[b]Los Angeles, Lower Westside 22:15 Local Time Night of the Hounds of Humanity announcement[/b] Zoë slammed down the rolling garage door behind her as she entered her home, consumed with thoughts of preemptive strikes against these “Chiens d'humanité”. Their sheer [i]arrogance[/i] in deciding that they were responsible for 'cleansing' metahumans from the world got under her skin in a way she could not describe, until she remembered a story her grandfather had told her once. Only once, and she had stopped him shortly after he began, as the memories obviously pained him. But she could see the parallels between these [i]dogs[/i] and the monsters in the grey uniforms. And while they didn't seem to be state-sanctioned, she certainly was not of a mind to give them a chance to become so. No, they had to die before it got that far. Walking across the open space of her living quarters, she pulled out her 'work' phone and fired off a quick email to the select group of brokers and service providers, explaining that she was only accepting jobs having to do with taking out the HoH, all other potential employers would have to either wait or find another person. Having seen the confirmation that it had gone through, she tossed it onto her bed as she approached it, sat down and pulled a notebook out from the small box that served as her desk. She flipped it open and began scribbling furiously, jotting down a list of everything she might need for a long campaign of guerrilla campaign. She didn't typically need guns, so that was out, but several other pieces of gear came to mind, including ballistic armour and explosives. Food, clothing, and other necessities might also come in handy. Her phone buzzed twice, and she glanced at it to read several confirmation emails. That reminded her to send out a text from the Wraith phone ordering everyone to lay low and handle business but not make any new moves until they heard otherwise. She didn't expect responses from those three numbers, really, they knew she wouldn't respond to questions. A stray glance brought her special phone to her attention. She'd have to keep it on, even during this, but it's possible leak of her location, even with all of the additional security, gave her slight pause. If someone were to look up her running away from home, and trace her to her gang, and find one of the survivors who had seen her first activate her powers, and then traced this phone and somehow cracked her security, it could end badly for everyone. Zoë ran a slim-fingered hand through her tousle of brown curls and leaned back into the wall, staring out across the empty area between her and the back of her television. Thoughts of her estranged family ran across her mind in a rare display. Her father had long been a figure of antagonism to her now, and her mother's disapproving attitude to every choice she had made was not a pleasant memory at all. But Grandfather and Émile were innocent in all of that, and they would not deserve the hell that might come down if her association with them became known to the wrong people. She suddenly stood. [i]Non, they would not be in any danger[/i], she thought, [i]if I act fast enough[/i]. She knew what her first stop would be after groceries and a [i]real[/i] breakfast. She grimaced, not caring that her clenched fist was wreathed in flame. It was going to be a long night. ----------- [b]Edwards AFB, outside of Los Angeles 01:13 local time[/b] Well fed now, with a bottle of good wine to help her nerves, Zoë drove the "borrowed" Jeep towards the gate, trusting the vehicle looked close enough to a soldier's vehicle that it wouldn't arouse any additional problems. Her false ID would be depending on her powers of suggestion, since it was only a driver's license. The headlights washed over the on duty guard as he stepped out in front of her car, forcing her to come to a stop. Utterly professional, he stepped up to the window as she rolled it down. "What are you doing out so late, ma'am?" His voice was a little thick. He must've been here for a while already. Her power let her know that he thought she had officer's insignia, though not necessarily what rank. "Coming back late from my sister's house. Bit of an emergency with the nephew, and it's a long drive back." She smiled charmingly at him, handing over the license to his waiting hand. He glanced at it swiftly, flashlight illuminating the laminated card. One glance to her face, and back to the ID, and then he handed it back. "Hope it's not too bad?" "Oh, no, just her first child, and he's a bit hard to get to sleep. Colic, I think. But he's fine now." "Good to hear, ma'am." The young man waved at his compatriot in the booth, and the gate opened to allow her to pass. She waved as she was pulling forward and made her way into the base, letting out a small exhalation in relief. She hadn't been sure how well her powers would work when the card was out of her hand, but apparently it had gone smoothly enough. Getting out would be [i]much[/i] trickier, considering what she planned on removing. Driving through the residential area of the base, Zoë kept an eye out for the sort of busybody that always showed up during these sorts of jobs. Snooping around, keeping an eye out for trouble, and generally being an [i]emmerde[/i]. None seemed up at this hour, for which she was thankful. She didn't know when shift change might be, but it should be soon, and she wanted to be leaving about the time that happened. A second gate and subsequent questioning got her through to the munitions depot. It was occasions like this that lead her to wonder at her more subtle powers. She didn't need to do anything except [i]want[/i] to get into a place, and it seemed to take care of the rest. She only had vague ideas about what the other person might see, which made it a sort of guessing game and a chess match between her and her own power. Twice now, it had gotten her into [i]far[/i] more trouble than she would have liked, when she had guessed incorrectly and broken whatever effect it was. But it was an exhilarating challenge to her, and she wouldn't give it up for the world. The 'papers' she presented allowed her to snag a couple of on duty grunts for loading pretty much whatever she demanded from the warehouse, apparently, which was useful, as she didn't know exactly what the protocols might otherwise be. Having remembered that she might have to make some hires, she decided to load up some conventional weapons, so going into the truck she appropriated were two M2 .50 calibre machine guns, four GAU-17 miniguns, several dozen M4 carbines, crates of ammunition for all of them, and several light bombs for aircraft. Just as they were strapping everything down and she was climbing into the cab, she caught a glimpse in the side view mirror of one of the men talking agitatedly into his radio. One glance at the truck from him let her know the jig was up, and she cranked the ignition on and slammed the truck into gear, squealing out of the hangar building and out onto the tarmac, headed south for the gates. Within seconds several cars had emerged at various points across the base, with only one of them close enough for her to see anything but the lights. She narrowed her focus on that one's driver as they pulled alongside her. They had clearly been warned that there were explosives in the vehicle, as they were not firing at her yet. A sudden jolt let her know he had rammed her truck, so she upped the temperature of the steering wheel well past bearable temperatures, and while she couldn't hear the yelp, she was rewarded by his car suddenly swerving off of the pursuit and into the sand surrounding the road. She grinned. So far this was [i]easy[/i]. ------------ [b]California Desert 01:40 Local time[/b] [i]Merde. Ce désert est ennuyeux[/i], she thought as she took the pass up across the mountains and back towards the city. She knew that from the drive up, but the anticipation of the job at hand had kept it from being too dull. But now, with adrenaline long gone from her system and the lateness keeping her mind a bit fuzzy, she was finding it hard to stay focused. She had managed to drive of the rest of the pursuit cars through heat, and the two attack helicopters had fared no better. She was fairly certain she had wrecked one. Zoë was brought suddenly alert by the sound of something landing on the roof of the cab, and a moment later the truck was incapable of moving forward. It took her a moment to realise the wheels were no longer on the ground. “Fuck! Fucking [i]heroes[/i]!?” She opened the truck door and dove for the ground, an additional two feet below where it should have been. Rolling with the impact, she ducked to one side and took a quick second to measure her opponents. There were three of them, two men and a woman. One guy was obviously a civilian, wearing some ridiculous one-piece in bright colours, and of all things a [i]cape[/i]. The other two were wearing digital camouflage BDUs, which she was [i]not[/i] expecting. If the military had metahumans, she might be in more trouble than she thought. The woman seemed to be using some sort of telekinesis to keep the truck from the ground, although she was lowering it and turning her attention to Zoë now. The caped guy was hovering just off the ground in the most irritating of poses, fists on his hips and trying to stare authoritatively. His muscles under the spandex were rather large, and she suspected he might have enhanced strength along with flight. The uniformed man, she noted, looked like he had frost over his fists. She grinned again. This would be fun. “Criminal,” the cape said, trying to make his voice boom but failing in the acoustically challenged desert. “We know you have fire powers. Give up now and come with us. We do not wish to injure you.” She heard the woman mutter, “Speak for yourself, dork.” Zoë sniggered appreciatively. Assuming her Russian accent, she looked up at him and laughed. “Da, sure. I will go with you, and leave all of my nice new toys with your friends, eh?” Mentally getting ready, she continued. “Better idea: I kill all three of you, get away free, and you lay here dead in road.” And then she phased out, becoming invisible. Moving towards the woman, who was going into some sort of combat pose and talking rapidly with her partner while the cape rose into the air, Zoë considered how best to do this. It would be easy enough to rematerialise with her hand in the woman's chest, but she wasn't sure what that would do. She settled for coming up behind the girl, waiting until the other two weren't looking, and then appearing again and immediately flash-heating the poor girl's clothes. She went up like a torch and began screaming wildly. Zoë was caught unawares by a blast of telekinetic energy as the woman desperately tried to put herself out, and had to phase again to avoid being put into the truck, which rocked heavily as she passed through it, caught in the same blast. She hoped nothing got dislodged. The boys at the warehouse had done such a good job loading it. The caped guy seemed to know what she had done, at least, and came around the truck flying at her full force. She had just come out of phase to catch her balance, and had no time to do anything except re-phase. She caught a glimpse of his face going very angry as he passed by, fist held out uselessly. She strolled back through the truck to see how the girl was doing. Apparently she was down and out, covered in a thin layer of frost from her partner putting out the fire, but she definitely had not gotten away without severe burns. One down. She re-phased again, this time in full view of the Air Force hero, and smiled at him as she was blasted by frost. His face fell as he realised it had had no effect. “,” she said, and then raised her hands and cut loose with her own jet of flames. He dived out of the way, but apparently was not expecting her to move only one hand, nor as quickly as she did, and he was caught between to gushes of burning air. She was tempted to hold it for a moment as he screamed, but decided it was best not to with the other closing in. As he came at her, she twisted, ducking to the side and slamming her foot up with her own enhanced body. She was slower than she anticipated, catching him in the lower abdomen, but still he went sprawling into the burning man. She knew this type of fighter, having had to deal with several of them already. An idealist of justice, he firmly believed he could beat her without killing her, and bring her in to custody. They needed breaking more than killing. So as he was getting up, she sent bolts of incredibly hot flames from her hands at the head of either of his friends. He moved swiftly to cover the man he was next to, bravely taking the flames for the injured man. They splashed across his chest and he fell backwards, rolling to try and smother them as the other man writhed and continued to bellow in pain. The girl had woken up and was beginning to make the odd sounds she could as her head was engulfed. From past experience Zoë knew she'd never survive. A pity, but she couldn't afford the military kids getting back to their superiours with any descriptions of her. The civilian wasn't trained enough, and she wanted at least one of them to survive and carry the word that a [i]Russian[/i] had attacked them. The man was raising himself up and staring in abject horror at the two burning bodies. He ripped his cape off and began trying to put out the worst of the flames on the man, whose struggles were beginning to weaken, strength sapped by the terrible damage she had wrought on his flesh. The caped man was [i]certainly[/i] a genuinely good person. He was ignoring the angry red burn on his chest, and she knew the melted spandex clinging to his skin couldn't be any less painful. “You win,” he said, defeat in his voice as he struggled to put out some of the fire. “Just go. But know I will [i]get[/i] you for this.” Zoë smiled at him. “You can try all you like, <[i]boy[/i]>.” She snapped her fingers, and the sand around both the people on the ground glassed, the cape leaping back and screaming as his hands instantly blistered. The man and woman's screams didn't last long, and the flesh itself began to burn. She watched the tears drip down the man's face as he yelled at her. “Why!? You had us beaten!” “Kinder, this way. Is quicker. Cleaner.” She shrugged, glancing up and along the road where she could see more pursuit vehicles starting out from the little town the base was attached to. “Must be going. Do not come after me. You won't survive.” Climbing into the truck, she started it up and drove off into the night, leaving an angry, broken man with charred fingers screaming into the sky by the light of the bonfires who used to be his friends.