Natty

Vanguard: Calder City

Dusk just trying to exist:

@Sep

Dusk is gonna be real disappointed when he realises she doesn’t have a job and can’t pay him

Vanguard: Calder City

S T . D Y M P H N A ‘ S H O M E
S T . D Y M P H N A ‘ S H O M E

F O R W A Y W A R D Y O U T H S
F O R W A Y W A R D Y O U T H S

^Joanie

The days that followed blurred together. Joanie had calmed down on the surface, but something in her had stayed tight and sore. She moved through the house with a short fuse, snapping at things she normally let slide. A new crack had appeared in their bedroom doorframe, spidering out from the hinge. Mina had noticed it first. Joanie ignored it.

She had told Mina and Trey about her conversation with Caleb in the diner, filling them in between moments of anger when she arrived home. She told them how Caleb had warned them to stay away from Harborlight. She told them he was mixed up in something dangerous. But she did not tell them about the Icelander. And she certainly did not tell them about the nightmare she had two nights ago, the one where she woke up gasping, convinced she could feel cold fingers closing around her throat.

Caleb had continued to reach out since the meeting, seemingly having remembered that he had Joanie’s number. He had texted her three times. Once to ask if she was safe. The subsequent times to apologise. She had not replied. She read them, before locking her phone and telling herself she would answer later. She never did. The messages sat there like small weights she refused to pick up.

In the meantime the house had only grown more chaotic. Rowan was still missing. Every hour that passed made it worse.

The three of them had spent hours moving through the homeless encampment under the overpass, weaving between tents made from tarps and blankets, calling Rowan’s name until their voices went hoarse. People watched them from the shadows, wary and silent. A few shook their heads when shown his picture. One woman said she thought she had seen a boy with stone patches on his arms two nights ago, but after further questioning it seemed like she was just after some cash so she could score.

The ground was muddy, the air smelled of smoke and damp clothes, and every unanswered call made the knot in Joanie’s chest tighten.

They were about to leave when an older man sitting by a barrel fire spoke up. His beard was grey and uneven, and his eyes were sharp despite the cold. He tapped the side of his nose with a gloved finger.

“Kids go missing in this city all the time,” he said. “Cops don’t look too hard unless someone pays them to.”

When they got home they all ended up in the girls’ room without really deciding to. Mina dropped onto her bed with a groan, burying her face in the pillow. Trey slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor, legs stretched out, head tipped back. Whereas Joanie stayed standing for a moment, arms folded, staring at the faint crack in the doorframe as if it were a warning she had left for herself.

She kept seeing Rowan’s face. A sickening thought kept creeping up on her. Is this how it had started with Caleb? Is this how he’d found himself with the Icelander? A missing kid with nowhere else to go? The idea made her stomach twist.

“Joanie,” Mina said quietly, lifting her head. “You’re doing that staring thing again.”

“What staring thing?” Joanie muttered.

Trey rubbed his eyes and looked up at her. “What is it?”

“I’m just tired,” Joanie lied, looking away as she tried to hide her guilt.

Trey looked at her for a moment, narrowing his eyes before finally letting out a long breath.

“We need help. Real help.” He groaned. “I don’t want to be sneaking around encampments until dawn again.”

The words hit her more than she expected as her mind took took her back to a few years ago. Back to the man who had once stood in their hallway in a long dark coat, tall and quiet.

Joanie straightened before she even realised she was moving. She crossed the room, pulled open her desk drawer, and began rummaging through the clutter of notebooks and old receipts. Her fingers brushed the edge of a card she had not touched in months and had even scoffed when she had been first given it.

Absolute Comics - A Multi-Fandom Singular Universe Roleplay

|| Base 6B, Planet Roosh

The mining colony was collapsing into chaos. Floodlights flickered across metal walkways, throwing long shadows as the horde surged through the settlement with perfect, unnatural rhythm. The ground trembled beneath their synchronized footsteps.

Rocket Raccoon darted ahead on all fours, small but impossibly fast. His patched flight jacket snappef behind him as he fired over his shoulder, not even daring to look back as he did so.

“Ship’s this way. Move it!” He barked.

A towering shape thundered beside him. Groot’s bark‑covered limbs split into thick, thorned branches that lashed outward, sweeping attackers aside. The gentle giant’s glowing eyes were wide with fear, but his movements were protective and unyielding.

Rook Blonko held the rear. He was tall and broad‑shouldered, although nowhere near at tall as the walking tree besides him, clad in dark Revonnahgander armor that looked carved rather than forged. The plates were etched with traditional patterns, worn smooth at the edges from years of patrols. He moved quickly yet carefully his rifle humming with each controlled shot. His eyes, sharp and feline, scanned the darkness for threats. He didn’t waste a moment. He seemed a lot more composed than the rest of the group, as he had been trained.

The final member of the quartet, Mantis, stumbled forward as the psychic noise hit her. Her antennae twitched violently, glowing faintly at the tips. Her wide, dark eyes shimmered with tears as she pressed a hand to her temple. The green and gold of her outfit was smeared with dust, and her breath came in short, panicked bursts.

“They’re all connected,” she whispered as she strained. “Every mind. Every thought. One voice.”

Rocket didn’t slow. “Yeah. That’s why we’re leaving.”

The horde poured out of the alleys behind them, silhouettes jerking unnaturally, faces lost in shadow. Hundreds of feet slamming the metal in perfect unison.

Fortunately the landing pad finally came into view as they ascended the top of a slope.

Their ship sat half‑lit, half‑damaged, but intact. The Scatterjack, a KX‑9 Patchwork Freighter, was a discontinued courier model that Rocket had rebuilt so many times in the last year that it barely resembled its factory shape. The hull was a mismatched quilt of scavenged plates; some scorched, some polished. Twin thrusters jutted out from the back at slightly uneven angles, giving it a lopsided silhouette.

It may not have looked liked much, but after Rocket’s upgrades it could probably outpace most ships this side of Knowhere. They were definitely going to need that acceleration today.

Rocket was the first to reach it, leaping up the landing ramp that had just begun to lower.

Groot turned and planted himself between the team and the swarm. His roots slammed into the metal, forming a twisting barrier that forced the attackers to climb over him. He roared, pushing back the first wave with raw strength.

“I am Groot!”

Mantis pulled herself up onto the descending ramp, Rook following her as he did so, covering her flank.

Once they were all on board, Groot moved back, stepping on the ramp and expanding himself. He filled the entrance way to the ship, like a cork to a bottle.

Rocket was far ahead of them at this point, claws skittering on the deck as he dove into the cockpit.

“Strap in. This is going to be ugly.” He called back, his paws tapping a series of buttons and monitors.

The engines coughed. Then sputtered. Then died.

“Come on,” Rocket growled, slamming switches. “Come on.”

Outside, the horde slammed against the hull in perfect unison. The entire ship shook.

Mantis clutched her head. “They’re not trying to break in. They’re trying to hold us.”

Rook braced himself. “They know we’re escaping.”

“Rocket, now would be a great time.” Mantis almost pleaded.

Rocket bared his teeth. “I know that.”

The engines roared to life.

The ship lurched upward, tearing free of the platform as the attackers clung to the landing gear. Groot shook them loose with a final sweep of his branches before collapsing back into the hull, exhausted. The ramp shut smoothly before him.

The colony shrank beneath them as the horde swarmed the pad like ants, staring upward in perfect, silent unison.

No one spoke as they broke atmosphere. Not until a proximity alert chimed.

Rocket flicked the display on.

A massive cruiser drifted ahead of them in orbit, dark and silent.

Mantis inhaled sharply. “There are hundreds on board.”

Rocket scanned the navigation data. His ears flattened. “And it’s not drifting. Something’s flying it.”

Rook moved behind, peering over the data himself.

“Can you see where they’re heading?” He asked.

Rocket merely frowned as he absorbed the information, trailing the path with his claw and pausing when it arrived on a familiar name.

He let out a sigh.

Why was it always Earth?

He shoved the throttle forward, racing past the cruiser.

As they swept alongside the silent hull, the shadows shifted.

A massive starfish creature was wrapped across the side of the ship, its arms clamped into the metal like a parasite gripping bone. Its surface pulsed slowly, each beat sending a faint shimmer through the cruiser’s lights, like a heartbeat controlling a body.

Vanguard: Calder City

S T . D Y M P H N A ‘ S H O M E
S T . D Y M P H N A ‘ S H O M E

F O R W A Y W A R D Y O U T H S
F O R W A Y W A R D Y O U T H S

^Joanie

The diner was quiet in the late morning lull. A ceiling fan hummed lazily overhead, stirring the warm air that smelled of coffee grounds and old syrup. Joanie slid into the booth first, the vinyl cool against her legs. Caleb sat opposite her, hood up, shoulders hunched, with his hands clasped together on the table as if he were bracing for something. The windows were fogged from the kitchen heat, blurring the view of the strip outside.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

That wasn’t new though. They had walked the few blocks to the strip in silence, passing shuttered shops and the old laundrette with the flickering sign. The diner sat on the corner exactly where it always had, the same chipped paint and fogged windows they used to press their faces against as kids.

“We haven’t been here since our first date.” He said, finally breaking.

Joanie let out a short, humourless scoff. “It wasn’t a date.”

Caleb looked up, confused. “What do you mean it wasn’t a date.”

“Caleb,” she said, rubbing her forehead. “You dragged me here because you were hiding out after you broke the common room window. You bought me a milkshake because you felt guilty. That is not a date.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it again. “I thought it counted.”

“It didn’t.”

He looked down at his hands, picking at a loose thread on his sleeve. “I liked being here with you.”

Joanie looked at him then, and for a moment she saw the boy she used to know. She remembered how easy it had been to like Caleb, how warm he could be when he let his guard down. How he used to save the last fry for her without saying anything. There had been a time when she thought she could read every thought on his face. Remembering it now only made the distance between them feel sharper.

She looked away, her chest tightening. “Then you shouldn’t have disappeared.”

He flinched. “I know.”

“Do you?” Her voice was quiet but sharp. “Because you left without a word. You didn’t call. You didn’t text. You didn’t even tell me you were alive.”

Those days had been torture. It hasn’t helped that it had been the day The Mountain had stopped a raging gray after they had blown up a subway station. All she could think about before they released the names of the dead was that he was on that list.

Caleb swallowed hard. “I couldn’t.”

“That isn’t an answer.”

He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “Joanie, I can’t tell you everything. I want to, but I can’t. It is for your own good.”

She leaned back, eyes narrowing. “Do not say that to me. Do not sit here and act like you are protecting me by keeping me in the dark.”

Was he serious right now? Given everything she’d seen last night she was owed some answers.

“I am,” he insisted. “You do not understand how dangerous these people are.”

“Then explain it.”

“I can’t.”

She stared at him, jaw tight. A thousand questions raced through her mind, before finally settling on on one she deemed the most important.

“Have you killed anyone?” She asked, bluntly.

She has to know. She had to know whether this was still the boy she’d grown up with.

His eyes snapped up. “No.”

“Have you tried?”

“No,” he said quickly. “I try not to. I do not want to be that person.”

Relief washed over her. She believed him. She hated that she believed him.

Their conversation was briefly interrupted as the waitress brought over two mugs of coffee, playing them on the table between them. They thanked her, drifting back into silence as they blew into the hot liquid and took their first sips.

She was more grateful for the small burn than she realised. She took a moment to settle, taking a small gulp.

She took a breath as her mind went to her next important question. “Who was that man. The one watching me.”

Caleb hesitated. His fingers curled into fists. “You do not want to know.”

And let out a small huff in frustration. What was the point in him rocking up to chat if he didn’t want to talk about anything?

Their coffee mugs shook for a moment, rattling against each other.

“I asked you.”

He exhaled slowly. “Okay… Fine. People call him the Icelander.”

The name settled over the table like frost.

The Icelander. What kind of pretentious name was that?

“What, is he really Olaf the snowman or something?” She laughed. It died quickly though when she clocked the look on his face.

“Nah, he’s apparently from Reykjavík”. Caleb said, voice low. “They say… they say he’s one of the first Grays.”

Joanie blinked. History hadn’t been her strongest subject, but surely that wasn’t possible? He’d have to be over 100.

“No one knows for sure.” He continued. “There are stories about him. Urban legends. Some say he does not age. Some say he can freeze a person from the inside out. Some say he collects people. Keeps them. Uses them.”

Joanie felt her stomach twist. “And how exactly do you know him?”

Caleb paused for a moment, as if debating if he’d already said too much. She had a feeling she knew what he was about to say.

“He owns Harborlight.” He confirmed. “He owns me.”

Joanie felt herself grow cold. She felt just like she did last night when she had first laid eyes on the mysterious man.

So this was why he hadn’t reached out? He was someone’s slave? The thought horrified her.

Then a realisation came to the front of her mind.

“He asked you about me, didn’t he.”

Caleb nodded.

“What did you tell him?”

“Nothing,” Caleb said quickly. “Just that we used to date. I told him it wasn’t serious.”

Joanie stared at him, disbelief and hurt rising in her chest. “Not serious.”

“I was trying to protect you.”

“By pretending I didn’t matter.”

“That is not what I meant. I was trying to keep you safe.”

The booth trembled beneath them. A soft vibration at first, then a sharper jolt that rattled the salt shaker. Caleb’s eyes widened. Joanie clenched her jaw, forcing herself to breathe.

The waitress behind the counter looked up from wiping a mug. “Sweetheart, you alright over there.”

Joanie managed a weak smile. “Sorry. Just… dropped something.”

She nodded, unconvinced, but went back to her work.

Caleb leaned forward, voice barely above a whisper. “You have to be careful. He noticed you. That isn’t good. He doesn’t notice people unless he wants something.”

Joanie swallowed. “What does he want?”

He paused for a moment before answering.

“I don’t know,” Caleb admitted.

The booth trembled again, softer this time. Joanie pressed her palms flat against the vinyl, grounding herself.

Caleb watched her with something like fear.

“Please, Joanie. Just listen to me. Be careful. Stay away from Harborlight. Stay away from the strip. Stay away from anyone who looks at you twice.”

She looked at him, tired and furious and scared.

“You left me for this.”

Absolute Comics - A Multi-Fandom Singular Universe Roleplay

|| Somewhere on the road to Bellwood, Earth

“What was that thing?” Gwen asked as she stared after the fleeing machine, then back at Ben’s towering rocky form.

Max wasn’t looking at the hole. He was looking at Cobblestone. He circled once, taking in the jagged stone plating, the massive fists, the sheer bulk.

“And is this a new form?” He squinted. “Did I hear you call yourself Cobblestone?”

Cobblestone shrugged, pebbles scattering off his shoulders. He gave a glance to his cousin, who gave him a knowing look before they both spoke in unison.

“Minecraft”

Max blinked once, slowly.

“Of course it is.”

Gwen pointed toward the broken wall, already moving.

“That thing can’t have gotten far. Let’s go.”

Cobblestone nodded, heavy footsteps shaking the ground as he lumbered after the android’s trail. Max and Gwen followed close behind.

---

Cobblestone lumbered down the slope into the drainage well, each step sending a dull tremor through the concrete. Gwen and Max followed close behind. Whatever tension had been simmering between Ben and Gwen earlier was gone now, dissolved the moment the fight started. They moved together the way they always had. Focused. In sync. Back on the job.

The trail was easy to follow. There were gouges in the concrete, scorch marks along the wall, and a faint electrical hum lingering in the air. Ben kept his guard up, preparing for an attack from the shadows at every bend.

The culvert opened into a narrow service tunnel. At the far end, a metal door hung crooked on its hinges, torn open from the inside. Cobblestone pushed it aside with one hand, stone fingers scraping against the frame.

Inside was a cramped workshop carved into the concrete wall. The air still hummed with residual power. Tools lay scattered across a folding table. Wires dangled from the ceiling like exposed nerves. A chair sat pushed back, still spinning slightly, as if someone had left in a hurry.

The lab had been cleared out minutes ago.

Realising they were safe, Cobblestone’s shoulders lowered, before letting the omnitrix’s light engulf him. Ben stood in its place, brushing dust from his shirt.

“Whoever was here… they’re long gone.”

Gwen stepped forward, eyes narrowing as she took in the scattered tools and humming equipment.

“This wasn’t some random workshop.”

Max moved to the nearest monitor. It flickered weakly, cycling through paused footage. Angles of the fight. Slow‑motion analysis of XLR8’s movements. Cobblestone’s punches. Transformation energy signatures mapped in glowing lines.

Ben froze as his stomach dropped.

“He was watching me.” He finally managed.

But he knew it was more than that. They hadn’t just been watching. Studying. Recording. Breaking him down piece by piece. He felt dirty at the thought.

Gwen turned toward him, concern flickering across her face.

“Ben… you ok?.”

Ben didn’t answer, unease settling deep in his gut.

Max stepped back from the monitors, expression hardening as he put a reasssuring hand on his grandson’s shoulder.

“We’re not handling this alone. I’ll call someone to come secure the site.”

“Then let’s get out of here before whoever built this decides to come back.” Gwen added.

He was grateful for the two of them. It felt nice not having to go things alone after so long. He felt safe despite everything.

Ben nodded, though his eyes lingered on the screens a moment longer.

They turned to leave.

As the trio stepped back into the tunnel, the lab lights flickered once.

In the far corner, perched silently on a bundle of cables, a small robotic monkey watched them with unblinking red eyes. Its metal fingers tightened around the pipe it clung to. A faint whir of servos followed them as they walked away.

Then it vanished into the shadows.

Vanguard: Calder City

S T . D Y M P H N A ‘ S H O M E
S T . D Y M P H N A ‘ S H O M E

F O R W A Y W A R D Y O U T H S
F O R W A Y W A R D Y O U T H S

^Joanie

The kitchen was already a storm by the time Joanie found herself in the middle of it. She wasn’t sure when she had started helping. One moment she had been standing in the doorway, blinking against the light, and the next she was spreading jam on toast while two kids argued over who got the last clean bowl.

Out of all the mistakes of the last day, going out on a school night seemed to be rising up there.

Her head felt thick. Every sound seemed to come from far away and she kept losing track of what she was doing.

“Joanie,” Mrs Qadir said gently beside her, taking the jug from her hands. “Sweetheart, that cup is full.”

Looking down, she saw that she had been pouring juice into a cup and had continued to do so until it had begun to overflow onto the counter.

“Oh.” Joanie blinked at it. “Right. Sorry.”

Mrs Qadir gave her a searching look but didn’t press as Joanie moved to clean up her mess. This morning she looked exactly as she always did; her dark hair was pulled back into a loose twist that had already begun to slip, a few silver strands escaping around her temples. She wore one of her many soft, long cardigans over a simple blouse. Today it was a nice sage green, one of Joanie’s favourites. Concern marked her face, although that wasn’t exactly new. These days there was a lot for her to be worried about.

She gave Joanie some space as she turned to help a younger boy zip his coat, then moved on to stop Maxie from sticking his glowing fingers into the toaster as he sought after a stuck piece of toast.

“Are you alright?” She asked when she finally returned to her side.

Joanie forced a small smile. “Just tired. Couldn’t sleep.”

It wasn’t a lie. Just missing the major context as to why.

She raised an eyebrow, as if fully aware there was more to it yet didn’t dig deeper.

“And Mina and Trey?” she asked.

“Yeah…” Joanie said quickly, trying to think of some kind of excuse. “They were wanting a lie in so I told them I’d cover breakfast.”

Mrs Qadir nodded, though her eyes lingered on Joanie a moment longer than usual. “I’ll let them rest then. But I will check on them later.”

That last bit was definitely a warning. She tried to look as innocent as possible as she moved some dirty plates over to the sink.

She paused slightly as a figure marched through the doorway and crossed her path. It took her a minute to realise it was Franklin, his head covered by his hood. He moved past the two without a word, eyes fixed straight ahead. Gone was the usual beaming greeting he usual gave. When he reached the fridge, he opened it with a sharp tug, grabbed the first yoghurt he saw, before letting it slam behind him.

He turned, glanced his bulbous eyes up her, before he lowered his head and moved out of the room and back into the hallway.

Joanie felt the guilt hit her immediately, settling in her stomach. She watched the empty doorway he had vanished through, remembering the way he had looked at her last night when he’d caught them on the fire escape and the way his face had fallen when she told him he couldn’t come. Clearly that was still on his mind too.

“Did something happen between you two?” Qadir asked, following her gaze.

Joanie stared at the counter, her throat tightening.

“I… might have snapped at him last night. Twice.” She managed, giving her a frown. “He was just trying to talk and I wasn’t… I wasn’t in a good place.”

Qadir nodded slowly, her voice gentle.“That boy looks up to you, darling. He’ll come around. Just give him some time.”

Joanie nodded, though the guilt pressed heavier on her chest. She wished she could fix it right then. But she could barely keep herself upright, let alone mend someone else’s feelings.

She pushed on, moving towards where the last of the kids were gathering by the front door ready to leave for the day. Joanie helped them with coats and backpacks, nudging them outside with reminders to stay together and behave. Oceanside Middle School wasn’t too far a walk, but caution was always important.

When the door finally closed behind them, the house fell into a calmer quiet.
Qadir checked her clipboard, flipping through the morning notes. “Before you go upstairs, could you take out the trash? The bags are by the back door.”

“Sure,” Joanie said.

“Oh, and Joanie,” she said, her tone shifting. “Have you seen Row this morning? He didn’t come back last night.”

Joanie froze as the words.

Rowan Kessler was one of their newer residents. He was only fourteen and often kept to himself. His powers had manifested as patches of stone that grew along his arms and ribs, pale grey against his dark skin. They had to be chiselled back when they grew too thick. He always tried to hide them under long sleeves, even on days when it was too hot to do so. He was a good kid; he never argued when it came for his turn to do the dishes or any of his other chores about the house.

She’d only heard snippets about his life before St Dymphna’s. None of it sounded pleasant.

It wouldn’t have been the first time a kid had run away from the home. It happened all the time. That Lance kid, for example, was always disappearing for weeks at a time. He’d probably rock up at one point.

“No,” Joanie said softly. “I haven’t seen him.”

Mrs Qadir’s expression tightened. “If you hear anything, let me know.”
Minutes later she was stepping out the backdoor, several trashbags dangling from her hands.

The morning air was cool, sharp enough to wake her slightly. She walked down the steps into the alley, the rubbish bags swinging at her sides. The dumpster lid creaked loudly as she lifted it and tossed the bags in.

She let the lid fall shut and leaned against the cold metal, closing her eyes. Her chest still felt tight.

Footsteps sounded behind her.

She opened her eyes.

Caleb stood at the mouth of the alley, hood up, hands in his pockets, and his eyes fixed on her with a tension she had rarely seen before.

“Joanie,” he said quietly. “We need to talk.”

Vanguard: Calder City

S T . D Y M P H N A ‘ S H O M E
S T . D Y M P H N A ‘ S H O M E

F O R W A Y W A R D Y O U T H S
F O R W A Y W A R D Y O U T H S

^Joanie

No one spoke on the walk home. Not on the bus Not through the front door. Not up the stairs. It was as if the three of them had agreed, without saying a word, that talking about what they had seen would make it real. So they kept their mouths shut and let the silence swallow them.

No one stirred as they made their way up St Dymphna’s stairwell. Joanie and Mina reached their room first, with Trey peeling off toward his own without a goodbye. He didn’t need to say anything. His face had said enough.

Inside the room, Mina went straight to her bed. She sat on the edge for a long moment, placing on the oven gloves she always slept in. She rubbed her palms together slowly, as if grounding herself, before moving under the covers and turning toward the wall.

Joanie stood in the middle of the room, unsure what to do with her body. Her heart was still racing. Her hands still shook. She could still feel the shaking of the earth in her bones. The way the floor had buckled and the crowd had screamed.

She finally moved on her own bed. She tried distracting herself with her phone, scrolling through one social media app, and then the next. None of it did the trick. It took her a beat to even realise her phone had locked itself from inactivity and her sullen face was staring back at her in the reflection.

Minutes passed. Maybe more.

Mina’s voice finally broke the silence.

“Are you awake?”

Joanie let out a breath she didn’t realise she had been holding. “Yeah.”

Mina shifted under her blankets, curling in on herself. She looked small. Fragile. Her gloves caught the lamplight, dull and heavy.

She turned where she lay, moving to stare up at the ceiling. “I keep hearing him choking.”

Joanie swallowed. “I know.”

It’s all she could hear good.

“They wanted her to kill him,” Mina whispered. “They wanted to watch.”

Joanie closed her eyes. The image of the sphere of water flashed behind her eyelids. Cinderjack gasping for air, his life probably flashing before his eyes. The cheers. The blood. The way Rill’s face had gone blank and cold.

She thought of Caleb. Of the way he had looked at her earlier that night. Of the way he had slipped away from her life without explanation.

He had chosen that world over her. The thought hit her like a punch to the chest.

Joanie couldn’t sit on her own bed anymore. She crossed the room and climbed into Mina’s, slipping under the covers behind her. Mina tensed for a moment, then relaxed, careful to keep her gloved hands tucked close to her chest.

Joanie wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her like she had done a hundred times before on nights when Mina’s mutation scared her or the world felt too big. Mina leaned back into her, letting out a shaky breath.

Neither of them spoke.

Joanie stared at the wall, eyes wide open, sleep nowhere near her. Her mind replayed the night in loops. Always ending with the same image of the staring man.

He knew.

She hadn’t told Mina that part. Nor Trey.

She held Mina a little tighter, as if that could keep the world outside from getting in. But she knew it already had.

Vanguard: Calder City

S T . D Y M P H N A ‘ S H O M E
S T . D Y M P H N A ‘ S H O M E

F O R W A Y W A R D Y O U T H S
F O R W A Y W A R D Y O U T H S

^Joanie

Cinderjack moved first, launching a jet of flame that spiralled upward. Rill dodged with a fluid twist, her movements sharp and controlled. She swept her arm through the air and a thin ribbon of water rose from the vents beneath the platform, swirling around her like a living thing.

Joanie’s breath caught. The whole thing shimmered with spectacle and over‑the‑top theatrics. She nudged Trey to her right excitedly. He was clearly loving it too.

Cinderjack stomped once, sending a burst of flame across the floor. Rill leapt, twisting mid‑air as the water beneath her surged upward to catch her. It lifted her like a wave, carrying her across the arena in a smooth arc. The crowd roared again.

Joanie leaned forward, excitement bubbling in her chest.

Rill landed lightly, water coiling around her ankles. She flicked her wrist and the ribbon snapped forward, striking Cinderjack across the chest. Steam exploded outward as water met flame. The crowd cheered louder.

Cinderjack staggered back, then grinned. He lunged again, faster this time, flames crawling up his arms. Rill dodged left, but he caught her forearm with a burning hand.

The sound was sickening.

Her skin blistered instantly.

Rill cried out, stumbling back as steam curled from the wound. The water around her faltered.

Joanie froze.

She looked around, expecting panic.

Yet the crowd was ecstatic.

People were shouting, laughing, pounding the railing. Drinks sloshed. Someone behind her yelled for Cinderjack to hit her again. A few of the audience looked uncomfortable too, shifting their weight, eyes darting, but they were the minority. Everyone else was loving it. It seemed that this kind of thing was well known.

Joanie’s stomach twisted.

Mina’s face had gone tight, her arms folded close to her chest, shoulders rigid. Trey’s expression had shifted from excitement to something hollow and horrified.

What was happening? Why wasn’t the ref calling anything?

Back in the arena, Rill recovered. Water surged upward from the vents, wrapping around her legs and lifting her into the air. Her lower body dissolved into a twisting serpent of water, coiling and rising. She moved with sudden speed, darting around Cinderjack in a blur of motion.

He swung wildly, flames bursting from his fists, but she was faster. And now she was angry.

Rill snapped her arm forward, another ribbon of water erupting from her low body before hardening in an instant. It cracked across Cinderjack’s back with a sharp, slicing force that split his skin open.

Blood sprayed.

The crowd roared.

She struck again. And again. Each lash tore another line across his skin, red blooming against the burns and tattoos. And each one came with another scream. Gone was the cocky man she saw previously.

Then one lashing hit his legs and he buckled. His face smashed into the ground with a sickening thud.

He groaned, pushing himself up to one knee.

Before finally…

He tapped the floor with his hand. A clear tap‑out.

The ref stepped forward, throat glowing.

“Fight is called,” he shouted. “Cinderjack is unable to-”

Rill ignored him.

She rose higher, water spiralling beneath her. She carved off another section of her spiral, gathering the torrent into a sphere, her expression cold and focused. The sphere formed around Cinderjack’s head.

He clawed at it instantly.

His flames sputtered.

His body convulsed.

Steam burst outward in violent jets.

And all the while the crowd screamed for blood. Sure, a few more were looking a bit uncomfortable now, but given the reaction it was clear they’d seen something like this before.

She glanced up. The man was smiling now.

Joanie felt her pulse hammering and her breath shorten. Her fists clenched at her sides, nails digging into her palms. Something hot and furious coiled in her chest, rising with every second Rill refused to stop.

The floor beneath her shoes gave a faint tremor, like the club itself had taken a breath.

She couldn’t just watch someone die.

Mina’s eyes widened, her breath catching. Trey looked at Joanie sharply, fear flickering across his face.

“Joanie,” he whispered. “Please.”

She couldn’t stop. Nor did she want to.

The pressure inside her built like a scream trapped behind her ribs. Her jaw clenched and her shoulders shook.

The quake tore through the building in a single violent pulse.

The floor lurched under everyone’s feet. Glasses shattered, spilling drinks and shard everywhere. People stumbled into each other with startled shouts. The arena platform groaned under the strain, metal shrieking as one corner buckled and collapsed inward, sending a spray of steam and debris into the air.

Rill jerked from where she was hovering either her torrent mid‑air, startled. Her watery pedestal as her concentration broke, the water sphere loosening.
Cinderjack tore free with a ragged gasp, collapsing to the platform and scrambling backward on hands and knees, coughing violently.

The crowd erupted in fury.

Shouts rose from every direction. People slammed their hands against the railing in confusion and anger. They demanded to know what had happened. They demanded the fight continue, demanding blood, demanding the kill they had been promised. Confusion rippled through the room as no one could tell where the quake had come from.

No one except Mina and Trey.

They both turned to Joanie at once. Mina’s eyes were wide, horrified, yet as always Trey tried to look calm, although she knew him well enough to know that definitely wasn’t the case right now.

“We have to go,” he said, voice low and urgent. “Now.”

She nodded. That had been a mistake and she was glad that no one else had seen. But at least she’d saved the man’s life. She wouldn’t have forgiven herself if she’d just stood by and watched him die.

The crowd surged in frustration, bodies pressing forward, voices rising in a chaotic roar. The railing rattled under the weight of people shoving against it.

Joanie stumbled back as the three of them pushed into the chaos, weaving through bodies before anyone could look too closely.

She glanced back one last time as she neared the door.

The man from before stood perfectly still on the far side of the arena, untouched by the panic around him. His pale eyes were locked on hers. They were unblinking, cold, and impossibly calm.

He knew.

With that she turned and slipped out into the night.

Vanguard: Calder City

S T . D Y M P H N A ‘ S H O M E
S T . D Y M P H N A ‘ S H O M E

F O R W A Y W A R D Y O U T H S
F O R W A Y W A R D Y O U T H S

^Joanie

“If you look too much up there it will look back at you.”

The warning clung to Joanie long after the strange woman drifted away into the crowd. It echoed in her mind with a weight she could not shake. She found herself glancing toward the window above the club floor again, half expecting those pale eyes to still be fixed on her. But the room was dark now. Whoever had been watching her was gone.

She let out a slow breath.

The woman had been strange. Older, brunette, pupils blown wide until they swallowed the colour of her irises. A strange, restless energy clinging to her like static. She was older, but there was something ageless in her expression, something that made Joanie feel like she was being studied by someone who had lived through too many nights like this. It had been obvious she was on coke. Underage drinking was one thing but that was a line she personally did not care for. Yet somehow it suited the woman, like she had been carved perfectly to fit the chaos of Harborlight.

When she finally slipped away into the crowd, Joanie let out a breath she had not realised she was holding. She felt a flicker of disappointment, which surprised her, followed by a wash of relief. The woman had been odd, unpredictable, but there had been something magnetic about her too. She’d been hot too.

Her thoughts drifted back to Caleb. She hated that his lips were still on her mind.

She turned instead toward the dance floor.

Trey and Mina were dancing together, laughing, leaning in close. Mina’s dress shimmered under the lights. Trey’s grin was wide and unguarded. They looked good together. She almost debating leaving them to it. Where would the fun in that be though?

Besides, Trey deserved the cockblocking anyway for not warning her Caleb was here.

She pushed herself off the barstool and crossed the floor toward them. Mina spotted her first and lit up. Trey reached out and pulled her into their little circle without hesitation. They wrapped their arms around each other, swaying with the music, the three of them pressed together in a way that felt safe and familiar.

Joanie let herself smile.

And so they danced. They danced and they laughed, and they enjoyed themselves. For a small period they were free from the petty boy problems and job interviews.

---

It was a while later that a sudden shift in the room’s energy rippled through the crowd as the music dipped and lights swung toward the centre of the club. From where they stood, they could see that the small construction project they had spotted before was the assembly of a small arena. Metal railings, a circular platform, and atmospheric steam rising from vents beneath the floor.

Joanie, Mina, and Trey drifted toward the railing with everyone else, curiosity pulling them forward. The air vibrated with anticipation. People pressed in close, eyes bright, drinks sloshing.

A Gray stepped forward, his throat glowing a faint blue from under the skin . When he spoke, his voice boomed across the entire club without a microphone.

“Welcome to Harborlight,” he called, his voice rolling through the room like a wave. “How are we feeling tonight.”

The crowd erupted in a roar of excitement.

He grinned, soaking in the noise.

“Let us meet our first fighter,” he said, sweeping an arm toward the left entrance. “The man who burns hotter than your worst decisions. Make some noise for Cinderjack.”

A figure stepped into the arena.

He was shirtless, wearing dark gym shorts that clung to his muscular frame. His skin was a patchwork of vicious burns and inked tattoos, each one catching the light in a different way. A blonde mustache sat above a sharp jaw, and his hair cut into a modern mullet. If Joanie had to guess he was probably in his mid twenties. He wore sunglasses despite being indoors, tilting them down just enough to smirk at the crowd. Flames crawled across his arms in a brief display, heat rolling off him in a wave that made Joanie realise there was no barrier between the arena and the audience beyond the simple railing.

The crowd roared louder as he hyped them up, basking in the attention.

“And facing him,” the announcer continued, “the tide that never stops rising. The one who flows, crashes, and never breaks. Give it up for Rill.”

From the opposite entrance stepped a woman with one side of her head shaved, the rest of her hair streaked with blue. She had the lean, powerful build of a swimmer, her navy athleisure wear clinging to her frame. She lifted an arm to the crowd, calm and confident, her expression focused.

Joanie felt a spark of excitement.

She thought back to the nights she and Trey used to stay up late in the common room at St Dymphna’s, the two of them huddled under a blanket with the volume turned low so the staff wouldn’t hear. They watched wrestling for hours, whisper‑commentating every move, loving every ridiculous twist even though it was obviously fake. They knew it was fake. That was half the fun.

She couldn’t wait to see the shoddy acting on show tonight.

Vanguard: Calder City

@Natty My character fights in the Harborlight fights so just checking if that is okay.

@Pirouette

Very happy with you to get involved in Harborlight. Once I get my next post done I’ll try and put together any info/plans I had in mind for it. More just any noticeable fighters I had planned out / who’s in charge.

Spoilers for upcoming posts but probably important for you

I’ve mentioned it to a few people but there’s a good chance an earthquake may be hitting the club at one point soon, temporarily closing the doors. Very happy for the severity of the damage to change if other people are working in that wheelhouse though.