Young Writers Society

A few weeks after the bank heist. A note came in the mail, it had the AVIA’s seal of approval. It was an invitation to take part in a conference in midtown, anyone who was a licensed hero from all over the nation was expected to be there. And in the envelope there was also a lollipop, which I believed was agent Smith’s way of personally addressing me.

Why couldn’t that bitch just sign her name like a normal person I did not know.

I almost crumpled up the wasteful piece of paper and chucked it into the trash can but then I thought about some more. The house was getting dusty and mom was gone. This was the perfect day to go out on patrol, talk to any number of people outside. Maybe just free run for the hell of it.

It was quiet.

Quiet leaves you with an empty feeling. Nothing to bother you and also nothing to do. Like some kind of invisible cage, it's weird.

But quiet wasn’t a part of the Doe household, not without that bullshit clock at least.

I pulled the wrapper from the lollipop and stuck it into my mouth.

The Apostates were walking on my lawn. A nice clotting lawn. And the city wasn’t going to save itself. New Geweld needed Heroes.

So I made up my mind. My costume was staying inside my closet and the tanktop and short shorts I wore weren’t going anywhere. I went to the living room and sat on my mothers spot, took out my guitar and amp, turned on the TV to whatever channel and started to mess around. I plucked the coils and tuned it after every headache. Relaxing sucked.

Some kind of cowboy show or movie was on. Westerns were all the rage with kids those days.

The main character was some lady, she wore a ridiculous frilled jacket, it was lime green, and her hat was made of leather. She walked through this absolutely dry, desolate town, you could feel the blistering heat just by looking at it. The people looked terrible, like they were pulled straight from the ground, but anywhere she went they smiled. They smiled and laughed despite all that came out where raspy hisses. The kids ran up to her wearing rags with their hair all knotted and with a feral demeanor. She did tricks, twirling her pistols, juggling them, shooting at clay jugs while blindfolded. Every once in a while she actually fought somebody, a bandit or a native would waltz into town and threaten people. Always looking for water or food, pointing their weapons at people who could barely stand up straight. The lady would come and sort them out quickly, she was a really good shot too. The bad guys run away never to be seen again, and the town cheers. The lady is smiling, like she's the savior.

TICK-TOCK

Do you ever shut up?!

And at the end she stood by the saloon, the only building in town with lights on, leaning against a wall with a bottle of something in her hand. The town was still dry and the people looked terrible.

TICK-TOCK

The lady had an unreasonable expression on her face, like she woke up and had to come to terms with what she was staring at, took a swig from her drink and then the credits rolled. What a weird-ass show.

TICK-TOCK

Finally, a tune came to mind and I began playing ‘The Wind Cries Mary’, for the silly little cowgirl on the screen.

There I was, in the County Courthouse.

Everyone was seated on the large curved jury stands and in the gallery. AVIA agents stood in front of the imposing bench that the judge would usually sit in, and above it was the grand ole’ flag. Thirteen red and white stripes, and a blue box in the corner with a snake cut up into nine pieces. There was a dull bronze plaque underneath that had the phrase ‘Join or Die’ engraved on it.

And a great golden sword, stabbed into the cracked floor, stuck in the middle of everything. It once belonged to Godspeed, yet it did not glow or sparkle, it wasn’t polished and pieces of the blade were chipped away. A long thin hair of bright red cloth was tied to the handle. Many Heroes had tried to pull it out for a great and powerful reward, but failed to do so. Some people believed Godspeed left it there as a reminder to all of us about our responsibilities as Superheroes.

Thinking about it only made me more upset. He was important to a lot of people and it was a shame he disappeared when he did. Or perhaps it was for the best?

Fortunately it was so loud that I was compelled out of my thoughts.

Heroes from all over the city and its outskirts from other states had made their way to New Geweld for this meeting. Some big, some small. Most didn’t have their own action figures or HQs or were barely into their twenties. So I was among peers, hungry and ambitious upstarts ready to make their mark in history.

I wore my rabbit costume as I thought it was appropriate, but left the mask resting on the desk in front of me. I had no reason to hide my identity and many others did the same as well. I was punctual and arrived exactly when it said the meeting was to begin and to my surprise, it was damn near packed by then hot and stuffy air smacked me in the face as soon as I entered. I found my seat on the jury stands, the people next to me wouldn’t stop talking. I didn’t get into any conversations because they didn’t interest me, I was here because the Apostates needed to be stopped, so that meant talking business, not playing socialite.

But I found some way to entertain myself.

One Hero either wore an ape costume or he was actually an ape, must have been taller then the wolfman I fought, smelled almost as bad too, had tried to sit down on one chair but he almost crushed three people in the process. I couldn’t suppress the grin on my face!

One of the almost victims of the ape’s carelessness, some kind of lizard quasi, didn’t take offense but the other guy who looked like a horned devil with bat wings got pressed and gestured his hands towards the apemans face like he was trying to crush his massive hairy head from a distance.

They both just stood there.

Devilman’s gestures didn’t seem to be doing anything.

A disappointed frown casted down on the devilmans face and the apeman remained… oblivious to what was happening. His face looked quite bestial, who knew what they where thinking.

Until a… bug… it sounded and looked like one… flew up to the giant and told him that the devilman called him a “weakling”.

Next thing I knew, the big fella picked him up with one hand and threw the little devil across the room. I was sure someone would catch him, any number of Superheroes could. But that did not happen. He instead crashed through one of the many large windows that lined the courtroom. A loud cheer rang out at the sound of shattering glass.

Was it bad I cheered with them?

Probably.

Then all of the sudden, I felt someone bump into me from behind. I turned to see some girl wearing a strange bird mask, fur collar and a sleeveless yellow vest trying to pass by me.

I told her, annoyance sizzling out of my breath “You know you can say excuse me?”

Her shoulders got tense and her heart was pounding really fast. She gave a very pressured “sorry” followed by a lot of nonsense that I didn’t care for. Just say sorry and move on, don't tell me your life story. Then she stopped, gasped and took off her mask. She had lush black hair, olive skin, a nose that was as prominent as an eagle's beak and beautiful avian eyes.

She said, in an excited tone, “DD?!”

Something about her was familiar.

Until I smelled her.

Ahyoka.

Immediately I wrapped her around my arms, locking her into a warm embrace. She squealed as she returned the love back, partially because I was squeezing a bit too hard. I should have known, although her costume looked different compared to the one she had back in school.

She asked with utmost sincerity and interest how I was still alive. To which I asked if she really thought that low of her old tutor and also why she didn’t just fly over.

“You weren’t my tutor, you were just a concerned roommate!” she said.

“Oh yeah? And what makes you say that?”

“You didn’t charge me a thing.”

I squinted my eyes at her, puckered my lips and put on my best street thug voice, “Delayed billing bitch. Hand it over!”

Soon enough our laughter joined the wild ruckus around us.

We caught up on everything since graduation. I asked about her tribe, she asked about the Heights. Ahyoka, or Thunderbird as was her Hero name, was based on a town further out west and answered agent Smith’s call to arms. Ahyoka figured it was a good idea to make it big in the city, the government paid her less because she was a tribal and worked in a rural area.

We also talked about stupid shit, hair twirling nonsense. Even though we both went to the most prestigious Superhero academy in the Americas didn’t mean we had the concept of responsibility down to a formula. I was impulsive and she mimicked my every action back then.

In the midst of our talk, Ahyoska said, “Hey D, you’re a nerd. Tell me who those fellas are.”

She pointed to the other jury bench across from us. The Heroes sitting there looked different from the rest of us, an aura of confidence radiated from their laid back postures. Costumes were of higher quality, fancier equipment, their skin looked smooth and without blemishes or scars. They had all their white pearly teeth. Yet they laughed just like the rest of us at the commotion and arguments. They were the hotshots, old money folks, or particularly wealthy people our age, generally they came from long lines of superpowered quasi families. Sure, they looked cool, and if I was a kid I’d have liked to have some of their merch. No doubt those fellas had the resources to take on bastards like the wolfman and RatKing. But something I did notice was how uninterested they seemed. Their laughter sounded… bored. I guess I could relate, I’d rather be out on the streets but wouldn’t they want the clout? To put some extra notches on their belts in order to prove they have what it takes and not appear as coddled rich kids? Or were they forced to be there?

One of the bored Heroes was the infamous Noble IX.

Wearing a knightly helmet and white tabard with a red cross over his chest, . His arms and legs had bullets lined across his armor and gun holsters on his hips, boots, underarms, and probably in his royal undies. Some kind of rifle-ax was leaning against the wood behind him. He sat there with his shiny spurred boots kicked up on the wooden desk, arm slung over the back of his chair as his head kept turning in circles. In his other arm was a very large and compensating revolver that he cocked and uncocked. Out of all the commotion in the room that was the most irritating!

Noble IX was a legacy Hero, the ninth one to bear the name. The Noble family was quite old, older than this city probably. They are from the Belt State down south where it's all hot and wet. As well as being one of the few families part of the aristocratic class here in the states.

They were Heroes by title only from what I read, not having to go to school at all to get their degree. They had a habit of shooting first and asking questions later, especially when it came to nonwhite people or certain quasi. Hell they didn’t even like their “own”. They had huge forts across the land, hoarding food that their peasants harvested. And if people got brave… well that's when the shooting started.

What was this guy doing here? Trying to redeem the family name? Regardless, if I caught him doing anything bad in my city I’d crush him like a soder can.

I told Ahyoka all of this, and her face remained unchanged. Until she slowly put two and two together and said she didn’t mess with him while furrowing her brow.

But unlike the rest of the Heroes sitting on the jury box there was one wearing something quite… generic, but in the best way possible.

He wore a blue cape with a popped collar, a silky red one-piece, matched with blinding white gloves and shoes, and a black belt with a silver buckle of the initials: SB. His blonde hair had a tiny curl on the front of his forehead and a blue domino mask over his steely blue eyes.

Sir Blue.

I think I still had a poster of him in my room. And since I got to see him in person he smelt just as good as he looked. Wasn’t a beef cake by any means but he was broad with the body of an athlete and a stoic visage. You could easily imagine yourself being carried in his strong arms as he whisked you away from danger. He wasn’t talkative and when he did it was to the point. Lets just say he was laser focused on what mattered: protecting people.

He was a Legacy Hero that actually had a history to be proud of. His family, The Blues, immigrated here, banished from their homeland for being Quasi, and they became the most humanitarian Hero Agency of all time.

“You falling for the boy scout, D?” Ahyoka smirked.

I blushed furiously and gently slapped her arm. I didn’t fall. Falling is for the weak!

After more waiting, agent Smith pushed through the main doors. She was fashionably late as she walked in shamelessly. Besides her was the Commissioner of the NGPD, Julian Oates, and a drove of detectives and police lieutenants.

“Hello and good evening ladies and gentlemen! I’m glad to see this beautiful courthouse still standing. Now, Let's get down to business.” said Smith.

Except, no one seemed too interested in business, they went about yelling and taunting one another as if Nubia’s voice was a dry fart with zero seasoning.

It wasn’t so loud when Overlord walked in behind her. Like a bad omen, his presence silenced everyone. His helmet barely fit through the door and cloak dragged along the floor like a shadow. The second the Heroes saw him they got serious, releasing their hold from each other's throats and gripping their lips to prevent whatever joke they had in mind for Smith and her pinstripe suit.

Delighted by the silence brought by the cryptic Hero, she walked towards the judges stand with the loud clacking of her shoes filling the room. She sat down and her fellow agents brought in a projector and white screen, alongside various folders: documents regarding the topic of the meeting no doubt, as blinds were brought down on the windows and the lights were dimmed.

Overlord on the other hand opted to remain in a corner, watching us. Someone sitting by him in the back pissed themselves. I pulled out a Despotine cigarette, which was lit courtesy of a tiny spark of electricity that shot out of Ahyoka’s fingertip.

She then whispered to me, “Hey who's the spooky guy in the corner?”

I was annoyed, she should have known who Overlord was, it's like not knowing about George Washington or Martin Luther King Jr. But on the other hand, most people were told the same thing: He was born from a nuclear meltdown in California, real name was unknown, making him one of the original Superheroes to aid the US. That's mostly it, everything else is crime fighting, conventional super power application, and disaster response theory that has no correlation to Overlord despite being cited by him.

It was no wonder some people forgot who he was.

I told her that I saw him at the bank heist and that got her heart pumping real fast. She was about to start yapping away like a kid, asking a million questions at once, until I shushed her. There would be time to talk after the meeting.

The film projector came to life as a short movie began to play, a dramatic fanfare and string instruments roared out of the speakers. Images of burning buildings, dead bodies, and crying masses flashed quickly. Photos of calm forests turned into raging battlefields and even a police car impaled through a statue. Text that evoked adrenaline and urgency appeared saying:

TERROR ON THE FRONTIER

TRAINS DERAILED

BANKS SACKED

MANUFACTOROUMS SET ABLAZE

WHO’S TO BLAME?

The Apostates THAT'S WHO!

Three mugshots slid into frame, each with names subtitled under each one. There was the Wolfman, a Native American-looking man with a mustache, swept back hair and an intense stare, and a mischievous cat girl wearing a witches hat: Andre, The Chief, and Inamorata respectively.

Snickers from the audience flew around like the buzzing of an insect.

One Hero wearing a military beret and ridiculously long scarf commented, “A grumpy old man and his two pets. That’s what got Uncle Sam in a tizzy?”

Smith spoke up from her lofty seat, ignoring the comment “What is a true hero?”

I knew the answer to the question but I wasn’t sure if it was rhetorical or not. Until Ahyoska raised her hand up high and yelled, “Someone who always does the right thing!”

She said it with so much sincerity and hope a good chunk of the room felt the need to laugh. I squeezed the armrest of my chair till it started to splinter. The things they began saying about my bestie! I was glad she couldn’t hear as well as I.

However Smith didn’t find her answer to be humorous. Instead she followed up by asking, “And can anybody tell me what the right thing is?”

She hit us with a real head scratcher.

The apeman did actually scratch his head though.

She brought Green Sky Event, how its devastation left the country in ruins, quasi ran unchecked, and society fell back into a barbaric and primitive state.

“Think about it kids! Imagine living in a world where might made right, where people who didn’t have any powers were enslaved because they couldn’t fight back.” Smith went on to say. Silence continued, someone yawned. Her stage presence needed some work for sure.

Noble IX said to Sir Blue, “She says that like it's a bad thing. God knows these vermin need to be put in check.”

Sir Blue didn’t say a thing, remaining focused on the presentation.

“And I know that secretly… you’d like that wouldn’t you?” agent Smith said. Now she caught the crowd's attention.

As well as mine.

Her perceptively violet eyes almost lit up in the darkness, “Freedom is the right of every American; quasi or not. But being on top of the food chain isn’t true freedom. You have to concern yourself with the responsibility of looking after those under your rule, constantly looking over your shoulder to make sure nobody gets any ambitious ideas about the rearrangement of the tribalistic hierarchy. Even your fellow quasi are not to be trusted, for they are your rivals. Imagine a never ending competition where the loser gets scalped by the winner and no referee to keep things in line. Does that sound fun to you?”

Discussion broke out amongst the audience, pensive exchanges were shared followed by disagreement. Those who were at each other's throats sat unaware of the rivals next to them, weighing the agent’s points internally.

“What is she on about?” said Ahyoka, justifiably confused.

Something like a smirk dared to appear on my face; maybe Ms. Cali wasn’t so much a farce after all?

“On behalf of the US government, your freedom and autonomy is respected and will continue to be supported regardless of your cooperation on this project.”

At the mention of the word project, I alongside many other Superheroes become anxious, the ounce of admiration that started to grow for Smith dwindled. I impatiently asked, “What project?”

The agent’s charismatic smile turned into a scowl briefly as she let out a small, “Who the fuck?” until she laid eyes on me.

She beamed, “Oh is that you Power-Jack? Didn’t recognize you without the mask, I was worried you wouldn’t show! I love the question, you're pretty and smart.”

“Yes Ms. Smith, please tell us what you have planned. Many of us have jobs to do.” said Sir Blue as he glanced at me causing my heart to skip a beat. I had to stay focused and ignore those stupid dumb distractions.

People stood up from their chairs, demanding the agent to spit it out already. Unfortunately before the agent said anything a sudden and even louder uproar came from the mass of Heroes. At that point I figured I should just leave, the noise was drilling into my head something fierce and I was getting hungry. I’d prefer showing Ahyoka around Vino Heights then partake in this clotting circus.

Until a chair flew through the air, everyone watched in silence, going from one end of the courtroom to the other, making another broken window.

You’d think people would grow out of this behavior after college. But of course that's asking too much.

Naturally, the courtroom discussion devolved into an all out brawl.

The giant apeman stood in the middle of the chaos swatting away at anyone who got too close to him with his hairy tree trunk forearms. Pews flew up in the air and were brought back down on some poor bastards. The floorboards splintered and cracked,the entire building shook as a large boulder burst from the floor. Those who could fly clashed in mid air with each other recklessly.

I had half the mind to jump in, and I was going to, but Ahyoka grabbed my arm and said, “Let them do their thing, Daisy.”

I listened and sat back down. I told Ahyoka there was a diner that made the best pancakes in town and how we should go there. She nodded in agreement right before a terrible feeling ran up my spine and I caught a stray boney spike inches away from her nose!

She yelped in surprise and I remained quiet, staring at the spike in my hands. I retraced the angle at which it was shot and saw this porcupine-looking asshole on the other side of the room. He wasn’t fighting anyone, hugging the wall, yet his spikes had blood dripping from the tips. He looked at me and I looked at him, and he had the audacity to look surprised when I ran up to him and cracked his jaw.

Couldn’t hear much of anything from all the commotion, but I felt his spikes snap after every punch to his ugly face. He might have stabbed me a bit though I couldn’t tell, I just kept wailing on him.

BAM!

BAM!

BAM!

Warm blood that could have been from me or him splashed on my suit and my face. The smell only made me hit even harder. Quasi were generally tougher than regular humans so I went loose a little bit, he could take it unlike Ahyoka. If I wasn’t sitting next to her then she would have been killed. Was this guy even a Superhero?!

I felt a strong wind lift me up off the porcupine and back down. It was Ahyoka, she took me off using her atmospheric powers and grabbed me by the wrist begging me to stop. I got mad, shoving her hand away and asking her what the deal was, I saved her!

She looked so scared. Everyone in that room was scared. Which was inevitable, New Geweld was not for the faint of heart and sometimes you had to put people in their place. Ahyoka was too naive, too soft. That makes her nicer than most Heroes from the get-go but when it comes to making a difference in the world, you won’t last long. Violence is a tool. And as Heroes it's our job to use it as we see fit for the greater good.

She wanted to tell me something. What was it? Her mouth floundered, opening and shutting. Speechless to big city living. Say something!

“QUIET!!!” said a voice of thousands entombed into one. Such a shrieking noise that barely sounded human but ended in a tired strain of a man. Everyone stopped.

It was Overlord standing next to the untouched sword still lodged in the floor.

Somehow he managed to teleport to the center of the room, past all the fighting. How? I couldn’t tell you.

“None of you deserve power… sniveling children! You were invited here to see if you had what it takes to unify and work together. And clearly none of you have the capacity to do so. You are hot headed, ignorant, short sighted, spoiled, and above all… you are brutes!”

The air was mighty uncomfortable, and that did nothing for the level of unease already present. Not a word was spoken and not a thought was found. Overlord was holding the sword, or more like it held him. His entire body was shaking, refusing to let go as he went on a manic rant.

“You all bring shame to those who came before you. There is no honor or camaraderie between us anymore… that's why they won! They won because of no loyalty, because they wanted it easy! GODSPEED… left us, none of you are worthy! He believed in a better America, no, a better world, not the nightmare they handed us on a gilded platter. Your ancestors weep. And now all of you are whores working for other whores who are the offspring of every prostitute this country worships!!!”

And he had even more to say until Smith interrupted, “Overlord: what color are the trees in autumn?”

He went rigid, straight as a board. Letting go of the sword he quietly walked back to his spot in the corner as everyone got out of his way in a hurry. His skullmet once pouring with phrases of madness and reprimand was now silenced. He didn’t move at all till the end of the meeting.

The main reason I became a Superhero was because of Godspeed. He saved me, when nobody else did. His heavenly white wings were so large and warm as they wrapped around me. I remember him carrying me back home through the clouds as happy tears poured from my eyes. He was a good person, despite what some may say. His smile was strong enough to make you forget about your shame and his golden light reached your soul making you feel like a kid again. I didn’t like talking about it because that was all I could remember; I was in danger, stuck in somewhere dark, and then one day he found me. The one person I told that story to called me a crazy bitch.

Smith then said in a bubbly tone, as if everything in the past five minutes didn't happen, “It is an honor to work with Overlord, and he is a great man. But he does get nostalgic, and a bit ahead of himself. So yeah, let's get back on track!”

One of the agents that managed to not run away when the fighting started started up the surprisingly intact projector, continuing the presentation. The film kept rolling, showing us more pictures of the Apostates, and even footage of the Supervillain team working together. Each of them had a distinct look from one another and with different powers. A real freak show. They had a sort of western sense of fashion: cowboy boots, bandanas, ponchos.

I took my time and put their faces (and muzzles) to memory:

Once again the man with the intense stare and mustache appeared, this time wearing a fancy red vest and black shiny cowboy boots, although the picture had him with a friendly smile and squinted eyes. The Chief was their leader: described as a malicious con man with the ability to sway others to do his bidding. One image showed clamps keeping his mouth open, his tongue was a shiny gray.

The wolf, Andre, is shown lifting up a police tank and throwing it at a helicopter, then roaring as it charged at the cameraman, the footage went dead as it opened its jaws. It was a government asset gone rogue, a former unit of a now terminated group of Quasi black ops. It was also the second-hand ‘man’ to The Chief and second toughest one of them all.

The most powerful one of them was a young quasi, a few years older than me, Inamorata. An escaped mental patient with the appearance of an orange furred humanoid cat, now wielding immense psychic power. We were shown people, mostly police officers and Heroes with their heads blown off, next to a photo of her as a child wearing a school uniform.

More of them were shown. Causing harm and mischief across different backdrops, towns, forests, and cities. A lot of them used guns for some strange reason, even the ones with powers. Every member was either formerly incarcerated or orphaned. Like Peter Pan and his lost felons.

One group of images however had someone familiar on it, although they weren't the main focus.

RatKing.

It was nighttime and he was standing further down the road covered in destroyed cop cars and corpses. The main thing you could tell about him was his mask, though his eyes did not glow. And most peculiar was the picture right next to it. There was a pale thin faced and unassuming man, though he could have been younger. His eyes were green and lively, his hair was short, and he wore brown dirty overalls. He had faint scars on the bridge of his nose and chin. Even if he wasn’t a quasi, he did kind of look like a rat.

Sir Blue asked before I could, “Who is that young man, Agent Smith?”

“Oh him? Yeah he’s another problem. That's RatKing… the new guy. Couldn’t find his face on any of our databases, no hospital records, schooling, family, or any evidence of him living in an orphanage. He made his debut with fire and brimstone a few months back before we even knew the Apostates were in the city. He robbed the Natural History Museum with another potential member, and since then he hadn’t been spotted till the bank robbery.” Smith then looked right at me, “Our friend Power-Jack here has already been acquainted with the devil. Must have been real scary fighting him, eh?”

I didn’t fight him, he ran away, avoiding me. His attire might have been threatening and mysterious but the face behind the mask matches his behavior more accurately. He was a coward. Maybe it was warranted, he was running with wolves after all, no pun intended. A non-quasi fighting against Superheroes and associating with Supervillains was dangerous, him not being confrontational during our encounter made a decent amount of sense. Still didn’t make me less mad.

“However the thing that concerns Uncle Sam the most about him is his use of Cauca Glass. It's in his tech, his weapons, and it is something to note that The Hero Bank of America had Cauca reserves, which could explain why they targeted it.”

Then everyone around me asked their questions and murmured behind my ear about what it was like to face such a Supervillain, I responded, “Hardly anything worth mentioning. It’s the wolf you all should worry about.”

After being so silent during the entirety of the meeting, Commissioner Oates finally piped in, yelling at me “It’s no surprise you of all people care so little for what that animal did! RatKing and his little helper robbed the museum, leaving thirty officers dead. He took one of the old machine guns on display and combined it with cauca! We weren’t ready for that kind of fire power. Reinforcements were called for all other law enforcement units, including various Hero agencies, and not one of you answered!”

I remembered that, it was all over the news, I even heard it on my scanner. But that was also the day that the apartment fell into the ocean, the same day that little girl drowned. The city held a mass memorial service in honor of those who died. For the cops I mean.

“Aha! That is the problem isn’t it? The Apostates are unique in that sense, they don’t kill just for money. Their actions are statements.” said Smith, shooting finger guns at the disgruntled group of cops.

Sir Blue then interjected, taking the words right out of my mouth, “With all due respect, Commissioner Oates, Agent Smith, the loss of human life is always a tragedy, but the fact is the call in that specific incident mentioned the attacker as a terrorist. Not a quasi or Supervillain. It wasn’t any surprise no one showed up because we assumed the NGPD was well equipped to deal with a human threat.”

Not wanting to stay quiet on the matter, I added with much fervor “Exactly! The only thing city hall decides to invest in New Geweld are its police. When was the last time any non-quasi criminal made headlines in this country? And why should we babysit crushers like you who sit on your asses and contribute nothing besides wasting our tax dollars on fancy military equipment to compensate for the fact y’all ain’t shit.” The Heroes all cheered in agreement.

Sir Blue also believed in what I said, murmuring admirably, “Not the most eloquent way of putting it but with this crowd it does the job very well, Power-Jack.”

Noble IX also had something to say, “That is the average city-dweller. Brash and unrefined. Why God gave her kind powers is a mystery.”

Someone new, a woman dressed in skin-tight magenta spandex with long purple pigtails that reached well below the bottom of her chunky boots said, “what we also can’t forget is the inherent inferiority of non-quasi. Why should us borderline demigods even associate with those mortals? Superheroes aren’t ordinary, quite the opposite, and wasting our time in working with these morons would be the mother of all handicaps. I say we forget about the rodents and focus on killing these Apostates on our own!”

Like hunters talking about their next big game hunt, the Heroes all talked about placing bets on who could kill an Apostate. Ten thousand dollars, fifty thousand, a hundred, and one person even placed a million for the head of The Chief. Not a single person placed any money down on RatKing.

Despite the amount of push back, Smith refuted, as she loudly proclaimed, “And that mentality is why the Apostates have survived for so long! What you think, they haven’t faced Heroes before? The Chief managed to bring together a ragtag group of outcasts from different walks of life, some with powers and some without, and aimed them at American society, the economy, and our laws. As of today your lot didn’t hunt them, they hunted you.” and in the midst of unease at the idea of Superheroes being hunted down, Noble IX blurts out, pulling back the hammer of his gun one last time, “Get to the point and tell us exactly what you plan, wench.”

Sweat dropped, heartbeats synced, and breathing slowed due to the heaviness of the air. Everyone waited in anticipation for Smith’s response. The agents with her had their hands ready to draw weapons from their holsters while sharing glances at each other and the exit. Her face no longer resembled that of a snake oil saleswoman; rather I saw a young woman trying to do a public speech about why flowers should be made illegal to a group of volatile florists armed with various weapons of mass destruction. The entire conference had been a rollercoaster of emotions, rising and falling tensions, the fighting and the shedding of blood, there couldn’t be anything worse that could happen. But based on everything the agent was telling us about the Apostates, RatKing and the police, AVIA, and various Superheroes being brought together in a single room, I figured whatever Smith would say next was going to get a lot of people killed quickly.

“We need to fight fire with fire. I am forming this nation's first ever federally-monitored Superhero team.”

Noble IX still unmoved from his position slowly lowered his gun in the direction of Smith. The apeman growled low and fiercely, the lizardman seemingly vanished from where he stood, and various flying Heroes arose from the floor staring daggers at the AVIA. The ground shook even more.

Not even the cool air blowing from the two broken windows could simmer down the boiling tension. Next thing you know someone throws another chair and Ms. Smith would be evicted from this reality. I felt a little bad though. I thought Smith was fake as hell, but putting yourself in such a vulnerable position is never easy, it was brave even. And on account of her personality, that didn’t say much about who she truly was. Maybe she did want to help, to be a hero in her own way. But some ideas are too radical for certain groups and women are picked on more often than not. Whether or not I agreed with what her plan was it did not matter; I would defend her from any bastard who dared harm her, even if it meant fighting everyone.

A gust of whirling wind twirled around Ahyoka, static blue electricity sparked gently around her hands and eyes. She gave me a look that said, get ready.

All of that edge was for nothing however because Sir Blue quickly put himself in the middle of all the malice directed at Smith, flying up and remaining suspended air as he said his piece.

“Being a Superhero is an act of service. It’s about rising up and using your extraordinary powers to help those who can’t. But it's also about freedom. Our autonomy from the federal government is both a right and a privilege, while also giving us money regardless if we are on duty or not is a blessing. Our lives are filled with prosperity in the midst of this rebuilding world, as America is nowhere near the empire it once was centuries ago. But I then think about Godspeed and his vision for our future, one that had Quasi and Non-quasi working together… not for the sake of revenge or hatred like the Apostates but for human prosperity. As Godspeed once said, “Superheroes are the future and the future is bright!”, how else will we be free then? These… anarchists… for lack of a better term… want to bring us back to the chaos, they want to take away our power and everything we worked hard to maintain in this society and bring us to their level. I believe in what the Agent says… perhaps working together can change things for the better. We can combine our might and crush these Supervillains for good! Let's show them what it means to be true Americans!”

Even after his little speech I expected a chair to be thrown, despite how good it sounded.

And to my surprise it didn’t happen.

People clapped and cheered. A triumphant roar erupted throughout the room. Passersby from outside the court would justifiably be horrified by such a rousing noise.

But Sir Blue actually convinced people. I heard that he was a good speaker for his age but the way he spoke to us really hit the mark on what everyone thought.

Some people outright refused the notion of a Fed-Super-Team, and instead opted to cooperate in the hunt as independent agents. While a handful such as, Sir Blue, Noble IX, Pigtail lady, Apeman, Lizard guy, the bee that I heard before grew in size and was just a bee-themed Hero, and a few others I didn’t recognize immediately went up to the agents and started signing up. The speech might not have gotten everybody on board but I also believe Blue was trying to prevent any (horrific) violence that might have broken out.

The meeting was adjourned as we all made our way out of the now trashed courtroom. I was sure compensation for the damages would be offered by any number of us. Or maybe they’d leave it like that? Trials weren’t often and the few that did happen were rarely fair so delayed repairs weren’t that much of a concern. Not like New Geweld was known for its refined justice system.

I for one was ready to meet up with those pancakes, Ahyoka was a good friend and I wanted to spend more time with her before the hunt began. Only she was still inside, chatting up with Smith and her newly acquired entourage, and most peculiar was Overlord standing right next to the ambitious agent. I went up to them asking what the hold up was.

Apparently Ahyoka already joined the team and was very excited by the whole idea. She then tried convincing me to join, that my expertise, quickness, and strength would be a great addition to the team. At the mention of my achievements back at the Academy Sir Blue took my hand and gave it a small kiss.

“Power-Jack I presume? It would be an honor to work with a woman of your caliber. Sir Blue at your service.” he said with a dashing yet humble smile.

“Daisy, it would be wise if you stayed home.” said Overlord. He sounded strained once again, like there was an invisible force tightening his throat.

Smith patted the old Hero on the shoulder saying, “Daisy Doe! Your friend Thunderbird here has got some spunk and we need as much of that as we can get. Why don’t you sign here and we’ll start talking about our next steps?”

“No no… I think we have more than enough on board. You can run along now, rodent.” Noble said that to me. Blue and Ahyoka quickly jumped to my defense, criticizing the aristocratic Hero for his disrespect. But I took it in stride.

I addressed him, “Noble IX… I’ve read a lot about your family. Let me guess, they send you away for not living up to the white man’s image?”

“Speak not of my family you… you… ghetto rat! I’m only telling you to be gone because of your poor performance, nothing personal.”

“What poor performance? If this is about the bank robbery then you aren’t one to talk, the only time you had to fight Supervillains are in the memories of your ancestors.”

He laughed, his armor rattling as he placed a hand on his chest, “You fought a Supervillain?! Oh that's perfect. That RatKing is a joke, he isn’t a Supervillain, he is but a bandit playing pretend. Yet you couldn’t even kill him!”

“Heroes shouldn’t kill.” I said taking one step closer to him, my hands closed into fists as I contemplated drawing more blood on that day.

“Really? Then why is it legal? As a matter of fact I just saw you beat that poor quilly gentleman over there half to death, are you certain he didn’t bleed out?”

I became worried at the thought and turned to see if the Porcupine Hero was still where I left him. Grappling with the idea of killing someone until I breathed a sigh of relief when all that remained was a small trail of blood on the ruined floor.

“I didn’t kill him.” I said assertively.

“Sure, perhaps. And that’s why you can’t go after the Apostates, you’ll hold back.”

I became frustrated with Noble’s words, how they made me feel, and the uncertainty it planted in my mind. Ahyoka and Blue had to see my side of things and I hoped they would do it the right way. Human life is precious no matter what. I looked to the others silently pleading they agree with me and denounce his bloodlust.

Blue begrudgingly said, “Ms. Doe, I am a believer of Godspeed’s philosophy and that justice must be merciful in a truly civilized society. Yet these Supervillains might make that difficult to maintain. We will bring these animals to justice but I cannot guarantee you it won’t get bloody.”

And Ahyoka only said, “We do what we can, DD. We are still human.”

“You’re less than that, darkie.” the southern knight slurred even more rotten things under his minty breath.

My stomach was calling for me, so I grabbed hold of Ahyoka’s hand dragging her with me out of that piece of shit building. I said my goodbyes rather quickly to all the other members, minus Noble. I had more than enough old-world crap and Superhero politics for one day. I was getting chocolate chip pancakes and making Ahyoka try the monumentally exquisite strawberry milkshake with a side of cajun fries.

Racing behind us was agent Smith, her shoes clamping frantically, “Hey wait! You didn’t say anything Power-Jack, you signing or what?”

I looked at the waiver one last time as I felt Ahyoka squeeze my hand gently. I felt so alone at times and I didn’t know why. What good would my powers be if I was in a team? Part of the thrill was making it on your own, no one to tell you what to do, it was freedom. Sometimes freedom was quiet, too quiet. It’s enough to drive you crazy. Maybe that’s why I am the way I am. Too much freedom.

I bit my lip, looking back at that old sword.

What would Godspeed do?