What Happened in Edmonton

[The Young Pyromancer he/him]

Jacklyn ran.  She burst into the city, ignoring the lines.  She dashed around the corner, trying to get some distance between her and WHOEVER that was.

Edited October 28, 2018 by The Young Pyromancer

[Hemalurgic Headshot he/him]

Liam found Kokichi standing in front of a large box-like container, towering up to the ceiling. The container had drawers and compartments, all enclosed and marked individually. He looked at the particular compartment that Kokichi had mentioned. On a small plaque was the inscription “LINKED L024 X.” It must say what it is on the catalogue, Liam thought. Beside the plaque was a keypad, presumably for opening the compartment.

“L024 X,” Liam murmured. “L for Linked, the number is definitely the ID, but what’s X?” He checked a few other compartments nearby. L035 X. M006 X. L010 X. Every compartment was labeled X.

“I’m going to throw out a wild guess here and say that X means something bad. If it was something good, this stuff wouldn’t be stuck in a dusty storage room,” Liam pondered. He leaned in to examine the keypad, taking out a Blocker to bypass the code. With the Blocker in place, the edges hissed as the vacuum seal was broken, and the compartment slid out, revealing its contents.

“Woah,” Kokichi said. Inside the newly opened compartment was a hat, a charcoal-colored trilby to be precise. It appeared to be a little scuffed up here and there, but otherwise was in good condition. There was no indicator of what it could do. “Sick hat,” they said. Liam took it, then shut the compartment firmly and removed the Blocker. After a second, there was a suction sound as the compartment resealed.

Liam looked at the hat a few moments, then placed it on his head. Nothing happened.

Then he flickered.

His body went invisible for a second, then reappeared, then disappeared again for two seconds. Liam watched as his hands disappeared before his eyes, then reappeared. After a minute, he took the hat off. “I suspect that X means broken. This was probably some sort of invisibility device, but not anymore,” he said.

“That was awesome. What other junk is in here?” Kokichi began looking at all of the other compartments, reading the labels to himself out loud.

“Wait, be careful,” Liam began. “L071 X!” Kokichi exclaimed, and punched through the compartment, pulling out a red rubber bouncy ball.

And then the alarm sounded.

WHA WHA WHA WHA WHA WHA WHA WHA WHA

“Oh, now look what you did!” Liam shouted, trying to speak over the blaring alarm.

“Sorry!” Kokichi said. There was pounding on the door. Liam ran past Kokichi towards the back of the storage room. The pounding at the door continued.

“Follow me!” He called to Kokichi and ducked behind a shelf. At that moment, the door burst in and guards began to file into the room.

“We have you trapped! There is no escape here. Approach us with your hands in the air and we will not shoot.”

“Sparks,” Liam hissed. He turned on his com. “Bear?” There was a moment of silence on the line before Bear’s cheerful voice spoke.

“’Sup, Moose?” The guards began to search through the aisles. Liam moved further into the back accordingly.

“Hey Bear, this isn’t the time to chat. I need you to pull up the building plans for Strathcona Community Hospital,” Liam directed, hoping he remembered the name from the front of the building correctly.

“Where are you hiding?” One of the guards called. He sounded quite close. Liam moved to a shelf a bit further away and peeked through the boxes. Thankfully, the guards were a few aisles away, and moving slowly.

“Strathcona…” Bear hummed to himself. “Strathcona. Got it. It’s a pretty new building, built about a year before Calamity. I’ve got the plans right here.”

“Good. Can you see if there are any other entrances to the storage area in the left half?”

“Uh… you mean the loading area?” Liam’s eyes lit up. Yes.

“Yes. Perfect.”

“Wait a second, Moose. I’m looking at your com position, and I’m making an assumption here, but you’re not in the loading area. There’s a wall in the way.”

Liam looked at the guards, who were getting nearer every passing second. They were all armed, assault rifles from the look of it. Bulletproof vests. He could take out a few with his shotgun, but he’d prefer if no one got hurt. Well, at least not killed. Liam check behind himself. There wasn’t much room left to retreat, only a few more aisles. After that was a wall, presumably the wall keeping them from freedom.

He leaned over to Kokichi and whispered, “Can you break through walls?” Kokichi looked at him and grinned. “Well, duh. I can break through anything if I put my head to it,” they said. “Cuz, you know, I put my head to it…” They trailed off. Liam looked at Kokichi strangely.

“So, you want me to run you into the wall?” Liam asked after a moment. Kokichi winked. The guards were closer now, almost to the shelf where they were hiding. “Well,” Liam said. “It’s better than dying.”

Checking to see that the path was clear, he peeked out from around the shelf. The back wall was bare, and the ground, though dusty, was uncluttered. He looked back at Kokichi. “You really want me to ram you into the wall?”

“Yes. Heck. Freaking. Yes.”

“Alright, here goes nothing,” Liam muttered under his breath and picked up Kokichi under his arm, their head facing the wall. Kokichi was lighter than they looked, but the bright red hoodie wasn’t best for stealth. As they stood up, one of the guards spotted them.

“Hey! I’ve found them!”

Liam bolted. Well, after a second while his legs spun in midair. Then he bolted. With Kokichi’s head out front, he sprinted towards the back wall, the dust billowing in clouds behind his feet. The guards opened fire, bullets pinging off steel shelves and ripping through boxes. Some shots ricocheted off the tile floor at Liam’s feet, but he was remarkably unscathed by the storm of gunfire.

Then they collided with the wall. Kokichi’s head smashed through the cinderblocks, throwing up a cloud of dust and rubble while they stumbled through the gap they had made. Liam tumbled to the ground, losing hold of Kokichi, who rolled into a dashing pose as the dust behind them began to settle. I can’t believe that worked, Liam thought, slightly dazed.

“So cool!” Kokichi exclaimed. Liam glanced back at the startled guards, who had paused their gunfire when Liam had burst through the wall. He scrambled to his feet and pulled out his shotgun from his jacket as he ran to catch up with Kokichi.

The guards looked at each other for a moment, then pursued. “Targets are behind the building, on the run. Requesting backup. Over.”

“Cycle patrol deployed. Over.”

 

Liam’s heart pounded in his chest as he ran towards the front of the building. He had to get to the van. Guards were everywhere, and Liam was diving every five seconds to avoid becoming Swiss cheese. Kokichi was bouncing the red ball as they ran. Up ahead, in the parking lot, a line of guards had formed.

“Halt! We have you surrounded!” Beside the guard who had spoken, the line raised their weapons. “Hands in the air where we can see them!”

Kokichi looked at the ball in their hand. They grinned, that same mischievous glint flashing in their eyes. “Nice,” they said, lifting their arms. In one fluid motion, they tossed the ball towards the line, bouncing on the pavement before coming to a rest at their feet. The guards began to back away, but not before a bubble of energy sprung out of the ball, knocking the closest guards off their feet. The bubble lasted only a few seconds before it flickered into nonexistence.

Those few seconds were enough. Liam and Kokichi were already sprinting past them. “STOP!” The guard shouted, and the line opened fire. Liam spun around and fire off a few warning shots with his shotgun, causing a few guards to duck. They were almost to the space where he had parked the van. With his free hand, he reached into his pocket for the keys.

Up close, the visual distortion on the van didn’t work as well. A hazy afterimage could be seen within five feet of it. Amid the flying bullets, Liam flung himself around to the other side of the van, unlocked it, jumped in, and started up the van. The gravatronics hummed, the engine roared, and Liam opened the side door for Kokichi to get inside.

“Climb in, it’s getaway time.”

Bullets pinged off the sides of the van. Thankfully, Liam had outfitted the old Samba for battle, and this wasn’t even the worst it had been through. He turned on the stereo.

The warden threw a party in the county jail

The prison band was there and they began to wail

The band was jumpin’ and the joint began to swing

You should’ve heard them knocked-out jailbirds sing

Liam grinned and gunned the engine. The van sped out of the lot and swerved towards the main road. It smashed through the chain fence with barely any problem, and within moments the sound of gunfire was behind them.

Let's rock everybody, let's rock

Everybody in the whole cell block

Was dancin' to the Jailhouse Rock

Liam turned to Kokichi. “Let’s not stop in with them anytime soon.”

[Kidpen he/him]

                                                                         

Armageddon chuckles at the note. "I don't suppose you can hear me?" The words remain unchanged. “Suppose I’ll have to get writing then.” Turning back to his desk, he writes out his message for the mysterious epic.

Dear Mysterious Forcefield Epic,

It's simple, really. Humanity is scum. Just look at me. I'm trying to destroy humanity. Does that seem like the actions of a good race? Circle logic I suppose, but it applies to everybody. We epics aren't changed by our powers-we just no longer have consequences. Without consequences, we don't have any reason to be good to other people. If a normal person could do whatever they wished, they would surely lose all perceptions of good or bad just as we have.

Sincerely,

Armageddon.

Looking up, he noticed that the words in the air had changed:

If you believe killing humanity is justified, then you are doing the right thing by attempting to destroy it.  Therefore, not all humans are bad. Are you an exception to your own rule? What about your followers?

-Blank

“Well that’s interesting. You can see, but not hear. Well then.”

The thing is, we're all horrible people. Murdering is undoubtedly evil-but primarily because of the effect it has on others. So therefore me destroying humanity is justified, but not me killing at a whim like I have done, as have my followers.

He looked back to the letters expectantly as they began to shift and change again.

If it's bad, then why do you do it?

This was starting to get irritating. Scowling, he went to write his response.

Simple. I. Don't. Care. And neither do you. Do you mean to tell me that you've never killed a child? And that's the problem. I know intellectually that it's wrong-I just can't bring myself to care. And that demonstrates exactly why it would be better just to completely restart.

Looking up, he saw the final response.

You have a point.  Very well.

And the illusory text disappeared with a puff of mist. That was interesting. Perhaps a new ally has been met. And with that, Armageddon turned back to his ledgers.

Edited July 22, 2018 by Kidpen

[Comatose he/him]

What am I doing here?  Brandon looked out at the Oregonian refugees around him, making up stories in his head about where they came from, what their dreams were, and how they had all survived the absolute terror of what happened in Oregon.  In his mind, his fellow survivors became political leaders with the ability to inspire crowds and lead in tough situations, soldiers with incredible determination and physical prowess, or scientific geniuses  whose ideas represented small rays of hope shining into the darkness that was slowly consuming humanity.  

Only in Oregon's case, the destruction hadn't been slow at all.  

It made sense that the few people Brandon had come to know during and since his escape from Oregon had survived.  Each of them had skills and gifts that supported a predisposition for survival in uncertain circumstances.  Ian, the unofficial leader of Brandon's group, was survival skills expert and a travelling lorist, with a catalogue-like level of knowledge of Epics and their powers.  Grant was unremarkable in a way that made him difficult to notice, allowing him to escape the attentions of epics.  Despite his small stature and the fact he was well into middle age, Grant had proven himself to have an impressive level of endurance, and his casual demeanor had a way of putting people at ease, even when he was mocking them with his sharp wit.  

Brandon, on the other hand, had no survival skills, no knowledge of epics or their powers, no innate ability to fade into the background, and no natural ability to diffuse situations.   What right did he have to still be drawing breath, and not only that, to be in relatively good circumstances, with competent allies on his way to a place of relative safety, when so many more worthy individuals were dead in the ground.  

"Don't feel guilty for being born lucky, B.  So what if things come easier for you?  That's not your fault.  Just remember to pay it forward now and then, okay?"  Brandon shook his head at the memory.  I'm sorry Lewis.  You should have made it here instead of me.  Lewis, at least, would have known what to do.  Brandon's last plan for survival had been to pretend to be in love with a maniacal epic shape-shifter and pop star, and he had barely escaped with his life.  High cheekbones, a handsome jawline, pillow-like lips, and moderate acting abilities shouldn't have been enough to get Brandon to where he was today.  And yet, here he was.  

"Hey B, come over here a minute," Brandon frowned at Ian's casual use of his old nickname, but kept quiet.  Ian couldn't know what the name meant to him.  

Brandon stepped over, and took Ian's binoculars, easily finding Edmonton, or Olympia Polaris as it was now called, in the distance.  "Finally.  And it's still standing.  After Calgary, I was growing worried."

Ian took back the binoculars and replaced them in his pack.  "I have a lorist friend there who should be able to put us up once we get into the city.  As much as I love living in the roughs, it'll be good to have a shower and get clean again.  And you, my friend, need a shave.  Not so pretty now that your stubble is becoming a full fledged beard."  

Brandon stepped back, taking mock offence.  "You're calling my beard bad, with that tangled mess on your face?  How dare you sir!"  

"I'm a woodsman.  This is my natural state.  Something tells me that mug wouldn't be as welcome at fashion week as it normally would be."  

Brandon ran his hands over jaw.  With Radiance, and then with Taylor, it had always been important that he kept up his appearance.  Even before that, between auditions and dating, he'd never really let himself go like he had the last few months.  It was partly freeing and partly terrifying.  After being the "incredibly attractive guy" for so long, who was he if he didn't have a mug fit for a magazine?  

"Well, looks like the group is moving again.  We still have a ways to go, and I want to split off early enough to choose a less visible entrance.  According to my contact, Edmonton has done fairly well for itself, but it's still a dangerous place, especially in certain parts.   Actually, before we get there, there's something I should tell y- . . .  Hey Grant!" Ian turned, and Brandon found himself momentarily jealous to have Ian's attention divided, "You ready to go?"  

"Yup!  Sorry, I was just finishing up with fixing your camera."

Ian took the camera, and took a few practice shots.  "Wow Grant!  Your a lifesaver.  Glad to have someone around who knows how to handle technology.  I swear I'm cursed.  You know," Ian paused, scrunching his brow slightly like he always did when thinking, "I actually think these pictures look better than they did before it was broken."  

Grant seemed to grow bashful for a moment.  "I. . . uh. . . swapped out the lense.  I had a couple spares kicking around in my bag and one of them fit."  

"Neat," Ian put the camera away, though it seemed to Brandon that he had wanted to say more.  "Well guys, we've almost made.  Let's see what Olympia Polaris has in store."  

*****

After trying, and failing, to participate in a conversation about mountain climbing with Ian and Grant, Brandon fell back a little.  Before Calamity, and up until he had left Vancouver, Brandon's primary form of exercise had been the kind you did in a gym, and there was only so much interest he could fake in stories about climbing different mountains that all sounded the same.  

"Hi Brandon!"  Brandon turned to see Charlene, another refugee, waving and hurrying to join him.  Leila, one of Charlene's travelling companions, followed after, more hesitantly.  

"Oh, Hi Char.  Ian says we are almost there.  How's the walk?"  

"Oh, not bad.  Well, actually, it's awful.  My feet were killing me.  Honestly, I thought heels were bad some days, but I'd take that kind of pain over this any day.  Plus, my butt looked way cuter."  

Brandon laughed, but he couldn't help but notice how his reaction made Charlene's smile widen slightly.  "I always forget.  Things were pretty normal in Corvallis, weren't they?"

Charlene shared a glance with Leila.  There's something she's worried about telling me?  While she was often silent, Leila seemed to be the unofficial leader of her and Charlene's group from Corvallis, much the same as Ian was for Brandon and Grant.  The two women shared an almost uncanny resemblance, aside from Leila's lighter hair, and freckled complexion, but swore they were not related.  "Pretty normal, yeah.  I mean, I had an office job, which you don't find most places these days.  But on the other hand, my boss was a flying, shining, dictator who could control the weather, so we had our share of excitement too."  

"Right, the 'Queen of Corvallis'.  Rainbringer, or something like that, right?  What ever happened to her?"

"Rainmaker."  Charlene glanced over at Leila again, as if asking for permission to continue.  "It was all so chaotic at the end, I don't really know.  I think she helped destroy the city in the end.  Either the power finally got to her, or maybe, after all the insurrection she felt it was better to wipe away her mistakes.  No one's really heard about her doing anything for the last year or so, so most people assume some other epic must have defeated her when everything went to hell at the end there."  

"Hey Zach," Leila broke her silence to call over her shoulder.  Her tone was crisp and professional, and Brandon found himself involuntarily straightening his posture at the sound of her voice.   "You want to join us?  Drink some water, you look thirsty."  Zach, who, with his carefully styled hair and hipster-style clothing looked almost as out of his element as Brandon felt, seemed to sigh as he slunk over.  Though Brandon didn't know the group from Corvallis very well, it wasn't hard to tell that Zach was a kind of outcast.  Brandon got the feeling that the guy didn't particularly like travelling with the others, and followed along more out of convenience more than anything else.  

"Anyways" Charlene continued, seemingly eager to recapture Brandon's attention.  "You were in the Dalles when it fell, right?  That must have been crazy."  

"Yeah, it really was.  I actually came there hoping to get away from all the insanity, and thought a settlement controlled by regular people would be the place to do it.  Thing was, I actually think it was crazier there than some of the epic-controlled cities I've been to.  Epics might be driven to extremes, but regular people can be too, if the circumstances are right. . . or wrong, I guess."  Leila returned the water she had shared with Zach to her bag, and straightened her glasses, frowning as she took in Brandon's words.  She'd actually be kind of pretty, if she took off those glasses, let her hair down, and smiled a little.  

"Were there really epics who served the Vanillas. . . or, I guess the word is 'Maples' now that we are in Canada."

"Yeah, kind of.  They all had their own motives and objectives though.  There was this telepath there, Reader, who would say the cruelest of things even to his superiors, just to show how indispensable he was.  I think he would have been willing to burn the whole city to ground if it meant he could say "I told you I was the best" at the end.  Some, like him, only served the government in the Dalles because it gave them positions of comfort and power.  Some might have been more altruistic, but for the most part, they were all regular epics."  Worrying he had been talking too much, Brandon decided to shift the focus of the conversation.  "Ian was telling me that in Corvallis, you had an epic who could make people happy all the time.  What was that like?"

"Oh, nice enough, I guess."  Charlene's response came short and clipped.  Ian had described how it had felt realizing his memories and emotions had been tampered with after leaving Corvallis.  Brandon guessed that Charlene must still be figuring out what she thought about it all, and wasn't quite ready to talk about it yet.  

"You guys excited to get to Olympia Polaris?"

"I'm just looking forward to the chance to shower, honestly.  And I hear the Albertan Government is still functioning, so maybe I can get a job with them?  If not, we've heard that Epoch's area of the city is supposed to be fairly organized, so I might try to find something there.  How about you?"

"Ian says he has some lorist friend who we can stay with to start, and then I don't know."  Brandon had grown almost, comfortable, travelling this last while with Ian and Grant.  Thinking about what separate paths they would take once they were settled was one more terror to add to the list.  

"Ian is a lorist?"  Leila seemed to perk up, her interest obviously piqued.  

"Kind of, I guess."  Brandon felt panic rising in his chest.  He hadn't realized that Ian being a lorist might be a secret.  Had Ian told him to keep it quiet?  Why couldn't he remember?  "He's like a, sort of, field researcher, I guess?  I don't think he knows much about the organization as a whole, but he does research and stuff, I think.  What did you do back in Corvallis, Leila?"  

Leila, after expressing the closest thing to genuine emotion Brandon had seen from her, retreated back behind her mask.  What is she hiding?  "Office job.  Same building as Char."

 

 

[Hemalurgic Headshot he/him]

Spider Murphy played the tenor saxophone

Little Joe was blowin’ on the slide trombone

The drummer boy from Illinois went crash, boom, bang

The whole rhythm section was the Purple Gang

The red van sped through the formerly quiet neighborhoods of Sherwood Park. Though here and there a house lay vacant and unattended, its lawn overrun with weeds and its window shutters stolen by some looter, suburban life seemed to go on as normal. It was clear that the Albertan government kept up some utilities in the area. Liam caught glimpses of startled residents peeking out their windows as the Samba zoomed past.

Let’s rock everybody, let’s rock

Everybody in the whole cell block

Was dancin’ to the Jailhouse Rock

Liam reached over and turned down the music a bit, then called over his shoulder to Kokichi, who was sitting on the sofa in the back, munching on some gummy worms.

“So, uh, Kokichi. Tell me a little about yourself. Where you’re from, what you do… if you’re fine with that.”

[DrakeMarshall he/him]

Ashla dialed another enforcer posted in the area, Alder Moran. The last one was too far away.

"Hi. How far are you from Mill Wood checkpoint right now?"

"A bit less than ten minutes walk. Why?"

"Good, close enough. Epoch sighted a suspicious visitor entering, big heavy cloak. Look into it. You will be sent a location."

"Understood," he sighed.

"Right, bye."

Ashla set her mobile aside, and started browsing a report on the Belt's recent activities.

.  .  .

Alder checked his mobile. Yes, this was the right way. Towards the strangely dressed visitor. Who even wears a cloak these days, anyway? It was probably nothing, though. There were a lot of strange people entering the city right now. Sending enforcers to nag every foreigner in the city was kind of pointless.

He kicked a rock along Millbourne as he made his way towards the checkpoint, and then abandoned it as he turned a corner, as he spotted her. It was difficult not to.

There was a lady on the street, keeled over and breathing heavily as if she had just been running hard. She was, by all standards, stunningly pretty, and it threw Alder off balance.

"Hi," he said lamely. "Um. Is everything okay?"

He realized, maybe she was running from something. The appearance of a sketchily cloaked stranger seemed too much of a coincidence. Maybe Epoch was onto something after all.

"I don't suppose you were runnning away from somebody? Maybe somebody in a big cloak?"

He waited for the stranger to catch her breath.

[DrakeMarshall he/him]

Lorri could recall Armageddon's words quite clearly. She prepared to recite them to Orbit, idly wondering if the message would have any effect. So far as she knew, no epic had ever been able to accept the tidings that humanity deserved extemination (more evidence of the vileness of humanity: those with enough power to ignore the truth always did so). Except for Armageddon, of coarse. Armageddon had known the truth before anybody else did; he was exceptional in many ways. Obviously, Armageddon was still a despicable person that deserved to die a painful death, just like everyone else on the planet. But, at least he was doing something to fix the problem.

The glass doors slid open as Lorri entered the Belt headquarters, which appeared to have once been a shopping mall. She guessed that the Belt was aware of her by now, though no members of the Belt had revealed themselves to her, yet.

"Hello?? I have a message for your boss, Orbit. Anybody home?"

[The Young Pyromancer he/him]

Jacklyn looked up to see a man looking toward her.  “Hi,” he said. “Um, are you okay?”  He looked around uncomfortably, before seeming to realize something.  “I don’t suppose you were running away from somebody?  Maybe somebody in a big cloak?”

Jacklyn thought quickly.   The man was probably referring to her, and if he was, then she did NOT want to be found out.   “Yes,” she panted out.  “There was a woman in red wearing a cloak that way.  She took the cloak off though.  She seemed insane.”  She pointed in the general direction she had started from, then slumped against the wall.  She then noticed the pamphlet still clutched in her hand. She began to read it over.

Edited October 28, 2018 by The Young Pyromancer

[Bladestorm]

Longbow stepped out of his office, fixed his bow tie, and wandered idly towards the entrance, noting the woman who stood there. He waited a moment near a monitor before the scanner showed she had no obvious weapons, and then walked out into plain view. He did his best to ooze the class his mother had always tried so hard to impress on him, and straightened slightly before making direct eye contact with the woman. There was a reason he ran the politics of the Belt; the others in the organization were slightly less...refined. Save for Orbit, of course.

“How can the Belt be of service to you, madame?” He asked, performing a slight bow that was scarcely more than a tip of the head.

[DrakeMarshall he/him]

“Yes,” she panted out.  “There was a woman in red wearing a cloak that way.  She took the cloak off though.  She seemed insane.”

She pointed towards the checkpoint, then slumped against the wall. She looked genuinely concerned. And still impossibly good-looking.

"Sparks," he cursed. "Sorry about all that, enforcement will try to deal with it."

He started to run off towards the checkpoint, now dreading what he would find there.

"Good luck settling in!" he shouted as he started to run towards where she pointed. "Maybe see you later!"

 

He jogged down Mill Wood, breathing heavily as he pulled out a mobile.

"Ashla. Stranger abandoned cloak, causing disturbance at checkpoint. Is wearing red, I think. I'm heading towards them."

"What? Is it an epic?"

"Don't know," he gasped.

"I'll tell Epoch then."

Ashla hung up. Alder stowed his mobile and continued towards the checkpoint, until he spotted somebody who definitely fit the bill for Epoch's mysteriously cloaked trespasser, now wearing red. And she didn't look very happy.

A fancily dressed fellow emerged from the headquarters.

“How can the Belt be of service to you, madame?”

His head inclined in a slight bow. Well, that already beats the reception we got from Chrysalis. I wonder if his demeanor will change after I've said the message.

"I come bearing a message to the Belt, from Armageddon." Lorri began reciting it from memory.

"He says 'Some of you may have gotten an idea into your heads to come and assassinate me, due to my current lack of powers. However, you should know that I have a power that comes seperate from my Epic status. I have strength in numbers. Each and every one of my followers have been instructed to ravage and destroy the city if I am killed, kidnapped, or even if someone attempts to do so. I have complete faith in my underlings ability to kill and demolish the city; and surely there’s no point in leading the city if there is nobody to lead? Of course, my door is always open to any who wish to join in the noble cause of ridding humanity from this world.'"

"Can you pass that on to Orbit? And, as always, do not hesitate to drop by if you wish to help end the world. We can always use more volunteers."

[Voidus]

Lexi ran out of an alley and onto the road, traffic wasn't exactly common these days given the limited availability of fuel but she still needed to nimbly dodge out of the way of a slow moving sedan as it gently rolled down the street. Once she was on the other side of the street she put her weight firmly on her right leg, feeling the muscles tense as they sprang back with enough force to push her entire body to the left.

Just in time for a large crack to rip through the air as a stone brick just ahead of where she had been exploded into shrapnel as a bullet collided with it.

"Sparks, sparks, sparks" She mumbled in a continuous stream as she continued her zigzagging motion down the sidewalk, passing by a cafe and leaping over a nearby table she heard the lourd, cursing voices behind her continuing to drop away. She was losing them, but without anywhere else to duck into they'd still have a line of sight on her as she ran.

A window in a storefront next to her shattered as her pursuers fired off another shot, thankfully this section of the city was pretty empty so no one else was in much danger. Then again if there were more people around they would have had a harder time tracking her movements.

As she passed an open door into an old apartment complex she again shifted her weight onto one leg before explosively extending it back, throwing herself into the entrance. Colliding with the wall she managed to turn herself around, slammed the door shut and pulled to a stop. Taking a second to catch her breath and brush her short-cropped black hair from her face she reached back and pulled her satchel around, shoving her hand in and rummaging for a few tense seconds before eventually finding what she was looking for.

A functional glock 22. The gang she'd stolen it from had likely pilfered it from one of the police stations after most of them had closed down but they'd kept it well maintained. And, as she saw when she checked the cartridge, was fully loaded.

Lexi slowly backed her way up the stairs, keeping an eye on the door and trying not to make too much noise. At the first landing she braced herself against the railing of the stairwell and took aim at the entrance.

"Two hands on the gun." She whispered to herself. "Calm your breathing. Tense your legs enough to run but not too tense in your arms."

A few seconds passed as she continued reciting her lessons to herself.

The door cracked open slowly, the long barrel of a rifle poking through. Lexi immediately unloaded a shot into the door, her aim was off slightly but seemed to clip one of her pursuers in the side. She fired another shot as a warning before bolting up to the second landing and rushing through the door there.
 

Impact walked the streets of Olympia Polaris, a long black coat pulled around her hid most of her body but her hair blew freely behind her and her clear, blue eyes faced directly forward, staring intently at anyone passing. Most of the people here seemed to have enough experience to know that only an Epic walked with such an expression of challenge and pride. They respectfully walked around her as she passed, many crossing the street entirely or turning about completely and trying to avoid crossing her path at all.

A condescending smile tugged at her lips as she watched them scurrying about. These people knew that she could crush them like the ants they were. These people knew how to treat an Epic of her stature.

It seemed that the term 'Maple' was used here to describe those who weren't chosen by Calamity. But Impact cared little what they called themselves, so long as they did as they were told.

As she took another step she twisted her abdomen awkwardly and felt the muscles there spasm slightly, causing a wince of pain that she quickly erased from her expression. The wounds she'd sustained in Oregon had healed as well as they likely would but she still had to be careful of certain motions, and her voice still cracked on occasion due to the damage her vocal chords had suffered.

But like most things in life, if you were clever you could turn these apparent weaknesses into a strength.  Only an idiot spends all their time speaking anyway, better to respond with only a short phrase when needed and keep everyone guessing. And if walking occasionally caused her pain, well then she could simply use her powers to move instead, and turn the simple act of moving from one place to another into a show of strength.

She stopped walking and instead used her gift, feeling her power lift her into the air slowly, one foot dangling gracefully as she left the ground behind her and took to the skies. She flew above the city streets, lifting herself higher and higher. Finally coming to a stop she examined the world below her, the city unfolded beneath her, small pockets of activity discernible where particularly dense population centers were.

She smiled as she watched it all, and knew that one day it would be hers.

[Hemalurgic Headshot he/him]

There was a pause from the back as Kokichi thought, the only sound coming from the crinkling of the gummies' bag, the hum of the engine, and the quiet Elvis playing in the background. After a moment, they spoke.

"Well, let's see," Kokichi began, then paused. "FYI, you'll keep driving normally so don't worry about crashing." Liam blinked and looked back at Kokichi, who was still lounging on the sofa. He quickly glanced back to the road, but the van hadn't started to swerve at all. Liam turned back to Kokichi.

"How do you do that?"

[DrakeMarshall he/him]

One Day Ago - University of Alberta

Taya stepped up to the reception desk, carefully blending purpose and bewilderment to give off just the right impression.

“Hiya, I’m Whiplash’s new assistant,” she announced herself.

“What? But, I thought Bartlett was his assistant?”

“Dead, I'm afraid. Died in that skirmish with ERA lackeys, just a few days ago.”

“Really? Damnation. He was pretty alright.”

“In that case, I’m sorry.”

“‘sfine. Comes with the territory,” he said, shooting her a pointed look from over the ledger that was splayed across the counter. “Where’s Whiplash got to?”

“Stayed behind to mop up, but he should be back soon. I’m supposed to report that we found MetalFist, and there was a fight. Metalfist lost, and ran away.”

MetalFist was a lesser epic that had started rampaging in the vicinity of the MEC not too long ago. His power was exactly what it says on the tin: his hands were made of metal. 

“Huh. Okay." He made a note on the ledger. "Anything else?”

“Yeah. I’m supposed to go update Whiplash's records on MetalFist with some important new details.”

"Best go do that, then."

"Yeah. Which way to Whiplash's files again?"

“Office in Rutherford Library, that way,” he pointed.

“Right, thanks!”

Taya headed for Whiplash’s office. Whiplash acted as a lorist for the MEC, and kept pretty good records on Edmonton's epic population.

It didn't look there were any offices on the first floor of Rutherford Library, so she headed up to the second floor. She scanned the various side rooms, trying not to look like she was lost, before making a beeline for Whiplash's office when she spotted it.

“Hey, are you allowed to be in there?”

She froze in front of the door. A woman dressed in a guard’s uniform was regarding her suspiciously. She had light-brown hair and a slightly severe expression on her face.

"Of course. I'm Whiplash's new assistant, updating his files."

Taya held up the tag that hung around her neck, identifying her as such.

"Let me see that."

Taya handed her the tag.

“Interesting,” the guard mused, with an expression of dawning comprehension and... Satisfaction? Suddenly, Taya was alert.

“This really is an excellent forgery," the guard said appreciatively, looking remarkably more at ease then she had a few seconds ago. "You stole a real one and doctored it, didn’t you?"

Sparks.

Taya did not think or hesitate, she bolted.

She flung the door open, virtually throwing herself down the stairs. It didn't look like the guard was giving chase. She sprinted down a hallway lined with books, running for the exit...

"Please stay for a moment," the stranger asked politely, popping into existence in front of her. Taya's heart nearly stopped as she struggled to arrest her momentum, coming to a standstill right in front of the "guard", freezing.

This was an epic. Most likely a sparking powerful one, from her bearing.

"Thanks," the stranger grinned. "Don't worry, I'm just interested in your performance back there. I wouldn't have picked up on it, except that I saw Whiplash's real assistant yesterday. You did this alone, right?"

"Why do you care?"

"Well, I'm thinking about offering you a job," she said frankly. "I'm Jayce, by the way, but most people tend to call me Curator. You?"

"Taya. And sorry, Curator, but I don't really take jobs from epics."

Taya spoke without thinking. Stupid. Growing up how she did, she lacked much of the deference and circumspection that most people needed to treat the epics with on a daily basis. It was going to get her killed.

"Perfect." Curator flashed another smile. "We should get along well, then. Despite appearances, I'm not anything like an epic."

What?

"Wait a sec. Are you a reckoner?"

"Sparks no. You'll understand soon enough, if you come along and listen to my pitch."

Taya glanced back towards the stairs. Towards the records, the ones that her survival might depend on. "And what happens if I decline to come with you?"

"Nothing much." She shrugged. "Except that, you seemed pretty desperate to get at those records. The people I am with, we have better records than whatever is in there. If you come with me, I'll let you see them, with no further obligations. Just for hearing me out."

"That sounds very generous," Taya said carefully.

"Well, it isn't purely altruistic," Curator conceded. "If you stole Whiplash's records, they would tighten security, which would be inconvenient. Easier to give you what you want."

"Fair enough."

"So, what's it going to be?"

Not much of a decision. She needed those records. "I guess I'll hear you out."

"Excellent. My only condition is that you can't tell anybody about what I will be showing you."

She didn't seem very concerned about that possibility.

.  .  .

"South Common. This is South Common. Are you insane?"

"Well, at least I'll prove to you once and for all that I'm no epic," Curator observed cheerfully. "Trespassing epics don't last long in South Common."

"You are insane."

"That, or I know something you don't."

"No, listen. I've heard a lot about this 'Typhon' thing. If even a half of the stories are true, the only thing keeping Typhon from ruling or destroying the entire province of Alberta is that it's so corrupted that it can't think. And while everything they say about Typhon sounds like a load of overblown rubbish, I've read about the epics that Typhon has definitively killed, and seen some of the footage. No matter which way you cut it, way too many of the stories are true."

The Curator smirked. "I've heard some of those stories, too. I kind of started some of them. Come on."

She grabbed Taya's hand and strode into the ruined complex. Typhon's lair. In the distance, she thought she could make out the vague shapes of people, cringing under crushed buildings, scurrying about with obvious fear. Curator dragged Taya deeper. Alarm seeped through her.

Taya set foot on the debris-littered curb, and what she was seeing changed. A shift in perspective. All the damage was revoked. The curb resolved into a clean pavement walkway. Collapsed roofs and ruptured walls were mended, many of them now complete with small gardens perched on top. Derelict interiors became an assortment of shopfaces, most of them repurposed into homes or storerooms. Broken windows became whole, and lights began to shine through some of them, revealing the occasional scene of a bustling cafe or living space. A man and a woman stood off to the side, engaged in a lively argument, both of them conjuring up images from thin air to illustrate their points. They both waved in greeting when they spotted Curator, and Curator waved back.

She was standing in the midst of a single block of a neatly kept, populated enclave, still surrounded on all sides by ruins.

"Welcome to South Common," Curator declared.

Taya gaped.

"The ruins aren't real," she explained as she kept walking, Taya following behind. When they reached the fringe of the scene, the area in front of them shimmered and shifted, drawing back to reveal more inhabited space. Taya looked back, and the area behind them had transformed back into a dilapidated wreckage.

A tiny city within a city.

"We started all this a handful of years ago, when 'Typhon' first appeared. Keep walking, by the way, those records you wanted are at the HQ."

Taya increased her pace, catching up. "But-- I don't understand. How?"

"Illusions. Basically, Typhon is an elaborate deception, designed to keep the epics out of our hair. Anybody desperate enough to seek shelter under Typhon's shadow has found this place."

"Illusions... Is that how you managed the teleportation trick back in the library?"

"...in part, yes," she hedged.

"Where do the illusions come from?"

"An epic. You'll meet him soon. It's kind of a long story, but somehow, giving away all his powers made him an exception. He lives a comparatively normal life."

"That... Doesn't make any sense."

"I would have thought so too, but, here we are."

They walked on in silence, Taya considering the implications. She had dealt with more epics than most. She had never heard of anybody gifting away all of their power like this. Most gifter epics would probably be offended by the idea.

They walked past some kind of market, sprawling on top of a parking lot. None of the people paid them much attention. She spotted a mural of deep green foliage rendered in brilliant detail along the walls, and noticed that it had the illusion of depth. The leaves glistened with dewdrops, and were puncutated by the occasional sunburst of a small white blossom catching nonexistent rays of sunlight. The vibrant decorations and bustle in her immediate surroundings remained encircled by an illusory backdrop of decaying structures, creating an interesting contrast. She noticed that the ruins had retreated significantly, expanding her field of vision to encompass more of South Common at once.

"Well, I'm glad I came to see this... Wow."

"Heh. You should see the gardens sometime."

"I think I would like that."

"I'll try to show you them. But right now," she pointed at a looming cathedral across the path, with four distinctive spires lining the front, "this is where we're headed. Twenty-third Headquarters."

"A cathedral building?"

"Oh, it's something different every day. Sometimes really wacky stuff. You'll have to ask Beckett about what it is today."

"Huh."

Curator stepped into the building, holding open the door for Taya behind her. The interior looked more like an office building, and possibly smaller on the inside. They walked through the atrium, passing a hyper-realistic illusory model of the entire city splayed out on a square table, which Curator practically had to drag Taya away from, and entered into a small conference room.

"Welcome back," a tall man with grey-black hair greeted Curator.

"Hey. Taya, meet my husband Beckett, who is the source of the illusion powers. He handles a lot of the internal affairs of South Common. Beckett, meet Taya, who may be joining us soon."

"Pleased to meet you," Beckett said. "Welcome to South Common, and Twenty-third Headquarters."

"And you," Taya returned. She recalled what Curator had told her. "The headquarters, are they modeled after a real world building?"

"Ah, yes. Today it is a miniature reconstruction of La Sagrada Familia, one of the most distinguished pre-Calamity structures, in its own right. Do you like it?"

"I've... Never seen anything like it," she said truthfully. "Did you create it?"

"No," Beckett said more seriously. "I don't use the powers."

He seemed to want to leave it at that.

Curator seated herself, motioning for Taya and Beckett to follow suit.

"Right, I'll cut to the chase," she started, addressing Taya. "As you can see, we're sheltering a fair few people here. It's getting kind of tight, honestly. But, there's always room for a few more."

"This is only possible because of Typhon, and other measures to handle the various other players in Olympia Polaris," Beckett added. "Which is where Curator comes in."

"We defend ourselves with illusions," Curator resumed, "Which involves a lot of pretending. I have a pretty big team of illusionists that do just that, hiding the real South Common from prying eyes, nudging events where they need to be nudged, and spying on the city's epics in case one of them ever attacks us. Do you see where I'm going with this?" Taya thought she did. "I noticed your escapade with the MEC. Call it a spur of the moment judgement, but I think you could help us. I think we could help each other."

A difficult call to make.

"Take your time. Think about it. And in the meantime, let me go fetch those records for you... What in particular are you looking for?"

Taya's expression darkened. In the last half hour, she had almost been able to forget.

"...I was looking for a healer."

"Oh. Oh." Curator's eyes widened. "I'm sorry. Could I ask who for?"

"Yeah, it's fine. I narrowly escaped the epic Fume in Fort Sasketchewan a few days ago. I got poisoned in the process. I'm not sure how long I have left."

"Oh dear. That's difficult."

"I'm not sure I understand," Beckett spoke up. "We do have some medical equipment here. If the poison moves this slowly, can't they just flush it out of your system?"

"Normally, yes," Taya answered. "But that's kind of Fume's shtick. It works slowly, but you never get better from it. No cure, except maybe another epic power."

"Oh. That is difficult."

"Yeah."

"We'll do what we can to help you," Curator reassured. "But, I think it would be in your interest to work with us here," she added.

"Thank you. Given the circumstances, I agree. I'll work with you. I don't think I have much of a choice." Taya answered with resignation. "But, for what it's worth, I probably would've agreed to join you regardless, even if my life didn't hang in balance. If my impression of this place is true, I wish I'd found something like this a long time ago."

"That decides it, then," Curator said conclusively. "We have a number of pressing issues to deal with, the most recent being Taya's poisoning... I think I might have an idea to hit a few birds with one stone, so to speak."

[DrakeMarshall he/him]

"Hello," the red-clad intruder greeted him.

Talking. That was a good sign. Still, she had caused enough of a disturbance to send another lady running away as fast as she could. Alder unholstered his pistol and flicked off the safety, but did not point it at her.

"Hello," he replied warily. "Please relinquish your weapons and come with me."

[The Young Pyromancer he/him]

Jacklyn finished the brochure.  It appeared to be a surprisingly good guide to the various factions of the city.  It seemed as if the territory she was in would be best, but that crazy red person was here, so Jacklyn would pick someplace else.  She made her choice, and started heading towards the territory of the former government.  As she walked, she shivered.  The cloak was just a precaution, but today had shown the usefulness of it.  It was a shame to lose it.  Underneath the cloak she had chosen to wear a baggy shirt and a pair of sweatpants.  Her flame-red hair was cut short in a jagged style.  Overall, she looked like someone who had been through a lot.  Many people she passed stared at her, but she was used to that.  Sometimes Jacklyn wondered if she would be better off picking an Epic and staying with them, but she hadn't tried that yet.  She hoped that the government would work out better than Epoch's territory had.

Edited October 28, 2018 by The Young Pyromancer

[DrakeMarshall he/him]

The intruder looked entirely unconcerned at the sight of a firearm, in the way that only the powered or delusional could manage. Actually, she was beginning to look slightly amused. A sense of dread crept over Alder. You didn't survive this long in his line of work, unless you maintained a healthy fear of all things epic.

He remembered the profoundly cursory training sequence ERA provided on the subject.

ERA Enforcer's Handbook, V.iii - Unauthorized Epics. When dealing with any epic, it is important to identify what kind of threat is present.

A knife clattered to the ground at her feet. Then, a second knife appeared, flowing from her hands, glistening and blood-red. She carefully ran the edge down her own palm, and droplets of blood spilled across the street. The implication was obvious. Drop my weapons? I am a weapon.

For an epic that lacks immunity to conventional weaponry, engage with caution. Detain if possible. See Appendix C for the necessary protocols with common ability types.

Alder doubted he could pose a serious threat to this epic. She lacked the unshakable confidence of a truly invulnerable epic, but she still regarded him like he was a particularly interesting specimen of bug that had crawled across her path. Also, the cut in her hand didn't concern her.

For an epic that possesses immunity to conventional weaponry, comply with all demands, then flee at the soonest opportunity. Prioritize contact with ERA superiors.

"Can you make me?" the epic asked, seeming to place genuine curiosity behind the question.

Alder could never get over how casual most epics sounded. Even while they carried out unspeakable acts. Especially then. Alder couldn't help but remember the time he had been assigned on a team with Quietus to stamp out a local gang... And what happened after. He remembered Quietus sounding downright cheerful as he removed the gang leader's eyelids so he couldn't close them, then forced the man to watch as Quietus brought in his family members one by one and found unique ways to torture them each to death, then carved out his eyes entirely at the end so it was the last thing he ever saw. The gang leader was allowed to go free, after all that. He lasted two days before throwing himself off Capilano Bridge. Alder shuddered. If he could have afforded to, he would have resigned then and there.

For an epic of unknown standing, assume that they pose a serious threat.

Alder had never heard of a blood epic in Edmonton. She could be new to the city, or new to being an epic. Who knew what she was capable of?

Most importantly, never engage an epic of any caliber in groups of less than three.

That decided it. He ran like hell.

[Voidus]

Impact glided softly through the air, watching the streets below her with interest. She skimmed the tops of the buildings, flying lower than usual so that she could watch the city from closer up. An overview of the cities layout was useful but knowing who was where, which groups feared each other and which strode through the streets confidently, that was what she needed.

She watched a group of men chasing after a young girl, spraying bullets throughout the street but seemingly unable to hit her as she nimbly dodged through the vicinity. If the girl was an Epic then her powered either relied on luck or else she wasn't very powerful, as many of the bullets came extremely close to stopping her permanently. Briefly, Impact considered intervening, trying to shake some information out of whoever was more talkative. But that might not be the best idea, she didn't know who the men were, who they were affiliated with. She had no qualms about fighting other Epics but she at least liked to know who she was up against.

Slowly she moved towards a checkpoint, interested to see if the entry procedure here was the same as the point that she'd come through.

She saw a group of people huddled together, a few of them backing cautiously away from a pair of people standing a short distance away from the main group. As she watched, one of the pair, a man with a gun pointed at the other, lowered the gun and broke out in a sprint, running away from the woman who remained behind.

Interesting. Another Epic here then? Still, somewhat lax of them to give up the second they find out that she's an Epic. I'll have to tighten things up when I take over.

Exerting a small amount of her power over her entire body, Impact pushed everything that touched her away, her clothes fluttered oddly, the elastic in her waistband continued to pull the fabric tight against her skin just to be repulsed again.

That should be enough for now. Impact mused after a quick examination.

She crested gently down to the street some distance away but kept herself slightly aloft, both for the slightly better view it gave her, and also the instant fear it caused in the nearby Maples who all immediately found a reason to be somewhere else.

[DrakeMarshall he/him]

Greetings to Karabiner,

      I hope this message finds you well. A great deal has changed recently, but ultimately, I do not believe we have a conflict in interests.
      In any case, I understand that time is a precious resource to some (I have even heard people say that time is money), so I will get to the point. I would like to open negotiations to make a purchase. I am specifically looking for a directed energy weapon that fulfills certain requirements, requirements that I suspect nobody in Edmonton could meet as well as you could. I would, however, be willing to consider any other acquisitions you wish to offer.
      I wait upon your response.

            Best regards,
                  Epoch

Finley slipped the note into an envelope and sealed it. A tad old-fashioned, but it was less intrusive and more formal than trying to call Karabiner's mobile. Most epics failed to grasp the sheer utility of treating others with respect. For that reason, Finley was almost grateful of his weakness, and how it forced him to think differently. Of course, it was still galling to have it leaked to the entire city. It kept him from taking certain risks, from fully taking advantage of Edmonton's power vacuum.

"I want this delivered to the Fence. Preferably, to Karabiner in person."

"I'll bring it." His assistant accepted the envelope.

"Good," Finley nodded his assent. "Also, somebody get me some more tea," he continued absentmindedly, gesturing vaguely at the empty cup beside him. He wondered how Karabiner would react to his proposal. He wondered what the Alberta Government was getting up to. He wondered for at least the tenth time who was behind Doubletake's death.

"Epoch?" It was Ashla.

"Yes?"

"There's been an incident. At the checkpoint you asked to have investigated."

"Checkpoint... Right, I remember. With the stranger in the big cloak."

Already, his awareness slipped away from the immediate surroundings and went out to that general part of his territory, zoning in on the checkpoint. He could see multiple perspectives worth of information in any given area, enough to be overwhelming at first.

"Yes, the cloaked one," Ashla confirmed. "But she abandoned the cloak. As for what happened after that... The reports are conflicting. But, there's definitely an unknown epic wearing red at the checkpoint."

"An epic wearing red... Aha! Found her."

Dressed in dark red and a ponytail, she was facing down one of his enforcers, holding a knife made of... Was that blood? Interesting. She said something, but he couldn't identify what. The visions were not accompanied by sounds, although Finley was working on improving his lip-reading. In any case, whatever it was she said, it made his enforcer bolt. Finley suppressed a surge of irritation. He wanted to see what this epic was capable of.

"...and now we have another epic is arriving on the scene," he observed, spotting a second epic as she soared from the sky, touching down one block over and hovering above the ground. Watching. He wondered if she watched in the same way that people before Calamity would slow down to catch a better look at a car accident, or if she watched in the way that a bird of prey might regard a potential meal. Or, perhaps more like a scavenger bird.

She was yet another unknown factor. This could get messy.

"So, conflicting reports," he said tersely. "Explain."

"In the last report from the enforcer tasked with finding the cloaked stranger, he was certain that it was the red epic. But a team at the border claims that they saw somebody else under the cloak, a woman who ran away. In which case, the cloaked woman could be unrelated."

"No. No, I don't think the cloaked woman is unrelated. The sudden appearance of two unidentified and apparently unrelated epics in the very checkpoint I wanted investigated is no coincidence. She played a role in this, I can feel it."

Finley examined the new arrival, a thought occurring to him. "This woman, she didn't look anything like the flyer who just arrived, by any chance? Long blond hair, blue eyes? Ask the checkpoint team."

"...negative. The cloaked one and the flyer are not the same person. They are claiming that the cloaked one would be very easy to recognize."

"Interesting. In this case, I think I can piece together what happened here then. The cloaked one is undoubtedly a third person. Since everything happened after she revealed herself, we have to assume she caused all of this. Tentatively, I am going to label her as some kind of epic, probably indirect in some way, but exceedingly powerful and dangerous. The enforcers say they could recognize her easily? Good. If she is still in ERA territory, I want her found."

"Noted. And the situation at the checkpoint?"

Trespassers, testing his borders. Edmontonian epics would be testing him because his weakness was leaked. Newcomer epics would be testing him because they didn't know any better. So, this obviously wasn't just a simple matter of dealing with trespassers. People would be watching, and he had to send a very clear message to the rest of the city. If some people would only ever submit to a show of force, then so be it.

"Shut it down. Start by sending in the enforcers immediately. Quietus will be arriving not very long after."

"Very well."

"If it is convenient, try to capture the epics. If it proves less than convenient, feel free to just kill them. Or, if all else fails, at least give them some interesting new scars to live with as they make their way out of my territory."

With that said, Epoch waited, still watching the distant scene unfold.

[The Young Pyromancer he/him]

Jacklyn suddenly realized that she had no idea where the Albertan Government was.

Edited October 28, 2018 by The Young Pyromancer

[Voidus]

Neverthere strode barefoot through the streets of Edmonton. It had taken her over a month to get set up in the area properly, and she'd been relatively cautious about making herself too noticeable until she had a better grasp of the city. But now she knew what she needed to know, knew the various factions of the city and how the recent death of Doubletake had created a gap that someone needed to fill. And people looking to fill a gap would be looking to recruit.

She avoided contacting the local group of minor Epics, her experiences in Portland were that they were likely doomed as soon as one of the cities more powerful Epics had the reach to take their territory from them. They might make a bid for power in the coming days but it likely wouldn't be successful.

She walked over the North Saskatchewan River that cut through the middle of the city, she held her arms out as she walked on the current, as though to maintain her balance. A few people on the nearby banks watched with a mixture of curiosity and worry, one man seemed to be squinting towards her, as though trying to read something.

She shifted herself directly next to him, appearing in a small puff of mist that was barely visible in the daylight that filtered through the clouds above.

"Never be number two." She whispered in his ear as she fully materialized.

The man jumped nearly out of his skin, one leg collapsing underneath him as he spun to look at her. When he noticed that she seemed to have instantly teleported in front of him he decided that continuing to kneel on one leg was probably the wisest course of action.

"S-Sorry?" He stuttered out.

"My shirt. It says 'Never be number two.' I noticed you trying to read it." Neverthere said, gesturing towards her bright pink t-shirt with one hand.

"Sorry!" He stammered out again, tone shifting from a question to a profuse apology. He'd known people who'd been killed for far less than staring at an Epic.

"Why would you be sorry?" Neverthere asked, tapping one finger on her mouth thoughtfully and adopting a vacuous look. "Have you done something that should annoy me?"

"Uh, no, I mean I don't think-"

"You don't think? Well that's terrible. You really must remedy that when possible." Neverthere said. She scanned his face more intently for a moment before pulling out the pen that she kept behind her ear and scribbling on her palm for a moment. "I'll come check up on you later to make sure you've learned to think. Kay?"

Nodding rapidly, the man kept his eyes on the ground, not meeting hers.

Neverthere nodded in satisfaction before turning around, facing the south east section of the city.

"Oh, and by the way, if anyone asks if you saw me on the river, just tell them I was never there." She said with a final giggle before shifting away again, leaving the man to sweat for a minute and a half before he dared to stand back up again.

[DrakeMarshall he/him]

Alder Moran aimed a taser at the red epic across the street.

A group of four enforcers backed him. Another team of five was advancing on the flyer.

"I repeat: please relinquish your weapons and come with me."

He pulled the trigger.

.  .  .

Epoch stopped watching the scene, and started scanning his territory for the cloaked epic. He assumed she was on foot.

The enforcers were about to reach the red epic and the flyer epic, and Quietus was on his way. More importantly, this situation might just be a distraction to let her slip into his territory unnoticed. If it was only a distraction, it raised troubling questions about what she was really after.

He finished a circle around the checkpoint, and started a wider circle. Either she was very good at hiding or she was moving faster than expected. Possibly still running? If she was trying to escape into another territory, there wasn't that much he could do to stop her, unless he got lucky and spotted her with his remote vision, or she tried to use one of his fast lanes as a way out. ERA didn't care nearly as much about who left the territory as who traveled into it.

[Hemalurgic Headshot he/him]

When Kokichi began speaking, thus began one of the strangest experiences in Liam’s life. It wasn’t just that he began to see something that obviously wasn’t there. No, he had fought illusion Epics many times before with the Circle. He had always been prepared then. He had seen many strange, eerie, and beautiful things done by Epics with their powers, but nearly every time, he had prepared himself beforehand.

The flashback came unexpectantly, and what’s more, Liam let it happen. That was the difference.

As Kokichi began to speak, the air in front of Liam began to shimmer and warp, gaining color and definition before, at last, the mirage began to depict Kokichi’s life story. Shapes and forms gained clarity, and Liam could see a young child lounging on their bed, reading a comic book. Liam knew it was Kokichi, but the child was vastly different, yet the same. The hair, the eyes, the way they relaxed, all of these things had changed. Yet it was Kokichi.

Through the window rose Calamity. Yes, Calamity. Liam caught himself mid-snarl and tried to relax. He hated Calamity. Young Kokichi stashed their comic book and rushed to the window, watching the sinister red dot climb into the sky.

The scene changed, and the way it did set Liam off-balance. The whole flashback sequence was eerie, moving in a stuttering way at times. It was like the animation in an amateur film: missing a few frames here and there. In a series of following clips, Liam saw the descent of chaos upon Florida: gradual, yet sudden. In that same fashion Kokichi learned to use their own powers.

Liam watched Kokichi escape Florida, but then the mirage blurred, as if viewing something very fast zoom by. When it cleared, he saw the red van, his red van, and the familiar Canadian countryside. Finally, the image dissolved, leaving Liam staring at Kokichi, who looked simultaneously smug and expectant. The van also had not crashed.

Liam took a moment to collect his thoughts while Kokichi waited. They had obviously declined to include certain parts of their past, and Liam respected that. Of course, they couldn’t object if he did the same.

“Alright,” Liam said after a minute or two, “I suppose that it’s my turn.”

“There I was, happily married…

It was a Tuesday, Liam remembered. The initial scare of the new red star, now named Calamity, had passed, and Peterborough was settling down again. Liam hadn’t paid the doomsayers much mind, because none of the other doomsdays (2012, for example), had ever come to pass, so he didn’t have much cause to worry. He wasn’t worrying when he got home from work that Tuesday evening.

Melanie, his young wife whom he had married the year before, was just setting the table for dinner when he walked in. Their son, Oliver, cooed in his padded chair. He walked in, gave Melanie an affectionate peck on the cheek, picked Oliver up and spun the smiling baby around before setting him down, then set his laptop on the kitchen counter. Liam could remember it all like it was yesterday.

“Honey,” Melanie began. These words were the beginning of the end. “How was work today? Did you get the raise you asked for?”

The raise. Melanie had always been a go-getter and tried to get that philosophy to rub off on Liam, who was a bit more laid-back. One day, she decided that he deserved more money than he was getting, so she challenged him to speak with the manager about it. On Monday, he had, but did not receive an immediate response. That response came Tuesday.

Liam paused. “Well, no,” he said sheepishly. Melanie set the stack of silverware she was holding down with a clank. “No?” She inquired, her pretty coffee-brown eyes staring into his soul.

“I asked the manager yesterday, like I told you. He said he would think about it. Then, he told me today that the company was not in a position to increase my salary.”

Melanie bit her top lip, like she always did when she was trying to control her anger. “’Not in a position to increase your salary…’ the nerve! Liam, you are more than deserving of a raise, and you should know that! I’ll speak to your manager myself,” she declared, then began to resolutely finish setting the table.

“What?” Liam exclaimed. “You can’t speak to him!? I mean, he’s not your manager.” Melanie whipped her head around to look at him, eyes ablaze and startling on her feminine face.

“Liam, I care about you. I care about our family. This family deserves that raise.”

At that point, Liam gave up. There was no arguing with Melanie when she got like that. And unfortunately, speaking to the manager herself didn’t change anything. The atmosphere at the dinner table that night was tense, despite Oliver’s adorable antics. The root of Melanie’s anxiety was Oliver. She wanted the money for him, it was obvious. However, it was hard for her to vent sometimes, so the emotion would just sit and simmer for weeks, or months, until it exploded.

I remember the night after the hearing. The night after my life was truly and completely broken. The first night since my marriage that I was alone. I can tell what happened that night in two words.

I cried.

It didn’t make any sense to me in that moment, why my beautiful loving wife would suddenly break our relationship and take our only child with her. I couldn’t blame it on her. I wasn’t done loving her yet. And there is no way on this earth that I would blame this on Oliver. Not him.

So, I blamed it on Calamity.

It was completely logical. Before Calamity, our marriage was perfect. We had Oliver. I had my job and with it, a steady income. After Calamity, all of that was taken from me. I couldn’t function for weeks after the divorce, and when I finally came back to work, I just couldn’t focus. The only thing I could focus on was the old Volkswagen Samba my Uncle Jeremy had left me when he died. So, I devoted my life to that vehicle, since I had nothing left to devote it to. I suppose that love and effort I put in is finally repaying itself.

When the Epics arrived, people with spectacular powers, I didn’t pay them any mind. My world was already over, so I didn’t care about the rest of the world. When the office I used to work at—thankfully I had been fired a month prior—exploded in a flash of blue light, I realized that I still had my life and I was going to keep it that way. I was also about to get evicted. So, I packed what was left of my belongings into the Samba and left town. I could say I never looked back, but I did. How could I not—

RATATATATAKKATKATAK!!!

The spray of machine gun fire pinged off the Samba’s reinforced exterior and left a crack in the passenger window. Liam was ripped from his reminiscent reverie and swung around to the front. Closing in on every side of the vehicle were black dangerous-looking motorcycles, each driven by an armored man wielding a machine gun. On their helmets was the insignia of the Albertan Government.

“Pull over! We have you surrounded!”

[DrakeMarshall he/him]

South Edmonton Common

A new message scrawled itself across the windowpane.

Dear Typhon,

By the way, an Epic calling himself "Armageddon" has said that he intends to destroy all of humanity.  And if he is taken out, his followers have orders to destroy the city as much as they can.  I thought you'd like to know.

-Blank

Jayce pictured her reply, and caused the words to materialize just below the first one, transcribed in a curving script.

Thanks for letting me know. I've already heard about Armageddon while I was doing some stuff in the MEC. Who did not react well to him, by the way. I don't suppose you can see about how many people he has following him?

Also, while we're doing the current events thing, you might be interested to know that there was apparently an attack on the Belt last night, by unknown epics.

Anyways, hope you are well,

-Typhon

Satisfied, she left the illusory message fixed onto the window. She knew it had been received.

"Another epic in the city," Beckett observed from behind her.

"Yep. It's been a while since there were this many new epics in town to look into."

"And a while since so many people sheltered in South Common, too. How's your rookie holding up, by the way?"

"She was determined to learn the illusions... I don't think she slept at all last night."

Jayce allowed some concern to enter her voice. She was staring out of a window, looking across South Common. Today, the headquarters was styled as a set of colorful towers taken out of a work of pre-Calamity fiction: the Chromeria. It was somehow fitting.

She glanced back at Beckett. With the sight, she could see the signs that marked him as an epic. A third eye fixed to his forehead, following the movements of the other two. A network of shimmering, multicolored threads tangled around him, reaching out in all directions, connecting to everybody he had gifted. One of them connected to Jayce. One of the ones that stretched off in the distance would be connected to Taya, now.

"She's made a lot of good progress, but I don't know how she'll handle things in this state," Jayce explained. "I suppose it isn't any more disabling than being poisoned, though."

"...did you know who she was?"

"What?"

"When you picked her up, did you know she was the same girl from the incident at Fort Sasketchewan?"

"I suspected," Jayce admitted. "Their descriptions were a close match. It was part of what caught my attention."

"Ah." Beckett shook his head. "I should have known better than to think you had only one reason for doing something," he said dryly.

Jayce grinned.

Now - Sherwood Park

The bad news is, we don't know of any epic in this city or in a neighboring city that could possibly cure your condition.
The good news is, a possible new lead just surfaced. If you intend to follow it, you don't have much time.

Taya entered the Alberta Government offices, taking in the pleasant coolness of an air conditioned facility.

She didn't trust herself to alter her appearance with an illusion, yet. Instead, she relied on more mundane tricks to obfuscate her identity. Her jet-black hair was pulled back in a ponytail and dyed a half shade lighter. She dressed more formally than she normally would. A small birthmark on her neck was covered over. It wouldn't hold up under scrutiny, but nobody in Olympia Polaris would know her well enough to make the connection.

Her eyes ached from staying open too long. She felt oddly numb. After forcing herself to stay awake for long enough, she had pushed through the exhaustion. She would probably crash hard, later. For now, she was able to function.

"Hello," Taya greeted the assistant, whose placard named her Louise.

"I would like to speak with Premier Notley..." She held out her palm, and a glowing insignia flashed across it, "As an agent on behalf of the Circle of the Shield."

Rather irresponsible of them, to flash that badge at every checkpoint guard they came across. It was the only reason South Common even knew who they were. She had spent the better part of the last hour practicing the illusion.

"I see. I'll let her know that you are here, Agent...?"

An idea occured to her. She smiled slightly at the irony.

"Rook. Agent Rook."

[Voidus]

Impact remained perfectly still as the five armed men and women approached her. They'd drawn their weapons and aimed them in her direction.

One of these people had better have the power to make these toys of theirs shoot rockets or I'm going to be insulted.

She arched one eyebrow in their direction, neither moving to attack nor raising her arms in surrender. From her vantage point in the air she saw the another group of similarly uniformed and armed guards closing on the disturbance that she'd first seen, one of them firing off a shot.

The five who had approached her traded looks, seeming slightly put off by her nonchalance to their threats. Hopefully they'd be wise enough not to try and attack her anyway, she was interested in seeing where this went.

[The Young Pyromancer he/him]

Jacklyn slumped to the ground.  This was the third time she had passed that bookshop.  She had no idea how to get anywhere.  As she stood up to as for directions, she heard a voice behind her. 

Edited October 28, 2018 by The Young Pyromancer
Made it easier for others to add on.