September 12th, 2015
The Overview
A City AwakensSeptember had brought a chill to the nights in Serstol, the first frost happening a week ago, with temperatures remaining comfortable most days. Trees were changing colors, animals were preparing for winter, and the city was the same as it had been for almost two years.
Almost.
There were rumors flying around the city of changes to the Guard. That they were going to be opening using
capes. The balance seemed to be shifting, and eyes are getting directed towards the Guard in scrutiny.
It didn't help that a small time group calling themselves Tag Team had been leaving graffiti over the Guard and the government buildings without getting caught. In fact sightings of the group, sometimes solo and sometimes having three or four members, were all but rumors to anyone outside the First Guard.
In the early hours a
young girl with a skull bandana over the bottom half of her face walked through the fairly empty streets causally, whistling what some might recognize as an ancient pirate shanty. To the exceptionally observant, they might even notice that her shadow was just a tad darker than it should’ve been at this time of morning.
And then just as she passed by the Governor’s building she blurred, dashing forward, and disappeared through a window that was barely open. Anyone who might have seen her would be wondering if they had just imagined her or that the early morning was playing tricks on their eyes.
Final Guard and Junior Guard
New BeginningsMatthew stood from the chair at the back of the stage, his blue eyes not particularly expressive as they briefly roamed the crowd. His footsteps quieted the murmuring, though he didn’t speak immediately. There was no microphone, he had to speak loud enough for his voice to carry. He was in his late 30’s, but looked far younger. He wasn’t particularly tall, nor attractive. Dark, short brown hair covered his head, though it was slightly messy in the front.
"Ah-Ahem. Good morning everybody. I know it's a bit early for everyone, doubly so for our night shift over there." His voice wasn't particularly deep or gruff, though it was masculine. He sounded at ease, the tempo of his words just slow enough to accomodate the more sleepless members of his audience. When he finished his first sentence he gestured vaguely to the darker corner of the room. A couple of Final Guard employees were there,
4sight and Slingshot included.
"I imagine that they're the reason why our coffee pots had to be refilled the moment the doors opened." 4sight's face cracked the slightest of smiles, and he nodded his head a fraction, almost invisibly in the poor light. Slingshot nodded, a smile crossing his face as he raised his coffee cup. He let two beats pass, so as to not interrupt the scattered chuckles amongst the crowd.
"It's early for me too, but I wanted us to get onto the same page as soon as possible," His eye darted momentarily to the clock above the door, past the small crowd, seeing seven on the dot, before his eyes flicked to read John's expression. John was in his fifties, and looked more like a general without the pomp and circumstance than when he was in full regalia. Something in John’s eyes informed him of what he had already known--offering that little bit of acknowledgment to the midnight patrol had lost him some amount of favor. Sympathizing with the capes so directly was dangerous with John, and he was a dangerous man to lose favor with. It was not a good idea to get on the bad side of the man who had led the First Guard since its conception. Matthew continued on to the next sentence without pausing, his eyes going back to scanning the general sentiment of the crowd with a steady ease. If he had let it hang, it might've caused the slightest bit of anxiety in the younger members.
"I know I haven't had the chance to speak to some of you newer members," Matthew paused, moving papers to make the sound of him shuffling them. He had no need for the words on the page because he had already memorized the speech--this was a form of lip service, something to humanise him and bring him down to their level in some small way.
"I'm Matthew Banks, the newly appointed director of the Final Guard. For the majority of you this will be my introduction, so I'll explain a bit about myself. I worked with the Protectorate and PRT in their original forms. I stopped working with both soon after the Alexandria incident." The name brought some people who weren't paying attention back to him. His face so far had been rather cheerful, genial even, when he had made his joke. Now, a bit of emotion colored his face. His lips tightened at the bad memory, his eyes drifting downwards towards the podium.
"Life was different, after. I was mostly working with standard law enforcement, but it didn't pay nearly as well. I chose not to sacrifice my principles and it was that much tougher when..." Matthew gesticulated, indicating the building, but also seeming to suggest the entire planet--the end of Bet. He took a moment of silence, in memory of what happened, not wanting to bring it up again. They had already experienced it and did not need further reminders.
"I've been in Serstol for a year. I was working with First Guard rather recently when Article 114 passed, and trust me, I was as surprised as the rest of you when Final Guard began forming. Jonathan over there," he nodded towards the general, and the rest of the crowd followed suit.
"Jonathan reminded me why we need capes. I'll let him tell you."The older director had already stood and quickly begun climbing up the stairs on the right side of the platform leaving Matthew to stand off to the left side of the podium, free to take in the room without distraction. They were in a lecture hall with polished laminate wood floors and half of the lights were turned off, giving the room a mellow ambiance. Along one wall was an assortment of breakfast pastries and some coffee pots, and there was a good four feet separating the chairs and tables and the wall. Despite the fact that the room was clearly much bigger than its current purpose required, the way that the tables enclosed the seating gave the illusion of a smaller, cosy space that was almost just the right size.
In all there were about fifty chairs and forty people present. Fifteen of those were ex-First Guard members who had transferred, trained military men. four of them were capes, half of which Matthew could name off the top of his head. Six were journalists, specifically vetted by Matthew himself. Diana, the leader of the First Guard's Charlie Team, was present and looking towards her boss, while simultaneously looking extremely hungover. The rest Matthew didn't know, though he could intuit some information: a Junior Guard member here, a secretary there. The organization would grow, but for now it wasn't going to be trusted with the resources that he would've liked. John started speaking, and Matthew listened while watching the man in his periphery.
"The First Guard has been struggling as of late. Not with the jobs we've been doing, but with the jobs we can't do. We've been careful to not bite off more than we can chew, and have had an acceptable amount of losses over the years, but that's because we've let some criminal elements exist." John's voice was gruff, scratchy, roughened by cigarettes and time. Matthew idly recalled that it wasn't actually cigarettes, but instead cigars--that and brandy were his particular vices. He held himself tall, often towering over the room in more than just rank-- not just above them in standing, but just
above them.
"We need the Final Guard. To put it bluntly, we've needed them for a while, but the governor is a busy lady."This admission of weakness felt wrong to Matthew. It was something that John wouldn't normally do.
Did someone else write this speech for him? His eyes narrowed, almost imperceptibly.
"I'm hoping that the Final Guard will put an end to the more troublesome elements in play. The First Guard will try to cooperate as best as they can when needed, and hopefully a bit of training in the field will mean that our squads can work well together." John backed away from the mic, going back to his seat while the audience provided respectful yet quiet applause. Matthew joined in the clapping, only moving back in front of the mic once John was fully seated.
"Thank you John, I don't have any doubts about our cooperation." Matthew lied through his teeth, though it was unlikely the audience would pick up on it.
"Our main enemies right now are some of the more resilient gangs that have popped up: Blood and Soil are a constant problem, Red Eye are a surprising newcomer to the scene, somehow having grown strong in a very small amount of time." Matthew saw nothing on the audience's faces that could betray any disloyalty.
"Finally, the Fallen have set up camps nearby." Three people reacted to that, heads turning. Three people that Matthew didn't know yet, no one working for him fortunately. Did they know, were they members? Matthew's mind ran through the possibilities as he continued his speech without so much as a pause.
"We can beat these gangs, with your help. Powers or no, we can leave the city a safer place than when we started. Thank you for your time. I'll have a chance to talk to each of the new squad members today, even in a one-to-one setting if you prefer."A few people rose to leave, retrieving their jackets off the backs of the chairs, while Matthew’s secretary Sandra hurried over in her heels to flick on the lights. He noticed some people squinting at the sudden brightness, Diana especially. Matthew gathered his papers, and moved to the steps while Sandra crossed the room to talk to the Parahuman Squad members, telling them they could grab more from the breakfast table if they desired as Matthew began walking towards them.
The group was SWAT, Slingshot,
4Sight, and a young cape the director didn’t recognize, who was wearing a mask over the top half of her face. They were all in costume,
4sight in a brown trench coat, looking like an old school detective, with only his black masquerade mask standing out. SWAT was wearing an FBI uniform, so dissimilar to the Final Guard and First Guard uniforms that it was almost nostalgic. Slingshot was wearing road leathers, a costume that Matthew didn’t actually like. Too many capes just wore motorcycle leathers as their full get up. The last one was the cape that Matthew couldn’t recognize. She was wearing a bird like mask over the top half of her face, with long dark brown hair. Her thin build, along with the brown hair reminded Matthew of his sister. He knew, power wise, she was pin that brought the team together but that was all he had. Fling, or something. He’d have to ask Sandra.
The Fallen
The SearchThe sun was just beginning to rise, the cold chill of the night still creeping across the ground as a single leaf fell in front of her face. She reached out almost lazily, letting the slightly red-orange leaf land upon her gloved hand, before she held it up between two fingers to the masses around her.
“All things come to an end. The PRT, the Triumvirate, the world. Even Serstol. Because that is the inevitable fate that awaits everything,” she said, her voice muffled behind a black mask set in a black hood. Dark hair flowed out from the space between, wavy with streaks of blue, as she slowly rubbed her fingers together. The leaf, now shredded and falling scattered around her, was left forgotten. “But sometimes it needs a little help. Sometimes a little push. And sometimes...Well, sometimes it needs more.”
Her black boots didn’t make a sound as she stepped forward, sweeping her hands out from beneath her cloak vaguely towards the distance.
“The Twins understood this. The Twins knew how to shove, how to make the very land itself shove with them. How to make the powers of those who opposed them push with them. And so do I.” There was a moment of silence as even the animals and insects seemed to freeze.
“There’s one of ours who decided to make a bad choice. And somewhere out there, in that city, our family needs us. Rend, Transcendent. Take a dozen volunteers into the city. Find her. And bring her to me. Bring her home.”
Member
