[center][h2]Forge[/h2]
[b]19:40, the day [i]before[/i] the meeting.
Los Angeles, south side.[/b][/center]

Zoë idly fussed at the hem of her jeans in the dying light of the California evening. She had been waiting for an awfully long time on this roof, and while she never felt the heat, the triple digit temperatures were beginning to take their toll on her accoutrements. Her foot stuck for a moment as she lifted it to examine her sneaker, which had the unfortunate composition of rubber that had allowed them to melt to the tin roof she was sitting on. She hissed out a string of vulgar French in annoyance. She may have bought them as cheap shoes for doing this job in, but she had expected that [i]she[/i] would be the one to melt them, not the [i]sun[/i]. This would be yet another crime to be avenged against the days targets.

Across the street from the roof she occupied was, ostensibly, a distribution warehouse for a low-level computer parts manufacturer in China. The beige exterior of the three story building didn't give anything away, and one could assume they rented out spare space if they had it to other companies. Zoë, however, had uncovered information that this was a Hounds operation, and her own unique ability to scout most places being halted by some interference material in the outer walls only served to confirm this. So she had perched outside, with a pair of sunglasses and in a non-descript tee shirt and jeans, waiting to see what happened. That had been last week. As she had learned, today was the "meeting day", when all of their operatives and informants and facilitators of horror would all gather in the building for their monthly intelligence briefing, and to clap each other on the back for their atrocities. 

Two of them would be missed today. She had encountered them just as the had begun pouring gasoline over the body of a teenaged boy they had obviously beaten to death. It had been late at night, a parking lot no one had used, and even she had only been passing by on her way through on foot. No one had heard the boys cries for help, and he had died scared and alone, and now they were getting rid of the evidence of their crime, excepting that they had painted huge bloody letters in their typical fashion around the boy.

It had taken several hours to get the information she wanted out of them, and they had been incapable of moving or seeing by the time she had left. If they had lived, she didn't care.

Now, as the last of their cronies filed in from the city, she made her way over to the side of the building she was on, where a ladder had granted her access to the roof in the first place. Upon reaching the ground, she activated her 'disguise' and headed for the front door of the Hounds place, mentally keeping her anger as far down as possible. She would not be able to infiltrate the place if she gave herself away with an errant heat wave. Of course, she still had yet to figure out a way to know what others were seeing when she was projecting her disguise, but at least it was better than guessing what might not arouse their suspicions.

Passing through the front door, she noted that even the front desk was empty and mentally cursed. Cameras were a weak spot, and one she didn't have a subtle counter to, but thankfully no one was around to witness as she tested her phasing on the nearby wall. Still blocked somehow, though only the wall, which means she could still use it to hide. Glancing around in the front area, she noted three doors. One, flanked by corkboards full of memos, was obviously a staff room or office. Another was clearly a bathroom, which meant the third was the one she was looking for. No security devices barred her way as she pushed the portal open.

The other side was the open warehouse area, and it was packed with people. Most had at least donned an armband to show their loyalties. Three men were standing on a series of crates set up as an elevated stage, and much of the place was darkened to highlight them. With no one paying attention to her, she slipped into an unobserved corner and phased herself so she could slip as close as possible to the stage. Her plan demanded that she be able to grasp the crowd's attention. As she moved, she took in the crowd. Some were day laborers and working class young folk. Others had the look of middle class business types. Police and military postures were evident throughout much of the crowd, that stiff-backed, never-quite-out-of-parade-rest stance. Nothing like she secretly hoping for: some clear delineation that made sense of all the seething hatred for metahumans. No key. Just the same sort of mindset that made racism and sexism as prevalent as they were these days.

Two younger men were setting up some sort of free standing projector screen on the jury-rigged stage, in front of which stood what seemed to be the leader of this cell, speaking with two subordinates. Unlike a good portion of the crowd, he wore the standard black fatigues the Hounds seemed to favour, and had a heavy pistol at his hip. The two he spoke with had only the same, but carried odd-looking assault rifles and wore body armour and balaclavas as well. Others like them were scattered around, the permanent detail and probably the strike force for this group. They, along with the leader, would have to be dealt with.

Zoë's breath caught in her throat. She had been thinking all day about what this job would entail. She had hurt and even killed people before, but this was well beyond the pale for her. Most of these people, if she had observed the group dynamic correctly, would die tonight. Some might try to flee, but she couldn't allow them to. They would simply carry even more zealotry with them when they formed their own groups, and fuel the fire of hate. Either she convinced them here and now that they were wrong or she burnt the entire branch down root and stem. There were no other options with fanatics like these. What this might do to her moral balance she wasn't sure, but that damage was probably already done. Now it was simply time to cauterize the wound.

She moved onto the stage, unphasing with her fingers through the triggers of the men's assault rifles, and shoulder checked them out into the crowd as hard as she could, while burning the straps for the guns so they stayed with her instead of being dragged with the men. Shout and cries of alarm went up as she appeared, but they were mostly angry and not frightened. She spun on her heel and snapped a kick into the main target's sternum, adding a blast of flame that ignited his clothing and sent him reeling, buying her time to adjust the rifles so that she could fire them. Which she did, directly at the men now charging the stage and aiming their own at her. There was no kick, and almost no sound, as jets of hot light punched into them, leaving scorch marks on their armour but otherwise having no effect.

"Stupid freak," she heard behind her as two arms seized either of hers. [i]The screen crew,[/i] she thought. "You think we would make armour that our new rifles could be used against?"

More men assembled. Most of the crowd stood just outside of a semi-circle of soldiers, all pointing their odd light guns at her. The leader, which she noted suddenly looked more middle aged than he had after she had broken his authority and presence, walked around in front of her. She smiled, while he sneered.

"Well, looks like we can officially ring in the meeting with the disposal of a piece of trash," he called out to the crowd. They cheered their response. "Any last words, mutant, before we cleanse the world of your taint?"

Zoë's smile widened, as the air temperature began to climb extremely rapidly. The man's eyes widened and he stepped aside and shouted for the men to open fire. Of course, while her clothes suffered, she knew from firing them that they would have no effect on her at all, being light and heat based weapons, so she did nothing but laugh as the two men holding her scurried back away from her.

[color=tomato]"You small minded fools! You build laser weapons and armour, you organise in a way that would be enviable to most, and what do you use it for? All of this hatred, what does it do for you?"[/color] She called out the question to the whole crowd. Several had begun moving for the steel doors, only to find them unbearably hot and starting to glow.

The leader snarled his response. "We'll purging the world of filth like you."

[color=tomato]"Oho!"[/color] Zoë laughed again as the air around her shimmered with a heat haze. [color=tomato]"Filth like me? I was born this way, no fault of mine! I can use fire the same way others are born with long legs or blonde hair! You are just an old evil in a new skin."[/color]

She watched almost idly as he grabbed his pistol and drew it. As it moved up to point at her she heated it swiftly and mercilessly. His hand was seared within a second, but he managed to drop it at his feet before the ammunition exploded inside. The shrapnel flew everywhere, though she was unharmed. He took a chunk of twisted metal to the leg and dropped to one knee.

[color=tomato]"You are a brave man, it seems."[/color] The heat had gotten to the point where the crates she was standing on had begun to blacken. [color=tomato]"But your bravery is twisted by your hatred and the world suffers for it. I will not let the forces my grandfather fought come back to haunt him in his retirement. This stops here."[/color]

"You can't stop us! We are saving humanity!" The voice from the crowd was echoed several times. Zoë wheeled away from the man formerly in charge and glared at them.

[color=tomato]"Saving humanity? What humanity have you saved? You kill children for being born different from you! You have let yourselves become monsters, and you cheer yourselves on because people like [i]him[/i] have convinced you that people like me are not human!"[/color] Her finger jabbed out at the man, then swept the crowd, causing many to cringe and flinch away despite her not doing anything with it but point. [color=tomato]"You fear me now, but if you saw me on the street, you would have no idea I am anything other than a girl! You can shut off your compassion so casually!"[/color]

Suddenly, flames burst forth from crates all over the warehouse. The doors slagged suddenly, but the walls around them were now alight. [color=tomato]"See now what it means to have compassion that could save you so closed! Any of you who survive tonight, remember this: If any of your organisation are still inside this city within forty-eight hours, I will come and burn you out of every nest, every hole, every single hiding spot! I will not rest until the meat is charred from the whole of your rotten group!"[/color]

[hr]

Zoë walked casually into her own lair, flopped through the couch, then remembered to phase herself back into the physical world and gingerly sat down, this time. Her skin was bare, covered in soot, and she knew she smelled of burnt wood, but no one else ever came here without her knowing about it, so she didn't care. She picked up the remote, turned on the television, and flipped idly through the stations for a while. In the back of her mind, she knew that her people were now unloading the crates of weapons and armour and other military goods she had found earlier and carefully kept from damaging. Soon, she would have the resources to actually start making a name for herself, but for now, she had to stay as quiet as possible, barring excursions to hunt down the terrorists.

The upcoming move tomorrow would make her more secure, but she was still financially dependent on her mercenary work. As well, if she admitted it to herself, she enjoyed the mercenary life. But the world had to change, and if she had to be the spark to start the inferno, then so be it. She would make sure the whole world knew it was her who started it.