"INCOMING MESSAGE"

The computer screen flashed, insistently playing that annoying chime sound. Still, Kylie supposed, it was better than that annoying notification system the email application had. Scientifically speaking, she was fairly certain that one could only hear "You have mail!" in that monotone voice so many times before their head would explode. She sat up strait at her desk, mouse hovering over the notification. Yet it was not the annoyance of the chime that set her on edge today. It was the very fact that it was chiming.

"INCOMING MESSAGE" the words kept flashing. But how?

On any other device, she would have checked it immediately, then probably dismissed it as spam. But this was her research computer- this computer didn't get messages. She'd built it herself a few years before, and had continued to modify its programming in her spare time. It was set up on it's own network, completely inaccessible to the rest of the world. In order to send a message to this device, one would have to break through several layers of coding she'd deemed to be unhackable. Yet there it was, flashing and chiming. Quickly he went into alert mode, using every anti-virus program she'd ever created, then manually searching the code for any changes. The process took several hours, even with Kylie's photographic memory and impressive speed-reading capabilities (all part of the hyper-intelligence that had driven her to isolation) There was a ridiculous amount of code to go through. Try as she might though, she couldn't find anything wrong with the system. All of her protection codes were still in place, entirely undamaged. The only difference she could see was that her device seemed to be connected to another network now.

"INCOMING MESSAGE"

Gritting her teeth, Kylie closed out the notification for what must have been at least the twentieth time. She'd even erased the base code for accepting transmissions at one point. She'd put it back of course, but not before the computer had chimed at her again. Frantically, she tried to regain her old network. It was there, she could see. It had not been harmed. Yet every time she tried to connect to it, she'd find herself back on this new one. "Connect to: SilverHome" she'd input the command. It would load as normal, but a second later it would tell her "Connected to: PARAGON"

"INCOMING MESSAGE"

"Get out of my system!" she muttered in frustration.

She realized suddenly that these were the first words she'd spoken in months. She'd spent so long making absolutely certain that she didn't talk around people that she'd even stopped speaking to herself. There was power in her voice, power that terrified her. Still, it had its uses. The last time she had been forced to speak had been a few months back, when a group of thugs had decided to rob a local electronics store. Kylie had been shopping for parts at the time. She remembered telling them to put down their weapons, give back the equipment they had stolen, and zip-tie themselves to the counter until the police arrived. She also remembered them obeying. It had been so amusing, watching them fight over the bag of zip-ties... No, she couldn't think like that. She'd been helping people, but she couldn't let herself get to the point where she enjoyed manipulating others. That was how corruption began.

Too bad her power didn't work over the internet. "INCOMING MESSAGE" it flashed again. There was nothing left that she could do. She typed out a quick program that would destroy any personal information that another device on this network tried to access, and clicked on "ACCEPT"

Devin was making his undercover nightly rounds downtown. Things seemed to be more quiet than usual. Almost eerily so. Usually there would at least be some drunk idiots determined to be nuisances or a belligerent driver. It appeared that Devin wouldn't get to beat up baddies tonight. He was about to go home when he noticed faint pulses of electricity coming from an alleyway. When he got there the pulsing stopped and all he found was a metal box with a letter on top of it.

"To Zeus, From The Paragons"

"The Paragons?" Devin wondered out loud. "Why would they contact me?" He looked around to make sure that he wasn't being watched. When he was sure that he wasn't, he opened the box. Inside was a tablet with The Paragons' logo displayed on the screen. There was a shock of electricity as soon as Devin touched it. If it were any other person that shock would have sent them flying back a few feet, but to him it was more like a pick-me-up. When the device stopped discharging, the logo was replaced by text and a button.

"Push the button" it read.

"Well," he said to himself, "I can't really say no, can I?" He pushed the button and the screen was suddenly filled with the shadowy visage of Commander Mask, the member of The Paragons that always seems to have a plan.

"Hello, Devin," he said in his deep voice, "I've been watching you for some time. You show great promise as a superhero. It's for this reason that I've chosen to recommend you to be a member of The New Paragons. It's a new team that we on The Paragons are forming to help combat the threat posed by the increase in the number of supervillains. If you choose to accept my invitation, head to the U.N. headquarters in New York. If you choose to decline, I'll keep a watchful eye on you. If you breath a word of this to anyone, there will be consequences,"

"Like w-," he was interrupted by Commander Mask.

"By the way, this is a recorded message. You can't talk to me until you come to New York. Oh yes, and you may want to get a mask. You can't always do your heroics at night, and there are some advanced recording devices that can't be disabled by electricity alone. Like the mask drone,"

"So that's how he knew who I was," Devin began to think about the pros and cons of accepting Commander Mask's invitation. On one hand, he gets to go to New York and meet other heroes. On the other hand, he has to get to New York and somehow explain to his sudden move to his family. As Commander Mask said, he wasn't supposed to say anything about The New Paragons. Devin eventually decided to just go to New York and text an excuse to his family. With that, he rushed home with the tablet and the metal box and began packing.

Brick woke up with a pain in his neck. It was unusual... pain. He really hadn't felt it much since since his transformation. He hadn't felt like this since he'd puled his neck muscles during a particularly strange and intense workout. But that was back when he was still trying to get stronger. That was before he could take bullets to the chest without so much as a scratch, before he could bench press a semi truck. That was when he was Bryce.

The pain brought him back for a moment, the black-haired boy with the crooked smile. That kid had been so weak, so dumb. Brick definitely wasn't the sharpest crayon in the box, but Bryce had been downright stupid. He had always thought, somewhere in the back of his tiny skull, that people could be good. He'd wanted those bullies to accept him. Yes, Brick remembered the bullies. Evil children with their cruel laughter. They hated him for no reason at all. And he hated them. Fire burned in his stomach, drowning out his neck pain. Bryce was afraid of them, but he was not. Not anymore.

"Bryce gone!" He grunted aloud. "Brick here!"

He tried to picture their faces, to make himself more angry, but the images would not come. They were simply fragments, burried pieces of a shattered mind. He couldn't see them anymore. He couldn't remember their names. But he knew he would find them again. The black-haired boy... what was his name? He'd said it only moments before. Oh well, it wasn't worth remembering. He'd face it again, he knew, the next time he looked in a mirror. He'd know the weakling's name then. He saw it in his own face. And then he'd forget.

"Brick here!"

He spoke again, this time with angry determination. Where was "here" anyway? The room was dark. Where had he been before here? He couldn't remember. That wasn't really a suprise, considering his short-term memory only usually lasted about an hour. Happy... he thought. Before the pain, he'd been happy. So he was probably hitting something. Yes, Brick loved hitting things! That was as far as his train of thought would go before being completely derailed. Now all he could think about was hitting things. Massive arms flailed in the darkness, smashing into the concrete floor, the walls, and what felt like a table. Brick had broken many tables...

"Brick here! Brick here!" He started chanting in a low voice. He wasn't sure what it meant, but he was pretty sure he'd said it recently. There was no pain anymore. He laughed, arms still flailing. "Brick here!"

"They ain't callin' attendence, moron!" A voice interupted his chanting. It was a puny voice, male fro the sound of it. Brick looked around, franically trying to identify the speaker, but he still couldn't see in the dark. He swung his arms along the ground now, trying to smash whatever was talking. Annoying voice, he thought. Smash the annoying voice. But he could feel nothing. Finally, he decided just to talk to it. Maybe the voice could make the dark go away.

"Not moron," he corrected it. "Brick!"

The voice scoffed "Yeah, I got that part. Don't suppose you'd know why they brought us here?"

Brick grunted, confused.

"Yeah, didn't think so. What the hell kinda transport was that anyway?"

Suddenly, the lights switched on. "Apologies for the lack of accommodations," yet another voice broke through. "Welcome to the Outcasts."

The dreams were happening again. Or perhaps they were visions. They seemed real enough. Dexter's visions always consisted of being in some point in the world's history; ancient Rome, the Crusades, World War 2, etc. This vision appeared to take place at some time in the 70's. He was walking toward the U.N. headquarters for some reason. He was stopped by some guards, but he just tossed them aside with telekinetic force. That was another thing about the visions: he still had his power albeit with varying degrees of skill and power. More guards came and more were tossed aside. Not even their bullets could hit him as he caught them all in mid-air. Shortly after dispatching the guards, The Paragons (the 70's team, that is) came. For some reason, Dexter felt great anger toward the young superpowered woman in a decked out lab coat/mask combo. Her name was Dr. DNA and he hated her for some reason. He hated her enough to grab her with telekinesis and slam her into the ground. That was when an enraged and younger-looking Captain Atlas, in his gold armor, punched him hard and everything went black.

Dexter awoke with a start and frantically checked to see if his face hadn't caved-in. When he was sure that it wasn't, he sat up and looked around. There were a handful of people who looked as if they had superpowers. Though some, like the wall of muscle a few feet away, looked more powerful than others. "Well good morning, Sleeping Beauty. Had a bad dream?" a woman sitting next to him in a ridiculously clownish costume asked.

"Who are all of you and why am I here?" Dexter inquired. He was always a no-nonsense guy.

"I think the person who turned on the lights is gonna tell us the answers to those questions,"

Dexter stood up and made a cursory glance at everyone in the room once more. ... They all looked to have superpowers, none of them looked like good guys, and they were all most likely knocked out and brought here like he was. ... Was this some sort of villain meeting? This was going to put a damper on his heist plan for the Smithsonian's metahuman exhibit.

As soon as Kylie's mouse had left the button, the media player launched. It spread across the desktop, covering the entire screen. It spread across the desktop, quickly covering the entire screen. Despite the irrelevance of that particular aspect of the situation, Kylie couldn't help but recall that she had set it to not enter fullscreen mode upon startup. She never used fullscreen mode. It made it difficult to multitask. As the program loaded though, it became apparent that that was not the only change. All of the normal buttons- play, rewind, pause, stop, and fast forward- refused to appear. As did the red "X" button that should have allowed her to close out the application. Whatever this message was, she would be forced to view it in its entirety. The screen turned blue, casting a ghostly light across her face. Then a symbol appeared, a symbol she recognized.

It was a symbol that anyone who didn't live under a rock would recognize. This insignia belonged to the Paragons. Being of great power, the Paragons had dedicated themselves to defending the people of their nation, and occasionally even the world. Every time a superpowered villain got grand ideas of world domination into his head, the Paragons were there to stop him. They were probably the most well-known people in America. Kylie herself, at the age of eight, had worn a Halloween costume with that very symbol emblazoned on the front. But what would the Paragons want with her?

Captain Mask, lead strategist for the Paragon team, appeared on the screen to answer her question. "Hello, SilverTounge," he said. He didn't pause for a response, so this was definitely a recording.

SilverTounge... Now there was a name she hadn't heard for a while. As an adolescent, she'd gotten it into her head that her powers of vocal manipulation could be used for the greater good. She'd been a rather ambitious child, full of hope and blissfully unaware of the consequences of her actions. It seemed silly now... a 15-year old in a silver cape, running around declaring that she would save the world. Not that she hadn't done some good work. But that was in her past, before she'd realized just how dangerous she was. SilverTouge had been her name once, but now? The fact that Captain Mask was using it filled her with a sense of dread.

"Congratulations! You have been chosen as a potential member of our new initiative: The New Paragons. Our mission, and yours if you so choose, is to form a new superpowered team to combat the increasing number of villains that have emerged. Should you agree to join us, please come to this address:"

An address flashed across the screen. She had no paper or writing utensils nearby, but it didn't matter. If she were to go to them, her photographic memory would suffice. She realized with some measure of fear that they must have known that. But how? How long had these people been watching her, and why hadn't she noticed? Normally, she would have been able to figure that out. But this was the Paragons...

"Should you decline, we will be watching you. Speak of this to no one."

What? So her options were to join them, or be observed for the rest of her life? She paused for a second, considering. There were ways to fall off the grid, to go where they couldn't find her. Or could they? She was used to being smarter than everyone else, but in this case, she wasn't so sure. After all, they had found her here. Fine. She'd go.

The message had ended. Throwing a few changes of clothes into a bag along with her computer, she headed out the door.

Devin checked over what he had packed this morning; a few changes of clothes, a tooth brush, a tube of toothpaste, his favorite book: The Big Book Of Myths, his laptop with all it's accessories, and he even took Commander Mask's advice and got a mask. It was just a Guy Fawkes mask, but it would have to do for now. Even though everything was accounted for, he still couldn't shake the feeling that he was forgetting something. "What could I possibly be forgetting?..." Then it hit him: he should bring the metal box and the tablet with him. There was no sense in leaving it in his apartment and Commander Mask might like his stuff back. He managed to find some space for the gadgets in his bag and promptly left for the airport. It was a good thing that the flight to New York still had some seats left on such a short notice. From what he's heard, it's usually always full.

The walk to the airport was pretty uneventful until some guy snatched a woman's purse. Everyone else who witnessed the event just looked on with concerned faces while the woman yelled for someone to catch the thief. Devin couldn't use his powers to help or people would know that he was Zeus. At least, he couldn't use his powers openly. A huge misconception for electricity-wielding metahumans was that all of their moves were flashy. However, with just a little finesse, he could use a very small and impercievable amount of electricity to, say, cause a stopped car to move forward a bit to knock the thief over. This was exactly what Devin did as he ran after the thief, leaving his bag next to the woman.

When the thief was knocked off balance he tripped and fell. Devin then dove onto him as the thief was frantically trying to get back up and knocked him out with a swift punch to the face. Devin grabbed the purse and got up to leave as a beat cop handled the thief. In all the excitement the cop neglected to question Devin and Devin gave the purse back to the woman. Much praise and thanks were given after that. It was one thing to be praised on the news but being thanked in person just seemed so much more fulfilling. Perhaps Zeus should become a day-time hero.

The rest of the trip went by without a single issue besides airport security giving him a little trouble over the box and tablet. He was eventually able to convince them that he was just a huge fan of The Paragons (which he was) and that it was just a regular tablet. On the flight there, Devin wondered what his team would be like. Would there be a big, burly guy like Captain Atlas? Would there be a cool speedster like Speed Demon? Would there be that one anti-social guy like Commander Mask? ... Would there be a cute girl? These questions and many more made it quite hard for him to relax and enjoy the flight.

"The what!?!" Brick growled, blinded by the sudden change in lighting. He clenched his massive fists, ready to pond the voice into silence. The situation was getting complicated. Brick didn't like complicated. He couldn't even pretend to understand what was happening, but it was obvious that whoever had just spoken was responsible. That voice had brought him here. It had made him sit in darkness, then blinded him with light. It had brought the other annoying voice with it, the one that kept calling him "moron". It had made him feel pain. That voice... it had made him remember Bryce. That voice would die.

As his eyes began to adjust, he searched the room for his target. There were more people in here than he had expected. The one closest to him ("moron" guy, Brick thought) was a tall, lanky man in a blood-red suit. More distinctive than his clothing were his hair, spiked and silvery-white though he was obviously young, and his eyes, the same color as the suit. His hands bore fingerless black gloves, a stark contrast to the formality of the outfit, and in them he clutched a rather large book. The getup confused Brick. Stranger still was that of the girl beside him. She wore a brightly-colored spandex costume, similar to those infuriating "heroes" who were always bugging him while he was busy smashing things. He disliked her already. The only normal-looking one was a teenage boy who appeared to have been speaking to spandex girl. Though he seemed younger than all of them (except maybe Brick... how old was he again?), the boy seemed less freaked out. His eyes were cast away from the costumed female now, staring at something near the opposite wall.

Following that gaze, brick found what he was looking for. There! The source of the voice had been a woman, dressed entirely in black. Long sleeves and pants covered her limbs, leaving nothing to be shown aside from her face. It was a familiar-looking face. Brick paused for a moment, trying to recall where he had seen her before. He hadn't recognized the voice... then again, the chances of Brick remembering something at all were slim. The girl had symmetrical features, emerald eyes, and a narrow facial structure. She was quite skinny, to the point where he could see the shape of her skull framed by auburn hair. He would crush that skull.

Before he could get up to attack, the girl responded to his initial question. "The Outcasts," she smiled. "Just a little name I thought up for our group."

"Group?" Brick forgot smashing for a moment.

"Yes. I'm sure you all recognize me."

Moron guy nodded, clutching his book closer to his chest. "Shadow."

Shadow? So that's where he'd seen her before! Brick was almost releived he hadn't ttacked now. Arch-nemesis of the dreaded Paragons, this woman was the most notorious (and most hunted) supervillain in the country. She'd gone up against the entire team on multiple occasions and survived. The fact that she now stood before them was a testament to her skill. Had Brick charged her as planned, there would be no more Brick. This chick was terrifying.

"I see you do." She seemed amused by moron guy's fear. "So you know that if you try anything, it won't end well for you."

Brick could swear she was staring strait at him.

"Here's the thing. there's been a spike in the number of good-guy types popping up lately, and as much as I loathe to admit it, they're becoming a threat. So my proposition is that we watch each other's backs... for now."

Dexter could hardly believe his eyes. Standing in front of him was the most dangerous enemy that the Paragons had ever faced. She had even managed to kill Dr. DNA back in '96. She had come closer to her evil goals than any other supervillain in the country. Shadow is a household name here in the U.S. and it is a name that is more feared than any other. She was ironically one of Dexter's heroes. Now that she was right in front of him and proposing an alliance of sorts with him and a few others, he could barely contain his excitement. With her support, he would be able to pull off any heist with very little trouble. Still, he didn't know anything about the other three in the room.

Dexter stood up and said as calmly as one could when speaking to one's hero "And a most advantageous proposition it is. I too have been inconvenienced by the amount of obstacles that keep sprouting up like weeds. I accept your proposal, Shadow. I am sure you know who I am, but I think it would be best to introduce myself to the rest of you," Dexter started to use his power to levitate in a dramatic way. The influence of his telekinesis could be seen from the purple aura that formed around his body and in his eyes. "I am the Telekinetic Terror: Mastermind! Don't piss me off and I won't slam you into a wall," He continued to float until he felt the beginnings of a headache. That was one thing he didn't like about his power: Holding things was much harder than simply pushing or pulling objects. Still, he had to make an impression on his would-be allies.

The colorful girl was next to speak. She hopped up like a spring and said "The more the merrier! I'll join the group! Name's Pink Prankster. But you guys can call me Pink!" right before Dexter landed on the ground, she planted a whoopie-cushion underneath him with blinding speed. Dexter landed slowly, causing a drawn-out farting noise. Pink was quite literally rolling on the floor laughing. Dexter's face was as red as a beet, but he didn't retaliate.

The plane ride was bumpy and uncomfortable. Not that Kylie had expected anything different. She squirmed in her chair, trying in vain to find a comfortable position. She shifted her weight every way she could think to, but to no avail. Her admiration of the Paragons was beginning to waver. If they were so insistent on dragging her out of isolation to join their little “team”, the least they could do is provide for better transportation. Sighing, she shifted again. She hated to admit it, but in times like these, times of weakness and discomfort, she sometimes wished she could use her powers for personal gain. She could have been curled up in one of the first-class recliners right now. It would have been so easy, she thought. All she would have had to do was tell the man who collected the tickets at boarding that she belonged in first class, and he would have believed her. Easier still, she could have just told the lady selling them to give her their best seats at no charge. But Kylie’s moral compass kept her lips sealed.

Despite her literal maneuvering though, she was figuratively on the edge of her seat. While she may have been forced into the situation, it was still rather exciting. She wondered what sort of people she would encounter. What would her teammates be like? Kylie hadn’t had extensive interaction with other superpowered humans, being holed up in her apartment most of the time. Would they be smart, like her kind of smart? Perhaps she would find someone to talk to. Of course, in her case, talking could be very dangerous. But perhaps it wouldn’t have quite the same effect on some of her teammates…

It was a ridiculous hope. It was far more likely that these team members would be like the ones on television: bright-colored costumes and flashy powers. After all, in a world such as this, heroic crime-fighting was as much a publicity stunt as anything else. That wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, but it was reality. The fact was, in a world where men could bench-press semi-trucks and teenage girls could control the weather, everything was uncertain. People needed something to believe in. Costumed heroes provided that hope. People like these were powerful shields from the harsh reality of corruption that could so easily end the average life.

Was this what they expected her to be? She wasn’t much of a TV personality. Statistically speaking, she supposed her looks were above average. She’d been gifted since birth with symmetrical features and clear skin. But when she looked at the women who appeared in the news, so strong, so confident… that wasn’t her. No, Silvertounge was no role model. Whatever it was they needed her for, she only hoped she would be up to the task.

Devin stretched as he got off the plane. Sure the flight was only a few hours, but he was never completely comfortable riding in something that he could accidentally deactivate with his lightning. Especially if that something was in the air. It was an irrational worry as he had learned how to contain his power long ago, but he guessed the fear was still there because of when he accidentally caused a crash years ago. After getting his luggage, he checked the tablet again. The screen froze some time ago on text reading "Objective: Get to UN headquarters and await further instructions" Devin didn't see a chauffeur carrying a sign with his name on it, so he guessed he would have to take a cab.

It took a bit, but he finally managed to get a cab. He got in and the driver, who was practically Sasquatch he was so hairy, asked "Alright kid, where to?"

Devin replied "UN headquarters, please,"

After hearing this, the driver chuckled and started driving. "You're the third person to request that destination today. The others were around your age, too,"

"Really? What were they like?"

The driver rubbed his hairy chin and answered, "Well the first guy was a real spoiled brat. He had a lot of money though if his suit was any indication. The second one was a chick, but she was real creepy. She was dressed like one of them goths and... now that I think about it... she didn't give me any money! How the hell did I forget to get her money!?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, calm down! Look, I'll pay for her. How much was it?"

The driver sighed. "Look, kid, you're a real nice guy but I can't just let you spend all of your money on people you don't even know. You look like you'll need every penny,"

"Oh. Alright then. What about the goth girl?" Devin didn't quite catch the subtle jab at his looks.

"I'll probably run into her again. When I do, I'm getting my money," The two talked back and forth for the entire ride. Devin would ask about nearby places and the driver, apparently named Bennie, would tell him it. When they finally arrived at the destination, Devin paid the... crap, $256? No wonder the goth girl skipped out on paying. This was highway robbery! Still, Devin would never let it be said that he didn't pay his debts. With his luggage and a significantly lighter wallet, he walked toward UN headquarters. It wasn't long at all until the tablet buzzed with a new message: "Objective: Go to the statue of a revolver with a tied barrel and await further instructions" He did so and found two other people chatting and waiting. An opulent-looking young man and a goth young woman. The two others that Bennie drove here.

"Hey there! What brings you two to the UN?" he greeted them with a genuine smile. These two must also be heroes.

The guy in the suit answered, "I assume for the same reason that you are here. My name is Reginald and this little ball of sunshine is Priscilla,"

A neutral "Hey," was all Priscilla said after being introduced.

"Name's Devin. Nice to meet the two of you," Devin said and shook both of their hands. "So are we it? Just the three of us?"

"No. There are supposed to be one or two more joining us. We've been waiting for hours,"

"Ah," Devin said as he sat down with the other two. "If they're coming in from all around the country, they must be from farther out west,"