Hitman

⫸ New World Order ⫷

Thanks all! I'll hopefully have an OOC thread up within the coming days.

⫸ New World Order ⫷

Been a while, Hitman. xD

Gotta admit though, this does sound pretty darn cool. Personal time willing, I'd be hella down for this!

@Mintz

Would love to have you onboard! Your compliment is appreciated, haha.

mmm

@canaryrose

Mmm? Mmm, mmm hmmm.

⫸ New World Order ⫷

I'd love to give this a go!

@GingerBoi123

Thanks!

⫸ New World Order ⫷

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"Welcome to the city of Nova, where the future is now the present."

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⫸ T H E C I T Y O F N O V A: W H E R E S C I E N C E M E E T S P R O S P E R I T Y ⫷

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The Resource Wars were the deadliest and most destructive wars in human history. All the nations of the world, pitted against one another in a desperate struggle for survival, using their full weapons arsenals in an attempt to secure their national vision in a world with fleeting supplies. It was truly a low for humanity, and it seemed like it would be the end for humanity, the long-prophesized doctrine of 'mutually-assured destruction' finally being realized.

That was until 3 of the world's largest multi-national corporations banded together to escape impending doom. In a deserted part of the Southwestern United States, they pooled all their remaining resources into the construction of a massive energy source, the likes of which have never been seen before. In a few years' time, their work was complete. A hydrogen fusion reactor of massive proportions, large enough to be seen from space and potent enough to power an entire city. This was the Nova Core, the only reactor of its kind and one of the only sources of conventional fuel in an Earth that was strapped for resources. The Corporations, however, had no intentions of sharing this newfound power to the rest of the world. They focused inward, beginning to build a massive city in the desert and only admitting a select few into their self-created paradise, Nova City, the last beacon of hope.

With much of the rest of the world having fallen to the violent conflict of the Resource Wars, Nova City remains the largest and one of the only hubs of human life on the planet. It has a population of some 15 to 20 million or so people scattered throughout its vast cityscape and gathered in its sky-piercing towers. The only place in the world where science is thriving and people are, on the whole, happy. At least on the surface.

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⫸ T H E S T A T E O F A F F A I R S ⫷

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Though it may appear like Nova City is the modern-day equivalent of Eden, not all is as well as it seems. For starters, Nova City has strict migration laws between the city itself and the outer territory called the Wastelands. The Wastelands are the wild, irradiated patches of desert that surround Nova City, inhabited by millions of lingering humans, all vying for entry into Nova City. Occasionally scouting droids are sent out to select suitable candidates for entry into Nova City, but very few individuals are ever given admission past the high walls of Nova City.

The three Corporations, upon setting up Nova City, created a puppet government called the Council of Democracy that directly answers to the corporate call. All important executive power is relegated to the CEOs and boards of the Corporations. All matters of policing, infrastructure, and resource rationing are given to the Corporations as well, and individuals that are arrested are not put in prison but instead remanded to the custody of the Corporations, who can choose to do with the inmates as they please.

The Corporations do have their differences, however, as at the end of the day, they are still businesses trying to sell their products. Danish aerospace and defense corporation Fisker and Madsen Corporation, known as F&M, specialize in high-tech weapons development and are pioneers in the usage of nanotechnology. Japanese robotics developers Sagawa Heavy Industries has a vision of totally robot-controlled Eden. Brazilian pharmaceutical and bio-engineering conglomerate BioSolutions have mastered DNA splicing and have a grand plan for a totally re-invigorated human race. Each of them control a large sector of the city, but their interests naturally do not always align. In order to get what they want, they have to turn to more covert methods.

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⫸ C O N T R A C T S ⫷

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The Corporations, in their conflict with each other, turned to less-than-legal means in order to get what they wanted. They did this through the hiring of Contractors. Contractors were either residents of Nova City, the Wastelands, or distant foreigners that were brought on by one of the Corporations to work as assassins, bounty hunters, saboteurs, spies, so on and so forth. In reward for their services, the Corporations gave them unlimited access to their respective arsenals and cutting-edge developments, a hefty paycheck, and most importantly, access to the Nova Core. The Nova Core's power, unbeknownst to all but the most elite members of society, could be used to repair the human body from near-death, so long as the brain was still functioning, and could thus prolong a person's life for a significant period of time.

Contractors from rival Corporations often work against one another and are usually rivals, though occasionally two Corporations will band together to snub the third, or sometimes all three will work at a common goal. Not as though these politics matter to the Contractors. So long as the job is done, the paycheck- and the power to cheat death itself- is there. As the Corporations will often tell you, just keep your eyes and ears shut and do the job.

What's the harm in that, anyway? It's not like the Nova Core is ever going to fail. Right?

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⫸ D O T H E S T A R S E V E R G O O U T ? ⫷

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Thanks for reading! This RP concept has been mulling around in the back of my head for a while, and I'm looking forward to trying to bring it to life! The RP will have general plotlines and such but with a significant amount of leeway given to explore individual character arcs and side plots. If you're at all interested drop a post to say so, and if you have any questions about the RP or the plot please feel free to ask me a question! Once we get enough interest, I have more lore info that I'm going to share, but if there's anything you're curious about, just ask! Thanks again for reading this far!

𝚂𝚙𝚢 𝙷𝚒𝚐𝚑!

maybe

@canaryrose

I might be down to run this back.

@sly13

Your professions are more than welcome c:

𝚂𝚙𝚢 𝙷𝚒𝚐𝚑!

Thanks for your interest! Feel free to join the Discord server if you so choose.

𝚂𝚙𝚢 𝙷𝚒𝚐𝚑!

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𝙶𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝙴𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚂𝚎𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚘𝚛 𝙹𝚘𝚑𝚗𝚜𝚘𝚗. 𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚍𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚂𝚎𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝙸𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝙲𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚎. 𝙰𝚜 𝙸'𝚖 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠, 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚟𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝- 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚏𝚒𝚎𝚍- 𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚘𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚜 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 𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚞𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚑𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚕𝚢 𝚍𝚒𝚐𝚗𝚒𝚏𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚣𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗.

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

Stratford, Tennessee. An unassuming, modest suburb of Nashville on the outskirts of the bustling core of Tennessee. Stratford 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 the surface of the small town of Stratford 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 in Stratford.

I can see your confusion, Senator. 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 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" part. Promenade’s agents are composed of high-school-age kids that are given rigorous training to become a cohesive unit of highly-skilled spies. You've been transferred to our eastern branch of Promenade, which, since the Clintoh administration, has found a nice home at Franklin Pierce High School in Stratford. Franklin Pierce 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 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 this 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 is an old idea that I've been looking forwards to giving another shot! 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. 2064 》

_{September 21st, 2064
Castleburg Bullet N-Train}

The traincar was an absolute bloodbath. Limbs flying about like discarded objects. Corpses hitting the ground one by one. Blood pooling across the entirety of the traincar. It was the definition of a massacre. In HERO slang, this was a textbook Section 15: the type of hero behavior that would certainly result in an investigation, maybe even questioning, though given the circumstances it was unlikely to result in any sort of actual punishment. That was simply the way crime and punishment worked, after all.

At this point, Chainsawyer was one of the few pirates left; or at least, he was one of the few pirates that was left living. His warpath had very briefly been halted, however, by the arrival of yet another hero, who had propelled a weaponized head directly at him. Chainsawyer, unlike many of those in HERO, was not the type to be bothered by the revelation that his comrades had been killed, mutilated, and then weaponized. He was there for one thing and one thing only- unrelenting violence. However, he was quickly to be taken out of commission. His attention was first distracted by the arrival of yet another hero, and he was disappointed to find that the coupling that he had very specifically cut apart was now welded together. Who did these people think they were?! He was looking forward to dicing them to pieces, that's for sure. However, the arrival of the redhead had distracted him from the much more important issue- he was being frozen in place. Everything below Chainsawyer's waist was now coated in a thick layer of ice. The man swung his chainsaw around angrily, but his attempts of actually incapacitating anybody were futile, thanks to Europa's efforts.

It would seem as though the pirate invasion had been quelled. The only pirates left in commission were Chainsawyer, who was frozen to the ground like a sculpture, and a couple of stragglers that were pretending to be dead in order to avoid being impaled on Blitz's arms (prison was better than the alternative, surely). To think that this was the end of the pirate raid, however, was simply foolish.

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"Not looking good."

Sam was sitting in the cockpit of the Vulture I. The Vulture I was one of Sam's prized possessions. A hovercraft just larger than a fighter jet, the Vulture I was originally purposed by the US military to retrieve cadavers from the battlefield, though Sam's modifications gave the device a lot more utility. The Vulture I was currently hovering just above the stopped train, observing the battle from afar. Sam tightened her fingers around the throttle as she looked at the holoscreen currently projecting a worrying slew of numbers. "Richardson's dead...Reeves is dead...Chen is a goner...Stuyvesant is unconscious...God damn, these guys are fucked." Sam gently tapped a console on the wheel of the device. "Angela, what's the situation in the front of the train?"

A brusk, deep, but feminine voice responded. "Neutralized," she responded simply over the comms.

Sam stretched her arms. "This is why I need more women in the fucking crew. We know how to get shit done," Sam said as the Vulture I dove down, now level with the rest of the train. Sam tapped a button on one side of the control panel. "Incisor," she said airily, and a single pulse of red light fired from the front of the ship, boring a medium-sized hole in the wall of the traincar, which now resembled a chunk of metal swiss cheese. Sam then tapped a button on the opposite side of the panel. "Reel it in," she said as she stretched her arms, and from the nose of the ship two cables rocketed out, grasping onto the side of the nuclear device. The Vulture I then pulled backwards, hauling the weapon out of the ground and through the hole. Hopefully, none of the heroes were pulled out with the weapon. The half-frozen Chainsawyer was not so lucky- the bomb smashed into him on its way out and sent him hurtling into the ravine.

Sam lifted both hands off the controls of the Vulture I, flipping the heroes off, before quickly soaring off into the sun, the nuclear weapon trailing behind her, and leaving the heroes with the daunting realization that somebody would have to call their boss to explain that they might just have failed.

Young Justice

P I E R 1 2

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M A Y 2 6^{T H} 2 0 2 1 | 1 0 : 5 0 P M | G O T H A M C I T Y , N J

"Come on, boys, we gotta get all these crates loaded onto the boat by midnight. That's a hard deadline, y'hear? Black Mask is gonna be real disappointed if we lose even one box of cargo."

Pier 12 was bustling with activity that evening, though this activity was decidedly surreptitious. A group of thugs, some of them armored, some of them strapped with guns, and all of them wearing black facemasks, were loading crates full of illegal weapons onboard the large freight ship that was anchored at the pier that day. The man calling the shots, a 6'4" fellow known as Shanks, was distinguishable from the rest of the thugs not by his face, which was also covered in a jet-black full-face mask, but by the clean white suit that easily established him as one of Black Mask's enforcers, and the immediate superior of the group assembled at the docks that night.

The crew continued their grunt work, loading crate after crate on board the freight ship as fast as they could. After all, they didn't want to make Black Mask mad. Many of them, truth be told, hadn't ever seen Black Mask before, and if they had, it probably wasn't for very long. That being said, Black Mask's enforcers were scary enough, and the guy that bossed the enforcers around? He had to be the scariest of them all. Despite the imminent threat of being fed to the fishes, though, there was another pressing issue that gnawed into the minds of the hardened thugs, and that was the girl in the chair.

The girl in the chair was pretty young. Not a kid, but not old-old. College-age, maybe. She was wearing some sort of antiquated armor that the weebs among the gang recognized as being samurai armor, albeit highly-modernized, well-forged, crimson samurai armor. She had long brown hair and a black eye from Jim smacking her across the face with a nightstick. She was also tied to the chair, and was actively glowering at the goons. The girl, who was apparently some type of vigilante named 'Demonslayer', had been spotted in her hiding spot after her phone's ringtone went off- the most Gen Z way of being caught, it seemed. The thugs had quickly knocked her out cold and tied her to the chair. Apparently, this girl had been causing some trouble for Black Mask recently, and Black Mask wanted to speak to the vigilante girl in the near future. And by speak, he probably meant kill. And so, there she was, tied helplessly to a chair. Her magic sword, which had burned Bobby's hands badly, had been stuffed into a barrel of fish and left for the time being. Another gift for Black Mask. \

Shanks, the enforcer, watched his crew load the boat while simultaneously thinking about just how big of a promotion he would get. Not only was he moving thousands- no, millions of dollars worth of military-grade weapons out of Gotham City, but he had also captured a major thorn in Black Mask's side. Shanks rubbed his hands together, dreaming of his soon-to-be-purchased yacht, as he made his way over to his hostage. He hadn't gotten a chance to intimidate teenagers since he was a bully in high school. He missed those simpler times of swirlies and wedgies. Not that he didn't enjoy extortion and torture, but some nostalgia was always nice. Shanks leaned in, hands on knees, to lower his mask to just above the girl's eye level. "Enjoying the view of the water, twerp?" he taunted, before chuckling to himself.

To his surprise, though, the girl bit back. "It's pretty nice. Y'know what I don't enjoy, though? Your stench. Wash your mask or something, dude, jeez."

Shanks was almost hurt. "You're talking a lot of smack for a girl that got caught because her phone started blasting Destiny's Child. And also for a girl that's, I don't know, tied to a chair right now. "

"First of all, not my phone," Maya said quickly. "And second, have you ever considered that maybe I wanted to get captured? And that I have you exactly where I want you?" Maya added with a hefty dose of swagger, craning her neck to look straight into the eyeholes of Shanks's mask.

The enforcer chuckled. "Sure thing, girlie." He leaned in so that his mask was only a few inches away from Maya's face. "I call your bluff-"

Maya then headbutted Shanks square in the face, crushing his nose. As the enforcer staggered back, blood oozing from his nostrils, he looked up to see that Maya's hands were somehow untied, and she was holding her sword somehow. Before he could truly process the information, however, the girl had swung her blade low, chopping the ropes off of her feet, and then had charged forwards, slicing Shanks directly across the chest. The masked enforcer was hit by a wave of pain. Unimaginable, grueling pain. He howled as he dropped to the floor, clutching his chest wound, and Maya stepped over his downed body. She looked up at the shocked gang of thugs, who were slowly gearing up to fight, before looking down at the katana she clutched in her hand again. "You ready to kick some ass, Senshi?"

"I am prepared. In the future, though, please try to avoid being captured because of your cellular phone," the demon responded to Maya.

Maya grit her teeth. "I told you, it was intentional," she muttered before charging into action.

Maya's motions were swift, deliberate, but also controlled. Each slash was dampened in its ferocity and severity by Maya's restraint. Maya vastly preferred incapacitating people non-lethally. The curse of Blood Moon was more than enough to neutralize even the burliest of opponents with even the smallest scratch. As such, Maya quickly bounced from thug to thug, striking nimbly at each one before darting to another. Her movements were sudden and unpredictable, and it was impossible for any one goon to get a clear shot on her without endangering his or her buddies. Though she had hardly cut the men, they were all writhing on the ground in pain as Maya only just touched them with her sword. In a matter of minutes, Maya had sawed through the entire group of men, and she stood alone in a circle of downed, moaning goons. All in all, a success. Except for her black eye. That wasn't so great. Still, make-up could do wonders.

As soon as Maya sent the last man careening to the ground with just a pinprick to his neck, Maya immediately dropped Blood Moon to the ground and fumbled at her armor. A moment later, she pulled her phone from belt and began dialing a number in. From his position on the floor of the docks, Senshi scoffed. "You are a liar, wakai hito. I should have known you weren't setting a trap."

"Shut up, you stupid demon," Maya grumbled as she rested the phone to her ear. A moment later, she spoke. "Katana? Hi. Sorry for not picking up. You, well, you caught me at a bad time." Maya rested a hand on her bruised eye. "What's going on?" Maya listened quietly, phone resting against her ear. "Young Justice initiative? About time they reached out to me...I know, I know...of course, I can do it, Katana...watashi wa yakusoku shimasu, watashi wa junbi ga dekite imasu...roger that. Thank you, Katana. I won't let you down." Maya pulled the phone from her ear. "New level of crimefighting, here we come, Senshi! You excited?"

"Please remove me from this disgusting, fishy floor."

"Right," Maya said quickly, kneeling down and plucking the katana from the ground. She removed a polishing cloth from her belt, wiping the grime and faint traces of blood from the blade, before giving Blood Moon an effortless twirl. "Now, let's chop up some military firearms, and then let's blow this popsicle stand. I have a lot of calls to make, and a good bit of packing to do, too. Where the hell is a Rhode Island, anyway? Is that in Canada or something?"

M T . J U S T I C E

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M A Y 2 8^{T H} 2 0 2 1 | 1 0 : 0 0 A M | H A P P Y H A R B O R , R I

"Somebody say new teammates?"

Just as Brightheart asked Batman about the identities of the new members of the Young Justice team, a shimmer of light sparkled from the Zeta-Tubes, and out from the teleporter emerged Maya. Maya looked, for the most part, like your average teen girl. She had a red t-shirt with a large chibi cat face on it, a pair of faded jeans that was torn at the knees, and a pair of combat boots, one of which was untied and had its laces dangling on the floor. She had definitive oriental features, a healthy, athletic build, and long walnut-brown wavy hair. The only thing unusual about Maya was the fact that, clipped from her belt, hung an ornate koshirae, and sheathed inside was what appeared to be an equally-ornate katana.

As the light show from the Zeta-Tube behind her died down, Maya's features turned into a sly grin as she swiftly drew her katana, twirling it around her hand, before throwing the blade directly in the air. The sword spun like a helicopter blade, a cyclone of metal spinning in the air, and it shot upwards before descending down towards Maya. Maya simply leaned backward and opened her mouth, catching her sword between her teeth by the hilt. She smirked as she held the sword in her mouth, giving a coy wink over to the Tamoranean girl at the briefing, before dropping the blade back into her hand, holding the sword in a reverse grip.

"Maya Kobayashi," the girl introduced herself, giving the blade one more spin and twirling it around her body before sheathing it once again. "You can also refer to me as 'the Demonslayer.' Though I think just Maya will suffice." Maya gave a quick salute to Batman before taking her seat at the briefing. "Heard something about a circus? Sounds fun. So long as I'm not the bearded lady, at least." Maya scooted her chair back, crossing her legs and resting her feet on the edge of the conference table. She listened to the well-dressed young man speak about circus roles. "I work with sharp things. Knife throwing, maybe? I'll note that I actually throw knives and don't just conjure up illusions." Her gaze shifted onto Zach briefly, a playful smile on her face, before she spoke again. "If anybody wants to be strapped to the dartboard, we can do a two-man show."