jwbullfrog

Hah, I didn't even have to say anything.

I am inwincible.....

In fact gang, I'll throw something at you now. I need a few characters for cameo appearances in later parts of the story. This might be a simple way to participate even if you can't contribute to something bigger.

I can use heroes or villains on Protector (but not anyone that hasn't left Praetoria please.)

If you wish to take part in this, I will ask you to PM me with the Character's name and a brief description of powers and/or appearance.

Characters you contribute to this will only be used in forum postings and you're not committed to anything else.

Who knows, I might make you famous...

Royals Books and Music's Talos Island store was one of Cassadega's favorite places. Although it was fundamentally the same as the three other Paragon City locations, with the same selection of books and CDs and popular movies, Talos had one feature the others didn't...

Dave the Barista.

Dave was unremarkable in many different ways. He wasn't handsome but he wasn't ugly either. His thinning hair was an unimpressive shade of brown with streaks of grey. His eyes were an indecisive shade of brown, and his voice was just barely, not quite, monotone. Yet, despite all this, Dave had one quality that elevated him to a near Godlike status in Cassadega's eyes...

He was a genius with coffee.

With just the simplest of descriptions, Dave could make any coffee based drink in existance. He knew brewing times to the microsecond, understood which grind would be perfect for any situation, could judge water temperature by sight, and could, unerringly, remember customers' orders back to the first time they entered the building. Once he learned a regular's favorites, he could have one ready and in their hands in moments.

"Venti Quad Espresso, whole milk, ten sugars. Here you are Cass."

"Thank you, Dave, " She said as she handed him fifteen dollars and waved off the change.

Yes he was a genius. Quite a fair amount of her own tips made their way into his tip jar. She was determined to keep him right where she could find him.

Royals: Talos also had the advantage of being just a few blocks from her own apartment. Although she grew up in King's Row, she had moved over to Talos to get some distance from her family. She loved the old neighborhood but it was hard growing up surrounded by the cousins, and neighbors, and friends of friends of friends, that all combined into a massive interconnected clan. In the Neighborhood, privacy was something that happened to someone else; and when you were thirteen years old and able to hear the thoughts and feel the emotions of everyone within a hundred yards, it was too much to bear.

It was Grand Aunt Alecia that came to her rescue. Around the Neighborhood, Aunt Alecia was simply, 'La Bruja'. A witch from the old country. She had emigrated from southern Spain in the late 1950's and set up a small shop in Kings row. From there she had quietly raised her family and watched over the Neighborhood. She was the first person to recognize Cassadega's gifts and her first teacher. She taught Cassadega how to build a wall around her mind, and how to use her gifts to heal, guide, defend and, if necessary, to kill.

Aunt Alecia introduced Cassadega to other women. All of them were from the old country but they came from different places and different traditions. They all had something to teach her. Herbalism and Spiritualism, the Names of the Powers and the Forces, the forms of Ritual Magic, and the art of conjuring. Along with these lessons came generations of wisdom and advice, as well as a few more... esoteric skills.

Cassadega was part way through page 76 in her new copy of "The Sun Fell Down" when a very unwelcome thought brushed across her mind. She glanced over the top of her book to see five heavily armed men in gray uniforms step through the glass doors at the front of the store.

"Citizens, your attention please, " boomed the lead figure as the other four spread out behind him. "You have been given the rare opportunity to assist The Council in our ongoing struggle to bring a New Order to the World. My associates will be moving among you and collecting your cash and valuables. If you cooperate fully, you will be rewarded with knowing that you made our rise to power possible that much sooner." The assault rifles in their hands made it very clear what would happen if someone didn't cooperate.

The Council. A group dedicated to a total Fascist nation who, to a man, failed to realize that any hope for their 'New World Order' died in the 1940's. They were always armed and fanatical and, sadly, consistently able to recruit new soldiers from the idealistic and disaffected. They were a plague in the Neighborhood when Cassadega was growing up. She didn't hold any love for them now.

Cassadega marked her place in her book and slowly rose to her feet. She was badly outnumbered but she had a trick or two that would help even the odds. The only problem was that she had to get everyone paying attention to her. Being the center of attention was nothing new, but most of her audiences weren't homicidal.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, " she began, pitching her voice into the familiar ringmaster cadence that she opened her shows with, "As you can see we have a special treat today. It appears that the cast of 'Springtime for Hitler' has joined us today." Her hands started moving through a basic juggling pattern, small balls of light flared to life in her palms and spun into motion. She needed all of them looking at her. Time for some flash.

"I've heard its a good show, but you know, you really should look into firing your costume designer. Those outfits don't do anything for you at all." The lights shifted into more intricate patterns, weaving in and out, back and forth, hypnotically.

"And your casting leaves a bit to be desired. Paragon deserves better than roadshow Nazis..."

Five rifles snapped to shoulders, time was up.

Cassadega's hands flew out to her sides scattering the 'balls' that she had been juggling. At the same time she sent a strong mental command to every mind in the building.

Sleep.

The customers and staff fell unconscious to the ground instantly. They had no resistance to this sort of thing. She could see that she had tagged three of the council soldiers as well, increasing her odds to 2 to 1. Better, but not great. It was their move now.

The squad leader and his remaining soldier both opened fire at full auto. Assault rifles were loud and could spit out lead bullets at the horrifying rate of up to 600 per minute. This fact was strong motivation for Cassadega as she dove to her left and out of the line of fire. She knew she hadn't gone unnoticed as part of the 'Classic Mystery' section shredded behind her. She wasn't hurt yet but she couldn't let this go on for too long.

She scrambled down the aisle past the blasted remnants of Christie and Conan Doyle. The firing had stopped and Cassadega was thankful that they were at least professional thugs. They wouldn't waste ammunition firing blind. That gave her a few seconds grace.

Where is Statesman when you need him? Or Manticore, or even Fusionette for pete's sake? This is their job.

She could sense that the soldiers had split up. They were most likely coming around each end of the aisle to trap her in a crossfire. Since the aisle ran halfway across the store, she knew that there would be a hole in their timing. The soldier coming to the end closest to the coffeshop would arrive first.

Cassadega stopped moving and dropped bonelessly to the ground. She focused her attention on that end of the aisle, if she could just make eye contact for a moment...

The soldier rounded the aisle, leading with his rifle's barrel. His gaze landed on a body lying in a slowly spreading pool of blood on the floor. It was the dark skinned woman that dared defy them. He could see that she had been hit in multiple places and was as good as dead unless she received immediate medical treatment. Since his standing orders included confirming any and all combat kills, he stepped forward to check the body.

Cassadega held her breath and continued to project two different mental images into the soldier's mind. The first was of a bullet torn, very dead, version of herself, while the second was a compulsion 'not to see' her real body slowly inching past him back to the end of the aisle.

The squad leader came around the far end of the row to see his trooper kneeling in the middle of the empty floor. As he strode forward, his subordinate looked up with tears in his eyes. "You killed her," he whispered. "My only friend in the whole world and you killed her!" The last few words came out as a shout as he emptied his weapon's magazine into his commanding officer.

As the Commander's body fell, Cassadega released her hold on the soldier's mind and put him to sleep. There was no way to make him forget what had been done to him, but she could spare him further misery. She could hear sirens in the distance. It was time for her to go.

Aunt Alecia had lectured Cassadega long ago, that taking control of another's mind was completely unethical and it should never be done for any reason. "But," she continued after she was certain Cassadega understood that point, "If its a choice between breaking a mind or letting innocents die, Querida, a mind can be fixed easier than the dead can be raised."

[Protector: Day of Vigilance (Official Storyline)]

Special Report
The following article appears in the Paragon Daily Sentinel on May 23, 2011

　
Hiya Paragonners, Alexis Alexander here with a special report.

I had originally planned on bringing you my five part report on the state of the Paragon city sewer system; "Is the city keeping the books flush?" when I received the oddest thing in my E-mail. It came in with no signature and no source. It read simply:
There is a matter of great importance I need your assistance with. Meet me behind Wentworth's in Atlas Park at dusk. Bring a notebook.

Now, apart from the fact that reporters have not used notebooks for a decade or two (My last one was in third grade and had a pink Unicorn on the cover) this piqued my interest. Reporters are, by nature, curious beasts, and the idea of a clandestine meeting really appealed to me. Besides, I'd just spent two weeks in the sewers, anything had to be better than that.

A few hours later I found myself walking around the Atlas Park location for Wentworth's Consignments. For those of you who have never visited one of the Wentworth's locations, I would recommend them as a great site for Hero watching. Sooner or later, all of Paragon's heroes stop in to trade and sell some of their more exotic trophies.

Although there was a brisk trade going on the main floor and I could see the well known figures of Sonja Skull-Bearer, Nacht Jaeger, and several others, the loading docks were all but empty. Halogen bulbs shone over the access doors providing entertainment for the local moths, and deep shadows for people to hide in.

A low, harsh voice echoed from one of the shadows. "Thank you for coming," it said. From a different patch of shadow stepped a tall, dark, figure in cape and cowl. Yes, I'll admit it, even though I was expecting it, I was startled. Lets face it readers, it's not something that happens every day, even in Paragon City.

As the figure stepped further into the light, I could make out just enough details of his costume to make an identification. EtherFalcon.

EtherFalcon was one of the city's crimefighting elite. There were confirmed reports that he'd led two counterstrike teams that succeeded in bringing down serveral Rikti assault ships as well as routing three full Rikti assault teams during their last raid; so you can understand why I was beginning to wonder what he could need me for.

"Ms. Alexander, I've receieved information that several villains out of the Rogue Islands are planning a raid in force on Paragon City. I need to know when they plan on doing this and why."

"Um," I said in my most un-reporterlike tones (did I mention that I was still a bit intimidated here?) "Isn't this something that you can, you know, grab a few gang members off the street and shake them until they tell you what you need to know?"

He laughed quietly. ( I made EtherFalcon laugh!) "It doesn't always work that way outside of comic books, Ms. Alexander. I suspect the only way to find out is to go to the Islands and ask questions there. I cannot go myself, I'd be too much of a target. But you, Ms. Alexander, are a private citizen and an accredited reporter. You'd have a great deal more flexibility than I would."

I would by lying to you, readers, if I didn't admit that I almost dialed up the travel agency right then and there; but, not only are reporters curious, we also have a strong sense of self preservation. After all, getting the story of the decade is only worthwhile if you're alive to write it.

EtherFalcon read the questions on my face. "I'll arrange an escort for you. You can meet them on the Talos Island docks tomorrow morning. Please act quickly Ms. Alexander, the safety of the city could depend on what you discover."

The Imperial City Underground was not a good place to live. It was, like sewers throughout all the known worlds, dirty, smelly, filled with unpleasant sights and smells. It wasn't bad enough that the Underground was the clandestine battlefield between Loyalist and Resistance forces, but it was also home and hunting ground to the cannibalistic scientific rejects known as Ghouls.
The Imperial City Underground was not a good place to live, but it was a excellent place to die.
Magdalena Delgado knew the hazards of the tunnels well. For the past year, she'd been forced to make them her home. She knew the cardinal rule to survival was to keep moving. Change your hiding places every few days, never carry anything you don't absolutely need, sleep light, avoid the deep tunnels, be ready to kill; these were the things that kept you alive. Forget any of them and you could be eaten alive by a Ghoul or, worse yet, become a 'volunteer' in one of the Tyrant's research programs.
Given the choice between lunch of lobotomy, I'll choose lunch. At least the Ghouls won't try to convice you that it's for the greater good.
Magdalena had very good reasons for staying out of the hands of the authorities. Since she had been caught in the crossfire of a police assault that involved live fire in a public park, she'd been an active member of the Praetorian resistance.
The incident that the nightly news had called 'a scheduled police training operation' had cost fifteen innocent civilians their lives and wounded twenty others. Magdalena was one of the lucky ones that day. The bullet that grazed her head missed killing her by a fraction of an inch but it destroyed her right eye. The damage would have been easy to fix if she had been willing to go to the hospital but that would have brought her to the attention of the wrong people.
Magdalena was a Talent. In Praetoria, having super human abilities meant that you either joined the Powers division and became one Tyrant's attack dogs, or you kept them hidden and prayed you'd never be found out. In Magdalena's case, the situation was infinitely worse. Magdalena was a Telepath and that meant that you were automatically given over to the loving care of Precentor Tillman. Otherwise known as Mother Mayhem.
In Mother's care, her psychic abilites would have been measured, and encouraged, and trained for the good of Praetoria. She would have been put to work monitoring the thoughts of the public looking for any sign of disharmony. All in the name of the public good, of course. Finally, after she'd outlived her usefulness, and before she could regain any ideas of her own, the benevolent Precentor Tillman would burn Magdalena's mind to a cinder to keep herself young and beautiful.
The Resistance offered a way out, but not without a cost of it's own. Despite what the government claimed, the Resistance was far from a unified movement. The membership ranged from social reformers, who were looking for a peaceful transition of power to dedicated hardcore revolutionaries and anarchists who would love to see the Tyrant burn and Praetoria along with him. Joining the resistance meant walking a fine line between all of the factions; trying to be useful to all of them without becoming a threat to any of the others at the same time.
If she had any choice, Magadalena would be anywhere but here. For now though, the resistance was all she had.

The last few balls spun through the air, dropping one by one into pockets, into the nearby fountain or unexpectedly exploding into a multicolored display of fireworks. The dark haired street performer at the center of it all knew that it was always a good idea to leave the crowd with a bit of flash. They usually gave more money that way.
"Thank you everyone for joining me for the last few minutes," she said over their applause. "Thats all I have time for today, but I will be back here tomorrow. Enjoy the rest of your day and, please note the small hat on the ground next to me. It gets extremely sad unless it has money in it. And you wouldn't want to be responsible for making a hat sad, would you?"
That last line usually got laughs, not to mention bringing in an extra Dollar or two. Another trick she had learned was to leave them feeling good about themselves. If that was something as silly as dropping a quarter into a hat so it wouldn't be 'sad' then so be it. The important part was that they left in a better mood.
And, if they're in a better mood, I have fewer headaches. That alone is worth all of the trouble.
She would never get rich off of the tips that people left behind, but on a good day like today, she could make enough for a decent meal and to feed her Espresso habit. She was fortunate that she really didn't need the money. Thanks to the foresight (literally) of some of her ancestors, she was the inheritor of a small but comfortable amount of wealth.
Cassadega Delgado had become something of a fixture on the streets of Paragon City over the last few months. She had claimed a corner of Atlas Plaza and begun a simple streetcorner magic act. Her songs, puns, card tricks, stories, and bad jokes had gone unnoticed at first but slowly, more and more people took a few minutes out of their day to watch her act. It almost seemed that, in a city filled with superhuman men and women who could fly, or shoot flames from their hands, or lift buildings, there was something comfortably normal about a dark skinned gypsy street juggler.
Oddly enough, it wasn't just the general public that started to take notice. Some of those same superheroes started hanging around her shows. Discretely, of course. It just wouldn't do much for their image to be seen gawking at something so mundane as a juggler. Cassadega welcomed their presence since it all but insured that the local street gangs would leave her and her audience alone. The Paragon City gangs were generally considered to be slow learners, but word got around quickly... "Leave the juggler alone. Unless you like pain."
It took a few minutes for the crowd to disperse. It was getting near the dinner hour and many of them would be heading for the trains and home. Atlas Park may have been the administrative hub of the city, but most of the people who worked there actually lived in the older brownstones of Kings Row or the high tech condos that made up Steel Canyon. The few residences in Atlas were several blocks away from the plaza. Once City Hall closed up for the night, the plaza was all but empty. Cassadega waited a few extra minutes to make sure she was completely alone before she spoke quietly to the air around her.
"Ok kids, time to wrap things up. Come on now, All -y All-y, all's in free..."
From where they had landed earlier small balls of light, fire and lightning rose into the air and settled into orbit around her. The air was filled with the faint sound of excited chattering and Cassadega smiled. Although she used them in her act, and even referred to them as pixies, most people just assumed they were illusions or slight of hand. In reality, they were all the small nature spirits that Cassadega had been taught to see and summon many years earlier.
She had used the spirits as part of her act from the beginning. They allowed her to do tricks that the simple physics of juggling could never match. Although they were just lesser spirits and therefore not too intelligent, she was able to make them understand what she wanted them to do. Once they got the idea however, it became more of a trick to rein them in. Somedays, when they got particularly exiteable, it was all she could do to keep her hands moving fast enough to keep up.
The spirits were one of the things that Cassadega wanted to keep secret. Neither the spirits or her would be in danger if people knew, but she would lose an important edge. Even without the spirits she was an expert juggler, but so were a lot of other performers.
A good magician never reveals her tricks. And good Espresso is expensive..
She let the spirits circle for a few moments more before raising her hands palms out and reciting the words of release,
"I let thee go, in joy and good cheer. Return now in peace to your places untill I call thee again."
With those words the spirits faded or, in a few cases, popped, out of sight. She had built up good Karma with the spirits and knew they would be there when she needed them again.

A quick note before we begin:

I may have posted this before. If I did, it would have been three years ago. So, for those of you that have been around that long and think that this seems familiar, forgive the repeat. Please don't spoil the ending for everyone else.
For Everyone else... Please Enjoy

JWB


VINDICATION

It was raining in the Rogue Islands. It seemed that every time she'd come here it was raining. The young crimefighter had begun to believe that somebody was doing it to her on purpose.
"Huh," she said under her breath as she huddled next to a broken section of wall trying to find some warmth, "You'd think with everything he's got under his thumb Recluse would invest in some weather control technology." She laughed quietly as the thought occurred to her, "then again, he probably likes rain."
She called herself Quiet Vindication. It wasn't the most exciting name for a crimefighter, but it reminded her why she kept doing it. Somebody had to try and make up for other people's sins.
And at least once a week I voluntarily walk into Hell, she thought.
Tonight she was on Mercy Island tracking members of the Skulls, a street gang that made up a large part of the Paragon City drug trade. It seemed that no matter how many were arrested by Paragon's heroes, they always came crawling back out of the woodwork.
Like roaches, she always thought.
This particular group held special interest to her since they were selling to students in the dorms at the University. People she shared classes with. People she knew.
Movement across the street brought her thoughts back to the present. There were three of them, all in the typical leathers and skull masks she had gotten all too familiar with. From her angle she couldn't be certain that these were the ones she wanted but they had to be going somewhere important. Even gang members wouldn't go out on a night like this if they didn't have to.
She wasn't the greatest tracker out there but she'd been in the game long enough to know how to follow people without being seen. For once tonight, the weather was making her life easier. The gang members never bothered to look around. After a few blocks, she dropped back into the shadows as the Skulls entered one of Mercy's numerous burned out buildings.
At least it'll be indoors.
One of the first things you learned as a Hero was that there was always more than one way in to a building. Unless you were someone like Statesman, walking in through the front door was almost always a lot of pain followed by a quick teleport to the nearest hospital. Neither of those options sounded good tonight. A quick search found a fire escape in pretty good condition and an unguarded window a few floors up.
In an empty office she pulled the waterproof pack she had been carrying off of her back and opened it up. Inside were the compound bow and the special arrows that had become the tools of her trade. She had started her career without any kind of weapon but after a few very painful defeats, she admitted that she needed something more than her mutant healing abilities and some basic martial arts training.
Gang lairs always seemed the same. The sounds of voices, shouts, and several radios all playing different music and all too loud. The smell of old fried foods, smoke, unwashed bodies, and other things she was trying not to think too much about. Pornographic grafitti sharing wall space with the latest centerfolds, puddles of leaking water and other liquids.
OK, we get it, you're antisocial. Can't you at least set off a bug bomb or two?
Slowly she continued down through the building. It had been easy so far, she'd only run into two Skulls and a couple of quick net arrows and some knockout gas solved that problem. They were now sleeping it off in a broom closet. Unlike some heroes, she didn't enjoy violence. She wouldn't kill unless she had no other choice.
She stopped near the top of a set of wide stairs. From what little she could see they led down into a large room. It sounded like a lot of people were down in that room, a lot of ANGRY people.
Great.
" I told you to stay away from the University!"
"But we're selliing there..."
"The place is crawing with capes these days"
"They ain't nothing..."
"Yeah, they can't stop us..."
"SKULLS! SKULLS! SKULLS!"
And now they're chanting. I'm alone in an abandoned building, on Mercy Island, at night, with a street gang who are ready to kill the first hero they see. Why me?
She reached over her shoulder to the quiver on her back. Her fingers searched throught the fletchings until she one particular arrow. She always carried the explosive ones with her her hoping not to need them. Sadly, she almost always did. She fitted the first to the string and stepped to the top of the stairs.
"Don't make me use this!" she shouted as silence spread across the room. Twenty death's heads stared up at her. The safeties on twenty guns clicked off.
Oh, Sh...
The fingers on her right hand opened releasing the arrow she had drawn. In less than a second it flew down the stairwell and impacted in the center of the room. A microsecond later, the explosive tip detonated throwing the nearest gang members toward the walls. Spinning on her heels, she didn't wait to see the results. She knew her only chance was to spread them out in a running battle. If she could get them split into ones and twos, she might have a chance.
Bullets were already tearing into the walls as she sprinted down the hallway. Her fingers found one of her glue arrows and she stopped just long enough to send it behind her in a quick snap shot.
Hope that wor.... "Aaagh!"
She could feel the bullets as they hit her back and legs. She stumbled from the impact and the pain but kept running. She focused for a moment and triggered her healing gift. Wounds that would have been fatal in a normal human closed instantly. This was the real reason for her success, an almost instant ability to heal herself and others. As long as the damage wasn't immediately fatal she could keep fighting.
Doesn't mean it doesn't hurt.
It all became a blur. Up stairs and down halls, taking shots where she could. She knew that she had taken some of them out of the fight but not enough. She hit the door to the roof with her shoulder and burst out into the storm.
She skidded over the wet surface, her feet sliding out from beneath her. She bounced off of a defunct A/C unit and landed face first on the torn roofing tiles.It wasn't fatal but she couldn't draw a decent breath and focus. She could hear the sound of the bolt on an assault rifle being drawn back.
"You know what?" growled a voice behind her "You hurt us. You hurt a lot of my boys bad and now I'm going to hurt you. I'm going to break all the bones in your body and make you wish you were dead but I ain't going to kill you until I can dig that microchip out of you and make sure you stay dead."
She had just started to crawl toward the roof edge when the first bullets hit. A line of burning pain shot across her back and into her shoulders. She collapsed briefly as she felt her legs go dead. She knew she was paralyzed and in too much pain to focus clearly. She had only one chance to survive, she had to make it to the edge of the roof.
"Where you going Hero? You think you can get away? I ain't done with you. My boys ain't done with you. You gonna be with us for a long time."
The gun fired again. Bullets tore into the old tar paper and bounced off of metal and concrete. She felt two more impacts and her pain deepened. Slowly she kept moving forward. The edge of the roof was just inches away.
"What? You gonna jump cape? I guess I'll just have to shoot your hands off."
The skull had moved far enough out of the doorway that she could see him at the edge of her vision. His face was a covered with a tattoo and not a mask. Only their leaders had those. Bone Daddys they were called and they were nothing less than brutal killers. She could feel warm tears from her eyes mixing with the cold rain. If he fired again, she would never get away and he would kill her.
He raised the gun to his shoulder and pulled the trigger but, instead of the sound of automatic fire, she heard the click of the bolt jamming. As the Skull started swearing and trying to free the jam she levered her body out over the edge of the roof and looked down. There was nothing below her except the street six stories below her. With the last of her strength she pulled herself over the edge and surrendered to gravity.
Please, let this work...
************************************************** ****************************
The first sight she saw when she opened her eyes was the face of a weary looking intern. As her eyes regained focus she could see the familiar Crey reclamation units lining the opposite wall. As she had hoped, the fall damaged her enough to activate the recovery circuits all heroes had. By comitting suicide, she had saved her own life.
"Welcome my dear," said a voice from behind her. "You are a very unexpected guest, but I hope you are well now?"
Something about the voice was sobering. As her mind started to clear she could make out more details of the room around her. The walls were bare and industrial looking. The colors and shapes were all wrong for a recovery ward. She tried to sit up as the realization hit her but restraints held her down.
"Thats right my dear," said the voice again as a woman in the elaborate headdress and uniform of one of Recluse's Fortunatas stepped into her line of sight. "You are a guest of Arachnos. I hope you enjoy your stay."
　
VENDETTA

Well, at least it finally stopped raining, was Angelica Vendetti's first thought as the hum of the matter transport beam died off. The crumbling wasteland of Mercy Island was someplace she usually stayed away from. "Lord" Recluse used the place as a sort of Darwinian boot camp for his newest superhuman recruits. More than a few would be "Masters of the World" disappeared into the back alleys and sewers never to be seen again. Except maybe in smaller, ready to use pieces in the Facemaker's freezer. Only the smartest or most vicious made it out.
She looked out over the top deck of Fort Darwin, one of Arachnos' two outposts on the island. She could see the latest batch of orange jumpsuits climbing out of the hold of a flyer. Normally it might be fun to watch them fidget while the Arbiters gave the traditional "Orientation" speech, but she had other buisness tonight. Burke said he had something that might interest her but he would not talk about it over the phone.
Probably just another excuse to stare at me, she thought as she let herself drift slowly to the ground. Flight was just one of the more enjoyable side effects of having superpowers. For a person with the right mindset, there were other benefits as well.
Burke usually set up shop in an alley just a block or so from the front doors of Darwin. Close enough to hear the gunshots and the dying screams of those the drones decided were "troublemakers". He always claimed he liked to be close to the action but she figured he'd been standing there for long enough to start liking it. Usually she avoided the old creep but his information was rarely wrong and almost always profitable.
She could hear the low drone of voices as she rounded the corner in to the alley. Burke had made a career out of recruiting new talent. It was pretty well known that he had no love for the Spiders so youngbloods that didn't want to be part of Recluse's grand experiment usually came to him first. Angelica had been one of those not all that long ago. Shaking her head at her own foolish sentimentality, she walked through the shadows to where Burke waited.
"Ah, Doc Vendetta, " Burke said as he looked up and saw her approaching. "Give me a moment to finish up with this charming young lady will you?" The "charming" young lady was dressed in black silk, satin, and lace. Her hair was jet black and fell straight to the middle of her back. She had too much mascara around her eyes, too little sun on her skin and about two inches too many on her heels.
"Come back to me when you've finished with that." he said as the young woman ran off. His eyes lingered on her retreating form a little longer than necessary before he turned back to where Angelica was standing.
"Another Zombie Master, Burke?" Doc asked.
"How can you tell?"
"Well the uber goth-bad vampire flick look was my first hint," she said with a touch of scorn in her voice "but honestly its the smell. Every time I work with one I feel like I need to shower for a week. Now what's so important that you had to drag me back here?"
"I don't suppose you'd believe me when I said it was just for the pleasure of your company?" the faint tone of hope in his voice faded as a faint glow formed around her hands. Burke knew that she wasn't the most dangerous villain that he worked with but she could still leave him in a lot of pain. He decided not to push his luck.
"About a week ago the Spiders increased security at one of their labs over in Cap Au Diable. My informants tell me that an entire strike group has moved in and one of those mind witches seems to be running the show. Nobody can tell me what they're up to in there but it has to be important. Anything they put that much firepower around is probably worth knowing about."
Doc's eyes narrowed as she thought about it. She didn't really have any personal issues with Arachnos. A mercenary could not afford to hold grudges. You never knew who your next employer would be. She'd made a respectable fortune selling her mutant healing talents to various criminal groups throughout the islands and, if she avoided making the wrong kind of enemies, she would be able to give it all up in a year or two. Still, Burke had a point. Anything Arachnos put that much effort into was probably valuable to somebody.
"Standard terms?" she asked. Burke was honest in his own way. Never in all of the time she had worked with him had he cheated on a deal.
"Of course. I'll pay you for information, even more if it's something you can bring to me. I don't care what you do to get it, just as long as it doesn't bring the Spiders to my door."
"If there are as many troops there as you say there are I'll need to call in some friends."
"As many as you like Doc. If the information is good I'll pay them as well."
"I'll take it. One last thing Burke, " she turned and stared him direcly in the eyes, "Why give this to me?"
"You're as honest as anyone gets around here. It may be foolishly sentimental of me, but I respect that."
************************************************** ***********************************
Two nights later, Doc was standing behind a pile of crates in a restricted corridor of one of the many supposedly impregnable Arachnos facilities in the Rogue Islands. The smell of ozone filled the air as energy bolts shot past her. This had not been one of her better nights. She'd already had to resucitate two of the members of the team who went down in the initial push on the entrance and she had been working her abilities close to the limit. The Spiders had more drones in the facility than she expected and had used them to scatter her team. Now a combined squad of Arachnos soldiers and Mu Adepts were driving her into a corner.
"This is Doc, I could use some help here!" she shouted into her headset. She'd been hearing nothing but static for the last few minutes and wondered if it was her own natural radiation or if the rest of her team were still functional.
She stepped out between the piles of crates and pointed her hands toward the soldiers. An almost invisible bolt of focused microwaves shot from her left hand spearing straight into the chest of the remaining Mu. She'd been playing tag with him for the last few minutes and she smiled as he crumpled to the floor. She didn't get to enjoy her success for long as the four remaining soldiers started to charge her position.
A brief moment of concentration activated another aspect of her abilities and the area around the soldiers flooded with radiation. It wouldn't last long enough to kill them but it would make them sick enough to slow their reactions. It might give her the few seconds she needed. She took a deep breath and sprinted directly toward them. She was pretty certain she was immune to her own radiation effects but it couldn't hurt not to breathe it in. She had to get past them.
Doc had managed to open up a small lead before the first of the bolts hit her. It hurt, but she could deal with the damage. The second bolt knocked her off of her feet and sent her sprawling headfirst into a set of pipes along the wall. Colored lights danced in the corners of her vision as she staggered to her feet. She had to keep moving. Arachnos was not known for it's humane treatment of prisoners.
Two more shots bounced off of the walls around her. The radiation was having an effect but they were gaining too quickly. Doc rounded a corner and ran straight into a cloud of darkness.
A deeper patch of black moved past her. Although, stalked might have been a better description.
For the first time in several hours, Doc smiled and let herself relax. Things were about to go very wrong for the Spiders and she had a ringside seat. Knowing what was coming, she dropped to the floor... and covered her ears.
Ever since the Rikti invasion crushed her throat and destroyed her voice, Whispering Swan had anger issues.
Deep...Dark... Primal...Issues.
On her good days she was moody and introverted. Occasionally, a bit of the charm and personality that helped make her a star would even show through. On her bad days though, people died.
Just like Doc, this had not been a good day for her.
The Arachnos soldiers stopped in confusion. Doc knew they were facing a brightly lit hall and that they couldn't see a thing. Before their minds could sort things out, Doc watched Swan take a deep dreath and open her mouth. Swan's scream lashed out at the soldiers with a solid wall of force. All four were thrown backwards and into the wall beyond. A second shout burst eardrums. A third crushed ribs and stopped hearts. It only took a few seconds but it would be minutes before Doc's ears stopped ringing.
"Are you alright?" said Swan in the harsh whispering croak that was all that remained of her once famous voice.
Doc propped herself up on one elbow. "I'm aching. I'm tired. I want a bottle of wine and my hot tub. How are we doing?"
"That should be the last of them," said Swan as she helped Doc to her feet. "Scarlett and her misfits have already downloaded everything they could find in the computers and now they're busy grabbing anything that isn't nailed down."
"Well that should keep her band of thugs happy. Any sign of the Fortunata that Burke mentioned?"
Swan stopped walking and turned to face Doc. "No," she said. "We must have missed something. We haven't found anything big enough to be worth this many soldiers."
Doc was about to agree when she heard Scarlett's familiar British accent in her earpiece. "Bloody Hell Doc, I need you down here now." That was all of the warning she gave before time and space twisted dropping the Doc into the center of what looked like a prison wing. Scarlett was standing a few feet away by the deactivated door of a holding cell. She looked upset. "My boys found someone. It's way beyond what I can fix."
Angelica looked at the figure in the cell. It was a young woman in torn, stained, clothing. Her hair was matted with old blood and dirt. Angelica's trained eyes recognized signs of severe physical trauma, and deprivation. As she gently brushed the hair out of the young woman's face, Angelica's breath caught in her throat.
"I need to get her out of here," Doc whispered. "I need to...," she paused, tears starting to slide down her cheeks. "I need to get her home."
"You know her?" Scarlett had worked with Doc for years and she'd never seen her react like this before.
"Yes." Angelica's face was wet with tears. "She's my sister...and she's a Hero."

OPPOSITE SIDES OF THE FENCE

What is...where is...how? she thought, her mind twisting slowly in the breeze. At least its getting some fresh air. She giggled softly before clasping her hand over her mouth. Mustn't let them hear you Alice, the Queen is oh so upset. You shouldn't have told the Mad Hatter that his pants didn't match his shoes...
The darkness set in again. The world faded from brilliant color to sullen Monochrome. Dim, dusty red light crept in from around the corners and green electrical arcs lurked in the corners.
The Queen is coming...Now youve done it Alice... Keep calm...Stay polite... maybe she won't cut our head off this time ... NO!
************************************************** ************************************
Daniella Vendetti woke up in bed. Warm yellow sunlight streamed in from the window and added a touch of warmth to the white linen sheets. Light scents of Lavender tickled her nose. It was all wrong. The window was on the wrong side of the bed and the paint was the wrong color. And I hate Lavender, she thought.
Slowly she slid out from under the comforter and put her feet on the floor. The rug beneath her feet had the slightly soft, prickly, feeling of rough wool. A fullsize mirror standing alongside the head of the bed showed her reflection. Her short reddish-brown hair looked clean but also like it had not seen a brush for several days. She was dressed in an oversized shirt that reached down to mid thigh. What she could see of her arms and legs looked free of scars and bruises. This isn't my apartment. Where am I?
Her instincts and training began to take over. For some time now she'd been patrolling Paragon City under the name Quiet Vindication. Thanks to her inborn healing talents, she was one of the incredible number of superheroes that lived there. Although "super" might be overstating it a bit after the last few days, she thought bitterly. Her memories of the last few days were full of impossible images and blank patches. She could clearly remember fighting the Skulls and her desperate escape but after that things became...confused.
Her hand closed over a heavy glass ornament from the dresser opposite the bed. As a weapon it wasn't much, but it might give her a few seconds advantage.
She opened the door and stepped through the short hallway and into the room beyond. Tasteful leather chairs matched with the artwork on the walls and complimenting colors of curtains and pillows gave the overall effect of walking into an interior decorator's portfolio. Top of the line electronics shared shelf space with leather bound books. She could see dimly lit rooms through other openings but it was the large picture window built into one wall that caught her attention.
The street six floors below her was lined with what looked like cobblestones; very unlike the broken concrete of her own Overbrook neighborhood. A normal looking crowd of people were moving through the streets but a particular group caught her attention. Standing on the nearest corner were a group of men in 1700's style clothing trying to hand bits of paper to the people walking by.
Street performers? A band? Why does this remind me of something?
A floating glimpse of yellow drew her eyes to another building down the block where three men in jetpacks slowly hovered. Things she had read started drifting back into her memory.
Goldblockers...backers...Goldbrickers! But they've never come into the city before. The Renaissance Fair throwbacks are Luddites. Oh, this is NOT good.
She knew where she was. Cap Au Diable, another of the Rogue Islands.A better neighborhood than Mercy but much, much more dangerous. Assuming she could find the money, and my clothes, it would be at least two ferry trips to get her back to Mercy. From there she would have to sneak or bribe her way on to a ship going back to the mainland.
"I've got to get out of here," she said as she started to turn toward one of the other rooms she had seen earlier.
"You might want to get dressed first."
Quiet Vindication spun on her heels, right hand with the ornament raised high to either hit or throw, her left hand in a low blocking position. Behind her, leaning against the counter in a small kitchen, was a taller woman in white clothing. The woman was holding a green ceramic mug in her left hand and most of a bagel in her right. Her red hair was done up in a tight professional bun and a pair of red tinted sunglasses were tucked inside the neckline of her shirt. A faint greenish glow surrounded the woman as she set the mug and bagel down on the counter and started walking forward.
Vindication was taken by surprise at what seemed to be the other woman's sudden appearance. Her right hand shot forward, letting the ornament fly while her eyes frantically searched the room for anything else that she could use. The redhaired woman effortlessly dodged the glass missile letting in crash into the cabinets behind her. Increasing her speed she took two steps forward and grabbed Vindication by the shoulders. Daniella was too weak to break the grasp but her struggles threatened to knock both women to the ground.
"Damn it Dani, knock it off! You're safe!"
Dani. Not Daniella. Not Quiet. Nobody had called her that for years not since...
"Angelica?" she said. This was one shock too many for the young crimefighter's mind and her knees collapsed.
"I'm called Doc here," said Angelica Vendetti as she guided the younger woman to one of the leather chairs.
She knew her younger sister was in good physical condition, having personally seen to her recovery over the last few days, but she was surprised at how strong her sister had become. Her mental image of Daniella would always be as a lanky twelve year old with her hair in braids and dirt smudges on her cheeks and forehead. Not the slim, athletic, twenty year old sitting across from her.
How she looked the day I left home.
Anger replaced confusion in Daniella's mind. Of all the people in the world, why her? This day just gets better and better.
"Yes, I know," Vindication said flatly. "The infamous Doc Vendetta, mercenary for hire. Need medical care for your terrorist organization or gang of Super Villains? Call Doc."
Daniella's hatred colored every word and gave her voice strength. "I know who you are. I know you threw away your gifts and your career and everything you'd been given to become a criminal. I know you've helped the worst killers in the world walk away from their crimes without a scratch while innocents die." She quickly stood and stared down at her older sister. "And I know you're no better than the gang thugs I was chasing."
Daniella turned to walk out of the room. Her clothes had to be somewhere in the apartment. Now it was even more important that she get out of here and back to Paragon City.
She managed only a few steps before two rapid waves of weakness overcame her. Her skin felt itchy like she had suddenly gotten a bad sunburn. She slumped slowly to her knees as she fought back a wave of nausea. If she could focus for a moment she should be able to use her talents to shake off the worst of the effects but she wasn't sure she'd be given the chance. Doc was standing over her, a heat shimmer covering her palms.
"I do not need to justify my life to anyone. Least of all to you or anyone else in our family." Doc's voice was toneless and as cold as the grave as she said the last word.
"I like my life. I have everything I want and I've gotten it on my own terms without somebody telling me I owe them for it. I'm doing more with my gifts than I would ever be allowed to in normal society and, despite what you think, I've done more to keep the world in one piece than wasting my time chasing down drug dealers and petty thieves. So spare me your hate and pity. Save it for yourself."
Daniella felt the weakness and nausea fade as she saw Doc walk past her into one of the unknown rooms. Now that she was able to breathe she closed her eyes and let her healer's gift flow through her body. She could feel tears in the corner of her eyes as adrenaline caused her to shake. She wanted to leap up and claw her sister's eyes out. She wanted to open the door and run until she couldn't run anymore. She wanted to scream and yell and cry. She wanted...
A bundle of clothes landed on the floor in front of her. A moment later a small bundle of papers landed on top of them.
"The I.D. and cash should be enough to get you onto the ferry to Port Oakes. If you change quickly you should still have time to get there before they shut down for the night. There's a door to Pocket D there and Zero owes me a favor, so you can get home that way." Doc walked into the kitchen and started cleaning up the broken glass. Behind her Daniella changed and started to open the door. Her hand paused on the doorknob.
"Angelica?" she started.
"Go home Dani," Doc said, without turning around. "Go back to Paragon City and do what you want with your life. Don't come back."
Behind her the door opened then swung shut.
"You're not safe here."
　
VALIDATION
　
Pocket D was never less than fabulous.
But then what else would you expect from an extradimentional rave? thought Daniella Vendetti as the brief disorientation of the portal crossing faded.
It had literally popped into existance a few years earlier and soon became the worlds most exclusive club. Exclusive? thought Daniella as she stepped around the low screens blocking the main room, If you're not part of the "cape and cowl" set, then you'll never get past the front door.
The club was the domain of a mysterious being known only as DJ Zero. Mutant or Magician, Scientist or Technofreak, absolutely nobody knew anything about him before his doors opened.
Since it was impossible for fights to happen in the main part of the club, Pocket D had quickly become something of a "no man's land" in the neverending war betwen heroes and villains. It wasn't unheard of to see people who, in other situations would be the deadliest enemies, sharing a quiet drink or dancing or generally getting a chance to be "normal" for a while.
A few years back, Zero had started hosting his infamous "holiday events" and, for a few days each year, things got decidedly silly.
Daniella smiled as she remembered the first time she had walked in on one of those. Zombies in santa hats looking more miserable than usual and that whole deal with the Candy Canes. Granted, the ski slopes were a blast.
Her smile was short lived as the full force of her anger came rushing back. Suddenly, even the lights and the beat and most elaborate decorations meant nothing. The one person in the world that she hated the most was the one she owed her life to.
Damn her! she raged silently. Where does she get off lecturing me? She never saw how often mother cried when she was gone and she didn't have to watch as father drank himself to death after his 'perfect' daughter left home. Somebody had to take care of them. Somebody had to be resp... Tears stung the corner of Daniella's eyes. She never even came back for their funerals.
Moving more by random chance than any deliberate path, Daniella managed to cross the dance floor. So far it was a quiet evening. Only a few patrons lurked in the shadows and fewer still were dancing. She hadn't noticed that Zero had dialed down the lights giving the room a more intimate feeling. The trance-y, New Age-ish music he had switched to suggested meditation, contemplation, and peace.
Save it Zero, she thought bitterly. I'm not in the mood.
"Good Evening Quiet Vindication. How may I help you?" The perfectly cool, professional voice interrupted her thoughts. By chance her path had taken her to the reception desk for the Vault Reserve branch inside Pocket D.
Like so many other things, the Vaults had appeared in the wake of the Rikti invasion and were now almost indispensible to superhumans. The Vaults provided storage for heroes and villains alike, giving them a place to keep their more unusual trophies. More importantly, it didn't matter what branch you used to put an item into storage, you could get to it from any other Vault office.
I'll bet your little transdimentional fingers are all over that as well Zero, thought Daniella as she opened her personal box. Instead of random bits of salvage, her box contained something even more important to her: her set of backup gear.
A few minutes later Daniella emerged from a nearby ladies room, dressed for a fight. A dark blue Kevlar vest covered her from neck to waist. A slightly worn, but still serviceable pair of her blue leather motorcyle pants and boots completed her wardrobe. Hanging from her back was a quiver full of specialized arrows and over her left shoulder was her old recurve bow; unstrung for now but not more than a few moments away from being ready for use.
Not quite the power I've gotten used to with the compound, but it still has some life left in it.
She considered tossing the bundle of borrowed clothing she had worn out of the Rogue Islands into the nearest trash bin but, instead, she returned to the Vault and placed them inside her box. Another of her insults. An "I climbed Mount Diable and lived to tell the tale." T-shirt. HAH! I'll make sure you see that again Ange...DOC!
Now that she was in the club, her only exit would be through the "hero" elevator. Part of Zero's rules was that nobody could use his club as a shortcut to the other side. A few Villains had tried over the years but they always ended up...elsewhere. Nobody was quite sure where, but there were stories. She nodded to the Longbow agent on elevator duty and stepped inside as soon as the door opened.
A few moments later the door opened again but, instead of the nondescript industrial hallway she was expecting, she found herself standing beside a well stocked bar inside a multi level, snow covered, ski lodge. She knew the place, it was the setting for Zero's most recent "event". Faint music and yodeling could be heard echoing from the mountain while the sounds of a large fire were coming from the pit she knew was behind her and off to her left. Daniella knew who was responsible for this. After all, only one person's word was law inside Pocket D.
"Zero!" she shouted into the air as she slowly turned to look around the room. "Zero, I don't have time for this! I have to get home. I've lost enough time already and I have things to do."
"You have time for a drink," said a quiet male voice from behind the bar.
Daniella completed her turn to see DJ Zero handing her a steaming mug. The smell told her it was mostly coffee but with something more than cream and sugar added."It's Irish coffee, " he confirmed. "Legally, you're not allowed to have this. But I won't tell anyone if you don't."
"Zero, I really don't think..."
"You're right. You don't. Not where your sister is concerned."
Daniella was shocked by Zero's statement and even more so by the slight mocking in his tone of voice. Zero was known as the most impartial person in existance. She couldn't understand why he would know or even care about her and her sister.
Zero had moved out from behind the bar and sat down on a nearby sofa. He also had a drink but his was something Flamingo pink with a paper umbrella sticking out of it. He waved Daniella over to a padded chair and slowly sipped his drink while she sat down. He leaned back casually once she was settled.
"You know, if your sister hadn't called in the favor she did for me, you might not have made it out of the Islands alive. A certain one of Arachnos' Night Widows has spread the word that you are worth quite a lot of money if captured." He leaned forward, his face taking on an intensity nobody would have expected from him. "Make no mistake girl, a favor from me is no small thing and your sister used hers to make sure you were safe. If the spiders had gotten you back you would be spending the rest of your life strapped to a metal examination table somewhere while they sifted through your brain to find out why your gifts work."
"My...my...gifts?" she stuttered. "But Arachnos has plenty of people who can do what I do."
"But no Empaths," he continued.
"His Adepts can use magical spells and others like your sister can use their powers to heal in a crude, brute force, kind of way. There are even a rare few that can block the pain of others; but none of them have the raw power of an Empath.
You can heal the most fatal of wounds with a touch, give others the ability to ignore exhaustion, and even bring people back from death's door. If Arachnos could duplicate that in his forces, he would become all but unstoppable. No Empath will work for him and he can't force one to heal for him. The only thing he can hope for is that one will, somehow, " he stared at her, "come to the Rogue Islands and fall into his lap."
Daniella felt nauseous. Images from her nightmares were crowding into her conscious mind. Eyes, voices in her head whispering, demanding that she tell them the secret. PAIN! Suddenly, the blank part of her memories over the last few days became clear.
"O..oh god. Oh God, Angelica. She..." The tears flowed freely down her cheeks. Angelica had saved her. The sister she hated for so many years and blamed for so much wasn't the demon Daniella had made her out to be.
Zero pressed a small box into her hands. Tissues.
"Despite her name, don't make her some kind of saint." he said after a few moments. "Angelica Vendetti is a good woman with deep scars on her soul that will probably never heal. There isn't much she cares deeply about anymore and she's willing to walk down some of the darker paths that the rest of us avoid. Nobody can save her from that, perhaps not even someone with your gifts. She has to find her own way."
DJ Zero stood up and walked over to a wooden door set into the wall. "Whenever you're ready, this door will take you safely back to Overbrook and discharge my debt to your sister." He started to walk through the door when Daniella shot to her feet.
"Wait!" she said, halting his motion. "I don't understand. Why are you doing this?"
"A brief silver glimmer brightened his eyes as he looked over his shoulder at her. "I'm not doing anything," he replied. "I only play the music, it's up to others to dance."
HEALER
"Daniella, where are you?"
Roselynn's voice was faint over the earpiece. She had healing gifts similar to Daniella's own but she was not used to working in the field.
Under her working name of Quiet Vindication, Daniella was an experienced crimefighter and normally, she would not take on a partner but she'd been a bit off of her game the last few weeks since coming back from the Rogue Islands, and needed the extra pair of eyes.
Today the pair were tracking down a group of Trolls that had tried to poison the drinking water supplies of Steel Canyon with a concentrated version of Superdine, the drug that gave them super strength and, eventually, mutated the user into a Troll. Since the drug almost always lowered the user's intelligence as much as it increased their strength, it had been almost embarrassingly simple to locate their stockpile and destroy the concentrate. Now all that was left was cleaning house and putting these Trolls somewhere where they couldn't do anymore damage.
"Can you get a mental fix on me Roselynn?" Quiet said as she watched the beam from her flashlight play across the opposite wall. "I don't think the GPS likes these cave walls. We got split up during that last fight and I don't want you getting too far away for me to help."
"You sound so concerned," Roselynn's mind voice had a gently mocking tone combined with a feeling of caring laughter. "I know it's really because you need someone to watch where your arrows go when you miss."
"Just catch up with me." Daniella sent back, letting her anger bleed into the thought. From the moment they had walked into the caves, something had felt...wrong. Every step made the feeling worse and now all she wanted to do was drop her bow, turn, and run far, far away.
Let someone else do this, she thought. I don't want to do this any more. I don't want to keep hurting people. I don't want to keep getting hurt. I don't...
Daniella dropped to her knees as the walls bent and shifted like smoke. The cool, moist darkness of the cave became hot, dry and blood red. The rough natural stone gave way to cold steel walls. Daniella covered her ears as a low rhythmic humming filled the space around her.
No. Stop it. Stop it. STOP IT!
"Stop what Dear?" said a voice from behind her. It wasn't Roselynn's. It was the voice that had been haunting her for weeks. The voice of her nightmares.
"My poor thing, " said the Night Widow who knelt down beside her and gently stroked her hair. "My poor child. It's alright, I'm here now. I can help you if you let me. Please let me. Let me help..."
Daniella's mind raced. This was the person who hurt her but she was the person who could help her. She wanted to run but she wanted to stay. She wanted to fight and she wanted to lay down and die.
"That's right Dear, let me help." The widow leaned closer and brushed her lips over Daniella's forehead. "I'll make it all better."
The Widow raised her hand into the air and held it there for a moment as a steel blade slid out from the sheath on the back of her wrist. In one swift movement, the blade slashed down severing Daniella's neck, separating her head from her body...
************************************************** **********************
"NO!" screamed Daniella as she tried to sit, stand, and run all at the same time. She struggled as a strong pair of arms pushed her back down onto her sofa. She was at home, but she couldn't be. She was just in the cave with Roselynn..she was....
"Peace." came the thought with all the unstoppable force of a Tsunami. Daniella's body went slack instantly while her mind still spun. Roselynn was kneeling next to her, holding Daniella's head in her hands.
"Look at me. Daniella? At me. Good. That's good."
Roselynn's eyes were a light hazel and were just a little slanted at the edges. Her dark hair was brushed back from her round face and her lips were pressed into a thin line as she concentrated.
"Dear Gods, the ***** has really done a number on you, hasn't she. Ok, I need you to help me with this part. Daniella? Listen to me. I need you to think of something you care about. I'm giving you an anchor point to focus on when this happens again but I need a clear thought to work with."
Daniella could feel everything fading from angry red to a gentle blue-green as Roselynn's mind took control. Something she cared about? What? From somewhere deep inside she could feel a release like a knot untying and a white hot image flooded into her mind.
"That's good Daniella, very good...That's a strong image... Hm, Angels don't usually have red hair... I'm going to let you go now but I want you to sleep for a bit. We'll talk when you wake up."
************************************************** ************
A few hours later Daniella woke up feeling more relaxed than she had in weeks. Roselynn sat watchfully in an overstuffed armchair across the room.
The older woman was dressed in her usual sweatshirt, jeans, and sneakers. She wasn't really overweight but she was too fond of her comforts to take exercise seriously.
Despite being a strong psychic, she had never felt the slightest desire to be a crimefighter. Instead of prowling the streets, bashing people over the head, she had established herself as a 'super shrink', helping the city's various super humans deal with severe mental trauma.
She had met Daniella a few years earlier when she helped Daniella get a grip on her newly emerging abilities. Over time, Roselynn had become of something of a surrogate parent.
"Feel better?" she asked, scanning with her talent. When the younger woman nodded she continued.
"It's a good thing that that Widow couldn't work on you for very long." Roselynn slowly shook her head, a faint look of professional disgust on her face.
"Her talent is all power backed with the very basics of control and she could only try to blast her way into your mind. I thought Arachnos trained their people better than that. Eventually, she would have found out what she wanted to know.
By then, you would be better off dead.
What's been happening to you is very much like what happens to the victims of physical ****. I've undone the worst of it and given you some mental buffers to help soften the raw edges, but it's going to take time before you're really healed."
"How long?" Daniella asked.
"I don't know. I'm sorry, love, but I just don't know."
The older woman crossed the room and sat down on the bed. She pulled Daniella into a motherly hug as the younger woman's eyes filled with tears.
"You will get better Daniella Vendetti. This I promise you. You will be the strong, intelligent, beautiful, young woman I know you are. " Tears slowly inched down her cheeks as she spoke. "I just can't promise you will ever be Quiet Vindication again."

ALLIES

There's just something wrong with having an intelligent conversation with somebody who thinks they are the incarnation of a Voodoo god, thought Angelica Vendetti as she soared quietly over the rooftops of Port Oakes. I still can't figure out whether it's all an act or if Bocor really is crazy
Part of life in the Rogue Islands was learning to deal with people that were way beyond the lunatic fringe of society. Over the course of her career, she'd worked with the greedy, the megalomanical, those with a death wish, and those who just loved to kill. A few, like the information broker Mr. Bocor used uncertainty to their advantage.
Normally Angelica only came into Port Oakes for the food. The organized crime families dominated large parts of the island and, in typical fashion, used restaurants to provide a "respectable" face to their buisness dealings.
She really couldn't bring herself to care which family came out on top. Their power struggle seemed a bit pointless to her but she had worked for and against both of them during her mercenary career and had maintained good buisness relations with both. Tonight, however, she was working for herself.
Over the last few weeks she had turned down several lucrative employment offers to concentrate on finding a particular member of Arachnos; one of Recluse's Night Widows. She had very little information to work with at first but thanks to a network of contacts, friends, and generous use of her personal fortune, she now had a name... Umbra.
And now that I know who you are, I can find you. All I need to do is squeeze a few spiders and wait for them to pop.
Arachnos soldiers weren't hard to find in the Rogue Islands. Since Lord Recluse was the current undisputed tyrant of the whole chain, his soldiers acted as a defacto police force. Angelica would just need to pick a street corner cafe and one or two would be along soon enough to bully the customers and shake down the owners. Although this cut into the families' profits, they had good enough survival instincts to let it slide.
Angelica slowed as her flight path took her close to the Port Oakes Arena. Originally designed as sports venues, the Arenas had become a sparring ground for the Islands' superhumans. It was a rare night when two or more villains weren't beating each other senseless over insults, grudges, or just simple bragging rights.
I guess it keeps them busy, thought Angelica. If all the superhumans here got it into their heads to act together, Recluse would be in a deep hole somewhere and this place would collapse into total anarchy.
She shivered at the thought. We don't need another Boomtown.
Angelica was shaken out of her thoughts by the ringing of her cell phone. She reached up to activate the reciever on her ear. "This is Doc," she said as the line opened.
"Doc, do you have a minute?" asked the hollow sounding voice on the other end of the line. Angelica smiled. Only a few people had the number to her private line and only one of those sounded like he was talking from inside a coffee can from a long way away.
"For you E, I have more than a minute. Let me just find a rooftop to settle down on so we can talk."
He called himself the Efreet and claimed to be the sixth Beatle. He also claimed to be the inspiration for the Rolling Stones' 'Sympathy for the Devil', the man who introduced Jim Morrison to the rest of the Doors, and the real reason Napoleon lost at Waterloo. But, no matter how rediculous his stories were, he was one of the most powerful superhumans she knew, and one of the very few she would consider calling a friend.
She reflexively checked the area around her for threats before She settled on the cracked, domed, concrete roof of the Arena. "Alright Efreet," she said once she had her footing. "What can I do for you?"
A rush of air and a slight burning smell filled the space behind her. She switched off her earpiece as she turned to face him. He was in Elvis mode tonight. If it weren't for the red skin and flame aura, he would be a fair match for the King in his Vegas days.
"Word is that you're about to start something big. We were wondering if you wanted help."
His smile was lopsided and infectious. Despite her own sense of caution, she felt herself relax and return the smile. If "we" were the people she thought they were, it would solve more than a few problems.
"Who?" she asked.
"Well, " he said, stroking his beard like Satan himself," there's me of course. Lord Nightstalker wants in, and Slash would do it just for the chance to kick some ***. We might get one or two more from our group interested but that should be enough for a nice little strike force."
Her radioactivity, Efreet's flame powers, Slash's blades and, God's help them all, Nightstalker's undead. That would give her more firepower than some small armies. All she needed now was a direction to point them in.