course we ain't normal. No one is." She said with a shrug. "But we're same on the inside. Hell, I'll drown just as much as the next guy. I'll start bleeding if one the DUP's shoot me. Just because I have a tougher skin than most don't mean I ain't human." She said as another song started playing in her headphones. She tapped her foot to the beat. "We just need to get people to see that." She said with a smile.
"I mean yeah there are a few who took it way to far, but hey not like your 'normal' people did any better. History is proof enough of that." She closed her eyes and let her mind focus on her music. "And to take away from the drama for a bit, Thanks for workin so hard on tryin to get this thing off the ground. I may not have the political know how to know exactly what your doin but I know it's helpin."
Sky wasn't about to interrupt Arthur as he read the UN's response letter; even if they couldn't force the DUP to stand down, even just a comment about the iniquities of the situation would help.
"'The exact difference between Conduits and Humans aren't fully understood or appreciated at the present moment, and we must revisit the law to determine whether our understanding of what a Human is, is compatible with our understanding of what a Conduit is, and allows Conduits to be covered in our protection of Human Rights.'"
Even with the anti-Conduit sentiment to which she had become adjusted, Sky didn't quite know what to say to that. Of course, some of the others remained optimistic.
"And to take away from the drama for a bit, Thanks for workin so hard on tryin to get this thing off the ground. I may not have the political know how to know exactly what your doin but I know it's helpin."
"And they haven't even formally denied us yet," Sky felt herself moved to add, seriously pondering the issue. "They could have simply declared us exempt from their consideration outright, or even decide to act against us. But if they're entertaining the idea, then we at least have somewhere to work from. But in any case..."
Sky paused to look at the clock, "Might as well chill for a bit, Arthur. 'Bout ten hours and fifteen minutes since the Killers over in Mexicantown have acted up, and there ain't even any apricot jelly to clean up this time. It'll be a bit before there's anything else to do diplomatically, anyway."
"Hey there, lad! School's in again, eh? Fancy a cup o' joe?"
"Um, no thanks," said Reggie with a quick shake of his head. "I'll crash if I have caffeine this late."
And then, madness. Half the team seemed to stumble into the room in the span of a minute. Reggie gave a brief greeting to Johan, then Anna. After that he just stopped talking and let everyone come in before saying hello to them. Skylar shot him a glance. "Part-timer, still incognito I see."
"Naturally," Pier said with a cheeky grin. "Can't let this handsome mug go public. It would kill my air of mystery."
Shortcut hopped out of his seat to make room for others and settled on the floor, digging a textbook out of his bag. It was a chemistry book, which he cracked open and got to reading. He couldn't find any sense in getting behind on his studies. He could hear the others talking about something serious. A message from the UN. Some deal about them not being human anymore because of their powers. But he wasn't feeling the weight of those decisions very heavily. The adults can handle all the boring politics. I'm just here to help people. "So what if they did?" he said, nose still in his book. "We just keep helping people that they don't. Either they'll figure out we're human, or that if we're not, they're even less like humans."
His head perked up. "Hey, we got any food around here? I'm starving."
Conduit Nation HQ. 6 minutes until previous record is broken...
The mood in the room was decidedly grim, as Arthur's most recent attempts at achieving some semblance of safety for his fellow Conduits had apparently failed pretty spectacularly.
"I finally got in touch with the UN today. Apparently we're no longer people. They won't file against the US for Human Rights violations because, hang on, let me find this quote, 'The exact difference between Conduits and Humans aren't fully understood or appreciated at the present moment, and we must revisit the law to determine whether our understanding of what a Human is, is compatible with our understanding of what a Conduit is, and allows Conduits to be covered in our protection of Human Rights.' Lousy goddamn cockroaches."
Most of his fellow Conduits seemed to hold a much more positive outlook on things, trying to convince Arthur that their pleas would eventually be heard. The world just needed time to adjust to this new reality.
Arthur didn't seem to agree, however, his thoughts still heavy with doubt.
"Pretty much. Who needs to lie about the Jews when Godzilla steps on half your country? Hell, who even knows if we are still human? Maybe they're right. You remember the Beast? That Bertrand guy from New Marais? Even the FCL! We're... Not normal. They're right to be afraid."
Marrow's face twitched at the former agent's words. These were feelings he personally tried to keep as far away as possible, lest he become a morally bankrupt monster like some of the animals in the FCL.
As Anna and Sky further comforted their stressed out friend, all the while lauding him for all the hard work he'd been going through to make the Conduits' voices heard, Duggins joined in.
"Hahhahah! That's the spirit! Ain't no point in getting all down in the dumps over some minor setbacks, Arthur. They'll get it eventually."
Johnson stood up, facing Arthur, and spoke up.
"Yeah. Gotta say, them government agency talents sure come in handy. I know the boss used to be NSA an' all, but trying to lead a group of Conduits into a battle for freedom AND juggling backroom politics with the big bugs in Capitol Hill? Ain't nobody got THAT much strength. No wonder he made you his right hand man. Dunno where we'd be without you."
Finally, Reggie gave his opinion on these high and mighty adult matters.
"So what if they did? We just keep helping people that they don't. Either they'll figure out we're human, or that if we're not, they're even less like humans. Hey, we got any food around here? I'm starving."
Impossible to say for sure, but the masked boy's simple assessment of the situation was sure to bring the morale up some. His midnight snack, however would have to wait, as a dark and quite handsome young man popped his head into the room. Everyone would recognize him as Ian Archer aka Oxide, back from his reconnaissance mission, along with a ridiculously beautiful young woman, Sophie White aka Pretender.
"Yo! Might wanna come with me and Soph, folks! Boss wants to brief."
Name: Ian Archer
DUP Codename: Oxide
Age: 29
Gender: Male
Appearance: Ian stands at 5'8 with an average physique. Well toned, but nothing out of the ordinary. His dark hair is shaved short on the sides but left long on top, giving him that ?classic? hipster look. A goatee also adorns his face. Ian always wears his brown leather jacket. Always. It's quite worn, but still holding together and it's obvious that he treasures it very much. Underneath, he'll usually wear longsleeved tees. A pair of equally worn navy blue jeans and a pair of detailed brown and red cowboy boots are found below the waist area.
Personality: Ian is always up for a good time. He loves hanging out with his newfound friends, whether it's going out for a round of drinks or just playing a round of pool at HQ. He's also a consummate ladies man, much to the chagrin of the Nation's female members. In battle, however, Ian is focused and driven, leading anyone under his command with a heightened sense of responsibility. He's lost his fair share of comrades during these skirmishes, but tries to not let that get to him, instead enjoying life even more while he still can.
Biography: Ian and Henry Archer were born in Boston, Massachusetts, to an upper middle-class family. Ian was born first, Henry a year and a half later. They became inseparable. Growing up, the Archer boys wanted for nothing, which made them take life for granted. They slacked their way through High School, and by the time College came around, they decided they were done with school. They dropped out, Ian becoming a bartender in downtown Boston and Henry a freelance photographer, much to the disappointment of their parents who promptly disowned the two. Life suddenly became a lot harder for the Archer brothers but they were still having a blast, remaining friends and roommates.
All of this changed when Cole MacGrath happened. Boston was evacuated due to its close proximity to Empire City. The Beast's trek through the Eastern seaboard devastated the brothers' hometown, killing many of their friends. The Archers got separated only getting a few calls through to each other from time to time. Shortly after things calmed down, both Ian and Henry found that they had not only survived the Conduit purge, they were becoming Conduits themselves. They quickly got in touch, settling on Detroit for their rendez-vous. Their first meeting in 5 years was joyous, but shortlived. Turns out the two brothers had very different ideas about their futures as Conduits. Ian wanted to join up with the Nation, while Henry thought that the League was the right answer. Their disagreement devolved into a fight. One that razed a whole building. Both parted ways as brothers. And enemies.
Affiliation: Conduit Nation. Ian believes that Conduits would be safer if they were all together. Only then would they be able to protec each other from any hostility from the human population.
Powers: Oxygen Manipulation. Ian has the power to control all oxygen within a certain area. This allows him to clear an area of all oxygen, causing chemical reactions such as fire and explosions to not be able to occur. He can also use it to deprive his enemies of it, making them pass out. This power can also be used in a small, more concentrated area, but requires more focus. He also has to be careful not to deprive his teammates of oxygen too. Finally, Ian can cause oxygen to instantaneously combust, the oxidizing flame severely burning his foe.
Name: Sophie White
DUP Codename: Pretender
Age: 18
Gender: Female
Appearance: In a word? Gorgeous. Due to her power, only people who've seen her without her powers would be able to tell you if the form she's usually seen as is actually her. She is the perfect balance of beauty and athleticism. Her face is flawless in structure, with piercing green eyes and full lips, framed by a head of flowing black hair, which she morphs into a much shorter do when a battle is in order. Her body, standing at 5'3 is well toned, while still maintaining a curvaceous, feminine beauty. When she's not shapeshifted into someone else, the clothes on her back are just another figment of her powers, to avoid that awkward moment when you have to morph into a buff DUP soldier and you're wearing a size 8 dress. That said, her attire of choice usually consists of a variety of t-shirts, usually with a casual jacket of some sort, jeans and a pair of sneakers. The color scheme seems to vary quite often, as futile as it seems to most other people. She'll morph into a black catsuit for field operations, as she's always wanted to do that.
Personality: Despite her somewhat intimidating exterior, Sophie is an extremely friendly person and trusting to a fault. Other members of the Conduit Nation are known to worry sometimes that she'll get caught by FCL members if they so much as wink at her. Sophie tries her best to keep an upbeat and positive outlook on things, although it's increasingly hard to keep a straight face when you're an infiltration unit in what feels like an increasingly futile war. Last but not least, Sophie's new powers seem to have made any shread of shame just disappear as, when shapeshifting, Sophie is prone to... expose her naked body regardless of who might be right next to her, causing no end of awkward situations for her teammates.
Biography: Sophie White was born in Snoqualmie, Washington into a typical working class home. Father was a truck driver, mother a diner waitress. Her teenage life were as uneventful as you'd expect when you're just another geeky high school girl in a sleepy Washington town. New Marais and the Conduits had happened when she was 10 so she knew nothing about it, although it was still a very popular subject around town as rumors and wild stories kept going around town about people with freakish powers. As she turned 17, her own powers started to manifest in the form of extreme, overnight changes in her face and body. This happened at around the same time as a Conduit was said to be wreaking havoc in Seattle. When her mother decided to turn her in to the DUP, Sophie felt she had no choice but run. As she disguised herself, going from state to state, she eventually ran into Michael Duggins, who brought her back to Detroit, into the safety of the Conduit Nation. A year later, she's now a valuable member of the team and must do her part to ensure that her kind isn't exterminated.
Affiliation: Conduit Nation. Found and taken in by Michael, Sophie feels she owes them her life. Although the idea of never seeing her parents again causes her no small amount of pain, Sophie knows this is her family now.
Powers: Shapeshifting. Just as it says on the box, Sophie is able to turn into a flawless copy of any human being or Conduit after seeing them once. To do this she must see them in their entirety. Additionally, she cannot copy Conduits' powers, only their appearance. As this power grants her no offensive capabilities, Sophie has been training rigourously during the past year or so. Not only has Michael taught her a number of martial arts, like Judo and Aikido, she has also been instructed in the use of both small firearms and bladed weapons. While her training is far from over, Sophie has shown a great amount of natural talent, no doubt helped by being able to create muscles in a matter of seconds.
The duo proceeded to lead the rest of the group down a series of corridors, finally reaching a larger set of blast doors. Sophie punched in the code, opening the gate and revealing a large room, fitted with all manner of computers and screens that the group had managed to gather before the looters got too grabby. Some lower ranked Conduits scurried back and forth with what one would assume was "intel". At the top of some stairs was a large desk and at the head of that desk, the man they all knew as their leader.
"Ah, Ian, Sophie. You've returned. Thank you for bringing the rest, as well."
Jason Wakefield aka Tesla]Name: Jason Wakefield
DUP Codename: Tesla
Age: 29
Gender: Male
Appearance: Jason is 5'7 with an athletic build. He's by most accounts quite handsome with his blonde, well groomed hair and clean shaven visage. His eyes are steel blue, brimming with confidence and conviction. Jason is a smart dresser, even in these tumultuous times, wearing a suit (albeit with the tie left out and a few buttons opened) and a smart pair of shoes. Everything about Jason's outwardly appearance suggests he means business.
Personality: Jason Wakefield is a no nonsense kinda guy. He's brief and to the point, hating to waste precious time in needless exposition and chit-chat. He's a natural born leader, Firm but fair, able to put each individual to good use as part of a team in addition to being a crack tactician. He tends to get lost in his work, rarely taking the time to relax, whichcan sometimes take a toll on his nerves. Nevertheless, Jason is a good friend to those he trusts and a very troublesome foe to those he doesn't.
Biography: Jason Wakefield was an NSA agent based in Washington D.C. Considered a prodigy by many due to his young age, Jason quickly rose to the status of field agent. When Empire City happened, Wakefield was sent to Detroit, to report on any Conduit activity. There was none. Even as The Beast devastated the East Coast, Detroit seemed to be deadly silent. After the RFI wiped out the threat, it seemed Agent Wakefield's work was done. He was wrong. Conduits were reappearing across the globe and Detroit seemed to be a veritable hive, with Jason being one of them. He knew his awesome powers meant he'd become blacklisted by his agency so he remained in Detroit. As the DUP's actions across the states drove dozens of Conduits into the city, Jason knew what had to be done.
He created the Conduit Nation with the intent of rallying the aimless masses into a single entity, demanding peace and a safe haven to call their own. Unfortunately for him, not all Conduits wanted a leader, and much less one who'd corral them into whatever boundaries the Government would allow them, and thus, the Free Conduit League was born.
Now, Jason struggles. With both the FCL and the DUP. But he will not waver. He knows this is the right path, and he will see it through.
Affiliation: Conduit Nation. Jason is their leader. He is certain that, if they show the Government the futility of their actions, while not using lethal force, they'll have to concede to the Nation's wishes. Peace will be achieved.
Powers: Electromagnetic Manipulation. Jason's powers are, for lack of a better word, immense. Both metals and electricity bend to his will. Jason himself has almost never been seen on the battlefield, since his main work revolves around strategy and leadership, so the full extent of his powers is not exactly known by anyone. But the implications of his power's name alone have made him a prime target of the DUP.
"No biggie, boss," said Oxide with a cheeky grin on his face. "These guys looked like they were gonna die of boredom any second."
Looking at his watch in dismay, Xerox protested.
"Speak for yerself, man! 3 MORE MINUTES! 3 more minutes, and the record would've been ours..."
"Ahem!" Tesla cleared his throat, silencing the two jokers. "As I was saying... Oxide and Pretender have returned from their recon. It is as we suspected: the recent outbursts of armed violence around our area is indeed the work of a gang of thugs who've settled just outside our safe zone. They extort exorbitant amounts from the residents for what they call 'protection', all the while shooting up the neighborhood and kidnapping denizens for ransom."
The Conduit Nation leader sat down, pinching the bridge of his nose as he took a moment to think.
"It may seem a trifling matter, compared to the big picture at hand, but we can't allow this to continue... At the end of all this, we will be judged by our deeds. We must help those in need. Marrow. Take Shortcut and Sun with you. Find some of these two-bit hoods and teach them a lesson."
Marrow nodded in agreement and turned to his comrades.
"Sure thing, chief. Short stuff, Sunshine. You with me, let's move."
Wakefield then turned to Arthur, giving him the next set of orders.
"Arthur. I want you to lead Iron Maiden and Zephyr. These people are holding the hostages in a warehouse nearby. Go there and free them. Be careful not to cause any civilian casualties. The rest of you are dismissed."
As Arthur left to lead his squad one way, Marrow led Reggie and Johan, leading them to a derelict cul-de-sac not too far from their HQ. The houses had definitely seen better days, some of them already missing vital parts of their architecture. Other than the sorry state of the area's infrastructure and some vagrant hangarounds, though, it was quiet.
"Too quiet. Fan out. Try to find out where these fools are hiding. No heroics. If you find something, let us know."
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
FCL HQ
Farenheit followed Hemlock's ridiculous display with a bemused look on his face. The same couldn't be said for Sheena, who swiftly exited the premises, as soon as any derriere wiggling began. The two exchanged opinions on what would likely be their next operation before Kuo switched the topic to Hemlock's book, ignoring Mimic, who'd just come in to watch some TV.
"Oooooh it's a very influential book on botany published in the 18th century by a man named René Louiche Desfontaines. I could bore you with the details and what I know of the man, but I suspect you'd rather drink, and play pool?"
Kuo grinned as he grabbed the cue left behind by Archer.
"Heh, if you're really that desperate to get rid of your cash..."
Outside of the room, Archer was dealing with a broken wall situation.
"Nothing we lowly grunts can't handle. Flying punching bags out to kidnap bratty princesses. The usual. No harm, no foul, right? Guy and I will have this fixed before you know it, and we'll make sure no nefarious bags plot another attack."
Archer didn't look pleased with Creed's smart-ass remarks.
"Assault, I thought I told you to st-"
Halflife was cut off by the sound of high heels coming down the dimly lit hallway. Out of the shadows came a sultry, curvaceous and decidedly deadly looking woman.
"Orchid..."
Name: Jill Kitamura
DUP Codename: Orchid
Age: 27
Gender: Female
Appearance: Jill stands at about 5'4 with a lean build. Her black hair is tied into a bun at the back, held in place by two sharp metal rods that she sometimes uses as weapons. At the front she sports two long, sharp bangs that frame her face. Jill is the embodiement of the ?femme fatale?. Beautiful, without a doubt, yet something tells you to not get too close. Her dark, narrow eyes are adorned with dark makeup and her lips are painted blood red. Her clothing is equally peculiar. A dark purple, corset-like leather top exposes generous amounts of cleavage and a tight, black leather jacket covers up the rest. Black leather pants and high heeled boots complete the outfit, leading most other female Conduits to wonder how she can fight dressed like that.
Personality: Jill is a cold-blooded killer, her only displays of emotion being in the sadism spectrum. She's a woman of very few words and as such, doesn't really have any real friends in the ranks of the FCL, leading some to wonder if she isn't, in fact, some sort of killer android. Which suits her just fine, as she's not terribly fond of people.
Biography: Very little is known about Jill Kitamura's past other than she was born in Osaka, Japan to a wealthy politician and his American wife. After that her name just disappears, not reappearing again until a 19 year old Jill Kitamura is referenced in police reports around Eastern Asia, linked to a bevy of high-profile murder cases. Jill had in fact, at some point in her young life been trained to become an assassin. The why or by whom are equally unknown and apparently just as irrelevant as Jill had become an independent contractor at this point. A year later, the RFI was activated and Conduits around the world, including Japan died off. A year after that, Jill had become a Conduit. Hearing of the Conduits' struggles in America, and the FCL's stand in Detroit, Jill offered her services to Lincoln Harlow, for a nominal fee. Harlow accepted, knowing that the assassins skillset would come in handy in various situations.
Affiliation: Free Conduit League. Jill has no interest in philosophies and Conduits' futures. She's with the FCL as long as the checks clear.
Powers: Pheromone Manipulation. Jill is capable of releasing a strong pheromone, able to control those in range. She can do this inside a certain range to affect multiple targets or a smaller more concentrated dose for singular ones. The subjects become enthralled by the user and become unable to resist any order given to them by their new mistress. The pheromones seem to have a much harder time controlling most Conduits, however, as the dose would need to be much bigger, making Jill much more useful against human targets.
The intimidating woman passed the group on the hallway without so much as shifting her gaze. Kuo, seeing her go past the games room door, swiftly discarded his pool cue.
"Holy shit, Orchid's back! C'mon Hemlock, screw pool! It's go time! Hey Mimic, movie night's over!"
Archer motioned for the people on the hallway to come along.
"Wall's gonna have to wait, guys. Boss probably wants us there too."
As the Conduits entered their command room, they were greeted by a familiar sound.
"WHAT. THE. FUCK. DO YOU MEAN, 'STILL STANDING'!?!?!? I THOUGHT I MADE MYSELF CLEAR WHEN I TOLD YOU TO DESTROY THEM!!!"
The bellowing voice belonged to their leader, Lincoln Harlow. Atlas.
Name: Lincoln Harlow
DUP Codename: Atlas
Age: 31
Gender: Male
Appearance: Harlow is an intimdating man, standing at 6'1 and sporting a muscular physique. His head is adorned by a light brown crew cut and sideburns that connect to a short, well kept beard, covering a strong jawline. His eyes are a weird mix of brown and grey and his visage is usually stuck in a stoic, almost bored look.
When it comes to clothing, Harlow goes for a casual cool look. White tank top with grey sports coat and suit pants. A pair of black loafers complete the style.
Personality: Harlow is a ruthless leader, espousing a victory at all costs mentality. Although he demands great sacrifices from his followers he does not consider himself any different and will throw himself wholeheartedly into the battlefield right alongside them. Following a big win, however, the ?cool? Harlow comes out to play as the celebrations he throws in honor of the victorious are a fan favorite among the ranks of the FCL.
Biography: Harlow was born in Detroit to a working class family. He dropped out of high school and pursued a career in professional boxing. He was a natural, but his brutal way of sending opponents out of the ring either in a strecher or a bodybag quickly got him banned from the ring and working as a bouncer at various nightclubs and ultimately as a mob enforcer.
The events following the activation of the New Marais RFI gifted Harlow with an amazing array of powers, and allowed him to become his own boss. When Jason Wakefield, a former NSA agent formed the Conduit Nation, proposing to create an all-Conduit country, Harlow was infuriated by the idea.
The Conduits are the new apex race! Why should they be confined to some ?reservation?, away from the rest of the population. With these powers came great individual freedom, and now they want to take that away? Harlow was having none of it. His powers being the few ones around able to rival Wakefield's, Harlow created the Free Conduit League, and quickly gained his own cadre of followers. He doesn't want to spill the blood of his newly created bretheren, but if that is the only way to ensure that Conduits remain free to live their lives as they see fit, then so be it. As for the DUP... The Government will soon witness what happens should they stand in his way.
Affiliation: Free Conduit League. Harlow and his League are often mislabeled ?evil?. This is not the case. All Harlow wants is freedom, and all that the word entails. If that means spilling the blood of a Government goose-stepper who'd incarcerate or kill him and his peers, or a group intent on dooming them to a life in a concentration camp, then call him what you will.
Powers: Gravity Manipulation. Harlow's power is a fearsome one. He is able to control the gravity around a large area with him at the center. Additionally he can control his own gravitational properties, allowing him to fly. Harlow can also control the gravity pertaining to any individual foe or object.
The recipient of his verbal abuse was Orchid, who didn't seem to care much for her employer's tone. She looked Harlow in the eye, not a hint of uncertainty in her voice.
"Impossible. The club is only a front for sales. The drugs are in a safehouse, East of there. Two squads. No less."
This seemed to calm Harlow down a notch as he slumped into his chair and lit up a cigar. After sucking on it a few times and exhaling, he'd come to a decision.
"Right. In that case, Orchid, you pick your team. Take them to that club, and eliminate everyone there involved in this."
He then turned to Kuo.
"Farenheit... take two guys. Strong ones. Go to that safehouse and tear it to shreds. Show those fucks, that Mexicantown is no longer available for their bullshit drug trade. This is Conduit land now."
Orchid pointed towards Vinyl, Giant and Mimic, motioning them to follow. Seems a night out was in order for the three of them. Kuo on the other hand was more verbal about his intentions.
"Alright! About freaking time. Hemlock and Assault, time to have some fucking fun!"
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
A while later, Orchid, along with Vinyl, Giant and Mimic were in front of the nightclub. G.A.S.H. And it was every bit as tasteful as it sounded. Tucked in a seedy looking alleyway with nothing to indicate its existence apart from a neon sign and a small line at the door.
Orchid, with the other three in tow, pushed her way to the front of the line, any protests quickly silenced by Giant's imposing frame. At the door they were greeted by a bouncer, roughly the size of Guy.
"Forget it *****. You and your asshole friends ain't gettin' in he--"
Orchid caressed the big lug's cheek with her hand, quickly turning the irate security guard into her docile little pet.
"Uhh... Go right uhhh... in... mistress..."
The assassin signaled her entourage and just like that they were descending a set of narrow stairs. The pounding bass inside getting stronger and stronger until...
The club was dark. The only exception being the floor which lit up in an alternating pattern of reds and purples and a circular bar in the middle. Cages with scantly clad and malnourished looking dancers hung from the ceiling. The clientele ranged from all sorts of drugged up deviants to serious, well dressed men who one could only assume were the owners. The suffocating bass didn't facilitate verbal communication so Orchid didn't waste her breath. The task was simple: Split up, discreetly take out the gang members in charge of the club, get out.
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Meanwhile, Kuo and his colleagues had arrived at the gang's safehouse. Two guards stood outside, one brandishing a shotgun, the other an UZI.
"Two guards outside... What I can only assume is a shitload more inside, along with a ton of dope and a shitload of cash... Right, Hemlock, I'm sure you can take those two schmucks out no problem? Assault, care to huff and puff and blow that door down?"
Hemlock watched in silence as the FCL's leader - Lincoln Harlow, Atlas - gave his orders for the evening. The man was dangerous, influential and had almost unimaginable power. Basically the perfect man to instigate Hemlock's goals for humanity. Unfortunately he was unpredictable and quick to anger, meaning Hemlock needed to approach any such conversations with a great amoutn of caution. Trust was the key, and in order to garner that trust, Hemlock knew he had to play the FCL's petty games against Detroit's dirty underworld.
Which is how he found himself wordlessly following Farenheit and Assault to a nondescript building in darkened backstreet. The knowledge that sudden violence was certainly imminent gave Hemlock heightened awareness. He knew it was just the adrenaline, but the feeling gave him comfort. It was times like these that you knew you were truly alive. Clenching and unclenching his fists, he allowed a few vines to grow and shrivel in his palms, much like an athlete stretches before a race.
"Two guards outside... What I can only assume is a shitload more inside, along with a ton of dope and a shitload of cash... Right, Hemlock, I'm sure you can take those two schmucks out no problem? Assault, care to huff and puff and blow that door down?" A quick nod to his companion and Hemlock took a few purposeful steps towards the armed men, a small smile creeping onto his lips. Then everything happened at once.
Raising it above his head, Hemlock produced a whipping motion with his right arm. The man with the uzi had just enough time to widen his eyes in shock as a tangle of strong, yet supple, vines snapped around his throat. A short, sharp pull and the uzi clattered to the floor as the man was yanked to smash face-first into the concrete. Blood sprayed across the ground like paint flicked off a brush. The thug didn't move.
As his companion's neck was gripped by vines, the shotgun thug had no time to react before another set of vines burst from Hemlock's left hand, wrapping the half-raised weapon and tugging it from the thug's hands. As the shotgun slid across the pavement, the thug was rushed by the conduit, both going to the hard ground in a mess of flailing limbs. It was less than a second before flailing brambles started to join the fray, cutting into the thug's skin as they anchored into the concrete, holding him tight.
Hemlock knelt at the thug's head, hand over the imprisoned man's mouth. "Don't struggle. You'll just lose even more blood." The thug groaned softly as Hemlock twined some chokeweed [http://blogs.rep-am.com/garden/files/2012/11/undated_CXL_loischokeweed1.jpg] around the man's mouth, complete with flower under the nose. He looked up to Farenheit questioningly. "We killing?"
Dashing outside, Arthur stopped, scanning about the general area. He knew where the warehouses were, and they could get there in a few minutes, but he still wanted to try mapping out the route ahead. Before becoming a Conduit, he wouldn't have considered doing anything like this, barging into a gang-held building to rescue hostages, but now it was almost a matter of course.
Fighting armed thugs didn't seem quite the big deal it might once have been. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that Arthur, like every Conduit, had been toughened by his activation. He was stronger now, more resilient, he could withstand a bullet or two if needed.
Wakefield had something to do with it, naturally. Something about the man gave everyone else confidence that they could achieve anything. It was an infectious determination that fascinated Arthur. He didn't know what Wakefield saw in him that was "leaderly". Initially he had chalked it up to his work with the FBI, but Wakefield kept him out in the field even after he had said he wasn't a proper field agent. Regardless of the reasoning behind Wakefield's trust, Arthur had a job to do.
"This way." He said to the other two following him, guiding them through the alleys and across the largely abandoned streets of the now-familiar Conduit Nation territory. It was tricky business, getting into a position near the warehouses without risking getting seen. Any gang that was smart enough to take hostages for extortion money was also smart enough to have a lookout for a rescue operation, he figured.
Eventually, they managed to slip into an abandoned garage, probably the loading point back when the warehouses were in business, he assumed. The place seemed like it hadn't been in operation for at least twenty years, though the scattering of some empty beer cans and cigarette butts told him that some people, probably teenagers, came by here sometime in the relatively recent past.
Whatever the case, it gave the group a good view of the target building. The gang hadn't done a very good job at disguising their operation. At various windows, every few minutes a hooded figure carrying a gun looked out for a few seconds before turning back in. If he had to guess, Arthur would say they probably thought that the police wouldn't bother with them with Conduits in town, the people would be too scared to do anything, and the Conduits wouldn't care. Well, that was a miscalculation, he thought.
"We need to focus on getting the civilians out of there. That's the priority." Arthur said, turning toward the pair following him, "I don't know how many people they have in there, or what kind of resistance we can expect, so we'll need to try playing it safe."
"Anna, you and I will cause a distraction outside and lure whoever is in there out. They shouldn't be much trouble between us.
"Skyler," He turned to address the younger woman, "I want you to go around and enter the building from the side or back. You need to get the hostages out of there. While we're distracting them, they won't have much time to worry about their prisoners, so things probably won't get out of hand. Once they're free, or if anything goes wrong, come back around and meet up with us. One more thing," He stared hard into the eyes of both his teammates, "Do not, under any circumstances, take unnecessary risks."
That done, Arthur nodded to Skyler, "You should start getting into position now. We'll start our job in five minutes."
The omnipresent bass pulsed through Sam's skull without pause, each beat of the music cranking up her headache another notch. Christ, she hated clubs like this. All strobe lights and too-loud music and people rubbing up against each other... But hey, if she wanted to keep her room at the FCL's base, then she had to follow orders. The sooner she got out of here though, the better. No doubt about that.
Giving Orchid a simple nod of acknowledgement, the Conduit began making her way through the club, scanning the patrons for the owners of the establishment. Samantha knew that, at a place like this, the people in charge would go out of their way to make their "power" readily apparent to everyone else. She just had to look for the right signs, and-
There. Sitting at the bar. A well-built man, dressed to the nines in a fancy-ass suit (and having one of those in Detroit these days was no mean feat), chatting up the annoyed-looking woman sitting to his left. And judging by the way the bartender seemed to be putting higher priority on him than any of the club's other patrons, odds were the gussied-up gent was someone of importance. Which was more than fine by Sam. It'd be nice to get a quick drink before getting down to business.
Circling around the edge of the crowd and trying to touch as few of the people as possible, Sam made her way over to the bar and more or less collapsed into the stool to her target's right, massaging her forehead in a futile attempt to ease her headache. As she took her seat, the Conduit was aware of the two pairs of eyes, belonging to the bartender and the owner, snapping over to her.
She dealt with the bartender first. Undoubtedly, his'd be the better of the two interactions. Slapping a couple bills onto the (slightly, unpleasantly sticky) glass of the bar, Sam nodded at him once, half-yelling to be heard above the din of the club, "Bailey's and hot chocolate." The man, after picking up and swiftly checking her money, nodded back, and stepped away to make the drink.
Samantha didn't even need to talk to the owner, on the other hand. She could tell by the way his eyes slid up and down her that he wasn't so much looking at her as he was judging her. Unsurprisingly, it was only a second or two before the man turned away, choosing to focus his attention on his current conquest. "Hey hey, Melissa, baby, com'on. Just step on back to my office for the night. You know you'll enjoy it."
"I swear to God, you don't know how to take no for an answer, do you? For the last time, leave me alone."
The owner, apparently running low on patience, decided to switch tactics. "*****, who do you think you are?" he hissed, leaning in close to the woman. "What makes you think you can walk into here, into my club, and act like a selfish little whore, huh? Do you know how much I could've sold all that blow for? Do you think I was just letting you have it out of the goodness of my heart? You owe me big, and unless you want me to-"
The sound of Melissa's open palm against the owner's cheek was briefly louder than the music pulsing through the club, and brought a slight smile to Sam's face. "I said no, Gerome."
Gerome rubbed a hand against his reddening cheek, looking a little shocked. Then, balling his fingers into a fist, he slammed it across Melissa's face, smashing a choked cry of pain out of the woman and knocking her to the floor. "Slut," he spat down at her, "get out of my club. Someone'll be stopping by your place to collect what you owe me. Every last fucking dime."
The bartender finally returned with Sam's drink, studiously ignoring Melissa as she unsteadily rose to her feet and stumbled away from the bar. Apparently he knew better than to comment on how the management treated the customers. Accepting the hot mug, the Conduit took a sip of the whiskey-infused drink, briefly enjoying the mixing flavors of bitter alcohol and sweet, warm chocolate. Then, turning her head slightly towards the man, she addressed Gerome, "Hey, you're one of the club's owners, right?"
The man replied with a thick scowl and a growl in his voice, "What's it to you?"
Sam set down her drink. Then, with a minimal amount of effort and a bit of superhuman strength, she brought up her left hand, attached it to the back of Gerome's head, and slammed the bastard's face into the bar hard enough to send cracks spider-webbing through the thick glass. Then she did it again for good measure, this time leaving behind a red smear and a couple broken teeth as the man's body slid lifelessly out of her grasp and onto the club's dirty floor.
Taking another sip of her hot chocolate, Samantha raised her mug towards the shocked, motionless bartender in thanks. "Good stuff," she said.
The conversations continued, but Johan barely paid attention, what Arthur said had made him think of the time just before the Beast had appeared. It was odd, how quickly he had gone from being seen as someone who helped, a hero, to a dangerous, inhuman being. At times, he wondered what would have happened if the Beast had never appeared. Would he still be in that situation now? Accepted, even though his powers were rather obvious? Or would another conduit, perhaps even him, make a mistake, and cause the fear and hostility that had forced him to leave Austria in the first place.
Although, if conduits no longer counts as humans, that means I'm not an illegal immigrant. So at least there's that.
It wasn't really a comforting thought, just a slightly amusing one. Just as he was about to consider the situation further, Ian and Sophie entered the room, asking them to come see the leader of the Conduit Nation, Jason Wakefield.
"Yeah, of course," Johan smiled, and followed, having been snapped out of his thoughts. He wasn't sure how he felt about the leader, honestly. There was no doubt about whether or not he was a good leader, and he was certainly a strong conduit. What he had accomplished so far was great, and he was a man to both respect and to like. Yet, Johan found himself having to force his smile around the man, unable to get rid of the annoyance in his mind. He felt... jealous, probably, though he wouldn't admit that to himself, nor to anyone else. It wasn't a feeling he liked, he wanted to be friendly with anyone he met, and to like them. As they got briefed, he kept quiet, answering only when Clifford, or Marrow, spoke.
"Sure thing, chief. Short stuff, Sunshine. You with me, let's move."
"Yeah, we should hurry." It was rather horrible news, and while he never looked forward to using force, that would probably be needed now. Extortion, violence, and even kidnapping. Then again, people who did that kind of stuff deserved to be locked up as well, with the key thrown into the ocean. Hitting them a couple of times wouldn't be too much of a problem to get motivated to do, honestly. When they got to the area where this was going on, not far from their HQ, they found it to be... rather lacking in thugs. Not only that, but the houses were in horrible conditions, probably due to the thugs.
"Too quiet. Fan out. Try to find out where these fools are hiding. No heroics. If you find something, let us know."
"I'll go see if someone wants to talk, then." He couldn't exactly do stealth either way. Johan went up to one of the few people outside, smiling friendly and keeping his distance well enough to not scare them off. That was the curse of his powers, after all, he had no way of reducing the glow, only increase it. No matter what he did, he couldn't hide the fact that he was a conduit.
"Hi," he said, speaking calmly. "My name is Johan, and I've been told there's been a lot of bad things happening around here, would you happen to know where the people who did this are?"
There was something about Atlas that drew people to him. Maybe it was the way he treated his men just as he treated himself, or that he knew how to celebrate. Maybe it was that they thought their chances of having their skulls bashed in were lower if they were on friendly terms. Whatever it was that made you want to stick by him, Ben didn't have that. Every single part of his brain screamed to run. That was, of course, why he couldn't. He wasn't afraid when the D.U.P. shot at them, or when he fought other Conduits. Even those times he stared death straight in the face had never felt quite like this. Atlas was one of the only men in the world Ben was truly terrified of, and there was absolutely no way he'd let him out of his sight. As he half-listened to orders, Ben watched the man coolly, replaying those few times he'd seen the Conduit in action. It was one of the rare moments he wondered if he was on the right side.
"Alright! About freaking time. Hemlock and Assault, time to have some fucking fun!"
Assault pushed off from the wall and slipped back into his usual demeanor, the call for battle louder than any worries. He flashed a grin at Kuo. "I was almost worried for a minute you'd pick Guy over me. Almost."
The moment their target was in sight, Assault fingers began to flex repeatedly into fists, energy welling up within him. Kuo stood in front and between him and Hemlock. Kuo pointed out their entry point and delivered some quick orders. Probably wanted to see some action as badly as Ben did.
"Two guards outside... What I can only assume is a shitload more inside, along with a ton of dope and a shitload of cash... Right, Hemlock, I'm sure you can take those two schmucks out no problem? Assault, care to huff and puff and blow that door down?"
Ben howled playfully, and the moment Hemlock took action he ran towards the door. The green man creeped him out, sure, but he trusted him to get the job done. In the time it took the plant Conduit to completely defeat both guards, Ben was at the door, and with one flowing motion and a whole lot of amped up kinetic force, he struck at the door, palm open. It wrenched away from it's frame with a metallic squeal and when it hit the ground it let off a loud enough thump to alert anyone nearby to their presence.
Assault looked back with grin. "You think I shoulda checked if it was unlocked first?"
It was a warm night in Detroit, but a shiver ran through Guy as Orchid displayed her power. The woman wasn't exactly his favorite in the faction. Never mind the unsettling power to take away a person's will; what really bothered him about her was how she chose to use her capabilities, both learned and given. The FCL did what they did because the end justified the means. They did what had to be done. It was only by reminding himself of this that Guy managed to sleep at night. Orchid though? Either she was a stone cold mercenary through and through, only working with them for the money, or she derived some sort of pleasure from dominating and hurting others. Guy wasn't sure what option disturbed him more.
Yeah, I'd swap places with you right now, Ben. I'd rather take the collective biting "wit" of a hundred Kuos over this one dame's silence, thought the conduit, recalling Ben's earlier quip.
Still, Orchid managed to get them into the club. Guy's big tough guy act could only get them so far. At her silent signal the group dispersed, each member going to locate and dispose of a target. Guy found his in a more private corner of the club, sitting at a table nursing a drink all the while surveying the crowd. Looked like a dealer open for businesses. Time to go confirm that suspicion. Guy wasn't too good at these discreet operations, but he would certainly give it the old college try. After straightening his clothes and taking a deep breath to calm his nerves Guy went up to the supposed gang member.
"Evenin'. You sellin'?"
In the darkness of the club the man resembled nothing so much as a gangster from some 80s movie. Maybe that one guy under Clarence Boddicker. What was his name? He was played by Ray Wise. Guy couldn't remember.
"Excuse me?"
"I... I just need some stuff, man. I can pay."
"Piss off."
Yeah, subterfuge really wasn't Guy's strong suit. Evidently he didn't resemble this man's usual clientele enough to not raise some suspicion. Guy looked around nervously. Just a sea of heaving bodies bathed in strobe light. No Orchid, no Sam, no Mary; no backup. No, screw this. He was a full fledged FCL member. He just had to make this work.
"Do you mind if I sit? I'm going to sit. Thank you. Listen, I don't need much. Just sumthin' to take the edge of, you know?"
"Are you deaf? You get up and you walk away while you still can."
"No, listen, I usually just use steroids. I-I'm no drug addict. I just use enhancers, okay? But this shit I just got... It was laced with something. I bought from a new guy, and there was some shit in it. I don't know what, but I'm still feelin' it and I can't crash now. Not yet. I've got something big comin' up, see? I can't go crashin' now. So... so please, I just need somethin' to even out. OK?"
80s movie drug man didn't say anything at this. Instead his eyes narrowed as he looked Guy over, taking note of his physique. He just might have bought this one.
"The steroids; what are you taking?"
Or he found an opportunity to test whether or not Guy was the steroid abusing gym fiend he said he was.
"Mostly masterone, winstrol and testosterone. Just standard stuff, you know? I stay away from the hard stuff. Heh, the testosterone and winny is hard on the hairline though, yeah? Gotta make some sacrifices, I guess."
Guy ran his hand over his bare head and chuckled. Of course, he'd never touched the stuff, but his years as a gym instructor had given him a pretty detailed knowledge of performance enhancers. Detailed enough, it would seem, to convince this one poor sap that he was who he said he was. The guy at the table reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and withdrew a tiny pouch with some white powder. With a slight and thoroughly insincere smile he held it out to Guy.
Well, that settled it. Now Guy could do what he had to do.
He stretched out his arm, but instead of taking the pouch, Guy's hand flew to the man's throat. There, with a burst of strength utterly beyond any fitness freak, no matter on what enhancers, he crushed his windpipe in an instant. Then he rose and sat down again next to the now wildly flailing and gasping man, and with one arm kept him restrained and seated as he suffocated. Once the man was still Guy tried to make him presentable; he propped the corpse up on its seat in what could be seen as a vaguely natural position, and fixed the clothes so that they covered up the crushed trachea. Guy even found some sunglasses in a pocket and put them on the recently deceased's face.
Thusly satisfied that nobody would notice anything awry just yet, the man they called Giant rose, took a deep breath, and told himself that this was for the greater good.
Anna nodded as Tesla gave out his orders. She didn't know what made her follow him. His cause sure, but there was something else. Maybe it was the confidence, or maybe he just sounded like someone who was meant to lead. Whatever it was She was happy to work with the guy. She tossed her MP3 on the coffee table in the common room before following Arthur to the warehouse.
"Anna, you and I will cause a distraction outside and lure whoever is in there out. They shouldn't be much trouble between us. She grinned and nodded. Good, a distraction, she could do that. Not like it's hard to miss a 5'8" woman made of metal. She felt her skin grow harder, more dense. She saw her hands and arms take on the steel shine and knew her face and hair had taken on the same look.
"Ready whenever you are boss man." She whispered as she readied herself to run in on Arthur's command.
Sky, as usual, was all business once Tesla began the briefing [even if she was disappointed the post-Jenkins record would stand.] A hostage rescue mission was hardly something to morally object to, after all, and the way Tesla spoke didn't brook much disagreement. Once Arthur led them to the garage and began discussing the plan, Skylar was not surprised at her role.
"Skyler," He turned to address the younger woman, "I want you to go around and enter the building from the side or back. You need to get the hostages out of there. While we're distracting them, they won't have much time to worry about their prisoners, so things probably won't get out of hand. Once they're free, or if anything goes wrong, come back around and meet up with us. One more thing," He stared hard into the eyes of both his teammates, "Do not, under any circumstances, take unnecessary risks."
That done, Arthur nodded to Skyler, "You should start getting into position now. We'll start our job in five minutes."
"Alright," Sky simply replied, activating her power after she spoke. Sneaking around the building at this rate should take a few minutes (even at 200% speed), but it would give her perspective enough to hopefully notice any helpful details on the way. She left after taking a deep breath and ensuring her power was working, and began stealthily heading toward the back. I do hope Arthur and Anna make their distraction noticeable from the back...
"No heroics? Do you even know me?" Reggie laughed off the order and gave the boss-man a quick goodbye wave. Beneath the brim of his hat, Shortcut's eyes scanned the buildings around him for a good stakeout spot. The roof of a dead old house would do the trick. He already had one in mind; its innards had been scooped out by squatters and vagrants months ago, and only a husk was left behind. Shouldn't cause any fuss if he climbed up its side. The only tricky part would be the climbing; his arm was great at cutting things, but a little too great to use as a third limb in situations like this. Something like an icepick would be great at sticking to walls and giving him a leg up, but the blade on his arm cut through brick and stone like it was paper.
Though thankfully, the place so so run down that there were enough cracks in the architecture to support his weight. Up he went, and a moment later he was perched upon the roof, observing the city alone. "Wicked," he whispered. "This is just like Batman!"
He could already see the European dude--what was his name, Johan? He could see Johan questioning a few of the locals. He peered in through the dark windows of the other houses on the cul-de-sac from his perch, waiting for any sign of movement or activity. Then, he'd move in closer to get a better look.
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