Mr. Hyde

Flynn wasn't quick enough to make it to Nalu in time, as the delinquent's fists came hammering down upon her head. He watched as the girls head shattered apart...or splattered apart. Nalu seemed to be entirely comprised of liquid. He head squished it's shape, and she seemed unphased. The display was another shock for Flynn, as the girl he had just been conversing rather friendly with was just an amorphous blob, not that there was anything wrong with that of course. Her assailant had become rather feral, flailing around in a vein attempt to try and damage her. Even though the girl seemed to be able to handle him, Flynn still made an attempt to go and assist her. He was stopped in his tracks when the kid he had sent flying prior was now grabbing at his waist. Flynn went to try and rip the thug's grip apart, but it proved to be more difficult than he initially thought. Flynn was hoisted into the air by his middle. This technique was familiar to a grappler such as himself! He was about to take the brunt of a German Supplex. Smiling beneath his mask, Flynn tucked his chin into his chest, and protected his neck with clasped hands. Flynn crashed into the ground harder than he had on any wrestling mat before, and let out a loud grunt as he did so. It was probably the third of fourth hardest bump he had taken in his life up until this point. His opponent had dropped the hold on his waist, as Flynn writhed and wriggled in agony on the ground. The crowd that had been watching their fight specifically had begun to gasp, almost reaching out for the Luchador. He couldn't help but give a faint smile through the pain. Everybody liked their hero on the backfoot...it would make their cheering all the more sweeter in a moment. The delinquent stood up, rather clumsily, and proceeded to jump into the air above Flynn. They stuck out their leg so that it would act as a guillotine over Flynn's neck. Flynn gave up the act of the amount of pain he was in, noticing the amateur's move. "An Atomic Leg Drop!? Impressive!" Flynn instantly bounced off of his back, and onto his feet, crouched like some sort of wild cat. "You're not so bad, rookie. I'll show you something cool!" With an explosion from his quadriceps, he launched himself into the air, intercepting the fledgling luchador in the making. The two of them soared at least thirty feet into the air, before Flynn rotated the delinquent one-hundred and eighty degrees with ease. He grabbed their legs underneath his arms, their wrists with his hands, shoving his knees underneath their arms. With a twist, the two of them began their descent with a rapid twirling motion. He laughed as the two rapidly plummeted towards earth, the delinquents head poised to crash into the ground at top speed. "What do you think, eh!? You are about to take on one of my experimental finishers! I don't even have a name for it yet! HAHAHA!" This would have never flown for a real show, none of the wrestlers in his realm would be able to take this bump without serious injury, but this brute could take it...right? No...this guy was obviously under the influence of something...and Flynn didn't want to inflict serious harm onto someone who wasn't in control of their own actions. Before the last seconds before impact, Flynn changed his position into that of a mid-air pile driver. He legs would provide more cushion to the blow, but not all of it. The delinquents back collided with the ground, as it cratered beneath the two. When the dust settled, Flynn brushed his hands together, and stuck his fists into the air, each pointing with one finger to the sky. "MY FANS, NEW AND OLD!!! THIS IS LUCHA!! THIS IS MI VIDA!!!" A roar erupted from the crowd that was watching him at the awesome display. His legs were shaky, the impact of the piledriver still coursed through them. The pain mixed with his nerves was really putting them through the ringer. He had never put on such an impromptu show before, but he was proud of himself. He looked to the rest of the battlefield, and noticed the blonde girl from before being chased as she handed a bag towards Theodore. Flynn dashed off once more, and leapt into a dropkick in an attempt to intercept him.

“I like your guts, Bird Boy, but you’re wrong about one thing. This isn’t a fresh start. This is just the latest stop. Enjoy the school tour or whatever. I’m outta here.” Somehow, in his heart, he knew the boys' mind was already made up. He was glad he had at least spoke up and attempted to dissuade him, even if the effort was in vain. Flynn nodded towards the boy, acknowledging his decision. A girl with vivid pink hair appeared, following behind them. “You’re a good guy, Flynn. But I think I’m gonna follow them. Might as well make sure they don’t cause too much trouble.” "Stay safe out there." Flynn gave her a thumbs up, hoping nothing would go awry. Sadly, the girl hadn't introduced herself, so he would have to ask for her name on her safe return. In the meantime, Idle chit chat hung all around them as they waited for the tour to begin. People from all walks of life just trying to break the ice, as awkwardly as kids at this age did. However, a murmur in the crowd caught his attention, as a girl with blonde hair pointed towards something far away. “What… the hell is that thing…?” Looking to where her finger lead his vision, a blurry figure was approaching them from beyond the forest line. Flynn couldn't make the thing out. The harder he tried to focus, the fuzzier it seemed. If there was one thing he could tell, it was rather large. It's fierce, red eyes looked as if they were peering directly into his very fiber of being. He didn't flinch while it approached, but once it had vanished from sight, he couldn't help but almost jump out of his skin. When that soul shattering scream rang out, Flynn assumed his wrestling pose purely on instinct. His hands, now pouring with sweat, were ready to grab whatever approached him. He took a deep breath to relax himself. He hadn't necessarily used his wrestling in street brawls like this before, and he hadn't assumed he was going to need to, but whatever this thing was warranted him to put up his guard. Nothing had ever make him feel like that in his life. Suddenly, a group of what he could only assume were tweakers were converging on the group. They convulsed and twitched, as if they were under some sort of influence, most likely whatever lied beyond those woods. One of them launched towards Flynn, packing their fist up and launching it towards his mask. "Ain't no way, brother!" Flynn, with the reflexes of some sort of big cat, swayed back to avoid the punch. In turn, he raised his left leg and wound it tight, ultimately launching his foot directly into the lower region of the punks abdomen. Holding back something fierce, the delinquent was still launched across the courtyard like a missile. He hadn't noticed the second scallywag until his tackle connected, but Flynn refused to sell that weak attempt at a spear. Without budging an inch, Flynn raised a single finger in the air. "Now this one is for all those Fly Boy fans out in the crowd! I know you're out there! Let me hear you say, 'BOOYAH!'" He used one hand and grabbed the grunt by the waist, and used the other to grip the grimy goon tightly. Flynn raised the ragamuffin into the air, parallel to his own body, and fell back, performing his famous Birdbrain Buster! The opponent was slammed onto the ground, as Flynn's giant body pressed into them further. The two tough guys were out cold, and Flynn hadn't even broken a sweat. Those around him were clapping and cheering him on, as he struck a flexing pose, pumping his bicep fiercely. Snapping out of his celebration, he made his way to at least attempt to help someone else. Nalu was faced with a rather large foe, so his first instinct was to help her. "Nalu, get out of the way, I can take him!"

Today was an orientation of sorts. Since arriving at Dead End Academy, Flynn had been awaiting this moment on the edge of his wits. It was a beautiful day for a gathering of the students he'd be sharing his time with. The locale was breathtaking, as the mountains that rose in the backdrop beckoned him to climb it's rocky face. The weather in West Virginia was colder than the usual climate he had been accustomed to his whole life. The air was crisp, and fresh, and filled him full of life with every inhale. This place would be the perfect place to enhance his skills...and hopefully find some clues about his brother. All in due time. Now it was time for the Dead End Academy assembly. This school really was filled with all sorts of characters. Looking around, he could clearly see that this place really was a breeding ground for the strange and lost. He wondered if others gazed upon him with the same thought process, seeing as he hadn't taken his Luchador mask off since he had arrived. Was it rude to assume that everyone here was some poor unfortunate soul who needed help? That's what this place was advertised as, but were they all really at the end of their ropes. Flynn had come to this academy of his own volition, so maybe some other students had as well. Regardless, he would do his best to be friendly. He had made his way to the assembly and found a seat, waiting for their Principal to address them all. "Alright, listen up! I'm sure you all are used to people bullshitting you, trying to placate you into listening, but I don't have the time for that. You all might think you're the biggest, baddest people around. Well, allow me to shake that unwarranted confidence! You are a small fish taken from the ocean and tossed into a small pond. And there are fish much bigger than you lurking around at the bottom of this pond. I won't lie and say that you all will turn out to be good people who will get great jobs after your time in Dead End. In fact, statistically, most of you are going to end up dead before you turn 30. However, to those who might listen to my words, if you keep your heads down and actually try to learn, maybe you'll have a better life than what you'd get otherwise." He didn't like the statistic thrown in there. Were the futures really so dim for the students here? "Now, school doesn't start for the freshmen today. No, today, you all will do a short tour of the school. Afterwards, you'll get situated in your dorms. Tomorrow, school really begins. Dismissed!" A tour was something he was super excited for! He couldn't wait to get a good look at all the facilities this place had to offer. Hopefully there was a good spot to spar with his fellow Dead Enders. "Yeah, fuck this! A school is a school! You've seen one, you've seen them all! I'm heading into town! If you dumbasses had any sense, you'd do the same!" The harsh voice rang out through the class of freshman, coming from a rather rugged looking individual. Flynn could only sigh. This sucker was already off to becoming one of those bleak statistics the Principal was talking about. "Pretty stupid to wait all this time and then just run away before anything happens, huh?” A young lady responded...at least she looked like a young lady. The joints of each of her appendages looked similar to an action figure. Was she a human, or something different? Flynn hadn't really come across anything...inhuman in his life, so seeing something this strange and up close was sort of a shock to him. He thought about keeping his distance from the girl...thing...but didn't want to appear rude. He'd have to get used to these types if he was going to attend this school. "Truth be told, he does have a slight point. This is a school, albeit the... 'last school you'll ever go to'. The worst they can do is write us up for not being around... not like some of us haven't gone through that rigmarole before. I, for one, am agreeing with our hot-headed... friend... eh, too early to call him my friend or anything. Either way, I'm heading out." Flynn decided to act. His sense of justice really couldn't allot a nihilistic infection spreading like this. He walked ahead of the two young men to try and stop their advance. "Hear me out, my friends," his tone was stern, but still friendly, "I implore that you go on the tour with us. Don't you want to see what this place has to offer! Look around you!" Flynn motioned to the masses of students around them, "Isn't this place amazing? Do you not believe this place has amazing things to offer amazing young people like you?" He crossed his arms against your chest. "I would rather everyone here get off to a good start. There's no use for you to be here if you aren't willing to do it straight...this is a fresh start for all of us...I plead you do not waste it." Flynn walked past the two, standing out of their way. "I will not stop you from leaving, I just thought that I would plead this school's case." He flashed the two a thumbs up. "My name is Flynn Guerrero! The Fly Boy! I hope you reconsider your attempt at hooky, and attend the tour with me!" Flynn gave a nervous glance to the well dressed lady who had spoken up earlier. "With us..." His voice was shaky, as the nerves at looking at her hadn't shaken, "right?"

Mucha Lucha

For as long as we've known, we have lived down here, in the dark. Some call it The Pit...other's call it home. Down here, it's an everyday fight for survival. Down here, you must become strong, in some form or fashion, or The Pit will devour you whole. Down here, there's only one thing you can try to do. Climb. Climb The Pit. Give up what little you have, and gather those brave enough to make it to the top. Up There is your only chance for a better life. Up There has always been waiting for you. Up There are all the answers and pleasures you seek. You must reach Up There...lest you fall back down into the deep...dark...endless...ruinous caverns of... The Pit...

16th Rankings Tournament – Day 0 – 7:50 PM Bahamut sat in the back of his limousine, nervously fidgeting his thumbs together. The outfit that the agency had put him into tonight was rather stuffy, and tight. He hated the feeling of the collar wrapped around his neck. He was no stranger to the public eye by now. As a matter of fact, he tried his best to keep their attention focused on him 24/7. However a crater in his stomach formed every time he stepped up to a press conference or photo shoot. Was it nerves, or the weight of all the responsibility he now held gathering in his gut. This wasn't the lifestyle he ever imagined for himself...he really didn't seem fit for this hero business. Yet here he was, having been carefully molded by Catalyst Foundry into the Number Three hero in the rankings. He wasn't ungrateful, and he never had been. Quite the opposite actually. He'd taken every opportunity to give back to Catalyst Foundry for taking a risk on him, making sure that the trust that was carefully given to him wasn't wasted. It might've been the youthful naivety of his speaking, but he truly believed in his mission. And in return, the public believed in him. He took a deep breath, and smiled. This was the path he chose to walk, and now he had to walk down a little red carpet. This was the bare minimum he could do! He had arrived. The sound of his door handle unlatching might as well have been a nuclear bomb going off with the commotion it had set off. The flashing lights of the paparazzi rained down upon him, and the questions followed immediately after. With his studies in public relations, he would do his best to keep up that heroic image forged onto him. "For such a young hero, you've ascended the ranks rather quickly! What's your secret?" "Well it's no secret that I've been blessed with powers beyond anything dreamed of! However, sometimes its too much for even me to try and control...that's why I've done my very best to make sure it's used for the good of the public! My vow to them was this; Those who are sheltered in the shadows of my wings shall never be harmed! Those wings, that were built on your trust, have to be the strongest to live up to your expectations. And I think that's why I've gotten to where I am today." He bowed his head to the reporter questioning him, "I also am very grateful to Catalyst Forge, for giving me this opportunity to prove my heroism." "Your last encounter with a villain caused massive damage to the city. Do the repairs to infrastructure come out of your pay?" "With the power I hold, structural damage normally occurs. My last opponent was dreadfully strong, so I might've let loose a little too much. However, my vow remains unbroken. No civilian lives were taken during that encounter. I think the worth of their lives is priceless, compared to the lifeless concrete and steel that may get battered and bruised during my battles." He bowed to this reporter as well, "As I'm sure you are aware, the Hero Affairs Commission and Catalyst Forge are entrusted to handle the costs of infrastructure repair. However, I have asked for them to take part of my salary as well, in recompence. It is my fault for losing control of myself, after all." "Are your goals in this tournament to surpass The Brave?" The particular question struck a strange chord with him. The thought never occurred to him that someday he might overtake THE Brave. "I believe anyone who partakes in the tournament is looking to make some progress in the rankings, right? The Brave is a valued member of Catalyst Forge, and the Number 2 hero in the rankings, so I would be lying if I said I didn't see myself as having a bit of a rivalry with them!" Bahamut waved his hand and laughed slightly, "All I will say is they better take me seriously! I don't plan on throwing in the towel easily!" 16th Rankings Tournament – Day 0 – 7:57 PM The Gala stirred with the arrival of the Brave shortly after him. He waved to the armor clad hero, hoping that they would just ignore him as they always had. Keeping up friendly appearances between those in the same Agency was good press after all. Maestro was to follow suit, but his car never came around. It was strange for the Hero X to be late. That's when Jesticar had come out onto center stage. Her demeanor did not show any sign of pleasantries, besides that silly little smile she wore. “Esteemed heroes and guests, the commission has an emergency announcement. We regret that we were not able to release this information sooner, as things have developed quickly and information has been incredibly limited…” Whatever she was about to announce would surely be no good...was the tournament going to be postponed because of a villain attack??? “X, the hero Maestro, was found dead in his penthouse in Hero Tower earlier today. While we cannot release further information at this time, we feel obligated to inform you all that our forensic experts suggest foul play was involved. There are a handful of suspects, but it has been decided that the investigation will not proceed until the rankings tournament has concluded.” The shocking revelation almost made Bahamut throw up on the spot. X...Maestro....DEAD?! How could that be possible...the strongest of all of them and he was dead. Bahamut grabbed the stomach of his suit, and snarled in anger. Maestro was someone all heroes looked up to...and now he was gone. He had lost his composure in the stirring and chaotic conversation in the room. He gathered himself quickly, and made sure he hadn't destroyed his suit with claws he didn't mean to unsheathe. “We apologize for any undue chaos!!” He almost burst into laughter at that last statement. How careless of the Commission! What could they be thinking with an announcement like this? And crazier still, the tournament was still going to take place despite this shocking development. He gazed among the rest of the heroes in attendance, all of them taking in this information in their own ways. A thought grazed the back of his mind. He shoved it back to the depths of his conscious. Now was not the time for such thinking. Instead, his thoughts dwelled on the public. His wings burst out from his back, tearing through his clothes in the process. The pit in his stomach was sinking into the earth by now, but he felt he had to say something before panic erupted. He flew into the air and filled his diaphragm to the brink, booming his voice to address those in the room. "Citizens, friends, and colleagues, I humbly ask that we all remain calm. I realize that the news we have received is rather shocking...and sad. But know this! Maestro was a hero, and the best of all of us! It is our duty as heroes to put our lives on the line for you, the people. And I'm sure I speak for everyone when I say we all admired Hero X deeply. Let us not think of his death as something to be saddened by...but instead...let us think of how he shall be entered into legend! The Legendary Hero X, who saved countless lives before his ended. Let us use this time to celebrate Maestro, instead of mourn him!" Bahamut swooped down to grab a glass from one of the many servers in the room, before raising it into the air. "A toast...to Hero X. To Maestro! You will forever be remembered as one of the greatest heroes of all time!" With that, Bahamut downed the drink in one gulp, hoping it would calm him. He descended down back towards the ground, hoping he hadn't come off as too pretentious. However, he had meant every word.

#3 - Bahamut

Frosted Tips was the spot tonight. Vinnie was a fan of ice cream, and other confections of the sort, but he'd always prefer to frenzy on some high quality meats. A shame it wasn't his turn to pick the establishment tonight. That was on Khulan, and he'd never complain about someone else footing the expenses. Although, he always ended up ordering some more for himself off the collective tab. If he had really went wild, he'd end up eating his teammates out of house and home! Today his order was a classic, a hot fudge sundae with peanuts and no cherry. Instead, he asked that it be topped with a strawberry. It wouldn't fill him up, not even a little bit, but it would sure make him feel nostalgic for those old days when his 'rents took him out after a successful raid. He almost let a cheesy, sentimental smile crack. Vinnie had taken his rightful spot in one of the pulled up chairs. He took up a lot of space, and needed a lot of elbow room. Unlike his other thiren teammate, Ashley, Vinnie let his tail hang from the back of his chair. He was the type that people thought twice about before messing with. Imagine the ruckus he would brew up if someone had the hutzpah to step on HIS tail. He didn't make it any easier to avoid either, sloshing it from side to side in a fashion that could tear bodies of water asunder when he was in a good temper. It was as if he was almost asking for someone to pick a fight with him! Maybe he could pull off a bit of insurance fraud in the process. The possibilities were endless in such a packed location. Khulan was the first to speak up. "Pepe's has been closed for a while," And that's why Khulan had no option but to choose Frosted Tips, "Y'know, come to think of it, you'd think there would be more ice cream places in the Outer Ring. I never thought about that until just now." "Oh poor Khuly," Ashley was the next to speak up in their cutesy little tone, "Making up for lost time is so cute! We should really hit the town sometime, just you and me. I can show you all the coziest little shops that could only exist here in Vulcan, New Eridu. There's simply nothing to compare, even in the other districts" They went on to interact with their social media, no doubt getting tons of likes on the mundane pictures they were taking. Vinnie pinched his brow in disbelief that people had nothing better to do than wait for each and every interaction. Whatever made Ashley happy he supposed. "So team, I know I say this every time I go, but Jacky's gonna commission us soon I can feel it!" Vincent placed his hands on the back of his head, and leaned back in his chair. A spoon clanked against his teeth, as he began to instinctively chew on it. "You always say that, kid." Vinnie laughed. "Aw what the hell!! I think my six-sense might be telling me you're on to something." Vinnie leaned forward, placing his wrists on the table and clasping his hands. "How's about we shake off some rust and go beat up some thugs in the streets?" His hands slammed on the table, playfully. "I can smell your lack of experience! It's a damn pity!" Vinnie took the spoon out of his mouth and pointed it to Khulan, "And nothing gets you more experience than some skeevy back alley brawling!!" With a grin, he shoveled a scoop of sundae into his gaping maw.

Blood in the Water

In this new society, only a select few become Digi destined. Will we be playing the select few chosen.

Premise: The year is 2XXX. Disaster has struck humanity countless times. Perpetual wars have devastated every population around the globe. Tired, and disgusted, with the acts of humanity, Satoshi Ichijouji finished his last project on Earth: a gate to the Digital World. Satoshi preached that salvation lied in the digital world, and ushered those who were willing to leave this world behind into the next. Generations have passed, and humanity has begun to thrive in earnest within the Digital World. However, troubles still persist in this Next World. Will your generation be able to overcome the trials of this new society, or will the Digital World succumb to the same fate as Earth?

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!"