[center][h2]Tiamat[/h2]
[h3]Albuquerque, NM[/h3]
[b]Two PM local time the next day[/b][/center]

Darya sighed expressively as she stared at the blank page of the spiral notebook sitting in front of her. Despite the window being open and both fans running at top speed, her room was blistering, but trying to do her homework anywhere else would have been distracting. Half of her cousins had shown up today for some sort of event planning, and it was too sunny out for her to go to the park without getting heatstroke. 

She leaned back in her chair and stared at the tapestries adorning her ceiling, trying to recall what it was that made sodium so interesting to her professor. [i]Something about combinations with other elements, maybe,[/i] she thought to herself. The glass of water on her desk rattled in response to the thought, its contents sloshing about as they responded to her subconscious. She let her chair fall forward and caught the glass before it tipped over, the few drops that escaped suspended in midair until she opened her mouth and steered them in to amuse herself.

Even with practise, she was still very much feeling like a newborn learning how to walk with these powers, at least compared to the others she had worked with. Thunderbird, especially, seemed like he had been born to his powers, using them by reflex instead of effort. And while they had all told her that she'd get used to it in time, she couldn't shake the feeling that it was going to be a long road.

Interrupting her thoughts, the ringtone she had set for the group she had just been thinking of broke the monotony of sound in her room, vastly overshadowing the drone of the fan. She snatched her cellular up, eager for anything to alleviate the tedium of homework, and hit the answer button.

“Hello? This is D- Tiamat.” She winced, silently cursing herself for her slip up.

“Tiamat, this is Rocky. You should turn on the television. Channel Seven. Two minutes.” As usual, he hung up immediately after talking, a habit she disliked intensely.

Fuming at her part time compatriot, Darya scrambled up out of her chair, out her door, down the stairs, and into the maelstrom of small children that her living room was, only Leila and Anouseh, the youngest of her aunts, to manage them. Basir was busy trying to make his way to the couch as well, but had been mobbed. She slid past him and the distracted children, snatched the remote away from his hand as she passed, and snuck into an empty spot, ignoring his belated protest at the theft. She rang the bell sitting on the end table, a signal that everyone should be quiet for something important. All of the children had learned from the beginning to obey this signal, and all three of the other adults turned sharply to her. It was not used to restore order, but the air of rapt attention she wore had them and the kids all look to the television, which flickered to life and flipped over to the channel she had been directed to.

One of the afternoon news broadcasts came on from a commercial break. A doll-like blonde woman looked into the camera and said, “Welcome back. Now, we have some exciting stuff for you. Coming live from Denver, our own Samantha Powers has been called to interview [i]very[/i] special guests. Samantha?”

The live feed showed a small Latina woman, standing in a power suit in front of a building Darya recognised. She swore out loud. “Thanks Tammy. We're here with the members of the United Southwest Heroes Association. Ah, let me see if I've got this right. Thunderbird, Rocky, Broadway, and Doc Holliday?”

The four were standing right there, just outside of one of the various buildings they'd met at before missions. Not a headquarters, but more like one of several clubhouses, kept varied for security's sake. Doc tipped his hat so cheesily it caused Anouseh to giggle. 

“Yes'm, got 'em pat.” Darya rolled her eyes at his drawl, which she knew to be an affectation. Holliday was actually from Chicago originally. 

“And you've asked us here specifically, today?”

Thunderbird nodded, his face grave as always. “We wished, as one of the only organisations in our field, to address the current terrorist attacks across the country, and indeed, the world.”

Samantha looked as though she had just been slapped, clearly having expected some human interest piece or perhaps a kind of public service announcement, not a direct response. But the heroes plowed forward before she could try and steer the interview off to easier-to-digest subjects.

Broadway spoke next, her hair glittering unnaturally with her powers. “Make no mistake, citizens, this [i]is[/i] terrorism. Not only that, but murder and arson. These people have killed so, [i]so[/i] many innocents already, and they do not plan to stop. So, as citizens of America, [i]we[/i] must stop them.”

Doc took up the baton. “An' we don' jest mean us supers, either. All of us Americans have fought against tyranny and oppression, in all of its forms, as long as we've been around. Heck, we [i]started[/i] this country on those very same ideals, and these rotten ess oh bees have done turned those ideals upside down. There have been plenny o' groups what wanted to 'purify' the human race. An' we [i]know[/i] what happens to them.” He winked at the camera.

This time it was Rocky, with his deep and rumbling voice. Unlike the others, he didn't wear a mask. Darya knew this was because he lived alone, his entire family having died long ago, and was unafraid of exposure. With his stature and build, he also gave the distinct impression of a talking mountain. “These 'Hounds of Humanity,' he said, with a completely undisguised tone of hatred, “want not just that, though, horrible as it already is. These sorts of people will not stop once they have purged us metahumans out, though, should they accomplish that goal. The type of person who join such groups will always be afraid of the different, the unique, the special. And thus they will turn their sights on so-called 'normal' people. Any who threaten them will be targets, you can be sure of that.”

“Thus, we cannot be lax,” Thunderbird said, “in our defense, not just of ourselves, but of America and the world at large. We ask that any who are willing to stand up to these terrorists do so, but do so safely. Do not expose yourselves to danger, but work to cut their influence where you can. Those in the Southwest know that we strive only for peace and protection of those in our area. We urge others to do the same, and to ensure that, above all, no more innocent people die, whether through the Hounds or through our own inaction. The police, try as they might, are outmatched.”

Broadway grinned, always the saleswoman even through her mask. Her teeth [i]actually[/i] sparkled. “And that's why we're recruiting! We can't fight back against this threat by ourselves, in tiny groups of one and two. So the USHA is officially re-branding, as of this interview. The United Heroes Organisation will be working closely with the FBI, state police, National Guard, and elected representatives to assemble a task force to combat this new threat and make America safe again! And we need any and all metahumans, wizards, fairies, and anyone else with unique talents to step up to the plate! No one's identities will be compromised! Just show up to your local FBI office with your normal heroing gear and sign up!”

Having finally gotten a chance to talk, Samantha immediately began with the questions. “So you're government sanctioned now?”

Doc grimaced. “We [i]really[/i] don't want that to be the term you use, but fer all the fancy legalese, yep. We are.”

“Are you then replacing STRIKE?”

Thunderbird shook his head. “No. Those were fine men and women, but they were a government agency. Think of us more along the lines of the task force that brought down Pablo Escobar in the nineties.”

“And what do you say to those metahumans who represent what the Hounds say all of you are like? The villains?”

Rocky growled. “As much as we hate to admit it, we need all the help we can get. But amnesty will only last until the Hounds are taken care of. And, if they can't even help out for the good of their own survival, then they should just keep their heads down and stay out of our way.”

Darya clicked off the television and stood up in a daze. The family members present looked up at her, and Leila said what they all were thinking. “We already said you must do what is in your heart, sister. Go. I will make sure your homework is ready when you come back.”

Within the hour, the broadcast had been repeated on every single public news channel, and it was all the late night shows could do to not kill each other to have Broadway on their next episodes. It seemed the heroes were finally getting their act together. Darya personally thought it wasn't soon enough.