[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/klHHPfB.png?1[/img][/center]
[center][b]Christopher Arthur III[/b][/center]
[center][b]Lost Haven, ME[/b][/center]
[center][b]1 month after the defeat of the Hounds of Humanity[/b][/center]
	Because the Hounds had burned Chris’ mansion back in Richmond, Chris had to temporarily use the Sherman Center as a residence until he could reconstruct his home back in Virginia. Luckily it was still summer. Else, Chris would have had to deal with the headache of transferring his half-sister from one high school to another, especially across state borders. Sure, she complained a little about not being able to spend the entire summer with her friends. But Chris’ resources could ship her back to Virginia for a weekend if she wanted to hang with her friends.

	Chris sat at his desk, reviewing the recent data he had collected from his equipment that had been scanning for more people affected by the weird phenomena. It seemed like for every person Chris had restored their original memories to, several more affected individuals would pop up on his scans. At this point, Chris felt like he was only placing band-aid fixes without resolving the instigating problem. Sure, Chris had helped out a ton of people, like William Kovacs, who would have been rotting in a jail cell for what his alter ego, the Game Genie, had done to Pacific Point a while back. Despite his cross-country search, Chris still had not discovered the cause of these weird transformations.

	While Chris was hard a work, his personal assistant, Minerva, entered his study. He peered up from his work for a moment to acknowledge her presence. Then he returned to his work.

	[color=c0c0c0]“So, what do you have for me today?”[/color]

	“The board needs your approval for this military contract,” Minerva told Chris as she tapped a few times on her tablet before the contract’s details appeared on Chris’ holographic display. As soon as it had appeared, Chris looked over the document.

	Ever since the Hounds of Humanity had launched their crusade against enhanced humans, the United Nations had begun to discuss about a potential international ban on any research aimed at creating more metahumans. Although corporations and even some governments would probably still conduct that sort of research under the radar despite the potential ban, the world governments, like the United States, would need to find alternatives to dealing with any metahuman threats.

	[color=c0c0c0]“I don’t know about this one. Making a bunch of unmanned robots for the governments sounds like it could go south really fast.”[/color]

	“Unfortunately, Mr. Arthur, just because you’ve been reducing the military contracts and weapons manufacturing, doesn’t mean the weapons will magically disappear.” Minerva told her boss. “Rumor has it that if you don’t pick this contract up, Midas Industries [b]will[/b]. I would hate to see what he would do with this kind of contract.”

	[color=c0c0c0]“I see I’m stuck in between Scylla and Charybdis. I’ll be damned if I accept and I’ll be damned if I don’t.”[/color]

	Chris sat there for a moment, pondering his decision. Once he had made up his mind, Chris used his finger to sign the electronic document.

	[color=c0c0c0]“If we’re going to be fighting a legion of out of control robots, I would rather have access to the kill switch,”[/color] Chris tried to reason out his decision. Once his signature was on the documents, they disappeared from the desk and Minerva turned to leave.

	After Minerva had left, Chris returned his work. When he looked back on the screen, his monitor showed information on cases from Pacific Point. He could have sworn that he had just been looking at data on affected individuals in Lost Haven before Minerva had come by. In fact, there was a certain spider girl on the top of the list (that’s what happens when you last name begins with the letter ‘A’).

	But Chris flipped off the power switch. He had been looking at this data for hours by now. He needed to rest his eyes. There was only so much he could do in a single day.

	He also reached down and opened a drawer in his desk that contained a well-aged wine. He poured himself a glass and downed the entire glass. He was going need more than just a glass for the deal he just made.

[hr]
[center][b]Nashville, TN[/b][/center]
	The security feed from the secret underground floors of Emerson Enterprises played before Mr. Emerson’s eyes. When the security team noticed that something was consistently odd about the security tapes, they installed a hidden camera, just to check if someone was tampering with the feed. And boy were everyone surprised when they discovered that Matt’ supposed coma was quite exaggerated.

	“Sir, do you want us to run tests on your nephew?” the lead scientist asked Mr. Emerson.

	“No,” Mr. Emerson said, “Let’s perform some passive observations before we do anything evasive. We don’t want to blow up the city by pocking and probing the boy.”

	“Understood,” the lead scientist acknowledged before turning to leave.

	Meanwhile, a news report that quite interested Mr. Emerson appeared on the television screen in his office.

	“Ever since the Hounds devastated the city of Philadelphia, a massive restoration project had been planned to repair the historical landmarks caught in the crossfires of the anti-metahuman terrorists,” the news anchor reported. “Although the original plans called for several phases to be completed over a couple of years, it seems that everything is ahead of schedule. Let’s turn to Amy Sullivan to see what’s happening on the ground. Amy?”

	“Thanks, Jim. Reports are coming in from every corner of the city that buildings, include some of the historical monuments lost during the Hounds’ attack, have reappeared, almost as if it were magic. Most first believed that this was a hoax, but I am sure the building behind me will prove the contrary.”

	Behind Amy stood a giant rectangular building made of glass. On the front of the building, there were three giant purple circles that were orientated in a shape remarkably similar to a certain famous mouse.

	“It might have been nearly twenty years late, but DisneyQuest Philadelphia has finally made its appearance. I have tried to contact the Walt Disney Company about their possible involvement, but they have not answered back.”

	Although the news coverage continued, Mr. Emerson heard everything he wanted to hear.

	“This could prove interesting, indeed,” Emerson muttered with a grin on his face.