Location: HQ, Mount Justice Interactions: The Team Mentions:
Viktor was more focused than ever during this briefing on the upcoming mission. It not only made him feel small inklings of doubt that his team could pull off maintaining covers as villains, but it also sparked memories of his attendance at events such as this gala. These events always had a theme or a misdirection, but they always had the same motive. His eyes looked across everyone in attendance, sizing up each member of the Team, just before nodding to himself. They can do this... We can do this.
Faith. It was something that still didn’t sit well with him, but he stomached it nevertheless. Despite any doubts he buried, everyone around the table had the capability of carrying out this mission, even with Zach’s playful comments. Before Batman could step in to comment, Pei had piped up to give some preliminary instructions to those who would be disguised as the wealthy youth attending the gala. Of course, the Tempest Queen was the one who’d waste little time getting the Team prepped for the mission.
Viktor shot glances at Will, Vincent, and Cora to make a mental note of who he’d be working with, yet… his eyes naturally peered toward Daphne. He wondered what her thoughts and feelings were regarding the mission, especially knowing she wouldn’t blatantly voice them. When her eyes eventually met his from across the table, he gave a subtle head nod with an even subtler smile before looking toward the center of the table.
“As far as henchmen go,” Viktor figured he could give some of his own preliminary advice to those who’d be assigned as bodyguards while Pei was giving pointers to the group she’d be coaching. “The quieter, the better. If I’m leading you, then it’s best if I do most of the talking and issuing of orders. You can disagree out loud for show, but follow my guidance.” He stressed the last part for emphasis before continuing. I’ve attended an event like this one. Not many will be looking for an altercation, but this place might end up being the most dangerous place we’ve been to.”
Race: Changeling Class: Part-Time Fighter Location: Port Verge, Lhazaar Principalities Interactions: Meiyu @Tae and Elithar [@Infinite Cosmos}Mentions:
Equipment:
⋆ Lots of Clothes ⋆ Arming sword ⋆ Battle-axe ⋆ Mace ⋆ Daggers ⋆ Bow & Arrows ⋆ Shortsword ⋆ Leather Armor ⋆ Half-plate Armor ⋆ Hide Armor ⋆ Toolkit ⋆ Camping Equipment ⋆ Locked chest filled with old trinkets that ARE NOT FOR SALE ⋆ Magnifying glass ⋆ Diary ⋆ Sketchbook ⋆ Pencils ⋆ Dried and Cured Meats ⋆ Nuts ⋆ Second Locked Chest with self-care products ⋆ Bag of holding
Attire: beige trousers, brown tunic, and worn brown boots Gold Balance: 13 (Minerva shamelessly stole from Darius, but there may be more) Injuries: None Current Persona: Minerva
“Hahahahaha!” Minerva laughed boisterously with a point after watching Meiyu pin down a would-be thief. She honestly wasn’t surprised someone might try to mug her. She just looked like the kind of person to pocket something rare. That was the curse of being a silent beauty— others just assumed things about them, whether it was wealth, weakness, or some base desire.
“Good girl! A little sloppy with the sweep, but I’d give you a fair eight out of ten,” Minerva teased before crouching low by his head. “Ah, he’s one of those elves… Weird, but cute.” She raised an eyebrow while cocking her head to the side with a smile, while wondering how a desert-farer ended up in the isles of the Lhazaar Principalities. “But we both know the answer to why he tried to reach for your snatch,” she lightly chuckled with a clawed poke to the elf’s forehead. “But I want him to say it, haha!” Minerva delivered a mischievous, toothy grin to Elithar, who was now looking up at the two women, devious in their own right.
October 21th, 2021 | 09:05am. | Mount Justice, Happy Harbor
With the perfect beach adventure behind them, a paramount mission briefing was primed and ready for the Team the following morning. Once all were gathered and seated in the mission briefing room, Black Canary entered the room while Batman patched in on the overhead monitor.
“Good morning, Team.” Black Canary greeted with a head nod, a slight smile on her face— warm, but not too friendly.
“Good morning, Team. As you are aware, your primary focus is Kobra’s manufacturing, testing, and distribution of their latest strain of Kobra Venom. Your previous missions have tackled all but the latter…” He let the Team absorb that for just a beat. “However, success in the following mission will give us a lock on who is expected to receive the drug.” The screen display shifted, showing a satellite image of a remote island in the South Pacific, with Batman’s window shrinking down into the bottom right corner of the screen.
“Isla Serenata is the location of this year’s Gala Nemesis. This private event is particularly hosted and attended by several criminal entities as a means of networking, marketing, and negotiations. However, many attendees are invited to attend simply due to their wealth and status. We have a strong lead that Kobra will be in attendance to seek a potential buyer for their new Strain of Kobra Venom. You’ll be there to find out who, while disguised as attendees. Some of you will be undercover as a group of spoiled affluent teens who were able to get by wealth alone, while others of your team will serve as your bodyguards who happen to be lesser-known criminals trying to upstart their careers. Sticking to your cover is the most important objective of this mission, as you will be amongst some of the most dangerous people on the planet.”
“And that is where I come in, team. I was informed about the details of this gala and have already begun the prep work for each of your temporary identities… with some help, of course.” She happily dipped her head toward the monitor. “Likewise, some of you have a bit of experience in the shoes of some of these identities.” Her eyes darted to select members of the team. “For those who lack that, consider Iceburn, Metamorph, Quiver, and Rain as my assistant coaches for the roles you will assume. Iceburn, Metamorph, Mirage, Nymph, and Zatara will be our wealthy, spoiled brats. Will, Viktor, Cora, and Vincent will be our bottom-rung evildoers. We’ll only have two days to get all of you ready for this.” She nodded to Batman, who continued.
“Aside from your identities, at the gala, you will be accompanied and assisted by an agent intimate with the underbelly of international crime. Origami, an information broker… Her criminal reputation will be what strongly validates your presence at the gala, and her expertise in intelligence collection is something the Team requires for this mission, but be aware… she is not doing this out of the goodness of her heart. She is not a member of your team, and you should consider her a potential risk to your true identities. Simply treat her as a necessary and temporary ally.” Another pause followed, but he was also expecting questions from the members of the Team and was quick to expand upon the fact that the team would not only be working as a criminal element, but they would also work alongside a tried and true criminal during this mission.
“As for Origami's motives to participate and the Justice League’s motives for allowing this… Despite her criminal history, Origami is a teenager who has been determined to have been targeted by an organization that sought to use her as an unwavering asset. Many of you are familiar with such circumstances, and some of you have experienced them firsthand. Origami has requested much-needed leniency for her past crimes in exchange for providing her expertise. She sees this as a trade of services,” he said with eyes narrowing, “we see it as an opportunity for her to get exposed to peers using their abilities and skills to help others while doing some good in the world. Still, this does not overwrite what I mentioned previously about applying caution.” His pause was deliberate, allowing the Team to take all that had been briefed for a moment. “If there’s any input needed or anything that needs clarity, you’re welcome to speak.”
“Hey Meiyu, I don't know if you have any experience with these kinds of shops, but it's always good to let them do their little intro. It doesn't matter how bad it is, just… Just don't interrupt him.” Minerva instructed.
Meiyu’s serpentine golden eyes tracked Minerva's profile for a beat, the flicker of a cruel dismissal crossing her face. “I am familiar with the necessary forms of theater, Minerva.”
Oooeeeh! She said my name! Such a good girl! Minerva had silently beamed to herself, but what was more important, was that the two were on the same page. However, their shared goal didn't seem apparent for the few eyes that glossed over the pair. They walked side by side, yet their gaits were oh so different. For once, the refined and the wild moved parallel.
Then, about ten paces from the stall, Meiyu stopped and turned to face Minerva. The change was immediate and absolute, a flawless piece of emotional camouflage executed solely for Minerva's benefit. The cold, rigid posture of the analytical operative instantly vanished, replaced by the magnetic swagger of a seasoned pirate queen. Her spine softened into a liquid grace, her hands falling to her hips in a confident, possessive stance. Her golden eyes, once sharp and intellectual, now held a bright, challenging mischief, and her lips curled into a playful, reckless smirk. She even seemed to grow a fraction taller, commanding the space.
The greatest shift was her voice. It went from its normal dry, precise tone, like silk over steel, to a deep, smooth contralto–smoky and husky, suggesting long nights and whispered deals. She spoke with a port city blend of quick, rhythmic cadence, shedding her formal diction and adopting the relaxed slurring of someone who calls every rough dock home.
Meiyu then reached out, her hand moving with deceptive slowness to gently run a manicured finger along the curve of Minerva's jawline, her golden eyes flashing with mischief.
“See that, little cat?” She purred, her voice now a low rumble. “The dagger and the dancer. This port runs on gossip, and the only way to get a secret is to look like you couldn't possibly keep one. Let's go charm this fool.”
Minerva only had the will to nod in agreement with her mouth left agape and her body frozen in place. It was awe that gripped her. Sure, she was also flabbergasted and wanted to scream at the top of her lungs in shock, but the feline gulped it down as if she was doing her best Wendel impression.
“It would do good to warn a girl next time before doing that.” Minerva shook away her fluster with a headshake and a sigh. “I like it though! It's definitely more my speed.” She flashed a toothy grin with a playful wink before the two proceeded toward the Odds & Ends stall.
Their approach drew eyes as the duo sauntered over with a comfort that was rarely owned by complete strangers of Port Verge. They did more than just blend in. Within a few paces, the two wore their comfort here that other locals to shame.
“Careful where you step, sweethearts,” Taren “Lucky” Voss, the owner of the stall, initiated with a lazy smile. “Half this lot’s cursed, the other half’s stolen—and I’m not saying which is which.” He laughed, mischief twinkling in his eyes. “Just kidding... Probably. Anyway, I haven't seen you two before. Just so you know, we receive new stock daily, and most of this merchandise sells out by the end of the day."
He then pushed off the counter and circled them once, half-admiring, half-appraising. And just as the two agreed, they let him go on with his theatrics.
“You both got the look of ladies about to make a terrible decision. Lucky for you, I make my living off those.”
He gestures broadly to the shelves. “Everything here’s got a story. Some true, some better when they’re not. What’ll it be today, captains—bargains, beauty, or trouble?”
Meiyu returned his lazy smile with one of her own, but hers was less lazy and far more dangerous. Minerva fought back a snort by feigning a hacking cough to her side, covering her mouth as she did. Who the fuck is this guy? ‘I make my living off those.’
“You’re quite right. Terrible decisions are the only kind worth making.” She took a smooth step closer, maintaining the magnetic intensity of her gaze. “Bargains are for the cautious, and beauty fades with the tide. My friend and I are here for the goods with a history, the items that ruined the last fool who held them. Because every piece of trouble in this town, be it an item or a Prince, comes with a secret attached.”
Her eyes swept the cluttered shelves, briefly fixing on the small, dark bottle before settling on the gloves. “You look like a man who collects those secrets, so then, tell me some stories. Let’s start with what sort of darkness you keep corked up in that little black bottle, and what those worn gloves have touched.”
“Ehrm…” Minerva recovered her composure. “Yes, what she said.” She said with a cross of her arms while eyeing a few wares she considered purchasing.The clothing caught her eye, especially since they could serve as a way to match the environment she found herself in. That, and they fit her style in remaining light and nimble.
“Of course, sweethearts. Each item owns its own tale, and I am more than smitten to share them with your lovely lot.” Taren stepped toward the Nimble Fingers Tonic first, tapping its cork top with his index finger. “The Nimble Fingers Tonic. Black as one’s heart who intends to consume it. Some believe it was brewed by the very shadows assassins and thieves use as refuge, but truth be told, it be a vicious sea hag’s concoction. One that she granted to those who had the deft hands to steal some without getting caught.” He grinned as he slowly slid the item across the counter. “In some ways, it’s considered a trophy. A testament to one’s skill in stealth… but here, at my stall, it’s an aid that would make you just as good… With your hands, of course. It doesn’t fix footwork and bright colored clothing, sadly, but-”
“That’s what the Chameleon’s Brew is for.” Minerva piped up while still looking around the stall. Her interruption was something she had told Meiyu not to do, but Taren took no offense and nodded in agreement.
“Exactly. The two potions consumed in tandem will surely make one deft as a phantom.” He nodded at Meiyu while placing the second potion beside the Nimble Fingers Tonic.
Meiyu’s golden eyes narrowed slightly, tracing the deep black of the potion with detached interest. She wasn't fooled by the dramatic backstory; she was analyzing the ingredient list it implied. Her voice, however, remained low and alluring.
“A trophy then, or an easy shortcut…depends on who’s drinking it, I suppose. And a vicious sea hag's concoction? Sounds too much like a fairytale you tell the fresh arrivals.” She let out a soft, amused sigh. “Perhaps she meant for it to be stolen. Maybe it was meant as a curse to ruin the hands that hold it. That's what I would do if I were a sea hag. But perhaps it could come in handy, I'll consider it. What about the other half of my choice? Those gloves. Were they cut from a thief’s hand, or worn down by a King’s ransom?”
“Oh, these? Nooo. There’s much more merit to the gloves.” He left the two potions on the counter to allow the faint desire to grow with hunger while going toward the gloves. “These were famously worn by the legendary helmsman, Karlen Blue, in his early days.” He placed them onto the counter and brushed the back of his hand against them. “Who knows if the next to wear them will become legendary, but at the very least, these gloves offer both comfort and dexterity.” He glanced at Minerva, who silently showed her excitement by flashing him a look of awe. “Interested as well, I see.”
“No, but the rhyme was great. You’re just not my type. Sorry.” Minerva answered sincerely, while Taren was left slightly confused.
Meiyu smiled slowly, her golden eyes fixed on the worn leather of the gloves, ignoring Minerva's strange interaction with the shop owner completely. Taren's tale of a legendary helmsman was exactly the kind of high-stakes tale she enjoyed.
“Karlen Blue, you say? A helmsman who went on to legend. Far more useful than a potion, truly. The hands that guide the ship are the ones that decide the destination, after all.” She let her fingers brush the gloves, her attention entirely focused on the implied power they held. “Perhaps if I buy these, I’ll become the next Princess of Port Verge.” She watched Taren's reaction carefully, letting a casual, testing grin stretch across her face.
“Princess?” Minerva raised an eyebrow with an amused smile. Taren averted his gaze to the gloves, knowing damn well they didn’t contain any special properties, but that was what the tales were for. Everything had a story or a legend attached to it, and each element of future possibilities added a degree of worth to those items.
“That glint in those eyes of yours tells me you believe you might put better use to those gloves than even Karlen… Only one way to find out, really. But if you do become Princess of Port Verge, make sure to give me a shout”
“And if she doesn’t?” Minerva brushed the back of her hand on the gliding cloak hanging up.
“It would be heartbreaking if she forgot about me,” Taren replied with a sigh.
“No, no, no. What if she doesn’t become Princess of Port Verge? I mean, how can you assume that?” Minerva lightly pounded her fist on the counter. “You gotta be real with her or she’ll come back here and say your merch is shit. Odd Shit & Shit Ends. You think that’s cute? It ain’t. It’s shit. Shitty. Shitty,” Minerva emphasized stronger than anyone would think was appropriate.
Meiyu gave a smooth, dismissive wave of her hand toward Minerva, though her lips twitched slightly at the "Odd Shit" comment.
“Be still, little cat. The worth isn't in the item, it's in the story he tells to sell it. Don't spoil the trade with your bluntness.” She let her fingers brush the gloves, her attention entirely focused on Taren.
“But about that destination. My crew and I have an audience with the Prince later today, and I’m not the type to walk blind into an introduction. I need to know what I’m steering into.” She leaned closer, her smoky voice dropping conspiratorially.
“Is he a cautious man who measures every word, or is he arrogant enough to be flattered by a bold woman? What makes him tick, or better yet, what makes him forget he’s running this coast?” Taren caught her eye, his own mischief momentarily replaced by a pragmatic understanding that this woman wasn't just flirting, she was gathering intelligence for a high-stakes play. He lowered his voice.
“Ah, now that is a better story than any sea hag could conjure. The Prince? Hmm…he’s a pragmatic man. Not some drunken, wild captain, understand? He’s as much a tactician as he is a pirate, and he holds the respect of many here in Port Verge, not just their fear. He can certainly be charmed, and he has an eye for bold women, but the best way into his good graces isn’t flattery.” Taren tapped the counter twice for emphasis. “It’s utility. Be useful to Prince Dane, and he’ll give you the world.”
Meiyu’s eyes sparkled, and the magnetic grin returned full force. The information was far more valuable than the gloves themselves.
“That story is a price worth paying.” She pulled the gloves toward her with a decisive, proprietary movement. “I’ve decided these are necessary.”
She dropped twenty gold onto the counter for the gloves, and then added a glittering pile of ten gold pieces. Her smoky voice was low and appreciative. “The price for the leather, the extra for the timely advice. Keep those ears open, Handsome.”
Taren caught the gold with the ease of long practice, his lazy smile now genuine and predatory. “Good fortune always favors the generous, Princess. I'll be sure to save the very best stories just for you.”
“Cute.” Minerva smiled with just her lips, but her slightly narrowed eyes were incredulous. Taren maintained his charisma, having engaged with plenty like her before. The kind that put you on edge with a smile both parties knew was false— the type who would leave him for dead with that same look upon their face as if they wanted you to believe they've done you a favor. The even alarming part was that the shopkeeper was accustomed to the odd, crazy, and dangerous. This was Port Verge after all. “Now it's my turn. I'll be quick. I don't need my friend here spending too much time falling in love with such a snake charmer.” Meiyu rolled her eyes and offered a dry, amused look to Taren, a tiny smirk playing on her lips. Minerva chuckled at her own bad joke as one of her hands dug into her satchel. Taren shook his head with a grin.
“You two make for quite the interesting pair.” Taren truly wondered how either of them could stand being beside one another. Meiyu slipped on the gloves, flexing her fingers. She gave Taren a slow, heavy-lidded look.
“You confuse chaos with camaraderie, handsome.” Taren squinted his eyes, briefly attempting to discern whether Meiyu was replying to what he said or his less filtered thoughts. Not wanting to leave himself left speechless, he directed his attention to the shifter woman whom he’d caught window shopping quite a few instances.
”So… what’re you fancying?” His charming smirk was impeccable. “I caught your eyes lingering on the bird. His tale is quite-”
“Stop!” Minerva snapped at Taren with no shame in her hypocrisy. Was it not she who instructed Meiyu to allow the man to spin his tales? Meiyu simply shook her head and sighed as she strapped in for this chaos. Minerva did manage to catch herself, albeit late. “I-I mean… It's my turn. Yeah! It's my turn to tell a tale… about my… satchel! Yes! Because I'm trying to fetch some coin from it!” Minerva nodded with a friendly grin and unblinking eyes before wincing as her hand was pricked by something sharp and unsheathed within the bag. “Damn it… Just let me tell my tale, okay.”
“Have either of you ever heard of Darius the Great?” There was no time to answer before she continued. “You should have, because he is the most dastardly silver-tongued man I’ve ever known. Some say ancient elves found him under the crescent moon and raised him, while others claim he is a god of mischief in the shape of a man, but no one truly knows. No one knows his past or where he’s from, but few strongly believe he originated right here in the Lhazaar Principalities! He’d deny being anything close to a pirate, but his love of treasure and the sea show otherwise. He can wield any manner of weapon as easily as the fancy wield their special spoons and forks! Dragons are his pets, and magic is child’s play to him as he weaves it in ways that make pointy-hatted wizards gasp in awe!” Minerva was really getting into it now.
Meiyu let a subtle, dry chuckle rumble in her chest, seemingly enjoying Minerva's audacious performance. Her husky voice dropped to a low, carrying whisper for Taren. “A fine line between ‘dastardly silver-tongued’ and ‘pathological liar.’ She walks it well.”
“He’s untraceable, appearing as quickly as he vanishes! A shadow in the dark! A ghost in the pale moonlight! But I tell you what… he never leaves without indulging in the things he desires. Gold, family heirlooms, booze, and of course, women…” She locked eyes with Taren, who wasn’t exactly sold on the story, but the name rang a bell. “Your little stall would be left empty if he took a liking to your trinkets… or at least, he would have…” Minerva began to giggle in the creepiest way anyone could. With a quick pull from the satchel, she presented a blue robe. “Hahahaha! I, the one and only Peaches Minerva, not only bested Darius the Great, but stole his bottomless satchel… and his clothes!” Minerva had celebrated with a thunderous voice before she dug into one of the inner pockets of the robe.
“A fine tale,” Taren entertained with a soft clap of his hands. Meiyu simply looked at Minerva, giving a brief, sharp raise of her eyebrows. “It certainly takes up time, if nothing else.” Minerva held back a growl toward, but clenched her teeth instead in an effort to control herself.
“It isn’t just a fine tale! It’s the finest! The finest! Come on now, it is a tale you could use yourself. Now be a good boy and fetch me that cloak you have hung up there.” Minerva tilted her head toward the Skyborn Gliding Cloak with a confident smirk. “60 pieces and these blue robes, take it or leave it.”
“60? You think I was born yesterday. That cloak is easily over 100 pieces. It’s enchanted and was first used by-”
“No! I don’t want to hear the story. I just want the cloak. 70 pieces, no robe, take it… or leave it.” Minerva narrowed her eyes at Taren now who scoffed at her manner of intimidation. He glanced at the cloak, considering the offer but shook his head nevertheless. The feline huffed. “85,” Minerva growled.
“90 with the robe, sweetheart,” Taren offered smugly with a wink.
“90 without the robe! I can’t give it to you, but you can use the story on… something else.” She whispered the last part, her expression more desperate than she had ever looked. The only time Minerva had looked so distraught today was when Phia greeted her hours prior. The wretched soul stealing double-wave. “90… please!” Minerva was practically begging now as she pouted. Stealing some of Darius’ stashed gold was one thing, but selling off his robe just seemed like an irreparable action toward another member of the First Four. “Please…” She persisted, her eyes watering now.
Meiyu watched Taren, her expression carefully neutral, to see if Minerva’s sudden desperation would move the shopkeeper.
“90 pieces? Without the robe?” Taren took a theatrical pause, pretending to mull over the offer, knowing he at least had gained a foothold during their haggle. “I’d be doing you one helluva favor with that deal.”
“Mhm! And I would never forget it. I’ll tell all my friends about you. Stella, Menzai, and Phia would love to see this place! And! When I show them my cool cloak, they’ll definitely come running, especially Menzai. He is so adorable when he gets jealous of me! He goes, ‘I am a sophisticated scholarrrly dog-man with the finest flowy clothes in the entirrrety of the worrrld, hmph.’” She sounded nothing like Menzai and simply spoke with a nasally haughty tone and rolled R’s. “90 and potentially some new customers itching to buy.”
Meiyu clamped down a laugh so violently her golden eyes watered, briefly wondering if Minerva actually believed the ridiculous promises she was making. She gave Taren a look that was equal parts weary and commanding, dropping her voice to a low purr. “The guarantee of future business is only as valuable as the person backing it, Handsome. You have my word on the traffic as well, and that is worth far more than the last five gold you’re holding out for. End this now.”
“90 pieces… 90 pieces it is, for the Skyborn Gliding Cloak.” Taren retrieved the cloak from its hanger, placing it on the counter while Minerva placed the required gold down beside it.
“Good b-. I mean… Good deal. Mhm, gooood deal.” Minerva nodded slowly with a smile as she grabbed the cloak and immediately put it on. “How do I look, Meiyu? Awesome, right?”
Meiyu’s smile didn't quite reach her eyes. “It covers your worst instincts well, little cat. A definite improvement. Now, let’s take our leave. This port has made me ravenous, and if you don't feed me soon, I might start finding the little kittens awfully delicious.” She smirked and began walking away.
Have you ever been in a situation that forced you to look down and realize that there was no going down from it? Rock bottom. Lowest of the low. The walls are so off-white, you might as well put a real color to the descriptor. You pass on the communal coffee, because despite it being somewhat free until you’re tagged for resupply, it just tastes like someone threw some soil from the nearest potted plant and mixed it with hot water. There’s random sticky patches on the floor from spills that were never attended to. The fluorescent lights shine down from the ceiling, attempting to breathe life into the place, but the absence of real— the natural light is nowhere to be found due the dusty low hanging blinds. At least it smells nice. That’s likely all Chadwick could manage, or perhaps it was the only thing he thought couldn’t be blipped away by his “aura.”
Falling from grace was something Sylas had gotten used to during his time with the SDN, but this was…
He never imagined it would be this bad. He got a bit of a sneak peak of the dossiers of his new teammates before his relocation and scoffed at how unbelievable the team composition was. He almost thought someone was pulling his leg or someone was trying to subvert his expectations so he’d feel better about his predicament later. But no. The files were real— very real.
There was a raise of his right eyebrow as he stepped through the door to enter the meeting room as he found himself as the first to arrive.
It’s 0758. I’m the first to arrive? He shrugged at the absence of people in the room and the spirits of this place that may have lingered. I fuckin’ hit it. He thought as he walked across the room to a seat beside one at the head of the table. This place was shit— no it was worse than shit, but he wouldn’t spotlight himself as some sort of leader, especially since this was officially his first day on the team. This is it… This is rock bottom Sylas took his seat, while looking at the other seats lacking bodies in them. He wanted to shake his head, but knew he couldn’t harshly judge the place he had fallen into. Besides, Chadwick hadn’t shown yet, so his optimism told him the tea was probably working with a relative sense of time.
With his domino mask perfectly fitted to his face and a notepad out, Sylas was ready for whatever came next.
ASSET PORTRAIT & ID NAME: Sylas Ross CODENAME: Reforge AGE: 30 HEIGHT: 6ft BIRTHPLACE: Los Angeles, CA VIBE: Cynical Optimist… that’s shit at recycling DETAIL: Faint crimson wisps of energy exude from him when making physical contact CONTRACT:DebtorSTATUS: Active Liability POWER & LIABILITY
ABILITIES: Soul Tranferrence. Reforge can imprint his slivers of his soul (or what he claims them to be) onto targets he makes physical contact with. His ability has two distinct functions:
-The Inanimate: When Reforge touches inanimate materials of any form, his wisps can create autonomous golems or elemental beings that share his overall intent and will. These beings are held together by the crimson wisps imbued into them and can be destroyed by conventional means, given the substance used to create them. Despite these entities being nonverbal, Reforge seamlessly communicates with each one, though he often has to initiate verbal communication with his creations to acclimate them to the current situation.
-The Animate: Humans and animals targeted by Reforge’s ability are subjected to his will and intent. For humans, waves of his thoughts, his emotions, and even suggestiveness are implanted into them. Nonhuman animals experience a similar effect, but with more potency, establishing a temporary mental link that facilitates communication and pacification.
LIABILITY: Reforge’s ability on the inanimate objects accrue property damages 90 percent of the time due to his abilities stripping material from private and public property infrastructure. Due to the intentionality of his abilities, every creation made is scrutinized and evaluated by SDN legal representatives. Creations are deemed liabilities in the field until Reforge confirms their cooperation. Reforge experiences strain from creating constructs based on the amount of inanimate mass he is attempting to control. He can manage double his mass at a time without adverse side effects, but exceeding this limit causes fatigue, fainting, and/or loss of control over a creation.
ASSET CAPACITY STAT|VALUE|RATIONALE Combat|3|Skilled at mid-ranged combat. Creative use of terrain and constructs for offensive and defensive tactics Vigor|2|Endurance is limited by the strain from his abilities. Mobility|2|Average physical agility due to physical conditioning. Relies on creations for heavy lifting and traversal. Charisma|3|Street smart negotiator and adaptable under pressure, but can occasionally be insubordinate with authority figures if he believes he’s in the right. Intellect|3|Tactical improviser, excelling at repurposing the environment stategically while being capable of rapid threat assessment. Skilled in identifying structural weaknesses. MECHANICS & STATUS
DESIGNATED ROLE: Team Coordinator and Emergency Response Asset SIGNATURE TACTIC/MANEUVER: Attempts to talk his way out of a situation while analyzing what might be the best thing to break if things go south. EMOTIONAL STABILITY RATING (1-5): 5- Despite his jaded outlook on his career as a hero, Reforge has retained an iron will to achieve mission success. When forced into a corner, he’s willing to do whatever it takes to overcome adversity.
HISTORY & DESCRIPTION PERSONALITY:On first look, Reforge seems like the by-the-book type until you remember that he’s on Z Team. He’s driven to the task at hand, but it’s apparent that even he has his limits, resorting to slight vices to keep himself from collapsing like one of his creations when not in use. The man he is on task is very different from the man he is when on his free time. During missions, Reforge is a man people can lean on and someone who can be trusted with the whole of one’s being. Off duty, Reforge is a shell of the man he once was, as his shoulders drop and he trudges back to his apartment. Despite where he is, it is apparent that he is jaded from his time working with the SDN, causing him to come off as rebellious toward directives he disagrees with. His humor his dry, and he’s willing to participate in banter between himself and coworkers, but he never takes things too far and will often have a touch-and-go approach to such things. He takes smoke breaks alone, but will tag along with anyone else with a quickness. He fronts like he’s in a realm of his own or a solitarian, but he yearns for connection, something that can be seen in how he interacts with his creations or when he mistakenly brushes up against someone during a vulnerable moment. A part of him still strives to move up the ranks, while another focuses on the seemingly endless digits that make up his debt. BIO:Born and raised in Los Angeles, California, Sylas Ross never thought he’d acquire superhuman abilities in his adolescence. As sudden as it was, his abilities conjured a spark of direction for him that made him want to make a difference in the world. No one in his family had powers like he did, so to him, it was almost like winning the lottery. With his abilities showcasing versatility and utility in a wide range of operations, Sylas was easily recruited by the SDN. He started with Team I in Chicago, but eventually made his way up to the likes of Team E. He even made sure to wear a pure white circular emblem on his chest to represent his total commitment to the organization. Bright-eyed and full of potential, he expected to reach one of the top three teams within SDN, but, unfortunately, he was due for the hardest fall he’d ever experienced. Multiple companies and agencies had filed a class action lawsuit against the SDN concerning unnecessary and intentional collateral damage committed by heroes, and Sylar was one of the several heroes caught in the crosshairs of the evidence uncovered. SDN’s legal division was unable to beat the case, which resulted in Sylas being knocked down from team to team until he eventually found himself designated for Team Z. The pure white emblem soon became a light, melancholy yellow as he watched what he thought was his destiny slip from his grasp. There were times he resented the SDN for being too incompetent to fight for him as he did for them. There were times when he resented the public for being ungrateful to his many deeds. However, what he truly resented were his abilities that once propped him up. They were now a stain on his standing as a member of the SDN. CRIMES:Mass “intentional” public and private property damage. Suspected accessory to various crimes committed by past intimate partners, though insufficient evidence exists to place charges or issue a warrant for arrest.
Race: Changeling Location: Rekkenmark, Karrnath The sun was just a few hours from setting when Miris left Wendel’s workshop. Her sack was just a little bit heavier, and her heart felt a lot lighter. She had visited Wendel to steal something of value from him, but, instead, he gave her something priceless and genuine. She knew he had been careful with his words, but the meaning was clear to her. For the first time in a long time, she recognized that someone truly cared for her. Sure, they had talked and eaten together from time to time, but Wendel had never tried to pierce through the layer of her she kept on the surface— to face her and the problems she hid from everyone.
Still, she found herself venturing outside the walls of the city, not yet ready to request a living space in the kind dwarf’s home. Miris felt she was far too tangled in unsavory dealings and wouldn’t be able to forgive herself if she inadvertently involved Wendel. What mattered now was that she knew she had found a friend in him, someone she could trust.
Miris carried her sack into the crumbled stone ruins of what used to be a fort or a tower. It was here that she called home. Here, where there was no family or wealth. Its only security was the fact that it was a place left forgotten, but too close to Rekkenmark to be occupied by those who might cause harm.
Home bitter home. Miris thought as she shifted into her natural form and leaned against a stone wall. Gazing up, she took note that she still had time to take advantage of the light. As much as she wished to sleep, she’d need to reset her camp, but before that…
Miris undid the rope that tied the top of her sack, opening it to reveal what she had inside. She knew what she had placed into it, but this time she wanted to look at her items with Wendel’s words in mind.
“Some things might seem like they lack any value when they are on their own. A quill without ink, is just a feather after all.”
She squinted her eyes, finding something new at the top of the pile.
“Huh?” Miris grabbed a small sack filled with gold coins. She couldn’t see the coins, of course, but she was accustomed to the weight and shape of them enough to know Wendel had given her something for her troubles. She sighed discontentedly, but couldn’t help smiling. She dropped the sack of gold to the grass below, finding the next gift Wendel had added to her collection. It was light, wrapped, rectangular… and she had no idea what it might be. Setting down the large sack, she gave the wrapped item the attention of her two hands. As curious as she was, she wanted to prove her wit by figuring out what was inside without opening it. She turned it about first, then lifted it up and down, pressed her thumbs against it, but it was when she shook it that she had some clue of its contents. “It’s made of paper.” She figured it could be a map or maybe a schematic, but upon unwrapping it, she found something far simpler. “It’s just paper…”She raised an eyebrow, unfolding the several sheets containing nothing of note. She squinted her eyes at it, knowing Wendel had a good reason for gifting it to her. She first thought it might be for her to sell, but again, Wendel’s words reached out to her to find reason. “Paper… with ink… and utensils… and a seal…” Miris’s eyes widened with the realization. Each item on its own could not accomplish much, but together, they could produce something of worth.
That night, Miris chose not to visit the fence, for she had plenty of handwork to do with the items she had. Instead, with a smile on her face and her thoughts filled with ambition, Miris counted the many stars while sitting beside her warm fire. To think this was only the beginning of something extraordinary.
Race: Changeling Location: Rekkenmark, Karrnath Miris and Wendel, the young changeling and long-lived dwarf, entered the workshop both making occasional sideling glances at one another as they walked past the foyer and to a small space meant for lounging— a drawing room of sorts. Wendel was merely observing the young girl to make sure there was nothing wrong, especially since he had seen her wellbeing in need of care and attention. She'd never outright say she needed help with anything, and very much disliked whenever she lied to him, but he couldn't help but see the young changeling as one of his nieces, ones he had not seen in nearly a decade.
On the other side of things, Miris’ glances were trying to form reasons to steal from him. Despite being the lone dwarf of Rekkenmark, he was quite the pillar of the community here. Despite mostly keeping to himself, everyone who knew him only had precious words of admiration for him. He forged weapons for the academy and would strike up a conversation with anyone he accompanied himself with. So many to call his friend, yet there was something solitary about him, as if there were depths to the dwarf that had not been breached. Miris was sure she could change into him, and even be the man he was on the surface, but the aspects deep beneath the surface were a mystery to her, and that's why she had not tried it in public. Who was he before this? Who is it that he strives to be now?
“That’s quite the collection you've gathered. Anything good? Perhaps something you might like to keep for yourself.” Wendel chimed while walking toward the far end of the room while Miris seated herself in a cushioned sofa chair.
“Well…” She frowned as she glanced down at the sack now resting on her lap– it was frown Wendel could only hear in her voice he prepared two cups of tea. Each item she had procured was nigh worthless on their own besides a few exceptions. “No. None of the things I have are worth that kind of value.” She stated plainly. “Just unwanted things…” Both of their eyes lowered at the sentiment, feeling those simple words drive deep into the heart of the lonely.
Wendel cleared his throat, but he didn't quite know how to address the girl after what she had said. He felt what she was truly saying, but he wrestled with choosing whether or not to comfort her. Though he despised her little white lies, he knew she only deceived him to avoid hurting him. It was easier to think he had misplaced a few things here and there. It was easier to believe she was an avid collector of scavenged scraps and trinkets that she sold to vendors at the market for a few gold coins. It was easier to imagine that she wasn't a lonely homeless changeling trying to survive in Karrnath the best she could. That she had a loving family and a warm home to return to after sitting and speaking to him.
Wendel’s motions slowed as he added two small cubes of sugar into her cup, afraid to face the truth while it was pinned to the forefront of his mind. A young girl shouldn't be left to endure this, not when he could do something about it. He couldn't let this stand anymore– he wouldn't further entertain her falsehoods that forced him to cope with what was truly occurring. Determined to face Miris, Wendel took a long breath, gulped, and finally turned, only to face the sight of the young girl with her face buried in her hands.
Miris cried quietly. She did so that she wouldn't be heard– to spare the dwarf the need to feel sympathetic towards her. She was here to steal from him after all and would another lie really change anything? She was supposed to be the strongest person she knew. Independence equated to strength afterall. But where was it as she sobbed uncontrollably into her palms, as she allowed the sack in her lap to be bumped down onto the floor by her elbows. She couldn't let him see her face like this, so she didn't bother picking it or its spilled contents up. It was junk anyway. Unwanted stuff. Worthless things. Forgettable. Ugly. Dirty. Stupid…
Miris tightened her eyes, but the action was useless against the flow of tears. The physical manifestation of her anguish, frustrations, and sadness that she kept bottled up in an effort to feel like she could live the way she did with a smile on her face.
“Miris.” Wendel's tone was delicate, as if he could shatter her with his very voice, but there was something more that it carried. Wendel, a proud dwarf with many decades behind him, was not immune to contagiousness of a broken spirit. Just as Miris wanted to hide her tearful face, Wendel feared how much it might hurt for her to see tears well up in his own eyes. “Miris.” He addressed again before he set the two tea cups down on the end table beside her.
“Y-yes?” She managed to say between sobs. She felt stuck in place by her refusal to show her vulnerability, and Wendel acknowledged that without having to hear her voice it. Instead, he chose to kneel down and clean up the mess that had scattered across his wooded floor.
“These things…” Wendel’s landed on the wax seal stamp. “They are… not what you say they are. Some… Some things might seem like they lack any value when they are on their own. A quill without ink, is just a feather after all.” He grabbed the stamp and examined the seal with curiosity.
“Sometimes we can take one object, and with another, make something nice. And other times, you can take many different objects, and have something that many would deem as extraordinary.” Wendel smiled as he placed the stamp into the sack. “Every person has a measure of worth, Miris, and even the people with the most worth know how valuable connecting and even relying on others truly is.” He stood up with a mild groan and walked to a table across the room where a leather bag sat. “One individual can do plenty, and there are the strong fearless loners of the world…” He dug into the bag. “But nothing beats the feeling of knowing you have someone who has your back.” He said with a smile as his words granted him some warmth.
And though her tears hadn't quite stopped, Miris did not fail to take in Wendel’s insight. She felt her sack of trinkets get set down between her feet, causing her to peek down at it between her fingers. Something about it looked different. It was-
“I tied the top of it. It won't spill like that again and… You should probably drink your tea before it gets cold. I added two sugar cubes, too.”
There was a brief period of silence between them as Wendel took his cup of tea to the table where his bag was. He had a feeling they wouldn't be talking much this time around, but he was glad knowing he had her company.
The feline and the serpent. The two couldn't have been more different, especially with how the two respectively reacted to Captain Beckett’s answers to the questions asked of him. While Minerva’s expression changed with every word that came out of his mouth, Meiyu remained poised and calculating.
Awwww! This can't be true! Minerva appeared nothing less than distraught.
The Captain’s answers are theatre, designed to disarm and confuse. The bindings were a test of compliance, not a precaution. His 'type' is a cheap deflection, and the two rules are the only honest currency he spent. This Ravic Dane wants a weapon. We are now being assessed as such. All the while, Meiyu picked every answer apart.
Oddly enough, and as stark as their reactions were compared to one another, the two had both determined that Captain Beck had given them little of value in terms of information. His boss, Prince Ravic Dane wanted sole claim over the Principalities, a goal shared by most if not all the princes of this region of cutthroats. Then there was his type– Minerva's primary concern which was met with the most promiscuous answer one could give. Meiyu’s question was answered, sure, but there had to be more lying within the intentions of these envoys. In most cases captives set free by their captors were no different than insects scooped up from the soil by a curious child. They'd be watched to see how they acclimated to this foreign setting– in this enclosure of sorts.
The last answer stood somewhat alone compared to the rest as it revealed something of worth to a careful listener if they held the information given in the very first answer to ring true. It revealed that whatever the prince wanted from them, was something that might serve him in his conquest of the other principalities. Gears turned and imagination gave way to a list of possibilities, but they'd never be voiced, at least not now.
“Tch!” Minerva leaned toward Meiyu. “It’s definitely you he likes most. He wasn't even upset that you walked here on your own. Aaaand since I don't really trust or like you aaaand because you owe Wendel coin, I'm not only gonna be on you like a birdy on a Tiefling… I'mma let you have that braided ponytailed whore of man.” Minerva only looked at Meiyu out of the corner of her eye as if what she said to her was spoken inconspicuously.
Meiyu let the words settle, her golden eyes resting on Minerva with an expression that was part amusement and part subtle pity. Her lips curled into that slow, wicked smirk, the one that conveyed far more confidence than kindness. The two continued their measured pace, moving deeper into the chaotic sights and sounds of Port Verge.
“Such generosity,” she murmured, her voice a low, dry rasp of silk. “You mistake his interest in me for something personal, and your attempts at leverage with dead men’s coin are flimsy. Follow me if it brings you comfort, little feline, but understand: I don't need your permission to take what I desire, nor do I require a distraction like Beckett when there are secrets worth killing for. Focus on staying alive, your curiosity is currently outrunning your common sense.”
Minerva raised a sharp eyebrow toward Meiyu.
“What?!” She questioned as the two walked through the town side by side. Minerva felt she was right about Captain Beckett liking Meiyu the most, and though she could have argued for hours on the matter, (yes she could) she decided to focus on the other matters at hand that also triggered her exclamation. “Listen! No. Look and listen! Wendel made a bet with you, and he won! He's not dead! He's like the most unkillable person because he's just that kinda guy. Have you ever even fought or fucked a dwarf? You think you're dominating but no… They are on another level, lady! ANOTHER LEVEL!” Minerva shouted shamelessly while pointing at Meiyu.
Meiyu remained unbothered by the raised voice, meeting the dramatic finger-pointing with a look of serene, golden-eyed condescension. The loud proclamation only seemed to deepen the cruel curl of her smirk. “Yes, I have done both, and in both cases, the dwarf eventually died. One from poison, one from a heart attack.”
She cast a brief, cold look around at the passing crowds, dismissing the spectacle Minerva was creating before returning her gaze to the feline. “I am a woman of my word, even to a ghost. Tell me the exact terms of the bet and how Wendel supposedly won, and I will gladly pay the coin to him the next time our paths cross. Otherwise, you are trading in loud, sentimental noise, and I have no currency for that.”
“Um…” It was a rare occasion for Minerva to find herself left without a quick comeback. “One moment!” The shifter declared as she brought out the journal she and the other personas shared as a means for loose bookkeeping and limited communication. Minerva quickly scanned through Wendel’s most recent writings before side-eyeing Meiyu with a glare of contempt.
“You’re a sly do- I mean, snake… I'll give you that and only that… this time!” Minerva grimaced at Wendel's entry as he failed to add any details to this bet he made. She quickly wrote “Dummy!” into the margins next to the entry and drew what most would describe as a tiny angry face with cat ears. “Also…” her face twisted as she hated to admit it. “You did good by those two dwarves.”
Meiyu offered no response to the strained compliment, her gaze instead flickering down to the exposed pages of the shared journal. Her eyes instantly locked onto Wendel’s entry, confirming the note about a sudden, sharp blow to the neck. A shard? She questioned internally, noting the precise point of injury and instantly linking Wendel to the others. Another victim of the shattered crystal, perhaps. She watched Minerva deface the page with a crude drawing and closed the book with a quiet finality, an act of judgment.
“A dollop of grudging praise and a crude drawing of your associate as a ‘dummy’ is noted,” she stated coolly, tapping the cover. “However, this ledger intrigues me. Wendel notes a specific injury to his neck, one of clear consequence, yet you and your associates house the totality of your vulnerabilities and communications within this single, easily compromised location. Is this carelessness an intentional strategy, or merely profound idiocy?”
“What?” Minerva asked while looking at Meiyu as if she had spoken words in reverse. Tucking the journal into her bag, she shook her head. “Nevermind, I think I understand… I think.” She shrugged but her face didn't quite hold the matching confidence of her words. “Just say you want to know more about the journal, instead of trying to be snooty about it. ‘Intentional strategy or profound idiocy’” She playfully mocked Meiyu’s sophisticated way of speaking. “Be plain with me. I’m gonna judge you anyway, so no point in trying to speak so uppity. Traveler knows I deal with enough of those. Aaaanyway, what do you want to know, Miss Snakey Snake? Do you wanna read it?” She leaned toward her with a wide grin while bouncing her eyebrows.
Meiyu allowed a slow, dismissive smile to stretch across her lips, her golden eyes momentarily softening as she adapted her approach to match Minerva's playful aggression.
“I only use clear language to match that quick mind of yours, Minerva.” She gave an easy, almost flirtatious shrug that seemed completely at odds with her demeanor moments before. Minerva leaned away slightly and narrowed her eyes, a subtle movement caught by the serpent’s observant gaze.
“At least someone gets it.” Minerva nodded matter of factly.
“But this book... why rely on a single, shared ledger for logistics and secrets? Are your associates unreachable, or do you simply enjoy unnecessary risk? Wendel’s note about a blow to his neck suggests a shared problem. I am curious what struck him.”
“He did mention that, right?” Minerva squinted, thinking about that small excerpt she had so easily disregarded. Sure, she felt the presence of the anomaly on her nape but she hadn't let herself worry about it. Despite all her confidence, the shifter knew she lacked the ability or knowledge to discern the object. To her, it was another member of the Crew’s problem to solve.
“Well… hmm… How should I put it? Oh, yes! Wendel! Wendel’s problems are my problems.” She pointed to her own chest with a smile. “Like how the debt you owe him is something I’ve been asking you about.” A sly smirk formed on her face after bringing up the topic of the gold that had caused a bit of contention between them, which could make one wonder how much Minerva actually cared about receiving the gold in the first place. “As for the book. No secrets. Just a ledger or hmm… a log. Not the tree kind of log. The log that's like a ledger… and my associates? Associates. Associates. Associates. Ugh, you're worse than Menzai with these words, y’know?” She placed the book in the satchel but didn't remove her hand from it. Meiyu simply smirked at her as she watched her struggle with the word. “Wendel is one of my buddies and a member of a little crew I helped put together. He's just not here right now, and sooo I write in the book because it's honestly the only way I can talk to the guy.” Minerva shrugged.
Meiyu offered a minimal nod, her eyes unblinking, acknowledging only the fact of Minerva’s statement and completely disregarding the debt. “I see.”
So that confirms it. This isn't poor planning, it's a structural necessity. Why are Wendel’s problems her problems? I need to analyze why direct contact is impossible. I see three primary possibilities: extreme physical separation, dimensional movement, or a flaw in a shared composition. Minerva and Wendel.have become far more interesting. She silently mused.
The Meiyu stopped abruptly, turning her attention away from Minerva and the journal. She pointed ahead with a delicate, unhurried finger toward a rickety kiosk draped with mismatched fabrics and tarnished trinkets. “That is the Odds & Ends Stall. That is where I am going.”
“No. That is where we are going, Meiyu.” She shot Meiyu a deathly glare as she found her exclusion in her plans quite offensive… And to the stall they went.
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