Mr. Hyde

It didn't take long before the rest of the recruited sorcerers started filing in. An average looking blonde girl showed up first. A dreary girl, wrapped in rain gear was second. In between them was a girl who was trying way too hard to look cool, and another with an eye-patch. The last two to stride in was some Rock Howard cosplayer, and some kind of skunk wrapped in a Hawaiian shirt. None of them stood out to Garret in particular. He did notice one of the sorcerers walked in with a pair of guns strapped to his waist. Pretty bold to stride into a government building with those things. After they had all taken a seat, the man from before nodded. "Looks like the gang's all here! We can go ahead and get this show on the road!" "HUH?!" Garret sprung out his chair, gripping the one in front of his. "This is the best you could do!?!?" "Schyeah brah. You guys were totally like...the only handful of sorcerers who even know the smallest bit of Jujutsu in the entire U.S.of.A.!" He looked to the corner of the room, tapping his bottom lip with a finger. "Well...the only one's who like...wanted to join us anyways...". He looked back to the crowd, and snapped back to attention. "ANYWAYS! Welcome to the Jujutsu Justice Society! A Special Ops team designed specifically for eradicating high level Cursed Spirit threats across the country!" His hand sprung into the air. "My name is Bradley Williams! First Grade Jujutsu Sorcerer! Formal Job Designation: Chief Sorcerer Manager!" He raised an eyebrow and served the room with a cocky smile. "That means I'm in charge of you little rapscallions! Pretty righteous, huh!?" Garret couldn't help but roll his eyes. "Now, if you read in your 'Welcome to the JJA' pamphlet, you will have read that Cursed Spirit activity has skyrocketed in the past few years here in the United States. Recession...wars...and general well being of the populace are all possible reasons. All that Cursed Energy has been swirling around like a hurricane since the 20th century. The government has turned a blind eye to most of it during the years, but now it's really flying off the rails. People are disappearing and dying mysteriously on the daily. The general population doesn't know that a majority of these are due to Cursed Spirit attacks." He stuck a thumb to his chest. "But that's why we're here! The first official organization of it's kind to save the public! Off the book, and off the hook!" "Right on." The skunk opted to throw in a leisurely, but somehow enthusiastic, response. "I just wanna get to the exorcising! When do we start?!" "Whoa whoa whoa, my hot-blooded, red-headed amigo. You might've been accepted into the JJA, but that doesn't mean diddly squat. Most of you came with shining recommendations from the top brass...others were scouted vigorously. But before we can get you out into the field, we gotta grade your capableness as a sorcerer. And to grade your capabilities, We gotta test ya!" "Uhm...how are we gonna do that?" The girl with the eyepatch asked with a quiet voice. "I don't think you're gonna like that answer, Bailey..." The try-hard patted her shoulder, shaking her head. "Combat exercises! What else!?!? We're Sorcerers, baby!" Garret's grin grew twenty times in size at the opportunity to show his stuff. "Hell yeah! Now we're talkin'! We doin' this thing here, or what?!" He stuffed one hand into his palm, grinding his knuckles against his hand in excitement. His cursed energy began to spike in turn. "Again with the 'whoa whoa whoa's! Save that enthusiasm for when you're getting thrashed here in a sec!" That smug grin showed up again, pointed directly at Garret. Garret's grip on the chair in front of him almost broke the thing. "Now, if you'll all follow me to the Practical Exam rooms, we can get down to business!" Bradley ushered the recruits to follow him, as the walked towards the back of the room and into the innards of the building. After a couple of lefts and rights through some narrow hallways, and through a doorway, they had made it into the heart of the building. A large gym, pool, and cafeteria could all be seen on the outer edges of the circular opening. "State of the art facilities, courtesy of the American tax-payer! Down this hallway," He pointed to a hallway that opened up to the right of the cafeteria, "Are the dormitories. You'll each be assigned an individual dorm room with all the fixings! Down this hallway," He shifted his pointing to a hallway to the left of the Gymnasium, "Are the Practical Exam rooms. That's where we're headed now!" After a bit more walking, they had made it to a dead end. It split into two rooms, Practical Exam Room A and B. Laying against the door in front of Exam Room B was another man. "This is Co-Chief Sorcerer Manager, Avery Anderson." The man waved. "Yo." He stood up properly to address them. "Uhm...let's see here..." It looked like he was wracking his brain for something, but couldn't find it. Instead he looked towards the open palm of his hand. "Bailey Friedman, Jessica Warhol, and....Skipper Kahele. Please follow me into Exam Room B." "Oh goodness..." Bailey stuttered, almost having to be forced into the room by Jessica. "Good luck to the rest of you. Hopefully we'll see each other on the other side!" Skipper smiled, as he strolled into the room. Avery nodded to the rest before shutting the door. "I guess that means the rest of you are with me! Exam Room A, stat!" He filed them into what an incredibly white room. It was almost blinding. Not a trace of ending or beginning could be seen in the room, besides a large red sign that seemed to be suspended in the air above the door labeled 'Exit'. Once the only entrance had shut behind Bradley, no trace of it could be seen again. "Welcome to Exam Room A. This is where you'll be graded as a Jujutsu Sorcerer. It will be a trial by combat. Any and all cursed techniques and items are allowed. You have to last at least 20 minutes fighting me. Anyone who survives passes this exam, and will be labeled a Grade 2 Sorcerer. Anyone who can land a blow on me will be labeled a Grade 1 Sorcerer." His smug smile permeated throughout the room. "And the first one who can incapacitate me will be labeled a Special Grade sorcerer. All others in that scenario will be labeled Grade 1. Good luck with that though." He put his smile away before addressing them plainly. "Now, before you come at me, at least introduce yourself properly! And if you want, you can explain your Cursed Technique to me. You'll need the boost!" "Garret McMann!" Garret exploded at the word go. His cursed energy spiked, as he cocked his fist back, throwing it at the Chief. His hand was simply stopped by Bradley extending his leg up to throw the fist off it's course. Their examiner's foot quickly found it's way back to the ground as he used his other leg to lodge itself into Garret's stomach. "Later brah!" Bradley extended his leg further, launching Garret far past the group of others. He didn't stop for a while, but he hadn't hit a wall either. Instead, he rolled across the ground for a couple of seconds. His breath was gone, and he was for sure he just fractured a rib or two. This was a real fight. Why hadn't Joe warned him about it? Garret stood to his feet, making his way back to the fight that was no doubt already starting. He wiped the spit from his mouth, readying himself for the fight of his life. With his leg still extended, Bradley smiled at the others. "Next!"

OOC "This is the best we could do?" A man scoffed, sitting in a rather void office. After sighing, he took out a pack of cigarettes and lit one. Taking a drag from it, he looked to the handful of manilla envelopes in front of him. "Seriously..." He took up one of the envelopes, a file of one of his newest recruits. He didn't need to read it. He had read through all of them already. He was hesitant to accept a handful of them. However...most of them came with shining recommendations from Jujutsu Sorcerers he knew. "The JJA will be off to a rough start if these are all we can manage to recruit." "Mr. Reach," A lady beside him spoke up, "I wouldn't lose hope so soon. These are natural born sorcerers, right here in the United States. They are the finest specimens we could ask for." She picked up a stack of envelopes for herself, holding them close to her chest. "I'd count ourselves lucky we were able to find so many." "General Reach." The man didn't even spare the woman a glance. "They'll be molded into the best Jujutsu Sorcerers this world has ever seen. Japan will be begging for our help in no time." He smiled, smoke pouring from his mouth. "Let's give them the first official Jujutsu Justice Association welcome, shall we?" Garret sat in the passenger seat of his father's car, the road getting too bumpy to allow him to lean his head against the window. The road to this place must've still needed the funding from the Government. This building was located so deep in the forest, that the lights of the city had far since faded. As he approached the place, he couldn't believe how unremarkable it was. "Huh?! You expect me to stay here, Joe!? This place is lame as hell!!!" The man driving couldn't help but laugh. "You thought the building holding a top secret Jujutsu Sorcery Agency was going to scream 'cool'?" The man began to slow down, finding a makeshift parking space outside of the building. "That wouldn't be too smart. Nobody but the higher ups know we exist. You're pretty much a ghost now." After some thinking, Garret nodded his head in approval. "I guess I do like the sound of that. Some sort of Secret Agent. Hell yeah." "Literally." Joe smiled. The two of them exited the car, and made their way into the building. Garret plugged his nose as they entered, it smelled like every other government building he had been shoved through his entire life. Joe had placed his hand over Garret's shoulder, making the young man relax. "You remember the last time we were in a place like this?" Garret turned red in the face, brushing his father's arm off of him. "Yeah whatever! You're not my real dad, so quit saying mushy shit like that, alright? I'm not a kid anymore! You're lucky I don't sock you right now!" Garret raised a rattling fist to the man, who could only let out a laugh at the display. "Keep acting tough, Gare Bear! Maybe you'll convince me one of these days." The man stuck out a hand towards Garret. "You're growing into quite the man. I'm proud of you." Garret jumped back at the hand. Was this some sort of final test? "We'll be going our separate ways for a while. You be good to those Sorcerers in the next room." Garret scratched the back of his head, before grasping Joe's firm hand. The two of them shook, before Joe brought the red-headed Sorcerer in for a sneak hug. Garret's life was almost squeezed from him, but he managed to slip away from the man's grasp. That obnoxious laugh of his rang out through the halls, before he turned around to head the other way. "Go get 'em Tiger!" Garret rolled his eyes. There was a tacky standing sign that directed his attention to the large doors on the right. It read 'New JJA Recruits'. He stuffed his hands into his pockets, walking through the doorway and into a large auditorium. It looked like anything you'd see at a school or college. A large stage towards the back in the room with rows of seating spread to the door. A giant projector screen hung above the stage, with the JJA logo painted across it. On the stage was only one individual. The man had obviously been paying attention to Garret since he stepped through the door. "Yoooo! New recruit, right? Take a seat! We'll be waiting for the rest before we get this shindig started!" What was that accent? What was a surfer doing in the middle of the Pennsylvania woods??? Guess they had recruited all over the place. "Whatever." Garret took the seat closest in the back, by the door. "Let's see what you have in store for us."

I Think I like A the most out of them all. B has weird connotations and C I like more if we need female reps

I'm down

Reluctant Tamer: Steadfast Partner:

Tightly Wound

And with that, we are officially an OOC! Let the good times roll

Plot: In this world, all of the negative emotions humans harbor leak out into reality as Cursed Energy. When enough Cursed Energy accumulates, something repulsive is born. For millennia, humanity has tried to explain supernatural phenomena with ghosts, spirits, gods, and devils. In reality, that shadow you see in the corner of your eye is probably a Cursed Spirit. For just as long as Cursed Spirits have haunted the earth, a certain sect of society has sought to destroy them. Jujutsu Sorcerers, humans able to use Cursed Energy to their own benefit. Predominately an Eastern profession, their methods have been used by others throughout the centuries. You might know them as Exorcists, Witches, or Shamans. Their missions are all the same: Destroy Cursed Spirits. However, the West has always been disorganized in their efforts, compared to the beacon of Curse Eradication known as Jujutsu High in Japan. The United States has initiated steps to begin training young Jujutsu Sorcerers in their hopes to destroy the threats to the country that seem to be popping up more and more everyday. This facility, located in Erie, Pennsylvania, You are one of the chosen few recruits of the Jujutsu Justice Association. Give Your All for Family and Friend Give Your All for Countrymen and Country. Give Your All for the JJA. Give Your All. Rules: Application Skeleton: Database:

Always down for a good Digimon story

A rather eventful day bled into a rather peaceful night, only for the sun to rise again on chaos! The crew had been rushed out of the hotel and into the parking lot. Agents of Mirror were on the attack now. Stalag couldn't have hoped for a better start to the day. "At least they are not the cowards! I was expecting some sort of hunt! But they have brought the battle to us!" Stalag prepared himself for battle, arms stretched out wide. "I am the liking of this!" He noticed that among the agents of Mirror was Reed, his adversary from the colosseum. He suspected that this time, the man would not hold back his punches. The thought of it both excited, and frightened him. However, the man was not to be his opponent. Instead, it was a rather small Soft-Skin female charging him. He smirked at her advance. She must have been at least somewhat capable if she was brazen enough to approach a Meteor-Kin on the scale of Stalag. "Your warrior spirit shines bright, young Soft-Skin!" Flames started erupting from Stalag's skin in a burst of heat, cloaking his scales in radiant oranges and reds, "But the Sun outshines us all!" Stalag still stood with his arms stretched out, ready to intercept the young lady. As Camille saw Stalag's body burst into flames, her advance came to a slow, though not an outright halt. She pointed her fingers toward Stalag, and the nails of her fingers grew forth, shooting forth toward her target like spears. With the nails shot towards him, Stalag didn't so much as flinch. Instead he smiled as the attack landed, nailing him straight in the torso. To his surprise, the attack managed to pierce his skin. Blood even began to drip from it. "Tremendous effort!" Stalag retorted. "However, your talons are less sharp than that of a baby raptor's big toe! HAHA!" With a wince, Stalag grabbed the nails that had struck him, as the fire that coated his body was now being transferred to the girls nails. "A proper handshake between foes, yes?" "How savage!" Camille exclaimed at the notion of calling this a handshake. Despite her shocked tone of voice, however, her expression made it clear she not only wasn't shocked, but was reveling in this. As the flames worked their way up Camille's nails, Stalag would notice some amounts of his blood traveling along the same course. And as it reached her hands, "We need more savages in the world, I think. A handshake it is!" As the blood finished its travels, seeping into Camille's skin, Stalag would feel his might begin to drain. Only by a small amount, however, as once she had gotten a small amount of the blood, she quickly withdrew her nails, unable to handle the heat of the Meteor-Kin's flames for much longer. "Ohh, now this is premium stuff! Might have to try to persuade you to my team after all..." As the nails withdrew from his skin, and away from his grasp, he opened and closed his palms with a raised brow. It felt strange to do, like he had been sapped of some of his strength. "Interesting. Psychics are very interesting!" Stalag gathered the flames that trailed up his arm into a condensed orb in his palm. "You cannot persuade me, tiny soft-skin. My word is my bond. And I have given it to another." Stalag cocked his arm back, preparing to launch the pitch of the century. "But perhaps I could convince you to my side." His eyes were soft. "We do not have to be enemies." "How convincing! But I think a parking lot-gone-battlefield isn't the place to talk about alliegances." Satisfied that she had taken the measure of her quarry of choice, Camille leapt forth once more, literal claw and fang bared and ready to draw further blood. "Agreed! A fire side feast would do the trick I am thinking!" Stalag shot his palm out, a torrent of flames erupting from the orb towards the girl.

Earlier: It had been in an insane amount of whirlwind of firsts for Stalag since he had encountered this rag-tag group of humans. The first time he had flown, and the first time he had taken a train, all within a couple of days of each other. Stalag wished he could have been in awe of the situation, but truthfully, he was doing his best to stave off the motion sickness. He held onto one of the handrails for dear life, as pridefully as he could. The look of nausea on his face was noticeable, despite his best efforts. The team had said this was the fastest way to travel on land, and he would be the last to slow them down! He would pull through this! Setting foot on solid ground once again, he had found himself in Rome, Italy. This was the first time he had stepped foot outside of the North American continent. He was glad he did so. Something about the architecture of this land really caught his eye. He had never used the word to describe anything but a female, but it was truly beautiful. Even a creature from a bygone era could understand that. He had made sure to procure a brochure before boarding the train, and had skimmed it on the way here. Now that he had arrived, the certain attraction was calling his name. And it would be rude not to answer it in it's own home. "TO THE COLOSSEUM! I shall be joining you at the Triumvirate once I am finished conquering it!" Stalag had read the history of the locale. A place where humans battled to the death for glory and for the entertainment of others. Who knew they were capable of such things?! So it was that - in the guiding company of Sita - Stalag was shown the way to the Colosseum, and taught some fun facts about other places of tangential note along the way. Nothing of historical significance, so much as anecdotes of her own experience during previous visits to the city. But once the destination was in sight, its silhouette was unmistakable. A great circular wall of ancient bricks, shooting several stories up, its age doing little to fade the sense of awe the sight of it inspired. As Stalag and company passed through one of its entrances - noting along the way that no events were scheduled here for today - it quickly became apparent that while the exterior was ancient, the seats and interiors of the Colosseum had received care, maintenance, and some light refurbishing over the last few decades. After all, nobody wanted to sit on millennia-old wooden seats. Perhaps because today was a day off for the historic building, the seats were largely empty. A scant few other groups could be spotted here and there, but it had the same type of atmosphere as a stadium's rafters three hours after the game was over. Likewise, the sands in the heart of the Colosseum were devoid of any combatants, beasts, or otherwise. The only thing stopping anyone from stepping on the sands and having a bout was common sense and a few signs that warned spectators that they weren't supposed to do that. "Y'know, this is my first time being here," Sita commented. "Shame nothing's going on today. I bet this place is awesome when it's packed with cheering crowds and armed combatants." "Hmmmm..." Stalag scratched underneath his chin. "Well let us be the changing of that!" Stalag smiled at the girl. He picked up Sita like a sack of flour, and placed her on his shoulder. He crouched low, before launching himself from the spectator seats, and into the arena. They landed with a loud crash, dust exploding from the impact. "WHO WOULD LIKE TO CHALLENGE THE MIGHTY STALAG IN MORTAL COMBAT!!!!" He roared confidently to no one in particular. The show of confidence certainly didn't fail to grab the attention of... well, everyone present. Near the front rows, a group of three sat, looking down at Stalag. Unlike most of the visitors who just went back to their business, however, the tall man among them shouted back in response. "HOW MIGHTY ARE WE TALKING? LIKE, "I HIT THE GYM DAILY" MIGHTY, OR "I KILL MONSTERS BARE-HANDED FOR SPORT" MIGHTY?" The two girls with him seemed eager to talk him out of it, not that Stalag or Sita could hear what either of them were saying from where they stood, but it seemed the man was hearing none of it Stalag could only respond with a toothy grin. His challenge was answered. He cracked his knuckles, before responding in kind. "WE ARE TALKING OF THE STRONGEST CREATURE TO EVER ROAM THE EARTH, MIGHTY! SO MIGHTY, ONLY A METEOR COULD STOP HIS TYRANNY! RAHAHAHAHAHAH!" Stalag set his sharp sight on the man, licking his mouth in angst. "MIGHTY ENOUGH FOR YOU?" OST Rather than respond in words, the man stood up, crouched down, then leapt forth from his seat, hurling himself forth from his position, across the sands, and straight toward Stalag. Where, upon getting close enough, the Meteor-Kin would notice two things. One, this man's fists were interlocked and now bearing down upon him in a sledgehammer-style attack. Two, Sita had already gotten out of dodge, putting considerable space between herself and the fight that was now unfolding. Stalag couldn't help but feel his insides twist in excitement! This human boldly threw himself at not only a Meteor-Kin, but Stalag Mightjaw! He must've been a Man among men, like the President of the United States! He wondered what the strength of a man with this much confidence was like, and intended to take the blow straight on...but would that be an insult to this mans pride? He didn't wish to slight a challenger like that! Instead, Stalag had reached his arms up in an attempt to grab his challengers. "Witness this battle, Sita! I can feel it will be the greatest fought upon this sand!!! RAHHHHHHH!" As the man's arms were grasped in Stalag's claws, the Meteor-Kin would feel a distinct downward pull as the swing continued almost unhindered, but barely avoiding the Meteor-Kin's skull. "Nice catch. Hope your back's as solid as your hands!" With that, the man unballed his fists, grabbing Stalag's wrists in return, then spinning and throwing the dinosaur of a man as if he were some dog's chew toy. Having not tangled with a Meteor-Kin before, however, Stalag was heavier than his new opponent had expected, which did affect how that worked out for him. Rather than crashing back-first into the walls of the pit, Stalag fell just short, sliding along the far end of the sands before still colliding with the far wall, just not as hard, just beneath the curious gaze of the man's companions. "Huh. Heavy sort." Unwilling or perhaps unable to make another mighty leap, Stalag's foe began simply running instead, though certainly not fast enough to get to Stalag before the proud Mightjaw was back on his feet. Stalag was surely taken aback by the man's sheer strength. His excitement was going to boil over! It had been some time since he had been thrown around like that...was this man a Meteor-Kin in disguise? The question would have to wait. His challenger was barreling at him. He had gotten himself up, with the support of the Colosseum wall, and sprinted at his opponent. His stomps seemed to shake the entire Colosseum as he approached. His fangs snarled as he went to grab the man's back from the top, using his height advantage to do so. Once the two combatants were once again in grappling range, the man found himself unable to stop Stalag from grabbing at his back. He tried to knock Stalag off his feet with a low kick, but it wouldn't take much for Stalag to notice that although the kick was also powerful, it was a sort of powerful that was still within the range of normal human capability. Not at all like the feat of strength displayed just a moment ago. A feat that, if the early signs of bulging veins along his arms were any indicator, were just the warm-up. The kick easily smacked against Stalag's trunk of a calf, and he almost laughed at the thud. Instead, Stalag lifted the man up off the ground until he was upside down in Stalag's grasp. The Meteor-Kin again hoisted the man parallel to the ground, before violently slamming him into the ground on his back. He looked back at the faces of the two spectators, in order to see the reaction of the display of dominance, only to get a better look of one of the girls. He was very familiar with her...but where had he seen this human? He had only met so few before...it couldn't have been... "Miss Gabriela?" He let out faintly. Supplex successful, the man remained on the ground for a while to regain his bearings and catch his breath. His expression suddenly changed, however, at the mention of that name, faint though it was. "Crap, you've met before?" With a sigh of equal parts reluctance and relief, he got back up to his feet. The veins along his arms began pulsing and emitting steam, as he said "Sorry, but if you know who that girl is, I need to stop holding back just because we're in a city. Nobody from the past can know her whereabouts, that's what she told us." With that, the man raised a singular fist, before slamming it down straight toward Stalag. While his previous blows showed no sign of restraint either, this was different. Whatever power granted him his strength, it was running at full speed now. With the fist approaching, it was as if some deep prey response had awakened inside him. It was a feeling he had never felt before, and it was coming from a human of all things! Every fiber of his being, of his instinct, was telling him to get out of the way of this punch, lest he share the fate as those Gladiators before him. Using every ounce of strength in his legs, and even his tail, Stalag bounded backwards, so far and so fast that he had landed on his hands and knees, sliding on the sand. A wave of sand had hit him as he did so, as he looked back to where that man's fist had landed. A large hole had appeared in the ground, cracks in it almost reaching Stalag. Scattered bricks from the walls now littered the stadium. This man's strength was incredible...it was fact that he was stronger than any Meteor-Kin he had done battle with in the past. His excitement had turned now been turned into rage. Rage that this man had Gabi...Rage that this man had made him dodge an attack! He snarled at the man. "You are Miss Gabrielas kidnapper?! I cannot allow you to leave here with her...she will be returned to her father, on my honor as a Mightjaw." It was obvious this man was a Psychic...a strong one at that. Perhaps the strongest. But it did not matter. He looked to Sita. "You will tell my story? Yes?" "Then come and--" "This isn't a kidnapping!" interrupted the girl from the stands, looking down at Stalag. Afterwards, though, she seemed unsure of what to say for a moment. Once the words settled in her mind, however, she steeled her resolve, and spoke them. "I wasn't kidnapped. I'm with them, and their... company... by choice. They're taking good care of me, if that's what dad's worried about. But I can't go home yet. And I DEFINITELY can't let him know what I've been doing. Sorry, I don't remember who you are exactly, but if you know me, I need you to stop knowing me. Forget you ever saw me here. If word of where I've been gets out... hell will come with it." Then she looked down to the other combatant. "Reed. We're leaving. We've still got work to do, and you've caused too much of a stir already." Stalag stood tall, looking at the Princess of the NAR in confusion. She was on her own mission out here. He couldn't help but feel a bit of respect...like a hatchling after their first hunt. She had the same look in her eyes. "I will not forget you. I am in your father's debt." He crossed his arms, huffing. "The sun has been in my eyes for too long...I must have mistaken you for someone else...stay safe, young miss." His gaze then focused on the man named Reed. "We'll will be finishing of this at a later date. Until then...know that I, Stalag Mightjaw, consider you as Mighty as a Meteor." "Now that's a new compliment. I like the sound of that!" Reed gave a hearty laugh, before returning the praise. "And I, Reed Skinner, think you're no slouch yourself. The strongest person I've tussled with, for sure!" Stalag took the compliment in stride as well. He nodded to the group, before going to pick Sita up again. "Let us be reassembling with the team, yes?" He placed her on his shoulder, as the two strolled out of the Colosseum. "Well, what did you think of the show?" Stalag asked the tiny soft-skin with a wagging tail. "I think we'll be lucky to avoid jail time," Sita sighed, not looking back at the consequential crater of Stalag's bout with Reed. She could feel her heart sick into her stomach when that last blow got thrown, and while she wasn't necessarily a by-the-books law-abider, getting incarcerated as an accessory to damaging a facility of historical and cultural significance was not on her to-do list by any means. "You both were impressive, though." "You are too modest, Young Sita! Do not hold back your awe of my strength! RAHAHAH!" With a boisterous laugh, Stalag and Sita made their way back to the Triumvirate. Present: Stalag was bored to tears during their meeting with the Triumvirate. In his eyes, they were nothing more than pretentious little snakes, looking down on them from atop a throne of lies and arrogance. He didn't like the idea of being an errand boy for them either, delivering some recluse genius to them so he could accept their proposal to ascend to the ivory lie throne. What a boring errand. His mind couldn't help but wander to his fight prior to this. His tail smacked the ground with a loud thud. A young girl, Avis, would be accompanying them to locate the doctor. Another small and frail human specimen. They introduced themselves properly to the group. Stalag bowed his head. "A-ah, sorry about that... my heart isn't the strongest. B-but never fear, I won't weigh you down, trust me! I've dealt with this for many years now, even though I'm not too terribly strong. In fact, I got involved because I..." "No need to undersell yourself, Avis. If you weren't necessary for our success, the Triumvirate would not have been the entrusting of you with this mission. I am Stalag Mightjaw." Stalag bowed his head to the temporary member of the team. "No harm shall befall you, as long as I breath. You can be trusting me of this." He sighed, looking to Sita. "I hear there is a leaning tower in this country...shall we go and correct it's posture for the people?"

As the other members of the freshly made group went around and conversed with Mr. Lewis, Stalag raised a ridge in confusion. None of his new teammates had introduced themselves. Were they ashamed of their names? But their deeds at the festival were so honorable? How peculiar...smooth-skin cultures still eluded him. The tip of his rose and fell against the floor in annoyance. He wished to know these most noble smooth-skins! "Well then, since it seems you're all willing to join... to be honest, I was sure at least somebody would say no. In fact, realistically, I expected none of you to sign up. If you'll all follow me, we can introduce you to the rest of the team." "It is only natural that you would need me! So I can only humbly accept your request!" Stalag was also surprised that the rest of these humans had accepted being apart of an operation with a Meteor Kin. Usually, he could only perceive fear from the smaller mammals. Being a predator, he was especially perceptive of the smell that arose from the emotion. However, eyes told a much different story. He still hadn't caught their gaze to see their true feelings towards his people. Stalag stood from his seat and took a knee, humbly lowering his head to the others. "I am the thankful. Hopefully we may extend friendly greetings at another time." As Stalag had done this, a message came on a device held by Mr. Lewis. He wasn't able to make out the particulars, but something had happened that was now under control. Nothing to worry about! "You'd be surprised how hard it is to find decent guards these days. But that's not our job in the team I'm putting you in. If you'd follow me." "A shame! I would do a great guarding of the bodies! My body is like that of Iron!" Stalag flexed his muscles in a display of power, almost sending a shockwave throughout the small hallways. He froze in embarrassment, as he scratched the back of his neck. "Please, be leading of the way!" It took a moment of meandering before they all were led to the Meeting Room. Perplexingly, Mr. Lewis had taken his time retracing their steps around the ship to get here. "The team doesn't have an official name, because there's no documentation about us. It's a bit of an extra security measure, to ensure that we leave no paper trail. Shortly after MIRROR first started taking international action, Ja... ahem, Mr. Roosevelt told me to assemble a small team to track them down, learn everything we could about them, then wipe them out. Easier said than done. Their leader's a slippery bitch, and quite frankly, we think that she may have been onto us the entire time and let us gather intel. Except for anything pertaining to her. And I don't want to charge in against an unknown foe, especially if my hunch is right, so for the time being, we'll be seeing about gathering further intel. But first, you should get to know your new teammates." Stalag was introduced to five more members of the group, his predecessors! John West, Weapons, a soon to be close ally of the Mightjaw Clan. Dayna Miller, a woman with hair as fiery as his skin, Analytics...whatever those were. May and Fay Schneider, Combat and Spying...Stalag wished to test himself against a smooth-skin with expertise in the field of fighting! Last and certainly least was Abby Collins, With Doctor, a frail specimen of a human female. Perhaps there was more to her than met the eye. No matter their stature or strength, Stalag was excited at the mere prospect of befriending more smooth-skins...or rather...humans. "It is an honor to be doing the meeting with you! I am Stalag Mightjaw, envoy of the Meteor Kin." Stalag bowed to each of them individually. "I wish to becoming the close with humans, and learn from them, as much as they are to be doing the learning from me! May we find many victories together!" "And that's our team. You've joined just in time to get to see the world, in fact. Now that our job at the centennial is wrapped up, we're being deployed to Novaroma. The Triumvirate's also in on our little operation - they were even kind enough to send the twins our way, in fact - and a few days ago, a letter arrived saying they have some intel we'd be interested in. Hope none of you are prone to seasickness." Seasickness? What was that? Stalag was never the one to get sick! He was the paradigm of health! "Ah, right, as for the envoy in the room." Austin turned and gave Stalag a nod. "I'll escort you to meet with the President myself. Once your talk with him has wrapped up, we can start heading east to catch our boat." "I am understanding!" Stalag turned back towards the other new team members. "I expect introductions at the level of our seniors by the time I return!" Stalag raised his tail, and slammed it on the floor of the meeting room. "Do not be doing the dissappointing of me!" With that, Stalag returned to meet Mr. Lewis and exchanged his own nod. "Let us being doing the meeting now." Austin, not entirely sure what to make of the envoy in the room, gave Stalag a nod. "Yes. Let's." With that, the two men left the room for the time being. In a stark contrast to the winding path he had taken to lead everyone to the meeting room in the first place, the path he took to get back near where he started was remarkably straightforward, eventually going past the lobbies Stalag and company had been in not long ago, further up and into the depths of Air Force Zero, and eventually to a heavily-guarded elevator. An elevator that, as Stalag would soon learn, led up to the White House sitting atop the airship. The inside of the White House, as opposed to the highly utilitarian, minimalistic decor of Air Force Zero, was what one would expect of a national leader's place of residence. Well-kept, well-decorated, and with wide, open hallways. Eventually, Stalag was brought to the Oval Office, and standing behind the desk, talking with and then dismissing a suited woman with incredibly convenient timing, was President Jack Roosevelt himself. He turned, smiled, and nodded toward Stalag and his escort of one. "Ah, yes, our Aztec envoy. I'd like to personally apologize that you had to get caught up in that display by MIRROR. With that said, shall we get down to business?" Here he was, mere feet away from him, in the flesh! The man who shook his chest cavity alone with just his voice, Jack Roosevelt. It took some time to get here. This was truly an experience he never had hoped he would have. The feeling was elating. "Mr. Roosevelt, an immense honor I am feeling!" Stalag bowed his head low, almost showing his back in a display of respectful submission. "This business is getting down, immediately!" He almost hesitated to take a seat from the man he had heard so much about...what was this emotion he was feeling. It was as he was sitting across a predator three times his size! Someone who could devour him whole in a single bite. His stomach rose, and his knees almost buckled, as he sat himself down across the President of the United States. "Let us do the saying...that the land was returned to you...what are to become of my people?" His eyes narrowed at the mention of the future of the Meteor Kin. He had found his resolve, and it was steeled. "Were our lost states returned to us, the Meteor-Kin within their borders would of course be welcomed as equal citizens of the United States of America. On this, you have my word. Not many of them live in our territory, so we would have to survey your people to assess their needs to ensure they are met, and this is of course not an overnight process. What to do with those who wish to remain citizens of the New Aztec Republic is a topic I would prefer to discuss with King Manuel himself, but we will see to it that the Meteor-Kin are integrated into their new nation as seamlessly and harmlessly as possible." "The Meteor Kin are autonomous of King Manuel...surely you are the knowing this? Our society does not rely on the help of The New Aztec Republic. We meet our own needs. The Meteor Kin are a proud people, and we do not need the help of the United States." Stalag huffed out of his nose. "We have had very good relations with King Manuel and his government for this fact, and many others. We have made our intentions clear with him as well. It is the hope of the Meteor Kin to be creating our our own nation." He crossed his arms. "Would this be a willingness of your government? To give the land we rose from, to us? To govern our people as we are the seeing fit?" "That's a more complicated topic, I'm afraid. If you don't mind, I'd like to teach a bit of our history to you, as it is related to your question." Roosevelt nodded toward the wall to Stalag's left, from which hung a large map of the United States, as it was before The Crisis. The states that disappeared in that week were still there, as were the ones that were eventually claimed up by the New Aztec Republic; the very lands that were now being discussed. "Do you know why the New Aztec Republic is considered New, Mr. Mightjaw?" "I understand the land was the taken from your Government after the Crisis by the first King. As I am the seeing it, it was rightfully conquered." Stalag scratched his head. "I am the thinking the United States was relatively new in a similar fashion. Is my thinking of this the wrong?" "You are partially correct. After The Crisis, the United Mexican States fell apart in a series of tragic events. The founding King of the New Aztec Republic re-united the people, then marched north and took much of our land as well. However, much of that land, if you can believe it, was originally part of Mexico. In the year 1846, Mexico and America went to war, and it wasn't until 1848 that peace was made. The Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo was signed, and in its terms was the requirement that Mexico cede much of its territory to the United States. So, the land that the Aztecs took from us was in fact taken from Mexico. But it goes a bit further than that still. In the year 1492, a Spanish sailor named Christopher Columbus set foot on these lands on behalf of his European masters. This led to the rapid colonization of the Americas and the Caribbean. However, there were already indigenous peoples living here when Columbus arrived. You may have even met some descendants of those peoples, if you've been to the northern NAR. These peoples had societies and nations of their own, yet when push came to shove, we took this land for ourselves. It is not a chapter of our history that anyone should be proud of, be they American, Mexican, or anything else living on this side of the planet, but a chapter it was. However, while I can't speak for other nations, I do know that here, we had chosen to set aside land for the descendants of those peoples, so they may live in their ancestral homeland. This is an arrangement that can certainly be made for the Meteor-Kin as well, but if you seek full sovereignty of an entirely new and independent nation, I feel discussions of granting your people such a thing over the lands of your predecessors would have to be made in the presence of both myself and King Manuel." Stalag took in the history lesson with care. Of course he was briefed on most of this beforehand. Whether he had listened as intently as he had just now was anyone's guess. He just wished to hear what the President Himself would say. "Understandably so. But let us be going back even the further. Hundreds of millions of years ago, an ancient clade of reptiles roamed these lands. You know these creatures well. You disturbed their ancient burials and display them in your museums...much akin to trophies. They had no concepts of nations, of course. But territory...they knew very well." Stalag looked to the roof of the white house, staring beyond it. "Their rule was ended in an instant...but thanks to the Crisis...they were reborn...reforged...as the Meteor Kin. We had no intention of being revived under the same sun as you humans. We had no intention of ever having territory ever again. But we are alive now. Our claim to this land runs deeper than any blood that was spilt during any war you may have waged in the past. King Manuel understands this." Stalag brought his gaze back to meet the Presidents. "That is why we wish to remain separate from both the United States, and the New Aztec Republic. But that is why we also wish to make friendly relations with the both of you. We wish not for violence, Mr. President...but my people have no intention of being called...Americans...or Aztec..." He uncrossed his arms to look at his clawed hand. "Surely you can understand why." "Well said, Mr. Mightjaw. Well said indeed. Presently, most if not all of the land that was home to tyrannosaurus rex - which I would guess your specific line of Meteor-Kin are related to, if you'll pardon the assumption," It was a very good assumption, "- is Aztec territory, so forming your own nation would presently be under your King's jurisdiction. If these territories were to change hands to America, I am however open to discussing the matter with your people myself. You may even wish to discuss this with His Highness yourself upon returning home, if you feel so inclined!" "Um, actually, Mr. President, about that," Austin briefly interjected. "Stalag has announced his intentions to join the anti-MIRROR team." "Oh, my, I had no idea. Get someone to prepare a letter for King Manuel after our talk here has included. I want the details of our conversation as well as the news that he may not be coming home for some time, if he's out saving the world. Manuel has it out for those people as much as I do, so I'm sure he'll understand. Knowing him, he'd even approve. But, back to the matter at hand. The return of Meteor-Kin territory to your people is simply not a matter I have the authority to speak in on at present, but I will keep what we've discussed on that front at the forefront of my mind should those territories move into our hands instead of yours. As for the states that your people do not occupy, what were the other concerns of the Aztec government?" "I understand the King has concerns of the rest of his citizens that have relocated to the Northern territories of the Republic. As I'm sure you're informed, the Southern Hemisphere of our globe has become hostile to life due to rising temperatures...He is reluctant to release the land to you with the concern that his people will have to move back into the inhospitable lands." Stalag's tail tapped on the ground in curiosity. "Is there a specific reason this land needs to be returned? Why not proliferate friendly relations with the Republic instead?" "Our reason is much the same as the reason the Meteor-Kin want certain states ceded to them. It was our territory. Louisiana in particular, for example, was already part of the United States before the Mexican-American War. There are no shortage of eldery Americans whose homes were taken over in the Aztec-American war following The Crisis. I do seek to foster friendly relations with our neighbors, make no mistake, but I must also pursue the interests of the people. Even if I didn't want the land back, they would." Stalag scratched his chin. He couldn't fault the President for the same mindset he harbored himself. Truly, politics was a tricky game. "Perhaps a compromise is required? What if the Aztec Republic was to pay reparations, while maintaining a smaller portion of the land they've acquired?" Stalag smiled. "There's always an alternative solution that I'm told my ancestors participated in frequently." "You may be onto something, Mr. Mightjaw. Owing to King Manuel's efforts, the New Aztec Republic is quite the economic powerhouse. We would certainly be able to benefit from reparation payments. Though, I am curious, what is this alternative solution you've mentioned?" Stalag's toothy grin beamed brightly. "A duel, of course! You and King Manuel shall fight for the right to rule the land you both stake claim too! It is only natural that the strong get their keep! And who better to represent opposing sides than the leaders themselves!" Stalag let out a mighty, and excited roar. "The thought sends tingles down my scales! I wish I could partake in such glory!!!" Stalag calmed himself, clearing his throat. "I am told that these are old ways...you know how us Fossils are though! RAHAHAHAHAHA!!!" Roosevelt echoed Stalag's laugh with a hearty laugh of his own. "Old ways, indeed. Martial duels have no place in politics these days, but I just might extend the offer to His Highness purely for sport. I'd like to thank you again, Mr. Mightjaw, not only for aiding in our fight against MIRROR, but for your time and insights on our current political situation. However, if I keep you much longer, Mr. Lewis might start getting antsy. I'll have a letter sent to King Manuel detailing what we've discussed here, and informing him that you've volunteered for a classified mission alongside some of our men. In the meantime, I'll begin doing some personal research into the present situation of the Meteor-Kin, to best foster America's relationship with your people, be you your own nation, or an invaluable part of one of ours. Unless you have any closing questions or comments, you're free to meet back up with your team now." "No, Mr. President. My job here is the done. I have said my peace. It was truly incredible to meet you and discuss the matters of my people. I hope all of these issues have peaceful resolutions. Despite our appearance, the Meteor Kin truly only want to live in this world that has given us a second chance." Stalag stood from his seat, and bowed once more. "I hope we meet again. But for now, we've got a mirror to be smashing." He turned to Mr. Lewis with a smile. "I will be taking after you once again!"

Before he had made it back to the fairgrounds, Stalag heard a mighty shout that seemed to shake the very earth beneath him. The booming voice had obviously come from the President, commanding all those who heard to stand down. There were no arguments from the massive crowd. The whole ordeal was taken care of just as swiftly as it had begun. Security detail was arresting those who had started the whole commotion, and now he was being asked to answer some questions. Stalag offered no resistance, and was more than happy to tell everyone of his brave exploits! He was quickly escorted to the lobby of Air Force Zero. He looked around the plane in awe. Never before had he seen such technology before! He was half-tempted to ask if they could make this magic machine take flight, just as the Pterror Clan themselves were able to do. The sensation of flight would be new for him. Stalag was joined in the questioning by three others who helped during the panic. They must all have been brave warriors to have taken action like he had! Before he could ask for their names, a man with a rather large scar on his face began to speak. "I'm Austin Lewis, the Secretary of Defense. Some of you may be in shock or not realize what happened about fifteen minutes ago, but a group of psychic terrorists belonging to an organization called MIRROR just made an attempt to assassinate President Jack Roosevelt. They failed, thanks to the bounty hunters he hired, but I hear at least one of you civilians also helped in disarming the threat levvied against us. If so, I'd like to personally thank any responsible parties for their contributions." The situation must've been stressful for one whose job it was to keep the nation safe against all threats foreign and domestic. A heavy burden to put on a smooth-skin. "Look, I need to be honest with all of you. I'm shit at work that involves talking to people, but I wanted any witnesses rounded up for extra questioning. If any of you have any insights about the attackers, or perhaps recognized one of them, I encourage you to come forward with that information. I'd also like to invite any volunteers to join a small squad we're assembling, to try and track down and wipe out the organization behind this attack. You will be generously compensated for this, all the more so since what I'm doing goes against every recruitment protocol we've got. That's all the cards on the table. Information, volunteers, questions, give me whatever you've got." His attention was then turned to the Mightjaw envoy. "Oh, as for you, the President said he'd like to speak with you in person after we're done here, in your capacity as an Aztec envoy. Seems you'll have quite the story to tell once you return home." "I would very much so like to be speaking with him as well! But first, I will offer any assistance I can! I will be assembled into this 'squad'! You would do well to have a Meteor Kin, especially THE Stalag Mightjaw, in any 'squad' you are to be assembling!" His tail wagged with enthusiasm. It sounded as if a mighty adventure was waiting for him! An Epic to be passed down through his people for generations. The Song of Stalag. It had a ring to it. "The only compensation I would require is the friendship of the United States and it's peoples! I do not suppose this is much to ask, is it?" His attention focused to the matter at hand. "You must have already questioned Friend, yes? She was the starter of the attack of terror. Although, she did not use a firearm...she was just the signaler. Your bounty hunter says she is criminal...I say she might be good person! She had run, but we did the catching! She did not wish to harm us. My only question is being why she would want to be involved in all of this...what does this MIRROR want?" Stalag turned his head towards his fellow interogatees. "Sorry for being the rude and doing all the talking! If you would all be so kind as to do the introducing! I wish to hear your tales as well!" "Yes, it may be good for you to get to know each other," Austin agreed. "But more than that, you should all be brought into the loop on MIRROR." Austin cleared his throat, briefly shuffling through his stack of papers again, before looking back up at the assembled questionees. "For those who don't know, let me recap. About three and a half years ago, the psychic terrorist organization named MIRROR was formed. I'm not at liberty to disclose everything I know about them, but the short version is, they're bad news. According to them, they're fighting to preserve our way of life and prevent a second Crisis. A goal we could all aspire to, of course, if they weren't trying to accomplish it by assassinating world leaders, destabilizing nations, inciting rebellions, and other acts meant to tear at civilization as we know it. Especially not when they don't even know when or how this second Crisis would happen," Austin scoffed. "And even that's assuming it's not some sorry attempt at justifying their actions. All of this is why it's my job to ensure they don't get their way here in the United States." Stalag nodded his head. "My people...they were born of this 'Crisis' you speak of...to us it is sacred...holy..." A swift breath spouted from his nostrils, "But I am understanding that for the soft-ski-....humans...it was not seen in that way. I can see why MIRROR and yourselves would want to make sure a second Crisis doesn't happen."

An announcement had rung out through the entire Fairgrounds, as Stalag had chomped into a large turkey leg. The President of the United States was landing, and his speech would begin at any moment. He ripped his mouth away from the leg, taking out a chunk of the succulent meat as he did so. He had finally found a good meal at one of these stands and now he was being interrupted. He now recalled his classes on human culture, where he learned that the President of the United States was much akin to that of his own village's chief. The chief was the best Specimen the village could produce, one who could take on all comers! However, Stalag's first impression of the President was rather poor. The Chief of the Mightjaw clan was enormous in stature, and quite boisterous. Stalag admired people like that! His opinion turned a complete one-eighty when the President had thrown away the magical voice boomer to instead speak naturally to the crowd. "Citizens and guests to the United States alike, I would like to thank you all for attending today's festivities. Now, all of you are surely eager to return to the rest of what this centennial anniversary has to offer, so in the interest of saving time, I will try to keep this brief." "If you would be so kind! I was in the middle of snacking, and I wish to return to devouring this Tur-key!" He shouted, presumably trying to talk to the President as an equal among the crowd. The speech continued on, and so did Stalag's snack time. His ears perked up at the mention of the wars against the New Aztec Republic, where he slightly shrinked. That was the Tribe that was sponsoring this mission of his. His people were a neutral faction, but they resided within the borders of the NAR. Would he be seen as an enemy by Americans? He pushed the thought out of his head. His mission was to make sure it was the opposite! His people were here to learn and be merry! "That is why I stare the future dead in the eyes, and why I promise to use every resource I have, and every power within my authority, to ensure that by the time I am forced to step down from my office, the United States will enter an age of peace an--" It sounded like thunder had roamed across the sky overhead, but he had seen no flash. It sounded like the battle cry of a weapon his people had unfortunately become familiar with, a gun. Had someone brought one of those tools of war here to a joyous occasion? It was enough to make him grimace. One thing he hadn't noticed until now is that he had not picked up the scent of gunpowder, a necessity to fire a gun. Was it an attempt on the President's life? He didn't have time to think, as the soft-skin's around him began to swell in a panic. "Calm yourselves my friends!" Stalag tried to reassure the masses, "Bullets do not even hurt! If anything, they itch very deep scratches! What are you all worried about?" However, the words coming from a walking tower of fangs and flesh didn't seem to be doing what they wanted him to do. There were shouts from all directions. Some shouts he could here were ushering people away from the commotion, but what was the fun in that. If that wasn't enough, fights were breaking out seemingly everywhere. It wouldn't look good if Stalag were to immediately jumped into the fray. That's when the he saw someone running away from the rest of the masses, away from the President. The flash of steel, and dodgy eyesight, was all he needed to begin pursuit. His predator instincts had taken ahold of him for a brief second before he realized he was chasing a frail, female smooth-skin. He called out ahead of him, keeping up in pace rather easily. "The excusing of me, but was it you who did the gun fire?!" He shouted. The girl turned when confronted, about to speak her piece. Until, that is, she noticed just what she was being pursued by. Magpie Harper, one of the greatest bounty hunters in the world... and a Meteor-Kin! As much as she'd always wanted to meet one, all this living fossil got out of her was an "Oh, shit," before she redoubled her escape efforts, moving herself away from the action while trying to stay parallel with the imposing walls of the nearby Air Force Zero. Seeing him must have really spooked her beyond belief. Stalag could only nod, it was the only acceptable response to seeing a specimen of his stature! But nevertheless, he needed to figure out why this soft-skin with a gun was running away! Maybe if he captured her, the reputation of the Meteor-Kin would improve! The thought made him put some effort into his stride, as the girl did the same. "I do not wish harm upon you! But I must do the asking of why you are doing the running away!" "Because she just tried to kill the President," Magpie interjected. "Very unsuccessfully, I might add!" With a flick of her wrist, a small knife appeared from out of her sleeve, which Magpie caught and promptly threw in the girl's direction. Her target, however, proved to be lighter on her feet than Magpie anticipated, as she sidestepped the flying blade quite effortlessly, before making a sudden turn in her escape route, now running directly for the nearby airship, where an open window was visible, albeit rather high up. "And if she gets in there, we're not catching her!" Stalag looked behind him to see that another woman was in pursuit with him. "Ah! I see we have the same goal! Then assist me in my doing of the interrogation!" He turned his head forward to follow the girl along the turn. He noticed that she was making a break for the flying machine ahead. "I cannot allow this! We must speak!" He turned back to Magpie. "Please, no more throwing! I shall intercept her!" Stalag grit his teeth, and dug his heel into the ground, before he launched himself into a full out sprint. He thrust his arms forward to try and latch onto a limb, trying his best not to use his jaws instead, making sure to gingerly grab the girl. As Stalag made his charge, the girl jumped up onto the near-vertical walls of Air Force Zero, and against reasonable expectations, was able to climb up it a short distance, just enough to get her fingers around the window frame. As she was pulling herself up to make her getaway, however, Stalag's hand was able to graze across her foot, the timing and weight of it being enough to make her slip, sliding her way back down the wall and landing on the dirt. "Well, well, well," Magpie whistled, strolling up to meet the would-be assassin and her newfound captor. "Start talking." "I'm not saying a thing." The girl's stance was defiant at first, but before long, her circumstances sunk in. The only reason she was able to make that climb was her running start, and these two were too close to make another escape. Shoulders slumped, she let out a long, resignated sigh, before putting her hands up. "...alright, fine, you got me. You can question me all you want, but I'm still not saying anything." "You did not shoot at the President. I know this. You carry a gun, yet I did not smell gunpowder in the crowd." The ridge of his left eye raised itself. "Then why run away?" She blinked a few times, surprised that Stalag was able to tell. Keeping one hand raised, she unholstered the gun with the other hand. She didn't point it at Stalag or Magpie however, and instead tossed it to the latter's feet. "Seems Meteor-Kin have pretty sharp snouts. It's a starter pistol, like they use at racetracks. My job was to shoot that and then run, and I can say that because I'm sure Miss Bounty Hunter over there already pieced that much together." "So you wished to start a commotion? A distraction?" The girl was not an assassin...yet she seemed to be in some shady dealings. "It does not matter. Why did you do this? I must know the reasoning. I was enjoying my meal, and wished to speak with the President! Yet you ruin this for me and my people." A large gust of air spouted from his nostrils. "I will forgive you this once, but I must know answers." He looked to Magpie. "Bounty Hunter will get hers too. I am assuring no harm will come against you while I am present." The spout of air from Stalag's nostrils seemed to take the spirit of defiance out of the girl. "You Meteor-Kin sure are intimidating up close, haha..." The compliment got a couple of wags out of his tail. Looking back over toward the scene of the crime, the girl considered just not answering, for a good while. After a long moment of nothing, however, she finally caved. "I'm here with a team meant to kill the President. That's the short of it. My job was to give the signal to get the show on the road." He closed his eyes in disappointment. "Kill the president? I cannot fathom such reason! Truly!" He literally couldn't. Politics were not his strong suit. He looked back to Magpie. "So what are your intentions with this frail thing? She did not commit crime, this I am sure of." Was she really not guilty? After all, she admitted association with a group of assassins. "She's definitely committed a crime," Magpie retorted. "She just confessed to working with a team of assassins here to kill the President. In fact, his orders are the only reason she's still breathing right now." "But the President is still alive? She just runs away..." He scratched his brow, but he could see how she was guilty after some thinking. "So what will you do, Miss Bounty Hunter? I, Stalag Mightjaw, will help in your endeavors! Will we save the President of United States!? Or shall we guard this perpetrator and make sure she does not do the escaping?" "I'll watch her. I have a lot of questions for our little wannabe assassin. You should go help the others." Stalag nodded. He looked back to the girl, this 'wannabee'. "What is your name?" "It's our policy to not namedrop ourselves on the job. But, it doesn't say anything against using our file names. So, you can call me Friend." "Your policy is the stupid!" He managed to flash a sly grin. "But this file name of yours...I like it." He knelt down to her level. "Friend...I wish you would not have gone down this road of violence. Perhaps we will talk more soon." Stalag stood up and turned towards Magpie. "As I have said, no harm is to come to her. Are we the clear crystal?" Stalag started another full sprint to lend his assistance. "I shall make short work of these assassins!"

FESTIVAL GROUNDS *THUMP* *THUMP* *THUMP* His trek to Chicago had been a long one, but he had eventually made it all the way here. Everywhere he had gone, from New Arizona to where he was now, it was as if the sound of thunder followed behind each and every one of his footsteps. The haphazardly sprung up stands of the celebratory event shook with each step he took. He was met with slack-jawed stares, which he met with an enormous and toothy grin. Many people were not familiar with his kind, and he was quite used to that. But Stalag Mightjaw was an emissary of his clan for a reason. He found that the smooth-skins were easy to talk to and befriend. He liked that about them. "Hey buddy! Can you keep tip-toe or something? You're wrecking all the merchandise." Stalag looked to the fussing to see a stand worker visibly frustrated at the fact a glass of liquid had spilled on himself, probably thanks to all of Stalag's mighty strolling. "Ah! It is my apologies, smooth-friend. Stalag Mightjaw is still unsure of how to walk amongst your people! I assure you I will keep property damage to a minimal! You have my word." Stalag nodded his head with his arms crossed. "And a Mightjaw's word is his life! HIS HONOR! May it rest in your hands." "Calm down bub. Nobody's askin' about all that. Just get on with it." Stalag nodded once more. He took a deep breath. "On to the getting!" The roar almost shook the whole block. After all, this was what the smooth-skins called a "Carnival". A perfect event for a carnivore. It was a time for merriment and celebration. And what a time to do so! It was the anniversary of the Crisis, an event that brought his people back to the realm of the living. in the Meteor-kin's villages, it was a most holy time. The stars and sky had blessed them with a second chance on Earth. The thought of it almost brought a tear to Stalag's eye, but he had already cried his tear-ducts dry earlier in the day from the same thoughts. So instead, he pressed his palms together in a moment of solemn prayer. After a minute or two, Stalag began to 'get on with it', walking with utmost care, as he strolled down to the main center of the celebration. The smell coming from here was absolutely tantalizing. He towered over the crowd of smooth-skins, so locating prey here would be a piece of cake. He had never seen so many varied pieces of food in his life! Meats, cheeses, and Ales for every man and child here! One smell in particular caught his attention above the rest. Walking up to the stand, small puffs of yellow and white were being handed out in small paper bags. The stand owner looked to Stalag in somewhat of shock. "They make all kinds these days huh?" "They certainly do!" Stalag replied in kind. "What sorts of prey are you serving at this establishment. It is like nothing from my village!" "Uh...this is called Popcorn..." "Popped Corn! Wonderful! I will acquire one of your finest!" Stalag pulled out a crumpled up piece of 'money', and handed it to the owner. Trade was common in his village, but this 'money' was used to be able to trade anything. He had learned many things while attending classes of the NAR Government to become an Ambassador of his people, and currency was one of his favorite subjects. "Sure pal..." the owner grabbed a bag and scooped up a hefty amount of the food into it, before handing it to Stalag. "Ah! Thank you my smooth-friend!" Stalag popped one of the tiny bits of popcorn into his large maw, chomping down on it as if it were a deer. The salty flavor, and the butter mixed together superbly, followed by the light texture that almost seemed to evaporate with a flick of his tongue. The fleeting moment of deliciousness was gone. "This could use more meat! And I am talking of a lot more!" Pointing his nose to the sky, Stalag followed the scent of meat in the air, wherever it would lead him.

BALLIN'

Sign me interdested

Premise: The year is 2058. Internet Access is widely available to all parts of the world, and is a vital part of 70% of the daily lives of most people. Personal, Top Secret, and mundane information is stored in every corner of cyberspace. A safe and secure worldwide web is a must have in this day and age. As times have changed, so have the methods of cybersecurity. Governments across the globe have been able to access a world only a chosen handful of humans have seen, the Digital World. A means to access the literal embodiment of the internet. It is inhabited by strange and powerful creatures known as Digimon. However, some Digimon have been known to cause trouble around the globe, whether manmade or naturally occurring, such as the launching of a IBM towards Japan. This attack was suppressed with the help of Digimon as well. In the right hands, Digimon can be used to stop cyberattacks around the world. In 2050, the Global Digital Defense Force was established in a joint effort between the United States of America, and recruit young members of society to own and operate Digital Companions to combat terror threats inside the World Wide Web. You are one of the select few who have gotten through Recruitment Screening. Do you have what it takes to take on the looming, unseen threats of the Dark Web?

EARTH-5555 "So...this is how it ends for the Amazing, Fantastic, Incredible Beatdown, huh? What a drag…" In the sky above New York City, a slender, black figure was hurtling towards the ground at break-neck speeds. Their limbs beating against the cold air as they fell helplessly through the higher levels of the atmosphere. It was hard to breath up here, and it was even harder to breath with her right lung collapsed. Today was just not her day. Earlier "Today is totally gonna be the day!" A young red haired girl peeked out of her studio-apartment building's blinds, peering down at the busy city sidewalks below. She watched them like a hawk, making sure nothing would get in the way of her big plans today. On a calendar, next to the window, a big red circle was marked around today's date. Inside the circle, in big bold red ink, read: 'Stop Dad For Good!'. Her father, of course, was Harry Osborn, current CEO and resident madman or Oscorp! And who was she, an outside viewer would ask? None other than DJ Osborne, the daughter of aforementioned madman. But of course, that was merely one identity she possessed. She made sure that the coast was clear, before closing her blinds. With a smile, a black, ooze-like substance shot out of her skin. It wrapped around her body tightly, forming around her in the shape of a sleek suit. It harbored the design of a white spider across her chest, probably symbolic of the alien spider that had bit her so long ago. With this suit, she was no longer related to the Osborns. Instead, she became New York City's one and only Spider-Girl, Beatdown! With her alter-ego dawned, she used her alien goo powers to turn into a pool of black liquid. In this form, she was way harder to detect by the average folk. The pool of liquid made it's way up the wall, and out of the window sills small opening, heading towards the roof of her apartment complex. Once she had made it to the top, she reverted back to her human shape. "I can't be late...gotta meet that weirdo today!" She jumped up and down three times to psyche herself up, only to take off with a whizzing run. Hopping onto the ledge of the building, she sprang forth into the city skyline. There was no feeling on earth quite like the thrill of pulling off things only she could! She fell what felt like a few minutes, the pavement rapidly approaching, before she shot her hand out. With her fingers spread wide, black tentacles spread forth from each digit, individually looking for a surface to stick onto. When they found their mark, they gripped each surface tightly, DJ reeling her arm back in to slingshot through the city. As people took notice, they would shout all kinds of names. "It's the Night Crawler!" "Actually my name's Beatdown! Spread it around please!!!" "Go, Goo Girl, Go!" "It's Beatdown!! tell your friends!!" "Nothing but a menace!" "HEY SCREW YOU PAL! I'LL SHOW YOU A MENACE WHEN I KICK YOUR TEETH IN!" "We love you Black Widow!" "Eh...close enough..." Couldn't they just get a consistent name going? Before she could correct anymore adoring fans, her rendezvous point was just in sight. The Brooklyn Bridge. However, before she could swing much further, she heard a large crash from the city street below. She sighed, stopping her swinging for a moment to hang onto the side of a building to scope the scene. The loud whirs of an engine could be heard in the street, the crashing of metal and glass was drawing closer. The culprit finally turned a corner, none other than Big Wheel himself! DJ sighed, hoping that the ruckus was caused by someone she could have a little more fun with. She jumped from her perpendicular perch to crash into the street below where the Wheel was treading through. There she waited, tapping her foot on the pavement with her fists on her hips. From the seat of his overblown carnival attraction, Big Wheel gave a hearty cry! "Haha! Today's the day I defeat the infamous Spider-Wench! The name, BIG WHEEL, is gonna be all over the Daily Bugle for the next year once I wipe the pavement with you!" Spikes shot themselves out of the treads of Big Wheels big wheel, crunching through the street like cardboard. Must've been some solid stuff...did this guy get his hands on some vibranium or something? DJ could only shrug. "You know, you should really get a Beatdown Rewards Club Membership. Your 15th asswhoopin' comes with a cushier cell!" DJ sprinted forward, almost animalistically, her arms trailing far behind her as black tentacles began to shape into giant hands. She met Big Wheel head on, firmly grasping the contraption with them, as the spikes protruded through the ooze. She winced, almost as if it were slightly uncomfortable to be impaled, but it wasn't her first rodeo. With a bit or resistance, she was able to bring the wheel to a halt. That's when a weapon was revealed on the side of the machine, spouting fire at DJ. She retreated immediately upon feeling the intense heat, every fiber of her alien DNA recoiling from the sight of the flames. Big Wheel revved up his engine again, looking to make a slime pancake out of her. The thought of a pancake gave her an idea. She began to run away, feigning fear for her life, but was leaving behind clumps of goo on the pavement that were still attached to the Spider-Girl's body. As Big Wheel ran them over they would attach themselves to the machine, and once enough had done so, DJ spread tentacles from each inky glob, snaring the machine from every crevice and direction. With his momentum almost ceased immediately, Big Wheel was ejected from his seat, his helmet colliding with the wheel in front of him. DJ used the string of goo left behind like the retraction of a tape measurer, flying through the air towards Big Wheel. Once she found an opening in his side, as he fumbled to get back into his seat, DJ crashed into him with a hard boot in the side. The man fell towards the pavement below, only to be caught with DJ's black, oozy, whip. "You know," DJ began to snark, "You really should be wearing a seatbelt in that thing. I wouldn't have to save you and make you look so pathetic." She turned around to look at his choice of contraption. "I mean...even more pathetic than you already do." The man looked as if he were about to cry. "Is it to late to sign up for that Rewards Club yet?" DJ's fist clenched. "Not at all. After signing up," She let her fist fly, "The first Beatdown's free!" *KERPOW* With her detour of justice now over, she had finally made her way to the top of the bridge. At the top of the building was a figure in a blue jumpsuit. Even though DJ had landed silently, it turned around to greet her with it's white mask. "Took you long enough." He berated her, sardonically. "Don't get your panties in a wad. You and I both know traffic in this town is absurd." "Always the comedian. Whatever. I'm billing you extra for that. So you got the money or not?" DJ reached into a pocket made of goo, pulling out an envelope full of one-hundred dollar bills. By it's thickness, one could easily guess that there was at least fifteen-thousand in it. "Saved up a year for this...you better have some good intel, Taskmaster." DJ threw the envelope over, with Taskmaster catching it in kind. "Hm." He counted the bills individually. It took a couple of minutes before he was done. "Yeah. As a matter of fact, I do. This city...this country...it's done for. You're too late, kid." "You gotta be kidding me!? No!" DJ Exclaimed. "I thought I had more time! You're not telling me he's actually going through with it!" Her fists clenched tightly, as she began to tremble. Taskmaster looked at her display of anger blankly. "You always hesitate to pull the trigger. You had the opportunity to kill that man more times than I have bills in this envelope. You coulda stopped Operation Dark Reign a long time ago...but you're too soft, Letdown. He's got too many powerful people working with him now. Ain't nothing your friendly neighborhood punky spidester can do about it. You're out of you're league now." "No! You're wrong! There's still time!" DJ pulled more cash from her inside her symbiotic shoe. "What if I hire you to help me stop him!? Tonight!?" Taskmaster stared at the handful of cash coldly. "He thought you might ask something like that." An all too familiar sense shot up DJ's spine. In a flash, Taskmaster had pulled his pistol out on her. "Osborne's got me on retainer...no hard feelings, right?" "You know that's not gonna hurt me." DJ growled, as she took her low fighting stance. "You should know that by now. We've done this dance way too many times." "Oscorp upgrades." A shot rang through the air above the Brooklyn Bridge, but something was different. The sound of the bullet travelling at her rang intensely in her ear, almost driving her insane. She hesitated, as the bullet lodged itself in her chest. As it burrowed into her symbiote skin, sonic vibrations resonated from the bullet, causing her intense pain. "There's a big difference between me and you, Beatdown." Taskmaster fired another bullet, aiming for DJ's head. "I never hesitate to pull the trigger. Even if it's you." With every fiber of strength she could muster, DJ was finally able to let her Spider-Sense guide her. She hopped off the bridge before she was shot again, however, the bullet inside of her was still emitting sonic vibrations. She couldn't concentrate at all to stop herself from plummeting into the cold ocean below. Before she could even do that, a trail of smoke could be seen in the distance, followed by a laugh that haunted her dreams. The Iron Goblin. Her Father, Harry Osborn. With a screech, he threw a Repulsor Pumpkin straight towards her. "So...this is how it ends for the Amazing, Fantastic, Incredible Beatdown, huh? What a drag…" But just before the bomb could make it's mark, a rip in space and time had opened beneath her. She fell into the tear, as she clutched her chest. For some reason, it felt like she was weightless, but at the same time she was descending faster than she ever had before. The tear had vanished now, her father unable to trail her wherever she was headed. Her mind was clouded by the pain as the insane visuals of the weaving web that sprawled across infinite space racked her brain. With a grunt, she plunged her hand into her chest to grab the vibrating bullet. She vomited, as the intense pain and rollercoaster ride was too much of a trippy mix for her to handle. After another deep breath, she dislodged the bullet, as it now travelled side by side with her to the opening of another tear in space. On the other side was a booming, bright city. Her eyes lit up, her body repairing itself from the trauma, as she was ejected out of the portal and onto the pavement. She woke up to the sound of the bullet next to her, it's lasts vibrations cracking the ground beneath it. With a daze, she looked around her to see a bunch of weirdos that reminded her of...her...for some reason. "Is this spider-heaven?" She asked, before puking once more.

Oh yeah...you know this is one of mine

"What's a currency?" The chieftain questioned, looking towards Rumian as if to look for the answer. They didn't seem to know either. "I don't know what you mean by all that stuff, but I can tell you all about the food! We've got stuff like bread, and maize and millets and gazelles - oh there was this one time an elephant came too close to the town so we had to get rid of it. It was really tasty too, but I don't think we have any. Sometimes we also get berries when we go hunting and supply collecting." Maybe trade was the only means of getting what you wanted around here. It must've been an easier and simpler way to do things here. He could get behind that! No having to worry about being broke for now! "If you want some food we'll be happy to get some for you." At the mention of food, his stomach growled. He hadn't eaten since halfway through the baseball game! And that was just popcorn from the stand. He drooled at the thought of what a world like this had to offer in terms of food quality! "Yeah! I don't know how it works where you're from, but here whenever you finish a task for the day you get your food provided to you. And you guys are the Exalted, which means you're job is to be heroes, and you've already done heroing today!" "I'll take whatever meat y'all can throw at me!" He said with a hearty smile, not noticing he already had a stream of drool starting to drip down the corner of his mouth. Then the topic of the Accursed was brought up again...the threat that they, the exalted, were supposed to put a stop to. A mission given to them by a Goddess no less. It seemed pretty simple...the Accursed cursed the land. If they beat them to a pulp, the world would probably get uncursed! Simple as pie. His stomach gurgled once more at the thought of a fruity pie. "Now that you're all done with questions, I can go show you guys around! Well, at least where you'll be sleeping." The thought never even crossed his mind about where they were going to say! His curiosity peaked as they made their way to the lodgings. It was a house, not dissimilar from the one they had just departed from, with all the dressings one would expect of something described as "cushy" or "cozy"! Drake was ecstatic! He had yet to own his first place, so one being given to him for free was a pretty sick perk of being 'Exalted'. Luca pointed out that there was another house they could use directly beside this one, with the same interior scheme. Must've been a bargain sale for Exalted only. Slay 6 Drenger, get 2 houses free! What a steal! "You've all done a lot of heroing for today so feel free to rest up! Oh, but I know you have important Exalted things to do too. So you can start doing those things too! I wish I could stay longer but I have chief things to do, especially with those stupid lousy no good Drenger attacking us. But I can't wait to learn more all about you guys!" However, before the girl could leave, she made one final, and ominous word of advice. "Oh and be careful when it rains!" "Noted." Drake heeded the warning with a nod of his head. "It was an honor meeting you too Luca. Hope we can talk more later." What a strange thing to worry about though...wasn't the Goddess a water deity of some sort...or was rain separated from the oceans? His thoughts were clouded when Marshall brought up the topic of living arrangements in their new homes. Abby brought up the most sensible idea of splitting it up by boys and girls. "Buzzkill!" Drake said with a laugh. "Just yanking your chain of course. I don't think that's a bad idea. Hell I can even sleep outside if things get too cramped on your side, boys." He began to walk outside, pointing his nose to the sky. "I bet this place has a hell of a view at night. Can't miss out on that opportunity, right?"

The walk back to town sure was a surreal one. Drake and the rest all looked so different from the denizens of the village, yet they were thanked for their help by all those who were told the group were the fabled exalted. It sure was a one-eighty from what he was used to after a battle, but he smiled and waved to all of those that had received them so graciously. In their hasty retreats back into their home, he could only reassure those they had protected. "All in a days work for the Exalted!" The phrase rolling off his tongue almost made his spine shiver. What a strange thing to say. Was he really so worthy of this role? The thoughts kept prodding the back of his mind until they had reached Luca's domain. "This is where we usually hold town meetings and stuff but to think I can have a super special meeting like this today! Rumian! Get the map! I don't know how much you guys know about Aerstroff, since you're outlanders and all, so if you have any questions ask away!" After they had all taken a seat, and Luca brought out her map of Aerstroff, the others took turn asking their own questions. Drake listened intently. Sabrina asked about the highest position of power in the land. Unfortunately, there was none higher at the moment in this village than Luca. Only fairy tails it seemed of ancient Kings. Next was Gene, who asked an important question of where the Exalted should venture next. A shrine blessed by the ocean would be their first destination. Drake leaned forward to take a look at the finely crafted parchment. No doubt that in this sort of society, such map drawing skills were priceless. However, upon further inspection, he sighed. He slumped back into his chair and shrugged. "This is why they didn't make me a field leader. I can't make heads or tails of the topography...but some important landmarks might be helpful to know." He pointed his finger to the one he'd like to call pretentious. It's too bad the adjective didn't fit the man at all. "Probably leave it to tall, pale, and wise over there. I'm sure he'll figure out a thing or too." He looked to Luca. "I've really got no questions Ma'am. I'm just gonna make sure the rest of these guys stay safe. That's my new mission." A loud growling could be heard around the room, emanating from Drake's stomach. "On second thought...what do you guys eat around here? Just wondering..." Ah! A new question actually did pop in that empty head of yours. "Speaking of food, how would one pay for such things. Does this land have multiple currencies? Or is it all centralized?"

The two Robots stared each other down for quite some time, neither making a single move. The first to speak was obviously Chimera. "You dare step foot on one of the mightiest ships of the Egg Fleet, a creation of the great Doctor Ivo Robotnik, uninvited." Chimera glare became more intense. "I implore you assess your situation more thoroughly before revealing your intentions...lest I rip you limb from limb and stain this ship's deck with your oil." Ken recoiled at the harsh fighting words from his metallic cohort. However, even though his words were chilling, the robot across from Chimera was anything but in a panic. He must have had nerves of steel! "Heh..." A slight noise slipped from the small Robot. "Hahahaha! Dude, you really need to relax those servos! No need to be so tense!" The robot placed his hands and weapon upon his hip. "You're the intruders here after all, treading upon the sacred waters of Cha'Aqua, you know?" "Cha'Aqua?" Ken's mind rang blank for the word, although he could've sworn he heard it before in one of Silver's lessons. He should've paid attention more to Mobian history. "I have no data of this 'Cha'Aqua' that you speak of." Chimera returned. "Not that I care that I happen to be sailing above it." "Security's tight right now." The aquamarine automaton replied. "Sorry, but I can't have you sailing around here." "WHY!?" Ken yelled from the cabin window. The robot turned it's head to the Hedgehog, pointing to him. "That's on a need to know basis. And you don't need to know!" It crossed his arms and tapped it's foot. "Sorry y'all, but I'm gonna have to ask you guys to turn around and sail to where you came from." The robot shrugged. "If you don't, I'll sadly have to sink this ship." Chimera's eyes sharpened. "A threat...against the Egg Piercer..." Chimera's turbines started whirling. "Cha'Aqua be damned...You will sink first." "Oh boy..." Ken shook his head. With a sonic boom, Chimera jetted towards the smaller robot, he seemed taken aback by the sudden turn to violence. "YIKES!" It perked up, using his fin like weapon to block Chimera's telegraphed punch. The sound of metal clanged all throughout the ship. Lower Decks As the temperature began to drop in the lower decks, the amorphous blob of an opponent that Zane faced had begun to move quite a bit slower. Parts and pieces of the creature began to crystallize, and chip away. It looked confused as it began to solidify, turning it's head swiftly towards Zane. Quickly, but quite slower than before, it shot it's arms towards Zane once again. His pleas for help would not be heard, but he would still hear the sounds of solid impacts ringing throughout the cabin. Flurry's Quarters With Flurry asleep at the wheel, all systems of the Egg Piercer would start to fail, one after the other. The most important of them being shut down were the life support systems connected to the submarine mode of the ship.

Drake's breathing was heavy. His attack landed perfectly. Blood gushed from the vital spot, soaking the Hyena's neck with a flowing curtain of crimson. Drake's eyes met his foes, as it struggled to remove the axe from the wound...an ultimately pointless goal in the end. Even if the axe was removed, that would only lead to more blood loss. Drake picked himself up to his feet, standing triumphant over the now deceased Beast Man. He silently thanked his enemy, with hopes that he would reach some sort of afterlife that he believed in. At the end of the day, they were both warriors fighting for what they thought was right. This wasn't his first confirmed kill, and he could guess it wouldn't be his last. Was this really how things were going to go again? He was going to fight another battle for a cause he wasn't familiar with. He looked over to Luca, her claws soaked with blood from the leader. He reminded himself of what might have happened had they not been here. Drake had finally caught his breath, as he stared beyond the destroyed wall of the city. "Whoa! I knew the Exalted were supposed to be great heroes but you guys were like, super strong! You all summoned those weapons and used magic that was so cool!" Drake's attention turned back towards Luca. "It came naturally...like I've always known how to do it..." What a weird feeling it was, doing something you'd never dreamed of in your life so seamlessly. He had controlled the earth as if he'd been doing it his whole life. How much more would he be able to do? A red glow caught his eye, as a gem appeared from the corpse of Dracona's opponent. Was this supposed to be like...loot or something? It whirled around the girl for a moment, before it was drawn towards her hand, and straight into her tattoo. Drake looked at his as well, as the sound of a small droplet rang out around them. Drake's pain had also vanished almost entirely, as he looked to the wound on his leg. However, it had almost completely vanished, with small traces of blood still remaining. "Whoa..." Is all Drake could manage to get out. He checked his leg once more. It was in perfect condition. "This is something else, huh?" He questioned to no one in particular. This probably meant that the others were also healed of wounds they might've received. He made his way towards Dracona and the others. "Is everyone all right? How'd the fight go on your guys' end?" He was truly concerned with his fellow Heroes' well being. "Next time, I won't get distracted!" Drake smiled, as he displayed his shield across his chest rather proudly. "Next time, I'll make sure no one else gets hurt!"

His attempt at a extemporaneous combo has failed, due to his newfound, enhanced athletic capabilities. Drake found himself driving his drop kick straight into the hyena's center of mass. Although his attack didn't have the exact outcome he was looking for, there was a new opportunity presented on the battlefield when the Hyena dropped his cruel axe. Drake landed on his ass after he had pushed off of the Hyena's abdomen, and quickly pulled off a reverse somersault from his downed position. He saw that the Hyena was hysterical now. His shield wasn't really meant to deal a finishing blow...unless he just bashed it into the Beastman's head over and over again...a bit too crude for his taste. He winced at the thought. However, now the Hyena was flinging himself at Drake in a desperate attempt to finish him off. Drake had something else in mind. The wild flailing of the Hyena's claws would be difficult to avoid, but if he could just make it past them. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Boot Camp was way worse than this was. Drake then opened his eyes, and rushed towards the Hyena's dropped Axe. He preformed a dolphin dive, making sure to shield himself from the Beastman's wild attack, but wasn't able to protect his legs, as they were swiped and gouged by his enemy. Drake persevered, rolling and picking up the axe on the way. Once he rolled onto his feet, Drake pivoted, swinging the axe horizontally, aiming for the kneeling Hyena's jugular.