Hitman

【 Spy High 】

Reserved for GM use, possibly.

【 Spy High 】

Reserved for GM use, possibly.

【 Spy High! 】CLOSED

@Lionhearted@KZOMBI3@fledermaus@Icy Hot@The Ghost Note@canaryrose

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【 Spy High 】

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𝙶𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜, 𝙰𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚝...𝚘𝚑, 𝚠𝚘𝚠, 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚜? 𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚞𝚗𝚞𝚜𝚞𝚊𝚕...𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚐𝚗𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝙳𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚛 𝚂𝚘𝚔𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚊?

𝙽𝚘? 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚗 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚊𝚍𝚎? 𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚕𝚢 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚔𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎. 𝙰𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚍𝚒𝚐𝚒𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝, 𝙸'𝚖 𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚍...

𝙾𝚑, 𝚢𝚎𝚜, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚜. 𝙸 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚙𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚞𝚙 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢. 𝙿𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚒𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚕𝚎𝚍𝚐𝚎, 𝙰𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚝.

𝙰 𝙲 𝙲 𝙴 𝚂 𝚂 𝙶 𝚁 𝙰 𝙽 𝚃 𝙴 𝙳

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𝙷𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚊𝚍𝚎

Origins

𝙵𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝙳𝚊𝚝𝚎: 𝟷𝟽𝟾0
𝙵𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝙳𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚛: 𝙼𝚊𝚓𝚘𝚛 𝙷𝚒𝚛𝚊𝚖 𝙱𝚛𝚊𝚍𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚠
𝙿𝚞𝚛𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚎: 𝚃𝚘 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙 𝚠𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚁𝚎𝚟𝚘𝚕𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚛𝚢 𝚆𝚊𝚛.

Promenade is one of the oldest and most elite intelligence organizations in American history. Its existence is kept secret to all but those with the highest level of security clearance. Founded in the year 1776 under the authority of George Washington, the organization was led by one of Washington’s aides-de-camp, Major Hiram Bradshaw. Bradshaw, a master spy in his own right, believed that adult spies were too easy to be rooted out and discovered. He instead insisted that teenagers, an age range that surpassed that of a naive child but preceded that of a fully-fledged adult, were best suited for espionage, and asked Washington to commission a unit of teenage spies to help garner intel on the British movements in the war.

Despite protest by members of the Continental Congress, Bradshaw’s wish was granted, and Promenade was formed. A highly successful endeavor on the behalf of the American colonists, Promenade was able to gain classified intel on the British Army’s battle strategy and, despite the capture and execution of Promenade member Nathan Hale, was able to successfully help navigate the Americans to victory without being fully discovered by the British.

Since then, Promenade has continued to be a major player in international affairs, sending operatives around the world on missions to help advance American interests and justice across the globe.

A Continued Legacy

When Promenade was first conceived, it was composed of a rag-tag group of young men and women, most of whom were street urchins, and effectively conscripted them into being child soldiers. Up until the early 19th century, it would remain that way. Promenade would still be in existence as America's pre-eminent espionage agency, but they would be underprepared and undertrained, and they failed to anticipate the War of 1812, nor were they capable of mitigating its disastrous effects, including the burning of the White House. Under President James Monroe, Promenade would be re-organized and upgraded. Its new leader, Ahmed Mansour, was an Ottoman corsair that had fought against the Americans in the Barbary Wars. With a new direction and an expanded budget, Promenade's influence would only continue to grow.

Promenade's activities are secretive but large in scale. Prom agents have been a part of many major operations across the globe on behalf of the United States, and while their actions have not been covered in history books, they've made a major impact on global history nonetheless. Prom agents helped end the Siege of Vicksburg during the Civil War, and aided the Mexicans in repelling their French invaders in the 1860s. They were present in Cuba to assist in their conflict with the Spanish, and made a landing in China to put down the Boxer Rebellion. They also gathered intel during the Banana Wars and World War One, secretly helping the Allies until the US officially joined the conflict, and would later make a major impact in World War II as well, gathering intel on the Germans and assisting groups such as the White Rose to help bolster resistance to the Nazi regime in Europe. Prom would continue to make a major impact during the Cold War. Espionage was a significant factor during the conflict, and Promenade was nearly omnipresent during the mid-20th century. Though in the modern era Promenade has not been as actively involved in military conflict, they are still a vital part of America's spy networking and continue to undertake a number of missions crucial to global security every year.

Promenade’s agents are composed of high-school age kids that are given upgrades and rigorous training to become a cohesive unit of highly-skilled spies. Promenade’s center of operations and recruiting high school changes every few years, but since the Clinton administration, it has found a solid home in Millard Fillmore High School in Swindon, Texas, a middle-class suburb of Houston. Millard Fillmore High School is, unbeknownst to almost all, sitting on top of a massive underground headquarters bustling with some of the most advanced technology the world has ever seen. Promenade agents are recruited late into their freshman year of high school (around the age 14-15), and are officially allowed to join the organization in their sophomore year and above.

Promenade is currently led by Nadia Sokolova, a dance teacher and cheer coach by day and professional spy by night. Sokolova was actually a former foe of Promenade, much like Mansour was more than a century earlier, but with the end of the Cold War, the former KGB operative arrived in America and was recruited for her incomparable spy skills. Under her leadership, Promenade remains one of America's finest groups of spies, despite the youth and relative inexperience of its agents.

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙰𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚊𝚕

Prom in the 21st-Century

𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚊𝚍𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚍𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚁𝚎𝚟𝚘𝚕𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚛𝚢 𝚆𝚊𝚛, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢'𝚟𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚕𝚊𝚛𝚐𝚎 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚊𝚌𝚝 𝚘𝚗 𝚐𝚕𝚘𝚋𝚊𝚕 𝚊𝚏𝚏𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚜 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚗. 𝙾𝚞𝚛 𝚜𝚞𝚌𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚍𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚜, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚍𝚎𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚎𝚌𝚑𝚗𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚢 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙𝚜 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚕𝚢.

Prom has obviously changed drastically since the Revolutionary War. Back in the day, a fake beard, a new jacket, and a friend’s passport would be enough to get you into the most elite of enemy intelligence circles. Nowadays, new technology has transformed the business of espionage, and Prom has adapted with the times. Government funding and some private donations from former agents have given Prom access to next-gen, cutting edge technology, which helps supplement their agents on the field.

Promenade's gadgetry and facilities are housed in the large underground lair referred to as the "Main Office," or "M.O." The M.O. is located deep underground and can only be accessed through several elevators strategically placed in broom closets across the high school. It includes a large training facility, a room full of gadgets, and the command center from which all missions are given and supervised. Outside of the team of agents, Promenade employs a number of adults, typically from the intelligence community or military, as "handlers" to supervise the team and assist them from abroad. Many of them are given positions in the school to help supplement their secret identity. Several scientists also work full-time in the M.O. to help design, fix, and perfect gadgets for the agents to use.

Gadget Glossary

𝙱𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚑𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚊𝚍𝚎'𝚜 𝚐𝚊𝚍𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚜. 𝙾𝚞𝚝𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚘𝚕𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚑 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚋𝚢 𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚊𝚍𝚎'𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚎𝚕𝚍 𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜, 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚊 𝚗𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢-𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚐𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚐𝚊𝚍𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚍𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚊𝚍𝚎, 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚑 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚏𝚊𝚛 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚗𝚞𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎. 𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚍, 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚘𝚋𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚟𝚒𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝚝𝚘 𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚊𝚍𝚎'𝚜 𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚜𝚞𝚌𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚜.

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙽𝚎𝚞𝚛𝚊𝚕 𝚂𝚢𝚗𝚌: An immensely tiny bug that is painlessly inserted into the target’s brain, the Neural Sync (also referred to as the NeuSync or just Sync) is perhaps the most important item in the Promenade agent's arsenal, as it is what makes them better than the rest of their field. The Neural Sync has multiple purposes. Its first purpose is enhancing in nature, allowing the brain to release more hormones that cause the body to quickly become stronger, faster, and increases its reaction time exponentially. It also allows for communication from its source to all agents linked on the web- thus allowing nearly telepathic communication from Promenade directors to agents. Lastly, the device also has a translation software built-in, allowing for vastly improved language learning skills (though it still does require significant practice to use well, which is a major source of friction between teenage agents and Promenade senior officials). The device has been found to be most effective on young adults, and while it does cause some migraines after the first few uses, remains an incredibly potent part of a Promenade agent's arsenal.

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙴𝚡𝚙𝚞𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝟹000: A device that resembles a pair of goggles attached to a stick, the Expunger is a device that is capable of erasing and/or modifying memories meticulously, able to remove entire blocks of time from a person’s brain and fine-tune it with more appropriate information. The Expunger is a very widely-used tool in the Promenade arsenal that is vital for keeping the organization a secret. Back in the olden days, one of Promenade's senior agents would conduct a hasty lobotomy to de-commission the offending individual, but it was agreed that this new method would be far more humane than makeshift surgery. If a Prom agent is to go rogue and/or get killed in the line of duty, the Expunger would be used on all their friends and family to erase them from their lives. It is a harsh method, true, but the senior officials working for Promenade agree that it is preferable to having the identity of the organization, and the lives of its members, put into jeopardy because of a breach of security.

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚖: Not an actual worm, but a large machine that can create wormholes, a large sparkling portal that allows for near-instantaneous travel across the world. The portal is opened by a large machine inside Prom HQ, and the return portal is remote-activated by one of the agents using a backpack-sized heavy piece of gadgetry. Prom used to use the Texas Longhorn, a miniature space shuttle, for international travel, but the spaceship was retired in 2011 in favor of the Worm (it was much more practical). The Worm allows agents to attend missions during school hours and return in time for after-school activities (well, not always). For long-range missions, it has become common practice for the agents to draw straws for who has to carry the Worm's transmitter, which is very heavy and cumbersome.

𝙰𝙿-𝚆𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑: One of the most fun gadgets in any agent's arsenal is the AP-Watch, shorthand for "All-Purpose Watch." A digital wristwatch, the AP-Watch has numerous featu7res that make it an agent's dream tool. It is equipped with a variety of sensors, a code breaker, a password cracker, a communication feature, and is also supplied with several darts, such as knockout darts, amnesia darts, and emetic darts. The watch also has the features of a normal Apple watch, such as playing Tetris, which is fun. Stakeouts can get boring without a little Angry Birds to spice things up, after all.

𝙼𝚘𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚗 𝚆𝚎𝚊𝚙𝚘𝚗𝚜: The Promenade agents are given an extensive catalog of weapons to choose from. Handguns, rifles, machine guns, ballistics, grenades, dart guns, and more are all available in the Promenade arsenal. Generally, a majority of these weapons wouldn't be used for discrete missions, but not every mission is discrete, and there's nothing more fun for a spy than to let loose and blow up a few vehicles with a grenade launcher.

𝙷.𝙸.𝚁.𝙰.𝙼.: 𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚖𝚎! A fun-loving AI, H.I.R.A.M. is Promenade's fun-loving, very British digital assistant and artificial intelligence. Its physical form being a floating metal sphere, H.I.R.A.M. is a walking encyclopedia of spy knowledge, and is highly useful for any secret agent to have. 𝙹𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚙 𝚊𝚜𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚌𝚞𝚕𝚞𝚜 𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔! 𝙵𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎, 𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚊 𝚑𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚕𝚢 𝚜𝚘𝚙𝚑𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝙰.𝙸. 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚐𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎, [𝚒]𝚗𝚘𝚝[/𝚒] 𝚊 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚌𝚞𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚘𝚛!

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚂𝚙𝚢 𝙻𝚒𝚏𝚎

Recruitment and Life as a Double Agent

Recruitment is a process that often times begins before a prospective agent steps foot into the high school. Many families that are closely intertwined with either the military or secret services, either from the US or abroad, are often subconsciously "directed" towards Swindon for their children to attend Millard Fillmore. Maybe a sudden shift in employment to Houston, or a strangely cheap house, or some other mysterious coincidence that directs a family with a potential budding spy towards the agency. Not to say that Promenade only recruits those from affluential or James Bond-esque families. There are plenty of Promenade agents, current and former, that were simply individuals of interest with no other connections. However, it would be false to say that family and background play no role in choosing who will be an agent. Individuals from Swindon and much of the Southern (and even Northern) US States are surveilled for potential signs that might show that they could prove talented as a teen spy. It is an invasion of privacy, but one that is justified by the interests of national security. Of course, none of the Promenade agents ever learn this info, but those that are astute enough can likely figure it out themselves.

Regardless of the backstory, all potential recruits for Promenade come around the same way- they pass out and wake up in some sort of interrogation room. There, they are given the choice- to join Prom or to back out. Those that back out right away (a number somewhere in the ballpark of 80%) promptly black out and wake up with no memory of the encounter ever occurring. Those that choose to stay are invited back for further training. If they perform well (or at least adequately) in training, they are given a Sync and invited to join Promenade's field squad. At any time, either a Prom trainee or a Prom certified agent are allowed to back out, and the memories of their experiences with the agency are removed.

Backing out is certainly not something to be criticized- living life as a double agent is difficult, especially for a teenager, a creature that has only just begun to feel the weight of adulthood. The pressure of maintaining academic success, family connections, extracurriculars, a social life, and have to save the world all the time is often overwhelming. Often times, Prom's senior officials are far too concerned with the "saving the world" part to even consider the mental stress that being a literal James Bond can have on some of the students. The missions overseas to save the world, which are quite often overnight or even long-term trips, are usually excused as field trips, but they can still be very damaging to a student's grades and social life as well. However, staying as a member of Promenade can also incur significant benefits. The most notable of which is the presence of a federal pension (which, while not enough alone to live off of, is still a lot for a high school graduate) and some "help" in the college admissions process. Most Prom graduates end up attending Ivy League schools even with somewhat lackluster grades, thanks to the secret intervention of Promenade.

The biggest risk, of course, is the possibility of being KIA. While lingering, and not to be underestimated, few Promenade agents have ever been seriously injured in the field, let alone killed. That being said, it's best to remain cautious and not add yourself to the list.

Swindon, TX

𝙵𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝙲𝚘𝚕𝚝𝚜!

Millard Fillmore High School is located in the small city of Swindon, a suburb of Houston and a formidable location in its own right. A rather well-off area, Swindon has been growing significantly in recent years and is a diverse, rather peaceful place to live. Despite reports of anomalies in the area, Swindon is still viewed very highly overall.

Swindon’s largest public school is Millard Fillmore High School. MFHS is one of three major Swindon area high schools. The first high school is a public school, Richard Montgomery Gano High School, which is well-known for its dominant sports league. The other high school is St. John of Parma High School, a Catholic school for the wealthy. MFHS has unfortunately fallen to the bottom of the pack compared to these other two institutions. The Gano Rebels and the St. John Cardinals have destroyed the Fillmore Colts in football consistently for the past 30 years, and while Millard Fillmore recently had a major renovation thanks to an anonymous donor, it is still outclassed by the swanky, expensive private school lifestyle of St. John. It just seems that Fillmore is destined to be at the bottom, but at the very least, those other two schools don't have any sort of secret agency, so there.

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𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝙲𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗

Skeleton Sheet

Hitman's Note: My ability to code actual nice-looking character sheets is practically non-existent, so instead I have provided an excellent skeleton sheet of what needs to be included. Please feel free to spice it up and add your own coding to it. Don't just spit out what I have here, for the sake of my eyes. That being said, you don't have to make the Mona Lisa of CSes. Just make it presentable.

Feel free to organize the information in whatever way you want, so long as all the topics here are still present.

[FACECLAIM: REAL/VERY REALISTIC ONLY, PLEASE]

BASICS

Name:
Nicknames/Aliases:
Codename:
Age/Grade:
Place of Birth:
Gender:

Physical Description
General Description: (Just a general overview of what your character looks like. Is not a substitute for an FC.)
Height:
Weight:
Ethnicity:

Personality
General Description: (Overall description of your character's personality.)
Likes:
Dislikes:
Goals:
Fears:
Sexual Preference:

Biography
Brief Bio: (It doesn't have to be long and tragic, just enough to get a picture of what your character's life was like.)

Skillset
Talents/Skills: (All agents are going to be in good physical condition and are trained in martial arts and firearms. Keep that in mind. Non-spy related skills can go here as well, because you never know. Your ability to play the clarinet may save your life!)
Gadgets: (Go nuts. Every agent can get some personalized gadgets to take with them, so it would be nice to have gadgets that pertain to their personality or life.)
Shortcomings: (if you put n/a here you are automatically denied)

Additional supplementary information can also be provided.

Grades

This additional supplement should be attached along with the rest of your character sheet. How you incorporate it is up to you. Each of the following skills should be given a letter grade between A+ and F, with A+ being "of unparalleled talent" and F being "total and utter incapability." Try and find a nice balance between them all. Include a couple of sentences reasoning why for each category.

Strength: This component measures raw physical strength and overall athletic condition. By virtue of being a member of Prom and having a Sync, this shouldn't be lower than a C-.
Intelligence: This component measures ability to retain and comprehend academic knowledge, such as math, science, history, et cetera. In essence, their letter grade at school.
Close-Quarters Combat: This component measures ability to hold one's own in hand-to-hand combat, whether through martial arts or melee weapons in physical combat.
Firearms: This component measures aptitude using firearms and other ranged weapons in long-range combat.
Concealment and Disguise: This component measures the ability to maintain a false identity and convincingly portray a false identity for extended periods of time.
Strategic Thinking/Leadership: This component measures the ability of an agent to effectively construct and execute a plan, and to lead a mission on point.
Mental Agility/Intuition: This component measures the ability of an agent to make effective split-second judgment calls while under pressure.
Hacking/Computer Operation: This component measures the specialized skill of an agent to use computers, code, and hack.
Observation/Interrogation: This component measures both an agent's observation in general, along with the more specific skill of being able to read, interpret, and utilize body language effectively in an interrogation.
Linguistics: This component measures the skill of an agent to learn and utilize different languages outside of their native tongue.
Teamwork/Cooperation: This component measures the overall agreeability of an agent, and their ability to work well with others.

Relationships

one of these nights

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𝙼𝚒𝚜𝚌𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚎𝚘𝚞𝚜

Guess what? We have a Discord server! It would be krazy kewl if you would join. JOIN THE DISCORD HERE!

Please post your CSes in the OOC or DM them to me before putting them in the Character tab. You can post WIPs here for the time being, but its presence does not guarantee you a spot in the RP.

Any other questions, feel free to ask me in this thread, or DM me either on the Guild or on Discord. I am always more than happy to have a chat! - Hitman, your lovely GM

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【 Spy High! 】CLOSED

I'll throw in some tentative interest

@Icy Hot

interest~

@fledermaus

Thanks for the interest! Feel free to join the Discord.

【 Spy High! 】CLOSED

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𝙶𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚝. 𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚍𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕. 𝚈𝚘𝚞'𝚟𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚊𝚗 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝙰𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚊'𝚜 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚞𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚞𝚜 𝚏𝚊𝚛, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚘 𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚊 𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝚏𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚕𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚊𝚍𝚎, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚊𝚌𝚕𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝙰𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚐𝚕𝚘𝚋𝚊𝚕 𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚒𝚌𝚎.

𝙽𝚘𝚠, 𝙸 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚏𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚕𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚢. "𝙸'𝚟𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚊𝚍𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎! 𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝?" 𝚆𝚎𝚕𝚕, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚍𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙 𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚜, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚋𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚍𝚘𝚌𝚞𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚏𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚎𝚡𝚌𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚏𝚞𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚝 𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚊𝚍𝚎.

𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚍, 𝙸 𝚊𝚕𝚜𝚘 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚗𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎, 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚓𝚘𝚋 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚕 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚒𝚐𝚑 𝚜𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚕. 𝚈𝚎𝚜, 𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚝, 𝚑𝚒𝚐𝚑 𝚜𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚕. 𝚈𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊 𝚏𝚞𝚗 𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚎.

𝙻𝚎𝚝'𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚐𝚒𝚗.

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𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙳𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚎𝚛

Swindon, Texas. An unassuming, moderately large suburb of Houston that falls somewhere between the quaint countryside and bustling city life. Swindon is a fairly tight-knit community composed of a large mixture of cultural, political, and philosophical ideals, and is, in many ways, the picturesque American town. However, underneath Swindon's surface lies a secret of massive proportions. Operating out of that cozy suburb is a branch of the US government's top-secret espionage agency, Promenade. Promenade is the oldest North American espionage agency and probably the most elusive as well. They are some of America's most dangerous, most elite, and most capable spies, individuals of enormous talent and skill level. And, to top it off, they're all attending the same high school right here in Swindon, Texas.

Interested now, agent? I thought so. Allow me to backtrack a couple of centuries to reflect on Promenade's history.

Promenade is one of the oldest and most elite intelligence organizations in American history. Its existence is kept secret to all but those with the highest level of security clearance. Founded in the year 1776 under the authority of George Washington, the organization was led by one of Washington’s aides-de-camp, Major Hiram Bradshaw. Bradshaw, a master spy in his own right, believed that adult spies were too easy to be rooted out and discovered. He instead insisted that teenagers, an age range that surpassed that of a naive child but preceded that of a fully-fledged adult, were best suited for espionage, and asked Washington to commission a unit of teenage spies to help garner intel on the British movements in the war. Despite protest by members of the Continental Congress, Bradshaw’s wish was granted, and Promenade was formed. A highly successful endeavor on the behalf of the American colonists, Promenade was able to gain classified intel on the British Army’s battle strategy and, despite the capture and execution of Promenade member Nathan Hale, was able to successfully help navigate the Americans to victory without being fully discovered by the British.

Since then, Promenade has continued to be a major player in international affairs, sending operatives around the world on missions to help advance American interests and justice across the globe.

Now, I fully expect you to be exceedingly curious about the "high school" bit. Promenade’s agents are composed of high-school-age kids that are given upgrades and rigorous training to become a cohesive unit of highly-skilled spies. You've been transferred to our southern branch of Promenade, which, since the Clinton administration, has found a nice home at Millard Fillmore High School in Swindon, Texas. Millard Fillmore High School is, unbeknownst to almost all, sitting on top of a massive underground headquarters bustling with some of the most advanced technology the world has ever seen. These high school students have volunteered to undergo rigorous training and a few postmodern scientific "upgrades," so to speak, to turn them into highly-effective super-spies. They've traveled the world, stopping all manner of plots and ploys to undermine global security, while also maintaining the responsibilities of being a high-school teenager. It's quite the balancing act, that is for certain.

Now, I'm sure you're thinking that this is some form of illicit experimentation of some sort. I will have you know now that every agent of Promenade is recruited voluntarily and allowed to leave at any time. Every action they take is out of their own free will. Furthermore, they incur significant benefits for being a part of the organization, such as government "assistance" in getting them into the college of their dreams. Most importantly, though, it's that sense of purpose and adventure that propels Promenade agents to do what they do. After all, saving the world is much more interesting than sitting behind a desk, learning about the Pythagorean theorem or the Russian revolution. It's those same sentiments that make teenagers such a fascinating secret agent- their balance of adult maturity and childish wonder. That is why Promenade has been so successful in the past, and why it continues to be the elite unit that it is today.

Promenade, affectionately referred to as Prom, is currently led by Nadia Sokolova, a former KGB operative that now works as a dance teacher and cheer coach by day, and top spy by night. What we need you to do, agent, is to keep an eye on the adventures (or should I say, misadventures) of Swindon's branch of Promenade. They may be the greatest spies the world has ever seen, but they are just kids, and you know how kids can be sometimes. It's frankly a miracle that Prom works, but they are the best.

Despite what first impressions might show.

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Thank you for reading this far in! This RP has been an idea of mine for a while, and I've been waiting for the perfect time to spring it into action! If you're interested or have any questions, please respond below, and feel free to pop into the Discord server as well!

Thanks again for reading!
- Hitman

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《 H. E. R. O. 》

Chapter IV

_{12:30 PM
August 31st, 2033
Sunset Superhero Resort
St. Florian, U.S. Virgin Islands}

The island of St. Florian was one of the smaller islands of the USVI, located due east of Puerto Rico in the middle of the Caribbean. It was a stunning sight, the pinnacle of natural beauty, with a luscious landscape covered in palm trees galore, surrounded by a sparkling emerald bay. The sun was shining and the temperature was hot but not too overwhelming. It was, frankly, perfect. Despite its incredible beauty, St. Florian was a small island, and much of its resplendent natural glory was reserved to the Sunset Superhero Resort. The resort was the first and largest superhero-exclusive resort spa, and it makes a killing catering towards the needs of the world's superheroes. The resort is the premier hotspot for all superheroes seeking a relaxing vacation, and finding a reservation is difficult. Many of the world's hero agencies have the resort's limited spaces booked all around the year, leaving very limited spaces open at any given time. HERO had never before booked the resort for its own heroes, but after a disastrous summer that included a titanic coup and an endless multitude of certifiably insane supervillains seeking world domination or mass destruction, Director Hugo Powers had decided to take the initiative to book as many spots as the resort had available at the end of August.

Unfortunately, there weren't enough spaces for everybody involved in the massive coup d'etat to go to the resort, so Powers had simply chosen a group of people at random and told them to get ready to head down to the Caribbean. He had, however, given the stragglers a week of paid vacation and reservations to a nice restaurant in Castleburg. It was the best he could do. Sometimes, life wasn't fair, after all.

Those that had been lucky (or unlucky?) enough to go were flown down to the island in a large seaplane. The plane landed on the water, the rippling water splashing along the sides of the plane as it pulled up alongside the dock. The doors to the plane opened, a ramp out of the vehicle sliding out. Director Hugo Powers stepped out of the plane first, a large duffel bag in his hands. He was looking abnormally comfortable, wearing a Hawaiian t-shirt and board shorts, with flip-flops on his feet, a pair of sunglasses tucked into his shirt. Standing at the ready on the dock was a gorgeous Caribbean woman with dark skin and bleach-blonde hair tied into a ponytail. She was wearing a turquoise bikini and a wrap skirt, with a pair of sleek sunglasses perched on her nose. She smiled warmly at the group. "Hello, hello! Welcome to Sunset Superhero Resort. If I'm not mistaken, you guys are from HERO, which means you must be Director Powers." She extended a hand to Powers, who shook it. "My name is Naomi Lewis, and I am the coordinator here at Sunset. On behalf of all the staff here, I'd like to welcome you to our esteemed resort."

Powers nodded. Despite wearing casual vacation clothes, he looked as formal as ever. ”A pleasure to meet you as well, Mrs. Lewis. Thank you for your hospitable reception. If you could direct us to our lodgings as soon as possible, that would be excellent.” He held up his bag. ”We do have quite a bit of luggage to put down, and the sooner we can exit the preliminary unpacking phase and commence the enjoyment of the Caribbean air, the better.”

Naomi chuckled, gesturing towards her with her hand. "Of course. Follow me." The woman walked down the dock towards the gorgeous resort, which had done an excellent job of preserving nature. There was no giant tower or massive building present, but instead, the resort was composed of a line of small, separated villas that wrapped around the shoreline of the island. Several tropical-looking buildings stood inland, between the tropical bushes, palm trees, and sand dunes. Naomi guided them towards the lobby, a lovely building with glass walls and a bonnet roof, supported by wooden pillars. The interior of the reception area was decorated with all manner of ocean-related items, including old anchors, bottled ships, and most impressively, a number of taxidermized fishes. Naomi said something in some foreign language to the lady working at the desk, before smiling and turning back to the group. She had grabbed a tray from the desk, and on the tray were a collection of manila envelopes. "All of your villas are ready for you to go. Your keys are inside these here envelopes, along with our brochure that details the services we provide here at Sunset, along with our room service menu. Our staff has put you with the individuals you have requested to stay with, if any. I do hope you enjoy your stay. If you have any questions, concerns, or requests, please feel free to call me. I wrote my phone number on the back of each brochure. Have fun, and thank you for staying at Sunset."

”Thank you again, Ms. Lewis.” Powers took his envelope. "Before you all go, I have reserved a late dinner at the Solaris, which is the resort's five-star restaurant. If you could join me there at 8:00 PM, that would be excellent. Until then, make sure you enjoy yourselves.” Powers looked towards Pandora. ”Pandora, if you could join me for a quick outing of croquet. There are a couple of matters I would like to discuss with you individually, and croquet is a phenomenal activity to engage in during a discussion. I'll see you there at 1300 hours.” With that, Powers took his envelope and trudged off towards the boardwalk.

Grace, who was quietly observing the beauty of the island and her surroundings, stepped forwards and snatched the envelope with her name scribbled on it. She stepped back, ripping open the top of the envelope and reaching inside. "Tom, we're in the Mahi-Mahi Hutt," Grace said, dangling the keys in her hand, which was a thick wooden cutout of a mahi-mahi attached to a jingling set of golden keys. She was wearing a white linen shirt with her sleeves rolled up and shorts, a straw sun hat on her head, and pink-lense sunglasses perched on her nose. She held a purple carry-on luggage bag in her other hand. "Let's go, hon." She walked off, rolling her bag behind her as she made her way out of the building, walking around the boardwalk slowly, until she found the building they were looking for. It was a decently-sized wooden bungalow with a thatched roof that was perched on wooden pillars, situating it right above the water. Grace rolled her bag up to the front door, inserting the key inside, before swinging it open. The inside of the villa was as impressive as one might expect, sea-green wallpaper covering the interiors of the building. There was a nice-sized den with a comfortable-looking couch and a giant, wall-mounted flat-screen TV, along with a comfortably spacious bedroom, bathroom, and a beautiful view of the water from the several sliding-glass doors.

Grace rolled her bag to the wall, removing the glossy brochure from the envelope and skimming it quickly. "So many spa treatments and massages...some of them I haven't even heard of before. Woah." She leafed through a couple of pages. "Ooh, they have a natural hot spring here. We should totally do that. Ooh, but I would like to do a deep-tissue massage...there's just so much stuff to do here!" Grace exclaimed excitedly. "What about a hot stone massage? I don't think I've ever had one before...does that sound alright?" Grace asked, scribbling down a rough itinerary on the resort notepad she had found on a desk. "Then we can probably come back here, or get lunch together..." Grace made a few more notes on her pad. "If we can get an appointment by 1, we can probably get a couple of treatments in, get lunch, and still have plenty of time to come back here...^{and maybe snuggle or something,}" Grace squeaked out, a small tinge of a blush coming onto her face as she laid her the notepad on the desk. "What do you think, Tom?"

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_{August 31st, 2033
HERO One
Savior's Island, Castleburg}

"Well, my day off didn't last very long at all, did it..."

Blake reluctantly trudged into HERO One's 4th-floor conference room. He looked like he had just woken up, which was because that was the case. Blake had been notified the week before that while had had not won a free vacation to the Caribbean, he would at least get a week off from work to do whatever he wanted, and so Blake had planned to do a lot of extra sleeping. Unfortunately, on the first day of his day off, in the middle of his nice long nap, Blake had been rudely awakened by a loud beeping sound from his phone. Apparently, he had been summoned to an emergency meeting at HERO One that he had to get to, ASAP.

Life is cruel.

Blake plopped down in an armchair, running a hand through his scarlet hair as he looked around the room to see who was there. It was composed mostly of the people that he thought would be there. Patato, Rumi, Eliza, Angiedoodles, the other usual suspects, but also a few other individuals that Blake had expected less, such as that cop guy that had hounded his July 4th party, and that new guy Max, along with a few other people that Blake didn't quite recognize, including a dark-skinned girl with curly black hair and a gangster-y looking one with short blonde hair. The last to enter the room was Christina, who was, contrary to her normal garb, wearing a black pantsuit and a golden necklace. She was holding a large pile of manila folders in her hand, which she distributed to those sitting at the round table. She also gave everybody a single peppermint. "Sorry to interrupt your vacation, everybody, but we have an important emergency that does require a briefing. Listen up. This is some serious stuff we're about to delve into."

Christina strode up to the head of the table, removing a clicker from her pocket and pressing down on it. An incredibly realistic, 3D, color holographic image of a mysterious person shimmered into existence on the middle of the oval conference table. The man was wearing a black uniform, like military attire, with golden highlights. He was wearing a German spiked pickelhaube on his head, and a black-and-gold ornate mask, almost like an ancient funeral mask, covered his face. Christina spoke. "This is an image of the Black Baron. He was a prolific superhero hunter in the 1990s in Castleburg, working for a group called the Castleburg North Club, a criminal organization and radical group that believes superhumans are poison. At his peak activity, he would hunt down and either abduct or kill multiple heroes per day. It is our belief that he has returned to Castleburg."

Christina clicked again, the hologram morphing into a graph. "Here's a graph of yearly murders and abductions associated with the Black Baron. As you can say, in 1993 he started out with a minimal number, before increasing every year until his peak in 1997. Then, he only picks up a couple in early 1998 before vanishing off the face of the Earth, and he's been out of commission for nearly 35 years now. We had listed him in HERO archives as "MIA/Dead," and we were never able to uncover who he was." Christina pressed her button again, the hologram morphing into a piece of paper. "All we know about the Black Baron was his general appearance and his modus operandi. He- or maybe she- loved poems. A lot. By the time he was reaching his height of terror, he would always leave a poem written in ink on an old piece of parchment somewhere near the scene of the abduction or murder, usually pinned to a wall or nearby object with a knife. In the early hours of this morning, we found Tree-Man and The Whistler murdered in their apartments, each with a poem pinned with a knife to the wall. One was John Keats' "Ode on a Grecian urn," and the other we believe to be written by the Baron himself. We've collected them both for evidence, but the Baron has never left any identifying evidence before, and we don't expect him to do so again."

The hologram changed once more into a cage, with a mini Black Baron inside of it. "Even though the Black Baron is likely a senior now, he is still extremely dangerous and must be stopped at all costs, ASAP. I know Director Powers would've liked to have taken this case personally- considering that the Black Baron was one of his cases back when he was still a regular superhero- but we'll have to act quickly without him. I'll be calling him from the Caribbean frequently to ask for his advice. Still, if a bunch of sweaty old men couldn't capture the Black Baron, I think a lady's touch might be in order," Christina said with a smirk, before pressing her button again to turn off the hologram. "Anyway, I've managed to create a plan to take the Black Baron down. As it happens, one of our undercover moles, Falseman, has informed us of a major meeting of several criminal elements in Castleburg. A big gathering of the head honchos of Castleburg's crime syndicates. The Wah Ching, Koshiki Devils, Brookside Bruisers, Bratva, what's left of the Guglianos, they'll all be in attendance. In all likelihood, the North Club will show up too. They're elusive, but they are still stupid," Christina said with a mischievous smile. "So, pretty much, you guys are going undercover to infiltrate a top-secret criminal gathering to locate a master murderer and help bring about the downfall of a powerful criminal entity. Sound familiar?" Christina laughed.

"Anyways, you guys are going to need to think up some cover identities. I put a Dungeons and Dragons character-creation sheet in your briefing to help you get your creative juices flowing. You guys have access to the HERO armory, too, so take what you need. Also, the entire party is being hosted by the local Irish mob, the Mad Rabbits, who are throwing the whole fiesta on their restored river boat. So, you guys get to go on a cruise!" Christina smiled widely. "See? You get a vacation after all!"

"A vacation surrounded by people that would kill me if they knew who I really was," Blake said with a roll of the eyes. "Can I go back to bed yet?"

"If you fall asleep, you're fired. This is a sensitive operation."

Blake sighed, opening the folder. "And I thought Powers was the mean one..." Blake mumbled as he looked at the sheets. "I bet I could pull off a pretty good Irish, though. Top of the morning to ya, laddies! What do you think, guys? Irish mobster Blake O'Brandt?"

Christina smiled. "See? This may be a matter of life or death for many people, but that doesn't mean it can't be fun! Right, gang?"

《 H. E. R. O. 》

= joined by =

---

August 12th, 12:52 PM
J & J Groceries
The East Flank, Castleburg

---

Blake was currently standing on a sidewalk in the East Flank, leaning back against a stop sign, looking down at his phone. He looked for all the world like some high-schooler enjoying the summer day. He was wearing a bright-colored Polamor Inc. t-shirt, cargo trousers, and a pair of Vans, and he had his skateboard tucked underneath his arm. He looked like he was about to hit the skate park, but in fact, he was not. Blake was currently working a very high-stakes job, taking down a very high-stakes member of the Brookside Bruisers.

He held his cell phone up to his ear. "Samantha, re-brief me on this ‘Wind thong’ guy again."

“Can do,” HERO’s AI responded. “The suspect is identified as Windsong. Real name Maxwell Matthews. No parents that we can identify in HERO’s database, so likely an orphan of some kind. Has a sister, Juliette, that is currently hospitalized after a debilitating accident. He’s been identified with several confirmed members of the Brookside Bruisers, a street gang that has been expanding in prevalence. Your objective is to take him in for questioning, but be careful. Suspect does have higher-tier aerokinetic powers that are dangerous.”

"Aerokawho?"

“Wind manipulation.”

"Oh, sick." Blake looked around. "So he’s supposed to be coming out of there, right?" Blake pointed towards a large supermarket.

“I’ve used my crime-mapping software to detect patterns in the suspect’s behavioral patterns. He seems to frequent this particular supermarket at this time of day, so it would be a reasonable estimation that he would be present inside. I’ll project an image of him onto your screen.”

Blake looked down at the picture, frowning. "He looks kind of like my age. I expected a bald guy, with like, a scar, and an eyepatch and stuff." He frowned as Samantha responded chipperly by saying, “The suspect is in fact your elder. He is precisely 442 days older than you.”
"How helpful, Samantha," Blake said sarcastically as he continued to eye the sliding door entrance of the supermarket. All he had to do was wait until the guy walked out, and then run at him, grab him, probably knock him out, and arrest him. Easy-peasy.

----

Sweet, got a two-for-one deal. Max thought idly, hauling his groceries out of the supermarket. The clerk even had the nerve to ask him to pay for 10 cents for a bag. Luckily, he had his reusable bags that paid its cost five times over.

Max had to get into the HERO somehow. Money was getting tight and he refused to use the little money his parents sent over. However it's been awkward what with the whole coup thing that he's recently learned happened. He spotted a redheaded teenager eyeing the doors as he left the store. The boy assumed he was waiting for his mother or some such and ignored him.

---
Blake looked up at the individual that had just walked out of the supermarket. A grin covered his face. "I see him now, I’ll move in to nab him," Blake said to his phone as he walked over. He ran a hair through his red locks (to make him look cooler, of course) as he walked towards the man. He then employed the classic Firebird catch-em-off-guard strategy. He pretended to look down at his phone as he walked, thus giving the appearance of him being distracted, and proceeded to walk towards Max. Once he got close, he then practically lunged into him, striking Max with his shoulder and intending to send him to the ground.

Max almost stumbled at getting shoulder-checked by the unknown teenager. What in the world was the kid made out of? Luckily his training and physicality helped him maintain his balance. ”Hey kiddo, look up when you’re walking with your phone.” Max warned as he straightened the groceries on his arms.

Blake blinked as the dude that he had bodied just kind of staggered backwards like it was nothing. What the hell was this guy made of? Blake put his phone in his pocket, dropping the skateboard to the ground. "Actually, I’m not just a kid." He narrowed his eyebrows. "Scratch that, I’m not a kid, period! I’m pretty much your age, and I’m with HERO, and you’re wanted for questioning, which means I have to take you in." Blake lifted his hand, the temperature of the area instantly rising a few degrees as a small scarlet ember appeared in his palm. The ember quickly expanded, forming a fully-fledged fireball the size of a small beach ball. "We can do this the easy way, which involves you giving up and just walking with me, or the hard way, which involves me smoking you in front of all these people. I’d like to point out that while the second option is much more fun for me, it probably isn’t for you. So, I would suggest Option Numero Uno."

Max whistled at the sight of fire being played with like a toy. He somewhat recognized Blake, as he was one of the major players in the coup. Still, HERO? He did intend to look for them soon but why was he wanted. It likely had to do with the whole Brookside situation. However, while he’s willing to clear things up, he couldn’t do it at this moment. He had to be present at his sister’s checkup, Juliette gets jittery and nervous when he isn’t there. ”Unfortunately,” The wind began picking up and soon, began whistling, ”I’ll have to take a rain check on your tempting offer.” The tumultuous wind wildly blew their clothes around as he tucked his groceries away safely in a corner.

”You know, nobody ever takes the ‘surrender quietly’ option," Blake lamented. ”Oh well, your loss-" His fireball nearly blew out, however, as the wind suddenly began to roar and pick up. Blake, of course, would not be disgraced like this. This guy could make a nice summer breeze, but Blake could make a wildfire. The heat intensified as Blake’s ball of fire burned with a brightening intensity, and two large wings made of flames spread from his back, shining brightly on the vicinity. Of course, Blake couldn’t actually fly with these wings. They were purely ornamental, but hopefully they would scare this “wind bong” guy off before they had to fight. As much as Blake enjoyed fighting, he had spent far too much time in the hospital this summer already, and didn’t want to blow the rest of it because of some stupid mistake during a stupid fight. It was a couple of weeks wasted after the whole coup thing went down, and a couple of weeks in early June had been blown after Blake was very badly maimed in his fight against the Razor-Claw, a villain that Blake had not taken remotely seriously, and paid the price for doing so. It turned out that Razor-Claw actually had, well, razor claws, and the razor claws in question were very, very sharp and very, very painful. Well, that wasn’t happening again, that was for sure.

”Oh, wow, nice gust. You might actually mess up my hair!" Blake taunted as he lifted his hand, the fireball moving in tandem and positioning itself over Blake’s shoulder. ”Last chance, Breeze Boy! Give up or get incinerated!"

Max took a guess that this was likely one of the stronger heroes. The intensity of his flames and the showy fire wings half-confirmed it. Though, being pragmatic, he didn’t know the purpose of the fire-wings. He glanced at his watch and he was almost late. ”I’m running out of time here, Mr. Spicy Fried Chicken.” He shot back with a slight grin, ”If you won’t start it, I will.”

As soon as he said that he raised up a single finger and sliced horizontally. A single, scythe-like strike formed from him and barrelled towards Blake’s legs. Max consciously toned down his power output- he didn’t want to really hurt the good guys, after all. Well, they’re probably the heroes considering what happened recently.

Blake was swept off his feet by the surprising attack of wind, which sent him careening to the ground. ”Ow..." Blake muttered as his wings and prepared fireball attacks fizzled away, but he was quickly back on his feet again, dusting off his now-ripped pants before lifting his palms and pointing them at Max. ”Alright, no more Mr. Nice Guy! You’re going down!" Blake fired back, before literally firing back, as he released two jets of fire from his palms, beams of swirling flames that hurtled directly towards Max.

Max’s eyes widened at how quickly Blake retaliated. While he had a good grasp of his powers he had pretty much no experience fighting other super-powered heroes, atleast those with different powers from him. He sidestepped as soon as he could but it singed his part of his hood and his shoulder. The flames started moving towards where he dodged, but reacted this time by pushing the flame away from him. ”Ouch ouch,” Max said, glancing at his seared shoulder, ”I swear, I’ll have HERO pay for this hoodie.”

Max continued the beam-o-war between fire and wind. It was somewhat dangerous as the flames were getting fed by his winds and the temperature continued rising. His ears pricked at his watch beeping. Damn, no time, He thought, I really didn’t want to do this. The air and flames would be violently pushed out in a certain radius. Blake may have also felt the wind lightly cut at him. A pseudo-dome with minute amounts of oxygen formed. It would be difficult for either combatants to use their powers within it. Max knew that he wouldn’t last long as it was already getting hard to breathe. He lunged at Blake with a hook; fully intent to knock the boy out.

Blake had put on a very confident smirk before, but it was quickly wiped away as the vicinity was engulfed in some sort of dome, one that obviously had very little oxygen, as Blake immediately detected the limited breathing space. His powers also fizzled out immediately due to the lack of oxygen, with only minute fiery sparks jumping from his fingers. Well, fuck me. Blake looked up to see a fist speeding towards his face. Fortunately for him, Blake’s reflexes were quite fast from years of training, even in this oxygen-deprived zone, and he was able to lift his forearm to block the punch from connecting with his face. ”Just...give up...dumbass..." Blake gasped, before swinging an uppercut with his non-blocking arm at Max’s gut.

It wasn’t everyday that someone could properly move in the dome. It was even rarer to have someone counter-attack. The heroes were definitely a different breed, could they have trained for this? Max honestly expected Blake to be like a fish out of water without his powers. ”You’re… good kiddo.” Max said as he dodged backwards. His chin got nicked by the uppercut, making him feel woozy and lightheaded. He managed to make an upwards kick aimed at Blake’s chin as he lost his footing and fell backwards. Max was the type to give back what he was given after all.

Blake crossed his arms in an ‘X’ formation, shielding his face from the kick. ”Gotcha...not a kiddo…loser” Blake managed between gasps for air. Before he could continue to attack, or gloat, or do much of anything, however, his body suddenly jerked spastically, his arms flailing about wildly, as he fell forwards, landing face-first on the ground with a parting ”oof.”

Approaching the scene was a group of uniformed police officers. Leading them was a man of rather short stature, with pale skin and neatly-combed auburn brown hair. He was wearing a tactical vest and was holding a sleek, futuristic-looking handgun that was softly smoking. He grinned. “Police Sergeant Joey ‘the Deagle’ Beagle is here, folks, no need to worry about the fighting anymore.” He blew the smoke away from his taser gun as he looked at the downed Max, who was on the floor. “Alright, buddy, now you’re gonna come quietly with us or I’m gonna have to taze you too, you understand?”

Max raised his hands up in mock surrender. It was already too late. He'd never hear the end of it from Julie. There was also no use in aggravating the police. ”Alright, alright...”

Of course, Sergeant Beagle ‘the Deagle’ was not exactly the most virtuous person in the world, for as soon as Max raised his hands, Beagle fired about five taser rounds directly into his chest. Needles to say, it hurt. Very, very badly. On top of that, it would be more than enough to cause unconsciousness. Beagle smiled at his clear act of police brutality, holstering his sidearm. “Cuff ‘em and haul ‘em off, boys. And let's get us some Dunkin Donuts. Woo, chocolate sprinkles time, baby!”

---

About One Hour Later
48th Precinct Holding Cells
The East Flank, Castleburg

---

Blake woke up with a groan, rubbing his head. ”Did I get drunk…?” he muttered, looking at his surroundings. He was in a very large, comfortable prison cell that had plenty of space, a gumball machine, and a mini-fridge. Then, he also saw Max sitting there, and everything made sense. ”Hey, hold on! You can’t put me in the same cell as this criminal!” Blake shouted out, to no response. He grasped the bars. ”Let me out! This guy is like, a mobster or something!”

Max felt a stinging pain on his chest. ”That motherf...” He mumbled to himself as he groaned. He had always wondered what would happen if he pulled the air out of people’s lungs while causing the air to gyrate but he thought it too barbaric. But that police dog, what's-his-face, moved up the list of potential people to try it out on. Of course he really wouldn’t, he was just pissed that he was kicked whilst he already surrendered.

”Mobster, what?” Max asked the hotheaded teenager, ”Damn, do those idiots at HERO think I’m a vigilante?” He cracked his neck as he said this. His tongue was as loose and honest as it usually was. It wasn’t unreasonable atleast, he honestly thought that he did break some vigilante laws. He wasn’t clear on the laws on how HERO or the government treated them.

”I’ll make it straight, right here,” Max said flatly as he sighed, ”I only helped those kiddos out, heard ‘em scream and before I knew it I was helping them out. I’m just some nobody.”

Blake looked confused. ”Wait, so you’re not a criminal?” Blake scratched his chin. ”No, you’re lying! That’s what all criminals say when they get caught.”

”He’s not.”

Blake almost shit himself as he jumped from his (surprisingly comfortable) cot, turning over and giving a salute to Director Powers, who had appeared at the cell doors as if by magic. ”D-Director! This isn’t what it looks like. I can explain. I was just trying to do a mission-”

”Yes, yes, I understand.” Powers shook his head. ”It’s not entirely your fault, for once. Though I would advise you not to engage your adversaries before evacuating the nearby civilians. That’s just a recipe for disaster.” He turned his attention towards Max. ”As for you. Max, is it? I’m HERO’s Director Hugo Powers.” He extended a hand through the bars to shake. ”I apologize on behalf of some of my staff for the miscommunication. There was a rush to judgement that resulted in you being named as an associate of the Brookside Bruisers. We’ve corrected that, so you will not be staying here for much longer.” The man retracted his hand through the bars, putting both hands behind his back as he spoke professionally.

”While you are here, though, you clearly show a lot of promise with your powers that demonstrates a rather high level of skill and raw prowess with your abilities. I’d like to offer you a job at HERO.” Powers looked at Max thoughtfully. ”With somebody of your skill level, you’ll be able to take higher-level jobs right from the get-go and start with a rather high salary. And, of course, you’ll have free access to HERO’s resources, including our state-of-the-art hospital. Generally, we reserve hospital usage to HERO staff only, but we can make an exception for very close family. I understand that this may be valuable given your current situation.” Powers looked at the young man. ”What do you say?”

”You know you’re very intimidating Director Powers.” Max said as he shook his hand through the bars. He had no real reason to not accept, the terms were more than reasonable. Still though, higher-level jobs from the get-go? That kind of responsibility could crush anyone but he (hopefully) steeled himself for it. ”I’ll accept the job, it’s highly beneficial for me. I assume you’ve researched my history already, so I’ll thank you for the mindfulness of my sisters’ condition.”

”Though I do have one question,” Max began as a slight grin formed on his face, ”What’s that kiddos rank?” He pointed at Blake with his thumb. Though he didn’t mean to condescend, if more people were around his prowess then HERO’s likely full of monsters. He did also catch one more thing, ”He’s injured too, isn’t he?”

Powers smiled fondly. ”Welcome to HERO.” he said warmly. He handed an index card to Max. ”Report to the location given here at 9 A.M. sharp tomorrow morning. And bring a bagged lunch. All part of our entrance procedure.” Powers smiled as he heard Max's next question, his eyes falling onto Blake, who was currently pouting angrily and muttering something about having just turned 21. ”Firebird here is an A-minus ranked hero. He’s been with us for four or so years now. A bit of a knucklehead, but he gets things done, normally.” Powers folded his arms. ”I hope to see you soon.” And with that, Powers departed, walking out of the corridor.

Blake looked over at the individual that he was just trying to incinerate to death minutes earlier. He gave a weak smile. ”Hey, so, uhh, sorry about trying to turn you to ashes earlier. No hard feelings, right?” Blake scratched the back of his head with a bit of an embarrassed smile. ”Also, Powers forgot to...let us out of here…”

A-minus, huh? Max eyed Blake. ”It’s alright, not like I was in any danger, right?” He began, ”You may have made me miss my sisters’ appointment, but getting here into the HERO’s hospital may be worth her complaining about it for a few days, heh.”

”This is my first time in jail, is it usually this comfy?” Max asked quizzically as he stared at the amenities, ”Yeah you’re right, hopefully it’ll be soon so I can go back and pick up my damned groceries.”

”Oh right,” Max walked up to Blake and extended his hands towards the boy, ”We haven’t officially ‘met’. I’m Maxwell Matthews. If you don’t want me to call ya kiddo, tell me your name. Else it’ll just be Mr. Bird from now on.”

”Yeah, unless you do something really fucked up, you’ll be stuck here. Gumball?” Blake tossed a large green ball of gum at Max. ”Blake. Blake von Brandt, and I am not a kiddo.” Blake took Max’s hand, giving it a shake. ”Your power is pretty cool, glad you’re on our side after all. You’re pretty chill.”

Max caught the gumball, ”Nice to meet ya,” He popped the gum into his mouth, his face returned to its neutral stance. He purposefully ignored the kiddo comment, ”Your power is pretty terrifying. You did almost singe me alive; wouldn't wanna go through that again what the burning and ruined clothes, eh? Wait which prison are you thrown into if you've been a particularly bad boy?”

”When's that stupidly named dog cop going to get us out of here?” Max asked. His sister was likely going to grill him alive and no amounts of currying favour would help. While he was here he may as well try and ask questions about his missing relative, "Oh, speaking of my powers- have you ever seen anyone control it like I do?” It sounds like an odd brag but he really was curious.

”Wow, you have a lot of questions,” Blake said with a chuckle. ”You’ve never heard of Coldwater before?” he asked incredulously, raising his eyebrows. ”It’s the ultimate prison for big bads. Super high-security prison. Scary place. They pretty much lock you in a box and throw away the key.” Blake looked amused at his next questions. ”Hopefully soon. Oh, man, I have a date tonight, they better not leave me in this box forever...” Blake stood, making his way over to the cell bars and peering out to see if there was any sign of human life. ”I don’t think I’ve ever seen anybody with that type of weird wind power before. At least, not like you did. It sounded almost like the wind was singing...oh, wait, I got it. I just got the name.”

Blake jolted as a nightstick suddenly slammed down on the bars, causing him to hop back in surprise as Beagle the Deagle approached again. He snarled at the two metahumans. “Alright, you two punks, if I ever see you on the streets putting innocent civilians in danger again, I’m gonna keep you in here for a long time, you understand?” Blake was tempted to tell this fool that there weren’t any civilians near them, and that he could kindly go stick it, but he did want to leave in a timely manner, so he just put on his best innocent face and nodded. Officer Beagle growled, opened the door, before stomping off.

Blake stepped outside of the cell, stretching his arms. ”Nice meeting you, man.” He smiled endearingly. ”I guess we’re co-workers now, so I’ll be seeing you around. Drinks are on me, since I can legally drink now!” Blake smiled. ”Oh, and one more thing.” Blake fished deep into his pocket and pulled out a crumbled business card, the words “C.R.E.W.” emblazoned on it in big red letters. ”I’m part of a hero group with a bunch of other guys. Kind of like the Wings of Law, but less evil and much, much cooler. You should join! You’d fit right in. We take jobs together and stuff...and we have our own headquarters, too, which is super cool.” Blake gave Max a thumbs-up. ”Alright, man, take care of yourself! Oh, and get ready to run tomorrow. A lot.”

Blake started to back out, before giving a fiery look. ”One more thing! If we ever get the chance to spar again...” He gave a wide, forboding grin. ”You better believe I'm gonna finish what I started.”

---

_{@Hitman and @Inertia}

---

《 H. E. R. O. 》

Grace picked some slime out of her hair as she floated back to the cramped plane. "I hardly do, but I guess I have no choice," she said to him, tugging at the neck of her shirt, drenched in rainwater, slime, and sweat. The entire room was absolutely baking right now, which made sense, considering that it was on fire, and the inside of the airplane was also incredibly, incredibly hot. It seemed as though even when evil and knocked unconscious, Blake always exuded some sort of heat. A human space heater would've been an excellent asset to have in the winter, but in the already flaming room, it was seriously messing with Grace's attention. She was a very temperature-sensitive person, and the events of the day, combined with the heat, was taking a significant toll on her mental state. "Focus," she whispered to herself, before making a waving motion with her hand, and sucking the occupants of the plane out of the vehicle and directly into the lobby.

Grace's calculus was on point, and the two conscious individuals were deposited safely on the tiles of the now-destroyed lobby area. Blake's arrival was less elegant, with him falling clumsily on the ground and flopping like a flounder. It wasn't an ideal landing, but hey, when you betray your friends, it's what you get. And on the subject of betraying your friends, Grace then remembered that she was now holding hands with what many of them probably thought was still a traitor, which wasn't exactly a good look. She quickly squawked (mostly at Patti, who had a temper when it came to this type of thing), "Good news! Tom didn't sell us all out to Seraph!" She gave his hand a squeeze. "He was just trying to go undercover on Seraph..." Her attention quickly transitioned elsewhere, though, towards the downed figures of Jamie and Joseph. She gasped. "Holy shit, that's a lot of blood," she said, kneeling next to Joseph and adjusting the crystalline device on his chest. "Stay still, and take deep breaths. Deep breaths. Also, when this is all over, take a shower while you're at it. You smell." She sniffed the air. "Or maybe I smell. I hate this goo stuff..." Grace wiped her sleeve before standing, when she heard the sounds of footsteps. Lots of footsteps.

At first, she thought it was Seraph's army, ready to wipe them all out, but thankfully, it wasn't. Rather, it was a large number of people from a variety of professions, entering almost in waves. The first wave was paramedics, who quickly ran over to help Joseph and Jamie, who were in the most perilous state. They were thankfully very professional, working post-haste to apply whatever first-aid was still needed and loading them onto stretchers. Blake was also loaded onto a stretcher, though they made sure to strap him down once he began to snarl at the paramedics in his sleep. Everybody else, as miserable as they were, were pretty much given the cold shoulder by the emergency workers, who quickly took the most severely injured out of the area.

Not too long after the paramedics had arrived, the police entered the area, looking a combination of stunned and pissed. The latter sentiment quickly won out, though, as the cops spotted Patricia, and a high-pitched buzz quickly filled the room as their weapons became trained on the teen. They then began to bark orders at her, though it was clear there was no uniformity in their commands. Some of them demanded Patti to sit down, others demanded her to stand, and others yelled at her to kneel, while officers told her to both put her hands above her head, on her head, and at her side. In the midst of the chaos, though, a single, bold, powerful, and very loud voice pierced through the combined sound of the entire lobby.

”PUT YOUR GUNS DOWN AND STEP AWAY FROM MY EMPLOYEE!”

Powers had entered the lobby, flanked by two Division X footsoldiers and Christina, who gave her usual glare at Pandora. Powers looked slightly worse for wear- some bandages were visible at his wrists and neck from underneath his jacket, and most notably, he was walking with a thick wooden cane in hand. He was, however, definitely alive, and still definitely scary enough to send the cops running for the hills. This situation was already far too complicated for the police officers to handle, and Powers' presence meant that this entire state of affairs was well above their pay grade.

Powers limped over to the group, using his cane to support himself, as the last wave of people- Division X members- moved in to secure the area, a swarm of Division X agents in jet black uniforms moving across the room, speaking into their radios, as Powers stood, looking over the group. ”Good work. Certainly an unanticipated coarse of events, one whose blame rests on my shoulders for sure,” Powers said. ”But you guys pulled through, as excellently as usual. I can't help but feel just the slightest bit proud.” He looked at them coolly, the moonlight reflecting onto his face as the smell of extinguished fires filled the room. ”There's a reason I consider HERO the best group of heroes on Earth...nowhere else would any other team of heroes have the moral compass, the drive, and the skill not only to avoid being caught after an entire god damn coup d'etat, but upend a system that was designed exclusively to defeat them. Good work.” Powers leaned on his cane. ”Of course, there'll be inquiries, and lots of paperwork, but you should consider yourselves...off the hook. For the more serious charges, at any rate. Obviously, with Seraph out of the picture, his pathetic EAgLES project is out the window, too, which means you should be back to normal in no time flat. I'm going to head back to HERO One in a second and make sure everything is in order, and then you'll be back in business. I would suggest myself getting some of those cuts and scrapes checked out. Spacewalker, those burns look like second-degree; you might want to get those checked out.”

Cora interjected, raising a metal finger.. "Director? Quick question. What happened to Seraph when you say that he's 'out of the picture,' quote un-quote?"

Powers nodded. ”Well, a quick summary...”

---

"Yes...yes...yes....the POWER!”

Seraph was hardly listening to Starbright or CHad or anybody, instead panting heavily, the Leftover blood dripping down his chin and forming a small pool on the table. "I can feel it! The limitless power! It's...it's overwhelming! Yes! Yes! ARRRGH!”

Seraph spread his arms, and much to Starbright's likely discomfort, his figure began to change instantly. He grew taller, his hair growing out instantly, and two extra pairs of wings sprouted from his back, giving him a grand total of six. His body grew vastly out of proportion, his upper torso becoming a monstrous Hulk-sized form, and his eyes looked like they were about to burst from his eyelids.

”Now, let me unleash the power upon my enemies!” Seraph roared, but instead of turning Starbright into a pulp, Seraph grasped his mosntrously deformedf head, howling, as it stumbled across the room. Little to his knowledge, Leftover blood was indeed an amplifier of power, but there was one caveat. In order for it to truly turn one into an unkillable beast, the drinker had to have zero sense of remorse or guilt for their actions. Seraph was close to totally apathetic to the suffering of others, and his transformation was very nearly complete, but there was a small pang of remorse in his heart, a small sliver of heroism back in the glory days when Seraph was truly an agent of justice, and that miniscule bit of guilt at what he had become, which Seraph thought he had done away with, was now preventing him from becoming all-powerful.

Seraph thrashed wildly around the room, his giant wings smashing all the furniture as he swung around the room, clutching his head, crazily staggering every which way. ”Stop! Stop! Let me kill! LET ME OBLITERATE!” he howled and screeched as he stumbled to every corner of the room, unable to release his powers onto the world that was now finally moving on from him. In his wild thrashings, he stumbled towards a window, one of his wings clumsily smashing in the glass as one of his legs slipped through the open space. He lost his balance and, as his wings were non-fuctional at this time, fell through.

”NOOO!” he screamed as he plummeted, falling rapidly towards the Earth, but he had gone too far to be saved, and his body fell into the cold blue ocean with a spectacular splash.

---

”...and so, we have a crew dredging out his body out of the bay as we speak.”

"...wow."

Powers chuckled good-naturedly. ”'Wow' is something that you could say, yes. It certainly does match the spectacle of it all, doesn't it? In any case, it would be best you all get going. Our ER should be functional again soon if you'd like to be examined. We do give you medical for good reason.” He turned towards the doorway, resting his cane on the ground, before looking back at the group. ”Oh, one more thing.”

He reached into his jacket pocket, removing a small scrap of paper that he handed to Grace. ”The community at large is going to need somebody to re-affirm the authenticity and virtue of superheroes in Castleburg, after this whole mess. Seeing what the rich, famous, bourgeois heroes have become will hurt the image of heroes. And, of course, they need somebody else to obsess over and write about in their freaky magazines. You lot seem to have the...wholesome attitude that I think Castleburg needs. Just remember that, years ago, Seraph, Mr. Impressive, and Sea Serpent were in your shoes. Young, hot, famous, bold...and they let that get to their heads. Look where that got them.” Powers shook his head. ”Make sure you never become them. But, that being said, I think some of you could use a little more positive attention. They say any publicity is good publicity, but I'll be damned if that's the case.” Powers chuckled at his own statement. "Take care.”

With that, Powers walked off, limping, and using his cane for support. Grace watched him go, and then looked down at the paper. Grace was a fast reader, and before anybody else could sneak a peak, she crumpled it up and shoved it in her pocket.

---

---

One Week Later

"Why did you invite me of all people?"

"You're the only one that's not doing anything right now. Also, you're not that judge-y."

Blake had just been released from the hospital, having recovered very swimmingly from having his brain been hijacked. When he first awoke, he had attempted to melt one of the nurses, but some tender loving care (and medication) had brought him back to normal, for the most part. Blake did still have a craving for very, very red meat and was having disturbingly violent dreams, but outside of that, he was pretty much normal Blake. Blake was granted a week of 'administrative leave' from doing hero work to recover, though, which was something that he gladly took.

"Anyway, this is the place. 11 Liberty Avenue," Grace said, pointing at the location.

Blake blinked as he looked at the location- a location called Neko Tengoku. It was a Climber Cat Café- a cat café but with the fad Leftover breed of cats- and it was adorable. The entire cafe was literally crawling with Climber Cats, the oversized, plush-like kittens snuggling up with smiling and laughing patrons. "You're gonna buy us all cats, or something? I mean, that's really cool of you to do, don't get me wrong, but I already have a pet to take care of. His name is Biscuit, and he's a-"

"I know about your stupid rat already, and this isn't the place! Right next to this place, you dumbass!"

"Real sweet girl. I'm not sure what Tom sees in you," Blake muttered as he looked to the location due east of the cat café. It wasn't exactly an impressive piece of real-estate- instead, a stone, drab building with a heavy, rusting steel door and the letters C, E, W, and R spray-painted in white paint on the front of the building. "This is the place? It looks kind of...what's the word? Dilapapated?"

"Dilapaditated, and yes, this is the place. Watch," Grace said, walking up to the steel door and rapping her fist on it a few times. The sound of fist on metal echoed through the premises, before a metal slit opened up, a pair of eyes looking in. The person behind the door looked at the two, before the door swung open. Grace stood aside, allowing Blake to enter first, and the red-haired young adult walked in just to be utterly amazed. The interiors of the building were entirely unlike the unimpressive exterior. Blake had expected some type of warehouse, similar to the one the Guglianos took his friends captive in, but what he found was a super, super cool retro speakeasy. It was awesome. The entire interior room was black and white, with one entire wall being a marble-constructed bar that was lined with every sort of drink imaginable. Much of the rest of the room was composed of cushiony black chairs and glowing white tables. It was an impeccably designed room; cozy but not cramped. At the other end of the room was a sleek black wiry spiral staircase, leading up to a mysterious upper level.

"There are some rooms and stuff upstairs," Grace explained to Blake, whose jaw was currently on the floor. "Offices, too. We have a part-time secretary now. She's just some college kid I recruited out of Tom's fan club, but she's very good at staying organized. Also gave another girl a gig as a PR manager. I figured this would be a nice spot to meet up, you know, after a long day of work, maybe unwind a little bit...it's a good step towards the future." Grace looked at Blake tentatively. "You think it's a good idea? This is gonna cost a lot of money, but I can back out now if you think it's stupid..."

"No, no, it's great! Really. Super cool. Thanks so much." Blake smiled. "Woohoo! The Castleburg Really Epic Warriors are in business! When are we gonna let everybody else know about this?"

"First, please call it by the acronym. I hate this name. Second, I'm texting them now." Grace held out her brand-new phone, texting in the group chat. "A new chapter for us, I hope."

"Yep!" Blake said with a goofy grin as he looked around the beautiful mini-pub. "Things can only go up from here!"

Little did he know just how wrong he would be.

Hitman's Character Sheet Landfill

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Much like my hopes and dreams, empty