Indy Cooper

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

Lost Haven, Maine

June 31st, Late night

Corporal Roger Anderson was walking his beat through one of the dirtier, but safer, sections of low town. He liked his job, especially on nights like this one. He would bust a few people, make some waves, and start his rise up through the ranks. One of these days. For now, his rather ample belly and thinning blonde hair did not endear him to his higher ups in terms of physical fitness, but he did receive glowing commendations on attention to detail and honesty, things found in short supply these days.

Ever since the metahumans had defeated the Hounds of Humanity, the town had settled down only a little. The number of officers killed or retired by action, and the ones who had transferred to safer cities, had left the force notably thinned. And with the foreign gangs like the Yakuza and those weird ones with the flowers still active, the city was still a tinderbox. Quieter beats like this one, down near the point of the city, were hard to find, and he was more than thankfully for the break.

Near one in the morning, by his shiny little gold watch, he heard the shouts and thumps of a street fight of some sort down an alley off of Faraday Street and Nolton Avenue. He radioed in and approached cautiously. Several officers had reported grisly murders and partial rumours of cannibalism in this area, so he pulled his gun out, thumbed off the safety, and Proceeded With Caution, by the book. Nothing in the book could have prepared him for the sight he was presented with coming around a bend in the alley.

A street child of dark hair and complexion bolted past him, screaming about drug dealers and death, and when the police officer glanced back towards the commotion, he saw why. The remains of a thin man in a ragged coat and knit cap were crumpled against a rough brick wall opposite him, in a spreading pool of blood from what he had to assume was a knife wound. Another corpse was splayed face down across a dumpster lid, twitching. There were bloodstains everywhere, and the single lightbulb over a door into the building above him was flickering. The shadows were everywhere, so he switched on his flashlight and moved to check the pulse of the first body. No pulse. He turned to the second and had to fight down an urge to vomit, which he failed to do.

The man on the dumpster was missing everything below the sternum, and it seemed to be spread across the alley for several yards. After catching his breath and retching once more, Anderson panned the beam of his flashlight across the darkened alley. Nothing but a couple of trashbags and an old mop head, all covered in blood. He clicked his radio on. "Dispatch, this is Badge 3290, over."
The voice came crackling back. "Go ahead, 3290".

"I have a multiple homicide at...34671 East Nolton, request backup and coroner, over."

"Roger that, 3290. Back up en route. Seven minutes, over."

"Roger that. Tell them to bring the K9 unit. 3290 o-"

The bags had moved. He was sure of it. He levelled his gun at them. "Come out with your hands where I can see them!" he shouted.

Not only did the bags shift. They slid, and his mind screamed at him that what he was seeing could not possibly be real. The 'old mop head' was actually a real head of black, wavy hair, matted with blood. Attached to a woman, really pretty except for the blood, wearing...nothing? But right where her body should be splitting into legs, and really just below her navel, his mind did not want to comprehend. The 'trash bags' had been the coils of a massive snake. At first glance he thought she was being eaten, but then his brain finally caught up with the situation, and he saw that they were one and the same. And, strangest of all, she was staring at him with those green eyes, with her hands in the air, a questioning look on her face as her eyes dropped to the gun. "Fuck!" Anderson shouted. "Dispatch, send the fucking army! It's some sort of-" There were nothing but screams and one single shot from his gun over the radio. The only thing Anderson's backup found were three bodies instead of four, and a reason to have a funeral in the next few days.

---

The Next Morning

Berenice swept along the dawn breeze, riding high up over the wispy mists that were still clinging to the city and settling in for a glide over her new nest area. Parts of her brain were, even after a month, getting used to sharing with so many people, but at least she knew better than to sing except when she was alone. She did so now, letting a tune rip away into the winds as she passed high over the University, before wheeling back around and heading for her home.

Coming in for a landing, she gripped tightly onto the wooden rails built specifically for her to land on, the hopped down and crossed the short little plaza and over to her nest, which now was a fully fledged thing, packed with straw, warm cloth, and covered by a heavy tarpaulin that kept everything from getting mouldy. The entire nook was festooned with wind chimes, bits of wire twisted into shapes, several mirrors, and bits of bones delicately carved by the Clan for her. The area directly behind her corner was a little halfwall, where she might have looked out over the street below, except that it was now covered in a riot of greenery growing in soil she had carted up herself. Things that Carrie had said weren't even supposed to grow here were thriving, many of them tropical and several fruit bearing.

In fact, excepting the tiny plaza and building the Clan lived in, the entire flat area of the roof was given over to greenery, all carefully hidden by spells so they wouldn't get in trouble. Her favourite was the banana tree, which Carrie had just shook her head at and gone downstairs saying something about a headache. Most of its root structure, with so many other, grew down the corner of the building, covered in symbiotic ivy that hid it from view. This gave the Clan their highway down to forage in the city.

They had brought up sticks, mud, and other materials with her help and had built a village next to her nest, with a tiny mosaic plaza for meeting and weapons practise. A large wooden tub behind that held their water supply. The village was now capable of making metal tools, and were slowly growing as the children grew. At this point it was nearly thirty structures, all several floors tall, which came up to around Berenice's knee joints when she went past. Also present was a windmill, and a little thing that they had said contained the best of everything, but it wasn't ready yet. She just nodded and let them alone. While part of the Clan, she was too big to be a part of any of the ceremonies so far, though Sunheart had informed her many new ceremonies were necessary due to their new lifestyle.

Berenice settled down into her nest, watching the tiny children play in the soil near the raspberry bush. Sunheart climbed up next to her from her hut, built into the base of the nest, and settled down on her forearm as she leaned forward. They sat like that for long enough that the sun had risen beyond the siren's field of vision before she bestirred herself. Sunheart climbed up into the “saddle” on her belt, a small padded pouch with some travelling gear stored in it, and then Berenice made her way over to the banana tree, hopping and flapping once to reach one of the bunches and pluck two off of it before falling back down. She unwrapped one and ate it in just a few bites, bringing the other one over and setting it down next to the plaza, where several men ran over to begin cutting it down for their meals.

This is nice, Sunheart,” she said, staring around. Her feather ruffed slightly. ”And I have gotten lots of practise. But Sebastian has not come after us yet. Why?”

Her little companion shrugged from her perch on the belt. ”I do not know, Skysong. Perhaps he has killed himself with foolish magic.”

”I think that would be too easy. The car tunes always have the bad man come back every time. I do not think we should relax too much.”

”Well, we will keep practicing, then, and meet whatever comes with ready hearts and sharpened spears.”

Berenice nodded, and hop-skipped her way to her little launching pad. It was time to head to the woods for practise time. She would practise here, but Carrie had warned that her magic was too powerful to be near innocent people, so she had to practise out in the woods. And today, she was going to see if she could get Charlie on the phone by herself, afterwards!

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

_{Banner credit to Nitemare Shape. Thanks Boss!}

---

Detroit, MI

15:00, July seventh

It had been a slog, really, but as Zoë spun in her office chair to take in the sights of the floor below, she found the results to be quite pleasing. Following the raids on HoH storehouses and weapons manufacturing, even giving Ares their murderous ten per cent of recovered plus fees, she had made out with tens of millions of dollars in military hardware, manufacturing equipment, and raw silver, plus access to a huge amount of financial records. A lot of it had ended up being dead, already seized by various governments by the time she had looked at it, but enough had come through that, on top of her savings from her gallery sales, she was very comfortable.

The office was now well furnished. The old brick walls were covered by rich oak panelling, with a fireplace directly behind her desk, which was of deeply darkened mahogany and almost as big as a car. Even darker woods had gone into the flooring, done in a swirling marbled pattern with lighter woods as accenting. Around the walls were various paintings she had found from other artists, either subtly unsettling or just off somehow. She liked the effect it had on visitors. Off to her left had been added a door, and a whole additional section of the building. From the office door only her own domicile was accessible, but the lower floor entered into a sort of barracks area, though far more comfortable than that word suggested. The zoning commissioner had had several dirty secrets and had been exceptionally open to her keeping them secret in exchange for building whatever the hell she wanted on the premises, no questions asked.

Down below, several rows of brightly lit and warmly decorated cubicles were arranged, with several people working just now. This was, after all, the American headquarters for Einherjar Globale Entwicklungsgesellschaft, and needed to look properly office-y. The large recreational area with bean bags and drafting boards made it look like a hip new company, and at least two employees were dedicated to solely building an online social media presence. The place was an architectural design company, but also development and planning, focusing on low-income, low-expense projects. She'd been forced to actually hire a couple of architects and engineers anyway, so she had put them to good use designing the lower floors of the building.

Below the office, the first basement held various necessities, such as the parking garage, security office, IT dept, and supply rooms. Also on that level was a secret elevator which went down into the true heart of her operations. The sub-basement held several interrogation chambers, an armoury, several training areas including her personal one, a design lab, and another set of dormitories. These housed any agents she had hired who didn't have access to their own facilities, and the whole level had a separate entrance over on the pier. Satellite facilities were planned around the city, but funding wasn't infinite and she didn't have the manpower for them yet anyway.

A knock on her office door caused her to swing around and adjust her tee shirt to look a little neater. A raven-haired girl poked her head around the corner and said, “Miss Richter? You're three o' clock is here.”

Zoë nodded, and using her 'Natalie' accent said, “Show them in, please, Sonya”

The girl shook her head. “No, Miss Richter. Your other three o' clock.”

“Oh!” Zoë clapped her hands and stood up. “Fantastic, Sonya! Let's go down and see them then, shall we?”

While everyone else tended to wear business professional, even though she only demanded barely business casual, Zoë tended towards wearing old and comfy jeans spattered in paint, old concert tees, and her combat boots, as if she was stuck in the eighties when she hadn't even been born then. At this point the dye had washed from her hair, leaving it her natural dark auburn. She walked with a skip in her step alongside Sonya, a recent recruited meta with mild teleportation abilities and an eidetic memory. Sonya always dressed the same, Black jacket over white blouse with a knee-length pencil skirt of pumps, both black. She was one of the few who actually lived in the building so far, and was fanatically devoted to Zoë's plans for the city.

They made their way through Zoë's living quarters, consisting of a suite of two bedrooms, a dining area attached to the kitchen, an art room, and her water closet. The hall between the bedrooms dead-ended, unless you could pass the biometric scan, knew the password, and had registered DNA for a pinprick. She usually just phased through the door when alone, but that wouldn't work with Sonya in tow, so she spoke the password, which opened the panel on the wall for everything else. When closed all of this was pretty much undetectable except to careful UV scans that revealed electrical components. As she finished the scans and submitted her blood for analysis, Sonya muttered something behind her.

“What was that, Sonya?”

“Oh, sorry, ma'am. Trying to figure out the work schedule for tomorrow so there's no overlaps.”

“Ah. Very good.”

The elevator door hidden in the wall opened and they stepped smartly through. This elevator only went to the sub-basement, and like the interrogation rooms and her training area, had no fire suppression systems, something Sonya was acutely aware of. Once before in the last month, during a bad case where a potential recruit had tried to take the place for himself, Zoë had let Sonya know to teleport and had then incinerated the little bastards. Honestly, what was he thinking bringing rats to a firefight? Sonya's powers were particularly good at being a safety system, pulling out her own people while Zoë lit up the enemy, or 'porting the enemy to one of the locked interrogation rooms for further analysis if they hadn't prompted violence. Which was where they were heading now.

Zoë strode into the room, hands in her pockets, grinning wolfishly at the fat amn chained to the folding chair in the room. He quivered in hat looked like his evening wear, which would make sense considering where he would've been grabbed from. She spoke in rapid Russian as she sat don.

<Greetings, thief! Didn't think we'd catch up to you, did you?>

He responded in English. “I don't speak Commie!”

Zoë continued in Russian, as Sonya handed her a file and she flipped through it. <Oh, Pyotr, no no no. That won't do. You are Pyotr Eleni Poroskyavet, do not lie. We have been tracking you for several months now.>

The man visibly paled as she set down a photo, one of a younger him in a Russian military uniform. He spoke shakily in Russian, <I...I haven't been that man in a long time. Who are you people?>

Zoë sat back, crossing her arms. The tingle of her power told her he was seeing her as something else, but she didn't know what.

<Come now, Pyotr. You took of with several very important documents and quite a lot of funding from the Motherland. Who do you think we are?>

He was growing more terrified as he replied, <Oh god, you're Black Squad FSB! Please, don't kill me!>

<No, we won't kill you, Pyotr. We want to, or at least I do, and I'm in command here. But someone higher up wants you alive. Apparently you're useful to operations here.> She paused to allow him the moan that escaped his lips. <So here's what's going to happen. You will go back to your life. You will act as though nothing has changed. You will do whatever we ask, whenever we ask, because to do otherwise means I get my way. Know that we are watching, Pyotr, and we will know if you attempt to alert anyone to our presence. You will be escorted back the same way you came in.>

She didn't give him a chance to respond, just stood up and walked out of the room, Sonya trailing behind her. She gave it a few moments, to be out of hearing range of the door, even though the room was sound-proofed, and then burst out laughing. Even Sonya cracked a smile.

“Oh, merde it was hard to keep a straight face! He looked like he was going to crap himself at any moment!”

“Yes, Miss Forge, it was quite funny. But you have another event today. And you still have to get that email to the client in Paris.”

”Ahhh, no rest for the wicked.”

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

I am so glad I have no idea what any of this meant. You kids are nuts.

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

I couldn't do Halloween due to a six day bout of insomnia, unfortunately.

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

Boston, MA

16:25 - Sunday, June third

Abigail ran her fingers back through her hair, sweeping the cinnamon locks back out of her face. She briefly though about hunting down a hair tie, but the last one she had seen was supposed to be in front of her on her desk, and it certainly wasn't there now. She sighed, and glanced back at the file Constance had prepped.

Most of the photos showed a fairly decently kept suburban home, certainly lived in. The exterior had a little bit of overgrowth and some fading or chipped paint, but otherwise looked good. The inside was annoyingly bright-coloured, decorated by either an eighty year old grandmother or a cat lady, either one of which had an obsession with cows. Two floors and a basement, everything neat and in order. Nothing in the photos gave her any sense of a haunting, but normal cameras stood no chance of picking up most spirits except in rare circumstances, and these looked more like real estate pictures than anything else.

She set the photos aside and scanned over the report, in Courtney's neat, tight script. Eileen Booker, her husband Frank, and their two kids Mike and Bobby, had been living in the house with no problems for almost a year. After a remodel of the kitchen, however, they began noticing unusual things. Items not where they were left, Doors opening on their own, faucets running when no one had used them that day. Standard stuff. Bobby, six, had reportedly seen someone moving about on the second floor in a hurry, but never gave a good description.

They had been informed of her rates, and were happy to pay, considering they had had two amateur teams and a priest come through with no success. The priest had been unable to find anything, so had done what Abigail called a “general rinsing”, not targeted at anything specific and usually ineffective against all but the most basic spirits. Cho Investigations, however, was not an amateur group. Several major landmarks had confirmed her work, a slew of people were pleased to have been “confirmed” haunted for tourist income. Those places had had to pay extra, since she would prefer helping spirits out, but the owners had insisted she leave them there, even after she had explained the dangers of doing so.

At any rate, the Bookers had agreed to her five hundred a day plus travel costs. Given the very basic sounding nature of this job, she'd only need to bring Brett for camera work and Therese for keeping the civilians out of her way. And cash was cash. Courtney knew enough about heir work to know not to pass duds onto her desk. Every case had to go through at least one local team's efforts after calling CI. If the locals couldn't deal with it, then it was brought to Abigail's attention and she figured out how to proceed. This was a new process, put in place after several weeks last year had been wasted on investigating nothing except duds. Generally those were either over-excitable housewives or people who wanted to be “famous”. They were usually disappointed to find out that CI didn't participate in the television programs, and only recorded events for their own liability insurance and as a record.

The phone in the main office rang, and as always Courtney answered it before it had a chance to do it a second time. The office itself was the first floor of Courtney's house, which had been inherited from her grandmother. Situated in Dorchester, not but a block from a police station, it was a decent location. They definitely benefited from being able to point crazies towards the cops, and they were hardly ever vandalised. They both lived on the second floor, where the kitchen was. Courtney had rented the third floor cheap to some college kids, who occasionally poked their heads in but otherwise left Abigail alone, which was fine with her.

While she was musing, Courtney came through the door into her office, with an unusually hurried pace. Abigail could feel a lot of tension, worry, and a vague sense of fear coming off of her.

“What's up, Courtney?” she asked. Courtney knew she'd already have picked up on the mood.

“That house, the one in the file?” Courtney shook her head. “I was doing some background on it. We can't take that job, Abigail.”

The psychic sat up a little straighter and cocked her eyebrow. “Why? What's wrong with it?”

“The county library there just rang me to give me their report. It was built in 1880, and was torn down and rebuilt in the Twenties after the police found...Well, it sounds like they've got at least a few murders, and maybe more that were sacrifices. Last three owners just packed up and left after a year and a half each. Like, to the day, eighteen months.”

Abigail pursed her lips. Demonic possession was no joke. Last time she had tried to deal with it, Brett had been hospitalised for three weeks and it had taken the local priests and the sheriff to keep her and the victim contained.

“Are we sure it's demonic? It could just be a wraith.”

Courtney shrugged. “It's possible, I guess, but I don't like thinking about you guys heading into a demon thing again. Also, they said they've been there what, thirteen months? Things are probably just starting. Your call, though, Abigail. You're the one that actually deals with them.”

“I appreciate the concern, Courtney. But that sounds like a place that needs to be dealt with. Call up the team and tell them we're headed to Tennessee.”

---

Just outside of Fayetteville, TN

08:30 – Wednesday, June sixth

Abigail stared bleakly over her steaming cup of shitty diner coffee at the local priest, Father Evans. If she looked as bad as she felt, it was almost as bad as he did. Neither of them seemed to want to move much, and every attempt at eating the greasy breakfast in front of them elicited winces. The rest of the team had already taken off, save Courtney, who was finishing up with the local PD. There were moments of the last few days that Abigail wished she could forget, notably the keening, inhuman screams from a boy no older than ten, but she had to admit, it had finally been a win.

“So,”, said Father Evans, in his thin, reedy voice. The man looked to be only around sixty, though it was hard to tell through the strain and weariness of this morning. “This is what a real psychic does?”

“Mmm,” she shook her head and swallowed a mouthful of coffee. “This was way more intense than usual. And I don't call myself that. Medium's probably a better term, though I'm a psychic too, in some aspects.”

“Well,” the older man stared into his eggs, deep in thought. It took him several moments to piece together what he meant to say. Abigail was willing to grnt him the time, taking the opportunity to get more of the burnt caffeinated rink down her gullet.

“I have to report to the archdiocese. Of course.” He shook his own head at the thought. “I'm not a licensed exorcist, so I don't know what they'll make of my testimony. But you'll be coming out of this glowing in the church's eye if I can help it.” He stared her in the eyes, his a clear hazel. “I don't think I could have saved that boy alone.”

“I don't think I could've either, Father. To be honest, I'm still not sure exactly how we managed it.” She set down her coffee, and tried a bite of bacon. Far too crispy, but the salt helped. “I know my team is taking a month vacation afte this one. I don't know if I'll ever shake this headache.”

“Well, in this parish, at least, you're welcome any time. Let me or Sister Robinson know if there's anything you need before you leave, we'll be more than happy to provide.” He gestured at her with his fork. “I know the family would like to thank you before you take off.”

Abigail shook her head emphatically. “I appreciate it. They can pass on the thanks to C, if they want. I can't handle that sort of emotional feedback right now.”

“You know...”

Abigail winced, and her tone became slightly more 'polite.' “I know, Father, because I've heard it before and I can feel it coming from you. 'God gave me a great gift and I could do more with the proper organisation.' I've heard it before. While I appreciate your position, and logically might even agree with you? I will never work directly for the church.”

“Ah well.” The priest threw up his hands playfully and looked towards the ceiling. “In this one you put a lot of pride, eh, Lord?” He chuckled, and picked at his eggs a bit.

“You do the Lord's work, even if you won't accept our help, Abigail. I will keep you in my prayers from now until my time is done.”

---

Boston, MA

02:34, Thursday June 28th

No one else was home, which left Abigail in a right mess, as they had also left several bottles of whiskey in the cabinet and she was having one of her 'bad nights'. She sat, her arms splayed out, most of her torso spread along the card table in the kitchen. She knew she was drunk, possibly the most drunk she had ever been. It was hard to tell. Attempting to move sent a bottle crashing to the floor, but the sound of breaking glass only barely registered in her ears. All she could really hear was the emotions and surface thoughts of most of Boston, echoing around her head like she was standing in an arena packed to five times its capacity. The whiskey was barely cutting the edge off, and she was too drunk to call Courtney and try to get something stronger.

The cacophony was driving her mad. It had been going on for more than two hours, now, and with no way to make it stop, she was beginning to have the bleeding effect, where she lost who she was in the noise, and just became a conduit for the crowd. She screamed incoherently and threw an empty bottle across the kitchen. However, instead of shattering, there was only the dull thunk of glass on flesh, and then a weirdly echoing giggle. All of the sounds ceased all at once, leaving Abigail stunned to see a young girl, maybe ten years old, leaning against her refrigerator. She was blonde, with a cherubic face, willowy limbs, and a bright blue sundress on. Abigail blinked several times, shaking her drunken head, but the image wouldn't leave, so she decided to tackle the problem head on.

“Yer not...Yer not normal. What happened? You need to be buried?” Abigail's words slurred significantly, and she wondered how much she had actually had.

The girl laughed, and the sound chimed off of the metal in the room. “No, silly,” she said, “I'm here to help you.”

“What d'you mean? Nobody can help me. Got nothing but the living and the dead runnin' around in my head.” She paused for a second. “Heh. That rhymed.”

“I'm here to help because you help so many others. My name is Hannelore. Some call me the Watcher.”

Abigail's head snapped to attention, and her eyes narrowed at the girl.l she had seen that name twice, ever, in her research. Hannelore was a psychopomp, perhaps the psychopomp whose presence mutated to help everyone deal with what they were seeing. The Grim Reaper, Cu'Sith, Nephthys, the Valkyrie. All were rumored to stem from Hannelore herself, and were considered, among those who were in the business, if not a part of her, then at least servants of hers. And apparently the ancient embodiment of death was standing here in her kitchen. Fixing herself tea, as it seemed.

The small girl took the seat across from her, and Abigail sat up, rubbing at her eyes.

“You've been having some problems, Abigail. Not a lot of people you can relate to, even among your close friends, hmm?” The little girl sipped her tea and kicked her feet back and forth.

“I mean, I guess?” Abigail was not prepared for this. “Why are you so interested? You're just the guide, not the guard.”

Hannelore laughed, and Abigail saw shadows dance and skip at the sound. “No, you're quite correct, I am only a guide. My reach doesn't fully extend here. But you,” the psychopomp gestured at the medium with her tea cup. Come to think of it, we don't have any tea cups. “You are one of the mortals who is of the greatest use and help to me, which is why I do not like seeing you in distress. Unfortunately, “ she sighed. “I cannot erase your gift. Not only is that beyond my power, but it is what makes you so useful. Instead, I can only offer you direction.”

Abigail's eybrow twitched up. “What do you mean, direction? Are you giving me a quest?”

“Nono, nothing like that. But here in the next month or so, the town of Lost Haven, Maine, will need your help. Several places will, actually, but that one is the one you can actually prevent more tragedy.”

“And the others?”

Hannelore fixed her with a dead stare, and Abigail felt the full weight of time and life in her guest's eyes. “There, you can only put them to rest.”

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

_{Banner credit to Nitemare Shape. Thanks Boss!}

---

Zengzhou, Hunan Province, China

13:12, local time

Nicky's head was buzzing with the effort of trying to remember everything Wang had taught her in the bus. Basic phrases like “hello” and “Can I get some lunch?” were about all she could handle, though her pronunciation was apparently pretty good for a white girl who started learning today. She brushed her hair back in the humid air and stared at the interior of the shop they had stopped at. Next door was apparently the house they were going to stay in, and also the home of the owner of this place. As far as she could tell, they sold things to wizards. There were all sorts of dried animal bits in glass jars, racks upon racks of dried herbs hanging from the ceiling, and a case of tiny boxes behind the counter she sat at.

However, she wasn't waiting on ancient Chinese medicine. She was waiting for the owner of the shop to finish forging her papers so she could legally travel in China. Apparently the guy had lots of experience with American passports, though she wasn't sure why. However, waiting as not Nicole's forte, and the smell of this place was beginning to get to her, as well as the jar of what looked like eyes staring at her. She climbed off the stool and wandered outside into the daylight.

Except for the style of some of the buildings, Zengzhou looked like any other city to her. She guessed that was what she had heard called globalisation, though she wasn't sure and didn't really care. At the moment, the street she was on was a tiny side street, more like an alley than anything else. Across the way was apparently an apartment complex, with a grocery store on the ground floor. At least nothing looked glaringly neon like Beijing had when she had ridden through on the first night here. She felt a pang of guilt about running off from the Temple and Alex, but it wasn't really a place for her. Not that anywhere she had been since the Incident had felt like home.

She didn't notice the three men approaching her until they spoke. She shook her head, to signify that she couldn't understand.

“Ohhhh,” said the largest one, wearing a jean jacket and torn shirt. “American girl come to China, think no learn Chinese? Typical gwailo bitch!”

The baseball bat came from behind and slammed into the back of her head, knocking her torso forward. She straightened up and grinned. It hit again, this time her upper arm, and she turned to her assailant. Another two men behind her. They all looked like rough types. As the bat swung again she caught it cold and kicked the man in the crotch as hard as she could. His grip fell off of the bat and he crumpled, groaning. Another hit behind her, low on her back and small, a knife or something. She didn't bother flipping the bat around just spun and struck out with the handle. The man who had just tried to grab her arm from behind took it to the temple and dropped like a stone.

An arm wrapped around her neck and hauled backwards, and the two still in front of her both held what looked like needles, though one of them was missing the needle part now. He threw it away and said something in Mandarin, scowling at her. She whipped the bat behind her head and smashed it into her captors elbow, making him scream and let her go. She hurled herself forward into the other two and began swinging wildly. Several times she was hit, but since it had no effect, she didn't really bother to pay attention. All of them were yelling now, and then they scattered.

As she stood there, roaring her defiance, the old man from the shop stepped up and patted her on the shoulder. She jerked, then looked at him. He gave her a smile.

“It is good you fought them off, or else you would have ended up kidnapped and sold to some opium den and no one would ever see you again.”

”Holy shit, that actually happens?”

His smile faded, and the look of pain in his eyes was intense enough that even Nicole noticed. “Yes. All too often, I am afraid. Even worse along the coast.” He sighed, then straightened up and smiled again. “Come, young girl. Your papers have been prepared, and you are now a legal traveller in China!”

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

Abigail Cho

Character you have created: Abigail Cho
Alias: None
Speech Color:
Character Alignment: Walking-the-line
Identity: Public

Character Personality: Abigail is a loner by necessity. Being around too many people can easily drive her mind to the brink, so she must frequently take breaks from social activity. Most people think of this as her being either depressed or introverted, and they're not entirely wrong. The lack of solid social contact has caused her some depression, but she tries to be as open as possible. After all, it's only fair. If she gets to know a little too much about other people,they should know as much about her. Then again, the people she sticks around with long enough to do so are few and far between.

Given her occupation, she has to deal with a lot of very strange people, and her encounters with otherworldly things have further opened her mind. She is broadly accepting of just about anyone, though she tends to stay away from people who feel too strongly about anything. As for herself, she tries to feel as little as possible when on the job, which has deadened her emotions a little even when she's living normally. This does let her open up more to receiving from others, which is the point, but it means her mood tends to be whatever everyone else is feeling.

She tries to do good, but in the city, good doesn't pay the bills, so she's had to stoop to less-than-legal acts occasionally to make ends meet. She also never works for lower than her normal rate, no matter the situation, though she does accept payment plans. Charity doesn't put food in her mouth. She is very honest, with no softening of blows. “If you can't handle the truth, then why did you call me?”

Uniform/costume: Although she tends to wear a lot of black, Abigail doesn't actually have a “costume”, just normal clothes. She doesn't fly and has no secret identity, and her job doesn't generally get her involved with anything she'd need armour or tools for. That said, she does always have a taser, pepper spray, a Swiss army knife, and a set of lockpicks.

Origin Info/Details:Abigail was born in New York City to a pair of Korean immigrants. The Chos now had a third child, the other two being boys, but they loved all of them equally. Unfortunately, life wasn't going to be easy for any of them. Jung-Hee Cho, the patriarch of the family, died during the 9/11 attacks, Abigail only being five at the time. Without their father, both of her brothers began acting out, though their mother Min-So could reign them in at home. Min-So, however, was not home very often, having to work several jobs to keep the family afloat. When they became of age, her eldest brother Shane got a job to help out, but David did not. He had already joined up with a gang, and ran off, not to be heard of for quite some time.

Abigail first began to notice something wrong when she was just a child. Like many horror movie children, she could see ghosts, but they didn't really bother her. None of them seemed to be malevolent, thankfully, so her parents had chalked it up to imaginary friends. When she was ten, she began to feel the moods of others around her, in a way that she knew they were not her emotions. She also developed the ability to handle an object and see into its past. As she grew older both of these grew stronger. By fifteen, she could idly sift through the surface thoughts of other people, and, if she concentrated, could even send her own thoughts to them, though this has always given her a migraine.

She worked for a year after high school at a 7-11, hated every moment of it, and finally quit to pursue an actual career. Her best friend from high school suggested, having learned about her powers, that she could easily make money by using them as a ghost hunter. She looked into it, and hit upon being a complete Paranormal Investigator. Lots of people make fun of her when she tells them what she does for a living, but it's enabled her to bounce around New England and make a fairly decent living. Recently, a job took her to Lost Haven, Maine, and while she didn't really want to stick around, the place was definitely full of weird things.

Abigail is currently based out of Boston, but makes frequent trips to everywhere on the Atlantic coast. Her website tends to be one of the more popular traffic stops for the business, and James Randi has issued her a challenge, though she's disregarded him up to this point because she doesn't feel she needs to prove anything. She's markedly more successful than most in her field, and only at the age of twenty-two.

Hero Type: Psychic
Power Level: Street

Powers:

Sensitivity: By handling an object with her bare hands, she can get a sense of who has touched it in the last few weeks. Anything that might be worn every day, or has sentimental value to someone, she can get much more information out of, essentially “seeing” the past from the objects point of view, and can go back to when the person in question first got it. Family heirlooms are a bit much for her. She can read them, but they hurt if she goes too far back.

Through the Veil: Abigail can see, hear, speak to, and physically interact with any ghosts, or anything on the Astral Plane. Only by extreme concentration can she suppress this ability, which means that most of the time, she is seeing and hearing quite a few things others can't. This tends to make her look slightly dazed or tired, and occasionally it's necessary to poke her to bring her back into the physical world.

Telepathy: Abigail is constantly receiving the surface thoughts of everyone within a few hundred feet of her. She cannot shut this off at all, but has learned how to ignore it or sift through the noise for a specific type of thought. This is what gives her a faster reaction time then most people, at least in a fight, as she's already picked up on the intent to hurt her. If she pushes hard enough at one person, she can actually send her own thoughts to them, making her capable of communication silently. Doing this, however, gives her a migraine after even a brief exchange.

Empathy: Abigail is constantly receiving the emotions of of people as well as their surface thoughts. Unlike the telepathy, though, this doesn't create “noise”. Instead, she feels the “average” of the area. In a crowded nightclub, this can get really intense, and not only from the emotion. She can also feel a small portion of any drugs in someone's system this way, as though she had taken them herself, though physically there's nothing in her blood and it goes away as soon as they get out of her range. It's great in a bar, but she flatly refuses to enter hospitals.

Telekinesis: Abigail can only effect tiny objects like coins and pens, or very light things like a piece of paper or a Styrofoam block, but those objects she can move, lift, and otherwise interact with using only her mind. She doesn't do it often as a rule, but she actually does use it casually in her day. Occasionally one can spot her spinning a pen in the air while she's thinking about something, as if there was an invisible hand twirling it. Her coffee stirs itself, hair never gets in her face, etc

On the Astral Plane, however, this is much more powerful. She can easily throw several tons of “material” around, and can deal damage to anything within her range.

Mind over Matter: Almost more of a subset of telekinesis than its own power, Abigail can concentrate to rapidly heal damage to her body. While not instant, she heals at more than four times as fast as normal people without concentration, and over twenty-times as fast while concentrating. Doing this too much, however, can cause her powers to shut down until she has sufficient rest, usually a few days, during which she basically only eats and sleeps.

Attributes (Select one at each category):

Height: 5' 1”/155 cm
Weight: 110 lbs/ 50 kg
Strength Level: Normal
Speed/Reaction Timing Level: Normal speed, slightly faster reaction time
Endurance at MAXIMUM Effort: Normal
Agility: Normal
Intelligence: Genius
Fighting Skill: Untrained

Resources:

Average. She has a decent apartment in Boston, and makes enough money that she might even be able to take a vacation in a few years.

Weaknesses: No special defenses against physical attacks. Guns, knives, blunt objects, and energy all effect her like they should.

Spending too much time in crowded places gives her a sort of “tinnitus of the brain”, and makes hearing individual thoughts much more difficult.

Her empathy in a hospital, drug den, or anywhere else can mean she suffers the effects of several drugs at once. Even though it's impossible to overdose this way, it can incapacitate her completely.

Literally anything on the Astral Plane can interact with her, as can the dead. While she can defend herself with telekinesis, she is always vulnerable to this.

Supporting Characters:

Min-So Cho, mother. Calls frequently.

Shane Cho. Still lives with their mother, supporting her. Also a good confidant for his sister.

David Cho. Lives in Boston. Abigail is trying to get him to go to rehab with limited success.

Constance Young, Abigail's business partner, who typically runs the business side and lets Abigail get on with the actual work.

Brett Parker, Sam Newman, Theresa Little, and Wendy Smith: The technical crew who tries to keep up with Abigail's exploits. While they all live in Boston and fly with her, they tend to try and stay out of her way. They each get ten percent of any job, which means they also have other jobs to do.

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

_{Banner credit to Nitemare Shape. Thanks Boss!}

Guest starring @DearTrickster and @fdeviant

---

Lost Haven, Hounds Base

During the heroes assault

Zoë flickered into visibility inside the sealed room she had discovered, grinning wickedly. The foolish bigots had apparently thought that sealing a six inch blast door, then welding it, then collapsing a tunnel behind a secret panel door in an otherwise unassuming wall would deter all the metas coming for them. Her unique powers, however, let her explore completely outside the floor plan. She had been walking, phased out, just on the outside of the tunnel walls, one hand out to give her the sense of whether she was still in the right line. The collapsed rock had given her pause, so she had followed it, only to find herself in a hidden vault.

The bag she had custom-ordered had finally come, just in time for this little escapade, well outside the purviews of her current job. The thing was the size of an Army rucksack, but made entirely of carbon fibre and other fireproof materials, lined with tungsten plates. While she could actually light the thing on fire herself, the ambient temperatures from her burning her surroundings wouldn't affect it or anything she squirrelled away inside it, making her combat abilities finally compatible with her thieving abilities.

Her grin grew wider as colour and depth returned to her vision the same time the motion sensor light triggered, revealing to her rows of file cabinets, a stack of laptops, and in one corner, a huge safe, reminiscent of a bank vault in miniature. Like the famous cliche of the kid in the candy shop, she was unsure where to start, so she paused for a moment before ripping open the first drawer, and began pouring through the contents.

"Ugh, shipping manifests? This will take forever," she muttered to herself. Overhead, the muffled thump of a grenade going off caught her ears, but it sounded like it was at least one level above her and outside, so she continued her search. Two drawers later and only a few valuable finds later and the lights flickered once and then went out. She gazed up at the ceiling with a curse.

Thinking quickly, she glanced at the first cabinet, now hanging completely open and all valuable files already removed. With a wave of her hand, the papers in the top drawer burst into flames, illuminating the entire room in dancing oranges and yellows. Knowing that she had a limited amount of air, now, worse than before, she flung every drawer open with abandon, searching for anything that looked remotely like a bank statement, deed, stock voucher, or anything else. Everything matching that description was shoved unceremoniously into her fireproof bag. Once those were covered, along with anything that look like personally identifying information or blackmail either on the Hounds or that they had on anyone else, she turned to the laptops. She was surprised to see that they were, in fact, stacked in front of what looked like a server tower, which was also surrounded by PC towers.

Not bothering with niceties or care, she used her enhanced strength to rip open the cases, tear the hard disks out of them and stuff them on top of the papers, and then cast the rest behind her. Within fifteen minutes she was sure she had secured everything of value out of more than two dozen computers and the server, plus jammed one of the laptops whole into her bag, but at this point she was running out of room for loot. Her gaze flicked up, locking onto the safe, standing ten feet tall and at least half as deep.

Striding up to it purposefully, she pointed her right index finger like she was playing cops and robbers, then put it an inch away from the hinge of the thing. A bright white jet of fire shot out from the tip of her finger, which she expended all of her concentration to control as much as possible. Ever so slowly, at least as far as she could tell, she glided her torch down the hinge, then repeated the process for the other three. Once those were cut, she did the same along the side just in line with the lock, though in two points above and below it instead of a straight line. She didn't know the safe model, not having been much of a cracker before, but she knew that was the most common location of security countermeasures like sealing mechanisms. Feeling like she had done all she could, she put the tips of all her fingers where she could on either side of the lock, triggered jets on each one, then dug in until she could get a grip and wrenched with all her surprising might.

The door fell off with a booming clang, revealing only a single object, a four inch cube of some sort of crystal. Without any information to go off of, she snatched it up, stuffed it into the pack, then sealed the bag up. Having secured what she felt to be a worthwhile prize, and with the heroes all occupied apprehending the enemy, she felt perfectly safe exercising herself, so she triggered her fire powers as high as they would go and began melting her way out through the collapsed tunnel.

A single beam of terrifyingly high heat first scorched its way out through the blast door, out of the rock, and then into the outer corridor, a few inches wide and now glowing on the edges. With breathing air flowing in, even if it was superheated and thin, she proceeded to slag the rest of the blast door, stepping through the liquid metal as if it was just particularly stubborn water. Part of her concentration went into making sure the bag on her back didn't ignite, though it took much less than it would were it made of different materials. In her mind's eye, she could feel all of the temperatures around her as various viscosities of air, viscosities she could manipulate at will with but a thought. She did so, and swiftly strode out into the outer corridor in an expanding cloud of flames and molten cement.

The terribly swift increase of temperature did not go unnoticed by the likes of Alchemyst and Lady Hex. The fiery orange light casting long shadows down the hallway. Nearby sprinklers - that remained intact - spouted in vain against the intensity of heat - the water turning to vapours. With a little distance away, Charlie smashed the alarm, with a little bit too much force above their heads with her staff silencing it. She peeked around the corner, Hex at her side. The pair of them sneaking around having found their prize were perusing while looking for a discreet exit. The blast doors would have been a decent route but it was now a pool of lava.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

Charlie peeked around the corner seeing the one responsible. Through the haze it was difficult to discern who they were, on the small side in dark armour with what Charlie assumed was leftover metal melded to her armour. Similar to how she had added the kevlar to her forearms and shins. They wore a mask slits for eyes, a domino pattern. Clearly not a Hound but another metahuman just melting their way through was alarming enough as is.

Charlie smashed another alarm.

She motioned for Hex to lean closer, she whispered, “Alright, we’ve got a lava-fire-whatever metahuman down the hallway. I don’t remember seeing someone slinging fireballs at Sherman. I don’t remember seeing any fire-themed heroes running around in Lost Haven. Who the fuck are they?”

Madalena shook her head in response, annoyed that yet another obstacle would keep them from a safe retreat. But at this point, she was determined that nothing else would stand in their way.

”Dunno,” Maddi whispered, ”and I’ll be honest, I don’t really wanna get into a fight right now. We just got this damn file. I want a minute to celebrate before it all starts crashing down.”

Maddi gripped Charlie’s arm, looking into her goggles.

”But they definitely picked the wrong duo to mess with. The Alchemyst and Lady Hex can hold their own.”

Zoë stretched her arm out wide for a moment, then let her hands drop. As she did, the molten rocks around her cooled. She was careful to remove her feet before it solidified, then adjusted the pack and look up the corridor. With the glow of heat gone, her eyes began to slowly adjust to the dimness of the area, but she was still having problems.

”As much as I like a moody atmosphere, mon dieu but would it kill them to put in decent lighting?” she said to herself, not bothered too much by the echoes around the hall. As far as she was aware, everyone was topside fighting each other, or off trying to stop that horrible laser, leaving her free to poke around. She kicked a piece of smoothed, cooled metal down the hall with a ringing clang and began making her way forward. While she could have phased again, she was curious to see what all trouble she could stir up while she was here.

Charlie heard the feminine French accented voice, it sounded to her like she was completely unaware of them as of right now. She patted Maddi’s hands on her arm, “It doesn’t sound like she knows we’re here,” whispering she continued, “As much as I would love to believe we’re tough enough to take on some fire lady, I don’t want to take my chances and get singed.”

She wasn’t sure how to deal with this, a surprise could get a fist full of fire from the mysterious meta. Maybe talking could get them out of it and around her? Just going separate ways. Charlie knew all they cared about was getting the fuck out of there.

She patted Maddi’s hands again, “Here goes nothin’.”

Charlie stood up from her crouch, back against the wall raising her voice, “Yo! Frenchie!” She said, bracing herself. “We’re not Hounds but we’re not cops and you melted our escape route out of here! Can we just, like, not fight?”

She waved her staff past the corner to show where they were.

The Frenchwoman’s eyes snapped to the sudden appearance of a…stick? She stopped, noted the direction of the weapon waving around a corner, and held up her hands in the universal, “I don’t want trouble,” gesture, though she was well aware that with metas like her it was not a safe place for the hands. Even so, with everyone’s nerves on edge, she had to think fast. If they weren’t Hounds and they weren’t cops, that really only left the heroes. And they had her at a distinct advantage in at least placement, though she was confident in her combat capabilities, should it come to that.

”Oh, my mistake!” she called out clearly, pitching her voice up a bit to emphasise innocence and thickening her accent for dramatic effect. ”I am here on behalf of a European organization, oui? Government sponsored and very hush hush, and zese chiens, zey had some valuable intelligence that I was sent to recover. Sorry I ruined your escape route, but I am afraid my powers don’t really lend themselves to, ah...how you say, fixing things?”

”Same here!” Maddi called back with a little too much enthusiasm. ”At least, I don’t think they can, although I could probably conjure a handy imp or create some sort of infusion? . . . Sorry,” she apologized, displeased with her ability to ramble even under potentially dangerous circumstances, yet intrigued by the prospect of creating or finding a way to reverse a destructive bewitchment.

Lady Hex slowly lifted the file on the Witchfinder above her head.

”You’re not the only one who likes a little espionage,” she joked.

Charlie relaxed a little at their wordy exchange but why the fuck would Interpol or a vague European body of government be sending a singular person to act apart from American authorities? Especially when that person wasn’t being nearly as sneaky by melting their way into a facility. Charlie was skeptical, the excuse of it being a hush hush operation was a convenient point to fall back on to get by without identification. The believable point of the Hounds stealing intelligence to get as far as they have made sense. Maddi’s show of familiar goals, a sense of commonality was smart. All they had to do was get by without trouble.

“I can fix anything but it’s about us being in your way. What are the chances of us meeting halfway and no funny business? Just letting us pass you and us letting you pass by. You don’t know what we’re capable of but we know you can melt stuff by whatever means you got, frankly we’re not in any shape or form to go messing with you. How’s that sound miss euro secret agent?”

Charlie leaned around the corner the barest of her mask being made visible, “We got a deal?”

”Ca sonne bien...mais…” Forge’s head cocked to one side, eyes narrowing slightly. “How do I know you are not part of ze Hounds, eh? And that you will not try to gun me down when my poor back is turned? Not zat it would do you any good, but still, one can never be too careful.”

Not that she was particularly concerned in either case, but since she had a contract out on them, any Hounds agents would have to be dealt with. These two didn’t sound particularly dangerous, but she didn’t live this long in her business by being lackadaisical with her security.

” I tell you what, I can get us out of zis sticky situation tout de suite. Back zat way is nothing but ze hole zey had buried zis stuff in. You could poke around, see if zere is anything unburned, though I am very thorough. Or, you can go back ze way you came, I can go back ze way I came, and if you’re Hounds, ze heroes up at ze top will catch you and I will not have to worry, oui?”

There was a thought, just going back down the hallway at least before the fire spread. Charlie rolled her staff in her hands, thinking. Fairly, they could have very well been a pair of cowardly Hounds trying to make a quiet escape instead of gunning down the first dangerous metahuman they crossed. However, defending their very non-Hounds status was about principle, “I don’t know, did you hear something about them recruiting abominations? Shit, if I’d known that the bastards were that tolerant we could’ve gotten along just peachy keen.” She said laughing, her sarcasm obvious, “Fuck no, we’re not Hounds. Ever heard of a terrorist carrying around a staff instead of an ar-15? Come on.”

“We’re magic folk. Whether you believe in it or not, we’ve been targeted all the same as metahumans.” She said her tone growing serious, “With that said, we’ll go back the way we came. I don’t trust you and you don’t trust us, that’s cool. Give us a head start and we’ll vamoose.” Blunt but not unkind as was Charlie’s nature. Whether the mysterious fire meta took to it or not, they could at least agree not to fight right?

Zoë blinked, watching the stick. It was true! While she carried no weapons herself, because she was one, she knew most people at least used a baton or something. That was an actual stick. Terrorists or not, who uses a stick? She’d have to ask the Ambassador about sticks next time they talked, maybe it was a magic thing. But then something else the girl had said caught her attention.

”Abominations? Nono, ma chère fille douce, zey are ze abominations. But oui, we can do zis thing. However, headstarts are not necessary, eh? Just close your eyes and don’t get nervous, I will be gone in less zan a few seconds.” Making sure they were not currently looking at her, she phased out, becoming both invisible and intangible, and made her way past them, stopping to take a good up and down look while she had the chance. She had to stop herself from laughing out loud.

Oh my, they certainly are living up to that magic folk thing, eh? Maybe I should see if I can fund a stylist in this area for metas and such, they seem to need it. She laughed to herself all the way up the tunnel they were at the corner of, poking her head through walls to make sure there were no more goodies to be had on her way back up to the surface.

Charlie whipped her head around and she was gone. Frowning behind her mask she said, “Fuck, did she teleport? Or was that just a sleight of hand thing by asking to close our eyes?” Charlie turned to Maddi, “I feel like we dodged a bullet.”

Madalena blinked a few more times, wondering if the mysterious meta’s disappearance had been a trick of the light, or if they’d just had a shared delusion. As quick as she appeared, she vanished even quicker.

’Maybe,” Maddi leaned in, voice a riddled with worry, ”Maybe we should quit while we’re ahead. We’ve got the file, let’s get the hell out of here before someone, or something else turns up to crash the party.

“How about Croll Corner?” she suggested with a warm smile. ”The family might not yell as loud if you’ve got company with you, and it’ll be the perfect time to find out about your grandpa’s formulas.”

Charlie winced at the thought of facing the music, “I’m fine with sending them a postcard from the otherside of the country, really. It’s not a big deal.” Charlie said grinning at Maddi’s expression. “Hopefully Gramps is more forgiving and willing to help us out. After the week we’ve had I feel like I could sleep for a hundred years…” She thought for a second adjusting her hood. “Or go for a bar crawl.”

Shrugging she pushed away from the wall. “We’ll find another way out.”

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

Carrie's apartment building, Eastern Lost Haven

After sundown

---

The sun had long since set on Lost Haven, and now a storm had rolled in from the sea, bringing with it cool winds and spattering rain. While Carrie had said she could stay inside if she wanted, Berenice didn't really feel too comfortable indoors, so they had moved her meager belongings on to the rooftop. Here, with the help of some of the Clan, she had rigged up a set of tarps to ward off rain and the harsh sunlight, and was settling in to sleep. Around her, Sunheart and a few other Clanfolk nestled into her plumage, apparently satisfied with her performance, or just appreciating the softness of her underfeathers.

The fight had been swift and brutal, but no animal nor tiny person had been injured. Fortunately, whatever magics Sebastian had used to reanimate the creatures left them with little in the way of creativity or instinct, and thus they were no match at all for the tactics of experienced hunters. The sheer number of corpses needing purification, however, had alarmed everyone present. A full score of undead rats and mice, four crows, one of which had escaped for several minutes until Berenice had spotted it and brought it down.

Now, with peace settling over the cool summer night's air, Berenice stared out across the nearby buildings. Thumps and flashes sounded in the distance, but earlier conversations, knowing how dangerous she could be and how inexperienced she was, kept her from investigating. One day, perhaps, she would be able to help fight against the monsters, but tonight was not the night for it. Reluctantly, she settled down deeper into her nest, made from old blankets and duvets and a few bits of wire and branches for structure, and closed her great golden eyes. Listening to the tinkling of her new treasure lines strung along the roof, it was not long before she joined the rest of the Clan in slumber.

---

Elsewhere

Abaristus scampered back as magic energy formed miniature lightning bolts around the extra-long work table Sebastian had assembled. The necromancer, for his part, sat back in the gloom of the cave, busily sketching notes into his journal. The actual top of the table, and thus his latest project, was invisible due to the energies pouring into the cave and around the surface. The entire interiour of this lair was aglow with blues, greens, and reds, flashing in different patterns as his laboriously placed, intricate layers of spells went off in the order he had prescribed. It had taken almost a week, straight, with no sleep, to design these spells, back when he had created the siren. Thankfully, his disgustingly traitorous familiar had managed to save enough of his journal for him to recover it.

Now, with some edits, the same spells had been placed carefully around his new subject, who had been, if anything, so much simpler to take. He had realised that his first mistake with the siren was that he had used too old a subject, with too strong a mind and personality. The younger, more supple mind was needed. In addition, something as flighty as a bird was too chaotic to truly control, so he had procured a different set of subjects for modification this time. With dwindling funds and a false address, he had procured specimens of Eunectes murinus, Hydrophus platurus, Dendroaspis polylepis, Oxyuranus microlepidotus, Ophiophagus hannah, Bitis arietans, and Deinagkistrodon acutus. Along with these were various other reptile species, including a saltwater crocodile, two types of geckos, and at greater expense than anything but the sea snake, a Komodo dragon.

The tiny Japanese girl, whose name he had never bothered to learn, had been kept unconscious during the whole of the 'editing', not because of any sense of lingering compassion in Sebastian's heart, but because the screaming may have drawn attention. That and the shock may have killed her had he not magically anesthetised her. At any rate, he had done extensive surgery, taking well over forty-eight hours, and that was with Abaristus and two zombies aiding him and magical time acceleration where appropriate.

The girls lower half was the most obvious feature changed. In place of the normal flesh and limbs, from the sternum down began a serpent body, fully eight times the length of the torso. Inside were all the normal snake organs, scaled up and/or modified to his purposes. Additions included a swim bladder, a massive prestomach that allowed the creature to digest almost anything organic it came across, and a modified reproductive track that he hoped would allow him to breed it. To help with that he had stored the girl's normal ovaries, safely sealed inside a magical container. The musculature of the entire body had been reinforced, as had the skelton, making the whole of the thing almost as tough as some metahumans, though nowhere near the likes of Icon or Blacklight, who he had found had apparently appeared out of retirement to fight the foolish monkeys on the surface.

The girl's mouth had also been extensively redesigned. The tongue, and her nostrils, were now equipped with all the normal sensory apparatus of a pit viper, accelerated to supernormal levels by careful modification. Just behind where the canines would be were a set of two pair, top and bottom, fangs, capable of delivering one of the deadliest venoms on the planet. At very small volumes, far below a tenth of what she was capable of injecting with the venom gland now between her palate and sinus cavity, it would swiftly paralyze the entre adult human body, begin dissolving skeletal muscle tissue, nearly vapourise nerve connections, and cause intense nausea, haemorrhaging from mucous membranes, and seziures within just a few minutes. He knew, he had tested samples on several indigent citizens of the city of fools above him.

The creature was also built for speed. He had yet to test it, but he felt confident it could move faster than normal humans could track, and was especially designed for both land and water. As a precaution, he had given it amphibian characteristics and a set of gills located just behind the human ears. The brain had been modified for all of these new senses, and he had also carefully erased all vestiges of humanity from the thing, saving the desire for a parent figure, a role he would of course fill. The scales, which ran up along the spine to the nape of the neck, were coloured to be nearly invisible either in fall foliage or in a river, being a dull brown and green striping along the top and pale yellow-ish brown along the belly. The end of the tail resembled a sea snakes, vertically flattened into a swimming fin.

As for toughness, the scales themselves, and the underlayer of skin on the human torso, he had molecularly strengthened almost to the level of kevlar, and in fact the scales were hard as forged steel. A massive, additional set of kidneys filtered out most toxins he could think of, along with a secondary liver, and the lungs he had adapted to filter out even some caustic substances. He was determined not to repeat his errors with the siren, so nothing was magically powered or reinforced, excepting the creation of the thing itself. Once completed, it would require no magical powering, as long as it could eat. It would require far more sustenance than a snake of its size otherwise would, but that was easily found.

Now, the only thing left was allowing all the spell to finish, inside the cocoon of a time slip he had constructed. This also allowed the creature to age naturally. The child had only been five, and while he needed a fresh mind, waiting for it to grow to its full size would take an irritatingly long time. This accelerated the process from years to mere hours. Even now, it was nearly twenty feet long, and nearing completion.

What he did not notice was the tiny crack in the final spell, a fatal flaw, the same one Abaristus had installed into the siren's conjuring and construction. As the last spell triggered and the time slip fell away, there was a thunderous boom, a crackle of released energy, and the last thing Sebastian knew was that the cave was collapsing in on him, but the creature and his familiar had both vanished.

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

---

Time: Later that Afternoon - Day of Satellite Attack
Location: Carrie’s Apartment, Lost Haven

“Okay Berry, try again.” Carrie said kneeling in front of her grimoire tome. Berry was across from her.

They had spent the afternoon practicing various forms of concentration, clearing of the mind, connection with the spiritual energy surrounding her. Carrie felt it so strongly, it was unwieldy and raw. Littered around them were various stones, cracked in pieces or sitting in neat dust piles. Carrie hoped Charlie would help her put them back together later. Normal stones were not able to withstand the energy, moonlit charged gemstones barely held on for much longer. Carrie had also exerted her own guidance, allowing her own magic to guide Berry’s - appealing to the very present and instinctual animal she was.

The Clan were making themselves at home doing whatever they needed to do, Carrie pretended not to see them for their comfort.

They were practicing levitation, basics to help learn some control.

Berry attempted a rose quartz crystal next, but insistent knocking at the door broke both of them from their revery. The dogs woofed at the door unenthusiastically.

“Hold on Berry, let me go see who that is. I think we need a break anyway, watch some tv.” Carrie commented, stretching her back then picking up the tv remote to turn the set on, she flipped through until she landed on the kids channel. They were sitting in the living room, surrounded by the animals. Some who were curious enough to watch, others just wanted to be in the same room. They were always startled when a gem popped.

Berenice scowled at the box in the corner, then selected another stone. Carrie had been adamant all day about rest breaks, but the siren knew she had little time to prepare herself for the battles to come. So every time Carrie had called a break, Berenice instead practised the little bit that Salamander had explained in the short time they had spoken. Medication, or something close to that. Anyway, she was trying to sense the world around her without using her senses. So far she had only been able to feel her plumage.

Carrie looked out the peephole, confused by what she saw. A teenager with streaks in her hair. Reminding her of Harry. She left the chain lock in and cracked open the door.

“I already recycled my bottles this week, sorry can’t contribute to the high school bottle drive.” Carrie said, making a shooing motion. “Very busy, try the neighbours below they’re really into wine.”

Trying not to be too offended that she was confused as a fundraiser kid Eva responded a little snarky.

”Do I look like someone who does school activities? I was told I could find a friend I suppose I could call her that here at this exact residence. Is Berry home?” Eva said as she stood at a strangers house not sure how she should introduce herself. ”I go by Pendragon. After the Arthurian legends, I have quite a bit of connections to them. Considering he was my great or some such grandfather. I don’t actually know how far back the great should go.” Awkwardly Eva announced as she hoped that at least this lady would be friendly.

Salamander appeared next to her, grinning crookedly and leaning up against the wall. “I told you she’d be just as charming as her friend, though I suppose you haven’t met her yet either.” He turned his head to address the homeowner through the small aperture. “Sorry to bother you, young lady, but I’m afraid the fate of an entire tribe is hung in the balance for either half, and we’d like to reunite them.”

Berry startled when she heard the sword girl’s voice, causing the stone she was trying to levitate to rocket into the ceiling before detonating, but she had already chirped in pleasure and scooted out of the rain of quartz shards and dust, opening her wings near to full and hopping up beneath Carrie’s arm to stick her face as far through the door as possible.

“See, Car-ree? I told you there was a sword girl! You can tell her about the men with guns and the beast of bodies and the Clan is here, Sunheart!” This all came out as a string of syllables, more than a real, constructed sentence.

Eva paused as both Salamander and Bernice began to crowd around the doorway.

”Um, I really wish I were here for your bottles now. The other night was grand, had some gents who just wouldn’t bugger off, bless the Queen of E that we managed to escape you know. Hounds had their hands full with some undead twit. And I, don’t know a clan. No.” Said Eva as she leaned in to Berry. ”I thought that was a no go.”

”That is not a concern here, Warrior,” said Sunheart, peeking out from beneath the siren’s hair. ”Though perhaps we should adjourn inside?”

”Yeah inside might be best given Bernice’s physicality yeah. Can I come in?”

Carrie gave a long, “Ooohhh.” Understanding now herself.

Using her hip to shuffle Berry out of the way she closed the door to unlock it. Opening it wide, she let the odd pair into her home taking their word for it. “You must be Salamander then, the mysterious glue to the necromancer problems.” She commented plainly. The animals watched Salamander and Eva enter.

Carrie’s tabby cat hopped up to her shoulder, watching. Oscar the raven flew immediately to Salamander’s shoulder quorking his hello.

Carrie patted Eva’s shoulder, “My dear, if there was no threat of terrorist nutjobs running around I wouldn’t see a reason to seriously caution against blurting your secrets to strangers, but please do consider who might be listening. Secrets are what keep us alive.”

”Not getting attacked by nutjobs keeps you alive longer. Though as it’s my hero name it’s not too big a secret where I got it from I suppose; I’ll keep that in mind however.”

As the door closed, the Clan swarmed out. Around thirty tiny people erupted from the cabinetry, putting away weapons they had drawn at the knock of the door. They called out greetings to the children and elders that came out from Eva’s person, and there were many tight hugs and sobbing from elderly women and parents of the children. Sunheart watched from Berenice’s shoulder, staying apart from the celebrations, a grim look on her face. She glanced up at Salamander, who was muttering something to Oscar, and said ”No word on the others who departed on their own?”

Salamander regarded her with a kind look. “Your people are too adept at hiding even from my senses, little princess. They will be along, I am sure, but I could not find them myself.”

The old man grinned at something Oscar quorked into his ear, turning to Carrie. “You, madam, I thank for your hospitality. Your friend here says you provide excellent food for him and his subjects, though I doubt the cats would agree to such a title. You are correct, I am the one known as the Salamander. However, as you have let me into your home, and seeing as both my sort-of grandchild and the Inheritor are here, I suppose I should at least let up on the illusions.”

With that, his face practically melted, the beard receding until it was gone, hair turning jet black, shiny, and long. After it was over, he stood almost six inches taller, broad-shouldered and barrel-chested, looking very much Native American. His eyes were almost exactly like Oscar’s.

“Your riddle is making more sense to me now. I wonder if Charlie will puzzle it out.” Carrie commented scratching Oscar’s scruff, “No problem. Oscar has told me as much before, during communions. My coven, my family have had connections to animals for generations.” She was smiling, his transformation not fazing her the least bit. Spirit came in whatever form it chose.

Berry, for her part, stood as politely to the side as she could while the pair made their way in, but as soon as the door was closed and introductions made, she fairly threw herself at Eva, wrapping the girl’s waist in a tight hug and chirping like a robin. ”Thank you thank you, sword girl! You brought all of the children here safely!”

Carrie saw the new wave of people come off of Eva - Pendragon, that revelation slowly sinking in. Smiling a big grin at the happy reunions. Charlie wasn’t going to believe her.

Taken back from the sudden embrace Eva was more confused as to how to respond back. Her face clearly showed some distraught.”HOW DOES ONE HUG A BIRD PERSON!? Um, uh. Yes. Hugs are good, hugs are fine. Anyone have tips for this?” Eva said as her arms tried to find somewhere to hug back unsure if she should wrap around the wings or the torso.

“Well,” said Salamander, resuming his usual appearance, “As lost family has been reunited and introductions have been made, I must be off. There is a rogue student of mine that needs to be found. Berenice, you are not to pursue him on your own, though you feel you must, I am sure. You are not close to being ready to face him, and I am sure he built safeguards into you in case you turned on him, built in weaknesses he can exploit. Until we find out what those are, there is no safe way for you to engage him.”

He turned to Carrie. “I am afraid my little friend must stay safe, and I see no other option other than for her to bunk here with you. I can reimburse you if that is an issue, financially or otherwise, though you seem the type to refuse it even if you needed it.” He sat a small pouch on the counter and tipped his hat. “Thankfully,” he said with a wry grin as he reached for the doorknob, “you’ll have to work to find a way to change that into something more usable, I think.”

Carrie nodded, “You won’t stay for supper? Already feeding a small army.” She joked. Weighing the sack curiously, “I don’t mind obviously, Berry is welcome here as long as she needs a safe place. I just hope I can keep it safe.”

“I’m afraid not. Too much to do, and you seem to have a full house as it is. I will acquire a means of staying in touch.” And with that, the Salamander was out the door and gone, not so much as footsteps on the stairs giving away that he was still anywhere nearby.

Carrie placed the sack back down, looking over her guests. “Probably should think about security a bit more. Always got by on good neighbours.”

With so much more to protect, to look after for - Carrie felt quiet resolve.

”Yes yes. Hugs are okay.” Eva said as she finally reached around Berry’s head unsure where her own arms should even go. ”So now that Mr. Owl from the tootsie roll pop commercial is gone. Dinner does sound nice. All I’ve had is tuna from a quick stop, sure the sandwich was alright but I do miss a healthy meal. We need anything, I could actually portal away for something if you need.” As Eva said finally free from Bernice’s feathery embrace. ”I could also use a pizza, you guys ever ate from John’s pizzeria? Off Bleecker street? It’s grand. Amazing pies. Wait what time is it anyways? Are they even open?” Eva said as she checked her phone.

The crowd of the Clan perked up, and several made a dash for their spaces inside the walls. They came back out with their own meal, one explaining that they couldn’t possibly put anyone to the bother of portioning for them because the Big Folk wouldn’t understand how. They did, however, share what looked like fire roasted snails with the cats as a peace offering.

Berenice looked puzzled as Eva mentioned pizza. ”What is this? Is it like fish? I do not know anything about the human nest foods, I am sorry. But I can go get fish if you want?” Her wings folded back on themselves and tucked along her back, but even as she said that, her eyes caught the stones that she and Carrie had been practising with, and she began sidling back towards them.

”Not fish, but that’s good.” Eva said as she watched the clan with their tiny dishes. ”This is OMG. I don’t know what words I can use right now.”

“Pizza it is.” Carrie said grabbing her phone. “I think you’ll like it Berry.” Calling her favourite pizza place Carrie flipped through channels on the tv heading toward the news channel.

A phone operator picked up her call, “Hi I’d like to make an order for delivery-”

She dropped her phone at the breaking news headline. Scrolling names of cities listed as destroyed from a satellite attack.

News anchors confirming death in the thousands. “This isn’t real…” She mumbled. “How? I thought- . . .”

Carrie covered her mouth looking to Eva and Berry.

The siren chirped in curiosity as the news came on, then stared at the pictures of ruins and smoking craters, uncomprehending until she saw Carries horror-stricken face. ”Car-ree...That’s a movie, right Car-ree? One of those fake things you land people put on sometimes, right?” She cut herself off as the channel went black for a second, and then the ominous warning from the Hounds played. Her plumage bristled at the message, but in the back of her mind, she also memorised the sound of the man’s voice, so she would know when she came across him. Static discharges played in her hair.

”Car-ree. How many? How many nestlings?” There was significant strain in Berenice’s voice. All of the Clan suddenly looked up at the sound. Her talons were digging grooves into the flooring.

”Too many, more than the clan, or there trees in the forest where you lived combined. I’m likely underestimating here but one too many to count. Bollocks. There’s nothing I could do for that, orbital strikes. You see them in movies and you think that’ll never happen.” Eva was still shaken however compared to the sheer horror Carrie held in her eyes and Bernice’s instinctive reactions, Eva began to wonder why she felt more calm. Reaching for her anti depression pills she popped one straight into her mouth and turned to Carrie.

”I think we should stay in touch, in case something happens you call me and I’ll teleport over. Likely the other heroes are beginning to assemble, but I’ll leave this matter up to them. I’m not capable of taking down a space weapon. It might be best we prepare instead.”

Carrie rounded on Eva, “We don’t know anything right now!” Angrily she shut the tv off.

Carrie turned to the siren, desperately quiet and forcing herself to be calm. “Berry please, take some deep breaths like we were practicing e-earlier. In through your nose, control. Search for your control. We don’t know the extent of the bad things that happened here tonight.” Quick, she licked her lips exterting her own will to calm. “Think, think with that big bird brain of yours. Think about where your breath is going, how it fills your diaphragm.”

Carrie mimicked a deep breath, using the motion to calm her own panic away.

“Right Pendragon?” Carrie bumped her elbow against the teen. “We need to stay calm.” She nodded at Berry, brow furrowed.

Eva knew Carrie had to be angry with her, but she never really thought about glossing things over if it was bad and it sure as hell looked bad then there was nothing anyone could do to make it sound pleasant. ”Right, being angry isn’t going to help others, it’ll put more in danger. I have a sword that can cut people down like they’re paper. If I’m not careful, not in control of myself I could easily hurt innocents. There’s a great deal of discipline to swordsmanship or the act of weilding a sword. It’ll be the same for you Berry. You are potentially dangerous, and if you want to protect what you love you’re going to need to hone your abilities to always be in your control.”

”I don’t like killing, it’s bad enough I see ghosts but I’d rather not have blood on my hands. And yet. I could easily kill someone with the flick of a wrist. I’m not in some moral high ground where I can’t kill. But I don’t feel like I should be deciding who lives or dies by my hand, I’m not a Judge and there are better people to make that choice. What we saw was bad men doing horrible things, men who committed genocide. And not stooping to their level by killing by understanding that we can be just as dangerous and that by keeping ourselves in check we are better for it.”

The siren stood there, chest heaving with the effort of trying to keep herself in check. While there was no wind this time, the static continued to discharge in her feathers, and the twinkling motes faded in and out of view. Her golden eyes flicked from Carrie to Eva as they spoke. ”Life and death are simple out in the wilds, Pen-dar-gon. If you need to eat, you kill the rabbit and you eat. If a wolf tries to kill and eat you, you fight back until it runs or it dies. These...“ her voice cracked, and went suddenly more melodious, even if it was choked with emotion. ”These egg crushers are the same! They do not care about your laws and morals, do they? They just want to hurt and to kill. They are like the mad beast, foaming and snarling. There is only one answer for them, even if it hurts you to do it. If they are not dealt with swiftly, more nestlings die, and that is not to be let to happen!”

Berenice had no idea why everyone seemed to be so ill at ease with her reactions. She was angry, angry enough that her talons continued to flex, though she guiltily realised that they were damaging Carrie’s nest and tried to relax them. To alleviate that feeling, she began hopping from one to the other, to keep herself moving, to feel some sort of motion, even if it wasn’t to resolution of the problem. But the animals had all backed away from her, the Clan were hiding behind cups and other things on the counter and staring at her. Carrie and Pendragon seemed to be trying to get her to calm down, but she knew now was not the time for calm.

Then her human brain caught up: “You have no idea where their nests are, nor how to fight their guns or numbers. The only thing you can do is learn how to do so later.” As the idea took root, she suddenly slumped in defeat. Her feathers relaxed, her shoulder drooped, and her wings suddenly fell, not even bothering to fold up as she sat down. Tears ran down her face, emotions boiling over, and since anger and fighting was not an option any longer, she did the only other thing she knew how to do. She tilted her head up and sang out her sorrow, notes from a hundred different voices of birds mixing with her own human one in a haunting cry of despair and regret.

Carrie gasped quickly clasping her hands to her ears and as suddenly as Berenice began to cry the animals around her wailed their shared grief as well. The dogs howled their sadness, the cats whined, Oscar came to her shoulder to perch and look for attention. The feedback from the animals and Berry’s immense sadness hit Carrie like a freight train. She tried to close her mind to her animal companions but they washed over her. She went to her knees, tears dripping down her cheeks. She strained to keep her hands on her ears. She felt the despair, the regret with intensity from various sources, she lost the battle to the emotions. Squeezing her eyes shut she sobbed.

The neighbours below began to audibly sob as well, banging a broom against the roof.

”I think.” Said Eva as she stepped closer while Carrie and quite literally everyone sobbed, taking care to ensure Bernice could clearly see her approaching as she began to feel off as Bernice’s cry echoed through the room. ”That learning what to do with your anger might be best. Unlike the wolves, no perhaps like the wolves of the forest there are enemies and dangerous beings who’ll take advantage of you, use your anger against you or make you hurt others in anger without realizing how innocent they are. Take a look around. The Clan, the animals they’ve sensed the danger coming from you, and while they know you want to protect them they are not sure what you’ll do in anger.” Stepping an inch closer amidst the weight of despair Bernice radiated Eva spoke. ”As you live among humans and others you’ll begin to feel even more emotions, good, bad, evil, things you never thought yourself capable of. But there are people here who want to help, allow you to experience and what to do with what you learn. The people here seem nice and caring. They have a good home that feels warm to me so allow yourself to understand what you are and are not capable of.”

Berry wept for a few moments more, before something small flew from off of the counter and struck her square on the end of her nose. The birdsong suddenly died off as she reared her head back, going cross-eyed to try and see the tiny spear that was stuck there. Glancing up at the counter, she saw new figures, including the Chief. Behind the clan, the door was just closing as two warriors hauled in what looked like a rotting pigeon carcass. ”Why are you bringing foul food in? That has been dead too long to eat.”

The Chief stared up at the big folk, a scowl on his face. “We found it outside, staring at your door. There were more that scattered when we took this one, and it put up a very nasty fight.” One of his arms hung limp, dripping blood. Several others also bore wounds, with one lying still on the counter while a few of the women bound his leg into a splint. “This place may be under attack soon, by whatever sent that which destroyed our home. And you,” he said, pointing savagely with his good arm at Eva. “You need to inform me where my people have been. How many are missing or dead? Where did you take them? And you,” he snarled at Sunheart. “There is much you need to account for, starting with why the Big Ones are standing here staring at our people!”

Carrie broken from the birdsong, coughed reigning herself in. Dragging a sleeve under her eyes she took long steadying breaths patting her chest. “I can explain, just- ugh give me a second.” The grey tabby came into her arms for cuddling. All the animals distressed in various stages. “One moment.”

Finding her balance and tending to the animals, whispering to them individually. Comforting pats, soft words, blanketing the room with her own magic. Cuddling her cat, she stopped at Berry last setting the cat aside she hugged her as well.

“It’s going to be alright Berry. I promise we’ll figure it out, but it’ll be alright.” She pat down her hair, residual static snapped across her finger tips. The dogs took up Berry’s sides, the cats tried to take up space in her lap. The animals now projected the calm Carrie felt herself, magnifying her magic. Carrie looked up to the dead pidgeon, the rancid smell of death clear.

”I get you have you people to look after, but can you give me one second. Just one. I got hit by some sort of emotional wail or something.” Taking a moment to regain her bearings. ”I don’t know of any dead Clan members at least not for the ones I took with me, I feel like Bloody shit. Right I took them to my Grandpa’s place, in New York. I can move between doors in a certain way. It’s I dunno if you know what teleporting is. But it’s that. Like covering cities in seconds I guess, for what take months. Aside from a group of what five they said, everyone else that came with me is here. The five are off exploring the old house, told them I’d swing by for them in the morning. Just ask the rest. It seems like you all need to talk amongst yourselves already.”

Carrie held a hand in front of Eva, standing from her hug with Berry, “Chief, this was out of necessity in order to safely live here, as you can probably see I have quite a few animals. They know to treat everyone with respect now instead of seeing your people as food. Sun-Heart has been putting the security of everyone first and foremost, give her a break.”

Carrie shuffled off toward the dead bird, feeling dark energy pour off of it seeping into the floorboards. “First though before anything else I’ve gotta protect my home.” She opened the kitchen window peering at the buildings aside her and the back alley below. They were right, reanimated dead animals watched her apartment.

“Like hell I’m going to let some necromancer’s pets into my home.” Brow furrowed she quickly went straight for her bedroom, a collection of large pieces of quartz laid across shelves and in the corner of her room was quite possibly the neatest thing about the untidy room. The Altar draped in purple silk, animal bone and teeth. A small bronze mirror cradled in it’s center. A blackberry wreath laid on the table half done.

She plucked what small stones she had, freed sage from it’s bundle, stopping at the hanging herbs above her window - dried and ready to be used. Glancing down her ivy plant growing happily in the receding summer sunlight alongside her little potted rowan scrub waiting to be transferred to her yard. The herbs and plants were gifts from Nathaniel Croll.

Running back with her arms full she laid them across the kitchen island. Then ran back into her bedroom with sheers. She clipped a generous length of ivy, then a small sturdy branch of rowan, whispering her thanks.

Carefully with well practiced hands she weaved the ivy through the wreath, the bright green leaves mixed with the wood of the blackberry tree branches as well as complementing the berries themselves. Finally tying the branch of rowan to the top of the wreath with the remaining ivy. “Let’s see the bastard try to get past this.”

She carefully spritzed it with water then went straight for her front door. A hook already in place for past wreaths, she carefully placed it. Affectionately running her knuckles across the soft leaves of ivy. She closed the door and felt safer.

She came back to her other tools, brightfully noting, “When it doubt, sage it out!”

Lighting the end of the sage bundle on fire, she let it burn a little before blowing away the flames fanning the smoke. “Pendragon if you could help me, grab the salt in the cupboard and draw a ring around the dead pidgeon. I will smudge the entrances. The animals will help to drive away the dead, armed with protections of their own.”

With a nod Eva went to find the salt in the kitchen taking a bit long as she had to look through quite a few cupboards before she returned with it, and assuming she actually meant a circle of salt and not draw a ring in a pile she encircled the dead bird. ”So, what does this actually do? I’ve been watching that Supernatural show and so far there’s nothing on dead birds. It’s also a TV show, so.” As a sheathed sword appeared to her side as she sat it against the wall. ”Just in case I need this.”

Berry stared at the Chief, who was conversing in low tones and gesticulating wildly with the warriors who had come in with him. The rest of the Clan sat around them, forming a semicircle and watching. The siren shuffled closer and let Sunheart off of her shoulder, then moved over to watch the two women administer to the cursed carcass in the entryway. Behind her, the conversation got more heated as Sunheart joined in.

”What are you pouring the salt for? I do not think it will taste very good no matter how much you season it.” Despite her cheerful query, there was a definite downcast to Berenice’s features. She looked more like a scolded child trying to infiltrate back into a conversation than her normal self, and was obviously trying to cheer herself and everyone else up. Shockingly, she had even made a joke, unintentional as it was. Even so, she glanced back at the windows, adding, ”Should we not deal with the ones outside, too?”

Carrie nodded distractedly then took a double take at Berry, softening she replied, “It’s to purify the bad spirits away. We are freeing the animal of it’s necromancy chains. The dogs and cats will work together to remove the others and Oscar will take care of any birds. If not at the very least chase them off, don’t worry Berry we can protect my nest from Sebastian’s spies.”

One by one each of the animals lined up being outfitted with small charms to protect them from any lingering energy about the undead spies. Their strong bond and connections with Carrie ensured that regardless.

The conversation on the countertop broke up suddenly, Sunheart and a few of the warrior types lining up along the ledge overlooking the process. Sunheart herself was staring, while the rest checked their tiny weapons, looking grim. ”You have accepted us into your home with no qualms at all, Witch,” Sunheart said, loud enough she could be heard. There was no inflection on the word ‘witch’, merely a title. ”Now it needs defending. We will aid you in this.” Her tone was clear that she would brook no argument on the matter, and wordlessly, each of the warriors threw tiny ropes down from the counter, affixed to a coffee mug behind them. They lowered themselves down, then each took places a safe distance from one of the animals being geared up. Sunheart herself took a place in front of Oscar, eyeing him warily. ”If you would be so good as to make sure they take no offense to our presence, it would help.”

Carrie blinked, “Oh! Of course, thank you.”

“Let the dogs and cats sniff you out first before climbing aboard, Oscar.” Carrie said sternly turning her attention to the raven. “Be careful you hear me? Knock them out and let the others take care of them.”

Oscar quorked in response, Carrie nodded in understanding. Affectionately Oscar tugged at her sleeve. “All set, Sunheart. If you need to get their attention, call them by their name.”

Sunheart gave a salute, and the rest nodded grimly, faces stern. Most of them were checking their tiny weapons, which were mostly flint or broken glass or wood. A few, though, had already managed to supplement themselves with bits of razors or nails and paperclips. Sunheart herself had gotten a hold of a bow, made of animal bones and a length of springy wood, and had a sheaf of what looked like needles. They all gingerly approached the animals, made their introductions, and then clambered aboard their partners, with Sunheart taking the lead on Oscar, having had the most flight experience. She turned to Carrie with a fatalistic look and said, ”I will make sure they all come home alive.”