[h3]Earlier...[/h3] [indent][indent]One of the elder regular patrons of Bogarts Pub, LHU faculty aside, Isaac Fontaine stepped into the local from the cold, a manila folder tucked under his arm. [b][color=Black]"Evenin' Jimmy."[/color][/b] He greeted the bartender informally. The bartender was taking down a small memorial set out on a table by the entrance. A large photo of a local student with flowers around it. Ronnie Chang, he could remember the name from when he asked earlier. Wouldn't forget it in a hurry either. It happened soon after he'd made his decision... and then riots broke out very soon after that. He felt a little guilty, but still felt like he was doing the right thing. [b][color=Black]"I'm grabbing two of the usual!"[/color][/b] he called back to the bartender, who nodded in acknowledgement. He'd keep a tally and charge him for it when he bought his inevitable third beer. Isaac stepped behind the bar and grabbed a pair of a local microbrew he'd recently discovered in the area, and pulled up a small table close to the bar where he opened the folder containing a 20 to 30 page document. "Which is it this time?" the barkeep asked, making conversation. [b][color=Black]"American revolutionary war."[/color][/b] Isaac replied, pulling a highlighter out of his pocket and striking through names, years and excerpts as he scanned the first page, before turning to the second. "Is it ok?" the barkeep asked. [b][color=Black]"Huh?"[/color][/b] Isaac replied, not really understanding the question. "I mean, are you gonna be alright with it? Did they teach you any of that stuff back in Terraria?" [b][color=Black]"Well, yeah... It's all history, Jimmy. I mean, did they NOT teach you guys about the French revolution... or the industrial revolution? Or World War II? I mean, they didn't just teach you about what happened in the US, right?"[/color][/b] "Huh. I guess. I mean, been a long time since I went to school..." [b][color=Black]"And yeah, I'm gonna be all right. I mean, they're not going to deport me. It's just college."[/color][/b] Suddenly the game on the tv set above the bar cut out and a silhouette backlit by a red light took center stage. [i]“Hello, world.”[/i] [i]“Pardon the interruption of your nightly shows. Don’t worry, once this broadcast has ended, you will be returned to your regular programing...”[/i] [b][color=Black]"Hey, turn this down, Jimmy."[/color][/b] Isaac said, looking up from his work. "I-- I can't..." The bartender stammered, clicking buttons on the remote and then trying the set itself. [i]“Our world has been struck by calamity after calamity ever since these metahumans have made their appearance known to the world. There was that mass murderer who was taunting a secret organization called S.T.R.I.K.E. There was the ‘demon’ invasion of Lost Haven. Now there is this entity called Umbraxis that has already started to pile up a death count! How is the normal person supposed to live in a world full of metahumans who can obliterate an entire city block?"[/i] Isaac stared at the screen with complete concentration... it would remain for the entire address. [i]“Now, I know there will be those who will try to stop my plans. These are your so-called heroes. Your champions of freedom and liberty. Yet, they are also the defenders of the status quo, upholders of the current chaos caused by the regular person’s lack of means to defend themselves from the average metahuman, let alone some global threat. They claim to want to protect the world, yet they don’t want it to change. Without change, more innocent people will die. These heroes are hypocrites. They will sacrifice your change at godhood for maintaining their own uniqueness within this world. They would rather have you all be dependent on them whenever some catastrophe happens.”[/i] Isaac watched in silence. Not wanting to give an opinion that might give himself away. At the end of the video, the man extended a long neck to the camera, revealing himself as a metahuman, as if to establish his credentials before signing off. [i]“Welcome to the Pax Metahumana.”[/i] "Hooooo-lee shit." said the bartender. "How 'bout that? Get me some superpowers, maybe I could clean up some of the punk kids and scumbags who've been starting to move in here more lately!" he exclaimed. "[sub]Maybe show that punk cat-man he can't just go messin' with whoever he wants..[/sub]" he muttered to himself. "Whadda you think?" he asked. "I think you should be careful what you wish for. I think the notion of "free powers" is very damn vague. I've seen a little girl who had the powers of god. Not a god. God. And furthermore, while I'm sociable and friendly enough... you're the exact kind of person who I wouldn't want having any in the first place. And that's assuming he can safely do what he claims without loss of life in the first place." he thought to himself, as he gazed out the window into the night in thought. Suddenly a piercing bright column of light shot into the heavens on the horizon, coming from downtown in the direction of LHPD Headquarters, before seeming to be contained by a maelstrom of weather anomalies, thick clouds and hurricane-level winds. Isaac looked down at his hand and the scar tissue from where his finger had been reattached, then back out the window into the pitch black darkness. [b][color=Black]"I think I'll settle up my tab now and go..."[/color][/b][/indent][/indent] [hr] [center][img]http://i362.photobucket.com/albums/oo63/NMShape/coollogo_com-8436315_zpsd02f9fa5.png[/img][/center] [hr] [h3]Now[/h3] It had been just over a month now since Isaac had worn the black kit. They named the whole affair Demon-Day, and it hadn't been fear or trauma that led to the decision. He had to get organised. This was a whole new world. One he had a more tenuous grasp on. The old world he'd laid the groundwork. He had an alibi - a justification for being in Lost Haven. He knew all about the world and global events. In fact, he made it his business to be better informed of rumour, of shifting in the criminal underbelly than anyone else, hero or villain. In this universe there were historical facts that were just different from anything he knew. One of his closest friend's surnames was different... there was just too much he didn't know that he would rely on as given facts. And in all honesty, he'd been getting by on a lot of dumb luck. He had a heavily banged up hand to prove it. So he got to work. Not as the Vigilante, but as Isaac Fontaine. He'd given himself an alibi - he was now studying law at Lost Haven University. He also was taking an extra history class per semester to take care of that uncertainty between universes. The best news was that most of his classes could all be taken virtually entirely online. Lectures were recorded, literature was provided and each course had it's own message board and discussion forum. If he didn't want to he'd never need to set foot on campus again... at least until he took the job. But we'll get to that later. The point is, he was more organized and stable than he had been in years. ...and that's how he came to be repeatedly watching a recording of the original feed in the news van that gave him a lift on D-Day. [b][color=Black]"When they hijacked your frequency, were you able to tell where the feed was coming from."[/color][/b] "Not exactly. Not with our equipment. But we can vaguely triangulate it back, with the signal getting beamed from the tower on top of the Chambers Building and the tower at Central Station... to about 5 blocks around here." A Google Maps image printed out with the tech guy drawing a circle on the page. "You find 'em, we get the story, right?" The Vigilante grunted in reply, deep in thought.