Blizz

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree [Complete]

Alizee: Chokes Stormy with an Apparition

Stormy:

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree [Complete]

---

Interactions: Sully, Alizee, and the Greenwood Coven

Flowers and Canvases

---

Well…

Shit.

This took a rather drastic turn quickly. Before he knew what hit him, Stormy was hanging by a pair of hands. Her Void Heart had its grip like a bear trap around his throat. Anyone else might’ve panicked in that situation, by the fact that she latched onto Stormy Carson in particular meant that Alizee had just made a bad play. Stormy considered himself a merciful man. His reaction to Britney’s presence was unwarranted, and he acknowledged that, but he didn’t believe in punching down. As a matter of fact, he very much detested those who punched down. And so, Stormy fixed a stone cold stare at Alizee, despite his predicament. He held his breath, knowing he would lose it like a prey animal to a boa constrictor if he exhaled.

Alizee was a woman who needed help. Surely, deep down, she couldn’t have enjoyed the hurt the inflicted on others. The poison in her words was the kind someone was filled with when they were hurt, and going through something. And so, Stormy did not aggress against her. What he did, do however, was shut her down with a spell perfect for the occasion: Phantombane.

After she walked forth, Stormy slowly and methodically raised both of his hands in a motion that would’ve implied surrender. But instead, he brought them further apart, and then slammed them together in a clap. Sea-green light raced up and down his arms, as a distorted sound like a ringing church bell submerged in water rippled outward across the parking lot. Stormy’s Adept magic was now on display for all to see, and the magical hands trapping him withered away. They crumbled like a vampire in the sun, and the Void Heart itself, Alizee’s Apparition, would feel the magic against its form in a very similar way. It was a magic repellent, debilitating the creature for as long as it remained close to him, and Alizee by extension. Though the power and influence were still there, they were being weighed down like an anchored boat, suppressed by the defensive magic Stormy used.

This was only further cemented when Stormy reached out and put a hand on her shoulder, in an attempt to ground her. With her magical source slipping away to protect itself, it was just the two of them. Calm. Down. It has been a decade, and this is how we meet again? What were you thinking? Don’t you know that someone is hunting all of us down?” There was iron in his voice, and yet he didn’t sound angry at all. Was he taking pity on her? Or did Stormy simply believe he was too much for her to handle?

X-Men: GenetiX

Ryder didn't think she needed someone's help to walk. Shitty as it was to have such a mindset, she bit back a quick "My legs still work," since she didn't feel like talking further at the moment. If she really wanted, she could probably just float off of the ground, assuming her powers would let her. Ryder had never tried levitating, preferring to just slingshot her in different directions. She followed the old man down the hallway, listening to him closely. The "X-Men" was something that sounded vaguely familiar to Ryder. She heard about them once or twice during one of her many nights violating every security measure in Umbra's system. Nothing that made them stand out to her much, though. Her mind stretched out and felt around in the "ready room" for a moment. It didn't seem to imposing, just a bunch of chairs, computers and shit.

When he started talking about the curious device behind one door in particular, Ryder knew it must've been the one that slightly messed with her head. During her "coma," she tried to hijack it, only to find that it saw through a billion different eyes, and quickly found herself stumbling into a real coma. Backpedaling out, she chose not to interact with it further, or even hint at this at the moment. Whatever was back there let Xavier connect to countless minds, and she made a mental note of how his telepathy seemed to be expressed as a result of this.

"Umbra can block things like that. They put their fancy research somewhere in my brain, after all." Ryder was, of course, eluding to the fact that she knew about the experiments conducted on her, and the fact that there was biomechanical technology in her brain that made her a black hole for telepathy. She only said this, however, because she assumed the X-Men already knew after taking such a vested interest in it. So it wasn't as much of a gesture of trust as it may have seemed. She didn't feel like sharing information with Xavier unless she felt like it was known already.

Or the ugly blue fuck that walked in.

Ryder turned around and leveled a godawful glare at Beast. If looks could kill, then the doctor would've been atomized on the spot. She already knew about him, and that he was studying that weird stuff Umbra used. But she didn't shake his hand. Rather, she took a step back, deciding that she liked her personal space. "Ryder," she said. Not Ryder Xavier, just Ryder. "You're the one who snatched up all the Vibranium from Umbra. Shit's not worth a damn, you're wasting your time there."

It seemed she knew more than she had let on.

Avengers Academy: X of Swords ⚔️

Leah Jordan

---

Location: Training Room B
Gear: A hot ass dress
Skills: The insurmountable will to not lose her cool under any circumstances
Oh god oh fuck

---

---

Who the fuck is Leah Jeffries? Leah Jordan sure as shit didn't know, but she followed the group of homosexual disasters over to the food regardless. April was in a threeway-bind at the moment but seemed to be enjoying it. "Yeah, what 'Bine said." She slid her arms away from them both and picked up... Why the fuck was this food tiny? She picked up a cupcake small enough to fit between two of her fingers... And ate it in one bite. Curiously, she stuck her hand in the candy bowl and snatched a fistful of the stuff. Then Leah remembered she didn't have pockets and put it back, popping one in her mouth. God, she really wished she had pockets right now. Leah looked over and Sabine, and felt a twinge of concern. She didn't know how to actually support someone through the thing Sabine went through once, Leah didn't have that kind of perspective. But still, she was Sabine, so Leah inched closer and leaned in to say something quietly, lest everyone hear and make a stink about it.

"Hey, I know we said we were gonna eat, but you don't have to actually eat, if you don't feel like it, okay? Be easy on yourself." It was the thought that counted, right? With that said, Leah left it there to avoid putting any kind of pressure on Sabine. Hopefully Madalyne and Danni didn't overheard it. Or if they knew, they wouldn't make a big deal about. Though... Danni would make a big deal out of a stranger breathing in his general direction if he focused on it.

"Okay... So, April. Who the hell is Swift Wind?"

And there was the crushing, earth-shattering revelation: Leah had never seen She-Ra.

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree [Complete]

Ali fucked up big time grabbing the guy who can make Apparitions shit their pants

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree [Complete]

@Estylwen

That's a nice abstraction you've got there

Wouldn't it be a shame if someone cast a certain spell to make it stop working...

Parahumans: Earth Drega

@Silver Carrot

Thanks for your interest, would you mind joining the discord? We’d like to discuss your ideas and see what we can do with them.

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree [Complete]

---

Interactions: Sully, Alizee, and the Greenwood Coven

Flowers and Canvases

---

Now that everyone was trickling out, they clearly had their plans for tackling this whole coven murder mystery. Some of them were going to a strip club for reasons Stormy didn’t fully understand. He got here after everyone else had sorted out their plans and their differences. But Sully was a good guy. He was going to stick with Sully and figure out who he needed to punch later. He wasn’t going to ride with Britney if he had a choice, so he hopped into the car with the resident Beer Baron.

He had his own ride, but it was in a parking lot on the other end of town. it was closer to the club than him, ironically. ”I’ll keep my hands to myself like I said, but I sincerely do not feel confident in her doing that.”

He was quiet on the way to the club. It was never Stormy’s scene. He was more of a quiet, outdoor patio dinner sort of guy, so pulling up to the club and seeing a fight between a bunch of people and… Oh good lord, why did some of these these people seem too familiar for comfort?

In the parking lot, there were several people all gathered around in a fight. And of course, Britney was over there with Alizee. Of all people, he didn’t expect that woman to show up after all the things her Apparition made her do. He could see the despicable little creature from the window of Sully’s car. God, this was a disaster.

He stepped out of the vehicle and walked over, catching the tail end of their conversation. ”Yes, that coven. Now, Alizee, do you remember me at all? Because I remember you and the people you hunted, so I’m very inclined to believe them when they say you attacked one of their friends. What were you thinking?” that’s twice today, that Stormy has come out of the woodwork and made himself the center of attention.

After seeing Sully run over to help one of the strangers, and after Alizee ran into the arms of the other girl with a habit of hurting people, Stormy took a breath and directed his attention to Naomi. ”You’re right. I’m sorry about your friend over there. Alizee should have a handle on herself… You know about the Sycamore. I feel like so should remember you, have we met before? I haven’t been in town since things broke down, back in the day.”

Hopefully, some actual dialogue could smooth this over. ”…And do you have any idea why there’s a child here, by any chance?” He was trying his absolute best to ignore the fucking property damage.

Interactions: Drake, Sloane, Kali and Luca

Flowers and Canvases

---

”If any of you need me, I’ll be catching up with Drake and Luca. They’re easy to hunt down. Tomorrow, we’ll be better-adjusted as a group,” He assured Auri, before walking over and flipping off a few of the lights in the shop. Just dark enough that it was an inconvenience. Auri no doubt knew what he was doing before he did it, as Jack stood up taller, and teetered backwards into a one man trust fall. He vanished in a puff of black smoke, one of his oldest tricks, the very one that he used to give the Stygian Snake hell back in the good old day.

Jack suddenly appeared somewhere downtown, in a wide alleyway between two buildings. It was darker, and he had to look around just to be sure no one was on his tail suddenly. With the coast clear, he walked out and down the sidewalk, hands in his pockets. Jack looked through window after window, until he eventually spotted a car that looked like Sloan’s in a DQ parking lot. That was definitely a clear indication that Drake and Luca were probably inside. He stepped through the doors and headed straight to the counter, and ordered something warm… and something cold. Looking back over the seats, he could see them both sitting down and eating along with Kali and Sloane. Good. He got his food, paid in some of the most battered dollars anyone could spend, and took a seat by them.

Thankfully, the Blind tended to perceive Jack’s magical hand as flesh and blood, so long as they didn’t look to close. If they did, it would be easy to note the lack of nails, or veins around the wrist. The four at the table, however, would see it for what it was as Jack say something down by Drake’s food. The coveted, world-renown Large Peanut Buster. ”Consider it a peace offering, for ambushing you earlier,” He said to Drake, obviously joking. Or was he?

Jack sat down at the table directly across from them, taking a bite out of a chicken strip. ”I thought you’d be here. I overheard what you two were saying about the coven. Reforming the coven doesn’t sound bad on principle… Knowing what all of us know at the moment. But the problem I see with that is that we simply can’t reform what we had then. You heard what Auri tried to pitch: A family. The unfortunate fact is that most of us have our own families, and while it is quite heartwarming to see all of you again, everyone experienced life in their own ways. The old coven formed out of necessity. What were facing now is different, and we should treat is as such.”

He may or may not have been eavesdropping on their chat while we waited in line. ”I believe Auri could be a dependable leader in theory, but not on her own. As you mentioned, there is a reason why covens have a chain of command and not a dictator. If a proper example were to be set, then the rest of us will see that and follow better than claiming we’re still a family.”

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree [Complete]

If only there was a certain Void-fairing bastard who could make this worse

Parahumans: Earth Drega

Phantoms danced around both of them, dragging their tattered remains along the ground in the hope that they could come back from this. Beams of green energy were streaking across the smoking horizon, but they were not Laserman’s. How he wished they were from Laserman right now. This would’ve been so much easier, if he was still alive. So much cleaner.

”I warned you,” Thunk. A throwing knife flew from Grandmaster’s fingers, sinking through Confessor’s hand and impaling it to the ruined car he slumped against. The villain screamed, his voice strained, and he looked the old hero in the eyes through that idiotic mask of his.

His eyes went down to the road, but he did not need to see Grandmaster to know the weight of his hate. ”You never scared me, you don’t scare me now. You’ve always been a snake, and you always will be! Killing me won’t bring her b-”

There was not enough time for Confessor to blink before a sword was pulled from its scabbard to split his chest wide open. Blood sprayed him from torn veins and arteries, and yet Grandmaster was cold. Clinical, in his application of the swing. He wanted to see this wretched bastard, this maggot bleed slowly. Wisdom flowed from his mind, down through his hand and into his sword from unseen places, telling him exactly where to place his next strike for the cleanest kill; An afterimage, yet to happen and waiting. But he did not. He simply pointed the sword down at Confessor’s throat, the slightest movement would break the skin. One flick of his wrist, and everything would be over. Blood pooled around the villain. Deep down, Confessor knew that Grandmaster was drawing this out, but he wasn’t stupid. He was always the smarter one.

Confessor jerked his impaled hand, hoping it would dislodge the knife. But it only tore the otherwise perfectly sealed wound, adding to the puddle of blood.

”Laserman,” He flicked his sword downwards, and split open Confessor’s collarbone. He screamed again, quieter.

”Karnstein,” His shoulder.

”Nomad,” His jaw.

”Rimerunner, Savant, Bastion!” He stabbed the sword into Confessor’s weak body, puncturing his lungs and liver without aiming. One wound for all five of the deceased Wards. He kept going, slashing open wound after wound, until the number accounted for the other thirteen heroes lost in this battle.

”All dead. All of their families left to grieve, because of you.”

Confessor was bleeding like a stuck pig, and all of his phantoms could only helplessly watch their master’s life slip away. There were over 40 of them littering the street, and Grandmaster carved each and every one of them up like Christmas dinners. Confessor coughed up blood, staring at his soon-to-be murderer with blank, glazed eyes. Scar tissue mottled his face, standing out over warm brown skin. Hellstar got him good a few days ago, and he had been rendered blind ever since. It was a damn shame, too. He had hoped, even at this point, that the last thing he’d get to see was Grandmaster's face.

”You know they’ll… You-” Blood caught in his throat, he spat it up over Grandmaster’s shoes.

”They’ll never see you the same way. They’ll… Know about you, one day. It’s your turn now, Ramon. Isaac will find you.”

”The only thing he will find, Confessor, is your corpse on his doorstep. This is the end, I am never coming back.”

Grandmaster raised his sword overhead, and let out all of his rage with one more swing.

”You should have stayed in Arizona, little brother.”

---

PRT Headquarters, 8:37AM
June 19, 2021

Director Valerie Foster strode through the public section of the PRT HQ. It was connected to her office in a wraparound construction, so she could see from her office window that a small crowd was forming out front. News reporters and journalists looking to get a glimpse of the newest heroes. Little did any of them know that none of the kids were even in the same building at the moment. It was currently 8am, and the building had been closed to give the illusion that something important was happening here. It was entirely unnecessary, since they were all meeting in the Protectorate building, and absolutely no one could show up there unless granted special access. This, however, was done intentionally to give the press something positive to latch on. She knew, better than most in this godforsaken city, that it was so much easier to make progress when people believed in the good of that progress. When they wanted it.

She stopped, straightened her tie and ensured her gloves were on tight. No one knew why the director wore them, but the incredibly soft material, black as ink, seemed to match well with her charcoal three-piece suit. She was the definition of professional. And so, as a professional, she approached the journalists and the camera-toting press. Immediately, she was flagged down, put on the spot and questioned. Where are the Wards? Are they forming their team today? Is Tandem keeping her identity public? All manners of questions that were either curveballs to wring out extra information, invasive, or simply innocent came forth. And the director embraced all of them.

”I am afraid that I can’t answer many questions. At the moment, the Wards are preparing for their first assignment as the next generation of heroes. There will be plenty of time to speak with them once they’ve had the opportunity to adjust to their new lives.” For one or two, this wasn’t as new as the director was describing, but it was bad form to talk about their experience working outside the PRT’s jurisdiction.

“Is it true that the Wards have a mind controller on their team?” Someone in the crowd asked.

Director Foster offered the young man who put the question forth a rare smile. ”Mind control is a rumor, thankfully. No, the Ward known as Ethos does not manipulate the minds of others. She simply allows them to see the error of their ways.” A flowery, polite way to describe the manipulation of one’s moral compass.

“How will the PRT contend with the backlash from reinstating child soldiers?” Another, older man with a certain tone in his voice proposed a rather loaded question. An anti-caper, she assumed. He went low, so she went high.

”There is a misconception among the public that the Protectorate trains children to be soldiers, to fight wars, the Endbringers and so on. What we do here, is train them to use their powers responsibly, to set an example for future generations. To inspire their generation to reach out in their most vulnerable moments. And for that, I believe wholeheartedly that we simply won’t receive backlash.”

“Even after the last Wards team disbanded?” A woman with a notebook asked, “Many people still remember the deaths from Confessor’s rampage. And no one could forget what happened to Karnstein…”

Everyone in the crowd fell silent for a moment. Karnstein’s death was particularly grizzly. The man who asked that accustational question even had the common sense to feel guilty. Valerie read the room, and simply nodded. ”We all remember what Confessor did to us. We’ve all had someone taken from us by his attack. But Karnstein laid her life down to save others. She wanted this city to live on, and I know that wherever she is now, she’s smiling.”

That seemed to satisfy them all. The best part was that she didn’t have to lie about it.

---

Protectorate Headquarters, 8:42AM

While Director Foster worked a crowed, the real business was happening one building over. The Wards were given directions and an order to be here at their central meeting room at 8:45 in the morning, in their new gear, with the special access credentials they were issued to get in the building. Their meeting place was a large, spacious area with white walls and one-way windows that overlooked the entire complex. Massive computer screens were available for multiple people to work with at a time, along with chairs and a couch or two. The opposite wall held a large flatscreen tv, and all the cool consoles that the kids played with these days. That was Axiom's idea. Doors led out into a hall that connected to their living spaces, as well as a decently sized kitchen they could eat in. The Ward's wing of the building was built to house them indefinitely, as several of them had home situations that were less than sufficient.

Special consideration had been given to accommodate the powers of Richter, Shattercrash and Watson. The walls were made with a special tinker-made compound that absorbed 100% of any impacts, while behaving like containment foam for anyone who was on the inside. The Wards, were, of course, not explicitly made aware of this. After all, why would they be in the walls?

The Protectorate's best were lined up here. Nightstalker, the case 53 with purple skin, green eyes and a long cape of prehensile flesh, couldn’t help but smile. Axiom, the physics-shattering tinker, had climbed out of her suit and was down to her more mobile costume, a black and purple jumpsuit lined with glowing energy, and a cybernetic helmet that made her look like an astronaut.

And of course, the leader of them stood ramrod straight with his hands folded behind his back. His costume was different from the other two. Nightstalker simply wore body armor, and Axiom looked ready to go to space, but Grandmaster wore a simply white suit, with a gray undershirt, black tie, and a slightly unsettling mask adorned with a crown. At his waist were two swords sheathed away, and a more perceptive person could see a roll of throwing knives tucked under his sleeve.

”They’ll be here any minute now. I hope they’re ready,” Axiom said, through her helmet’s radio.

”Of course they are,” Nightstalker croaked, in an inhumanly deep voice. ”They’re trained for this now, and we’re working with them. They’ll do fine, I’m sure.”

”Indeed they will. Our city needs it.” Grandmaster waited, patiently, for the first Ward to walk in. The Vice Director was supposed to be here by now. It didn't look good if he got here after the children did.

Any second now...