Those With Power

[Mattbot]

"In a minute you impatient irish bocadillo!"

Angel turned to the average looking man, for a second he was worried a random civilian had found their way into the base, he soon figured it was the legendary Ryan Jones.

"Not at all amigo, please take a seat."

Angel giggled a bit inside at the expression on Ryan's face when he noticed the corpse sitting next to him. He looked up towards another person that had entered the room without him noticing. Everyone he had expected to arrive had now done so and Angel could begin the meeting.

[Killing_Time]

I saw the new arrives. I was having a hard time deciding which one had given me the worst impression: The messy, terribly awkward man who entered, or the girl who came right after him,with gag-worthy sweetness?
She crossed her arms and leaned back with a slight frown.

[Mattbot]

“Ahem, Thank you all for deciding to join ‘The Guardians‘, with our combined efforts we can help restore this city to what it once was and remove the criminal pestilence-”

“Hear hear!” interrupted Felix with a hearty roar.

"Yes, well, as I was saying. If you're all willing and able, me and my companion here Mr. Thorsten are able to provide everything we'll need to save this city. We'll be getting news of places and people we can bust through our personal channels. You will all receive PDAs at the end of this meeting to each of you so that we can keep in contact if you don't wish to stay here at the base. No PDA for you Marc, yours has been sent to the Princedom. You guys will also get a small headset so that we can all keep in communication during missions."

At this point 7 small compartments opened outwards from the desk, one in front of each member, they all contained a small PDA and wireless headset that could be hooked over the ear, all of the equipment bore the logo of Ian Thorsten‘s company.

"All of you possess fantastic abilities and talents. You all know me as Salvador Angel Mendoza or Ciudad Borracho. I possess superhuman Reflexes, balance and eyesight when intoxicated, I am also an expert marksman with all forms of ranged weaponry when my senses are heightened. I know all about you but many of the other team members probably don’t so feel free to introduce yourselves to the others."

[kronosdragon]

Arlaen looked around to the others. Waiting for someone to start. After a brief moment of silence, she began, "Ah, well...You may call me Arlaen. I'm known publicly as The Wanderer. I can control emotions, and I have a secondary power I don't like to think about much. I hope you don't have to see that one..."

She casually reached forward and picked up the equipment in the compartment before her, looking at the PDA without much interest and sticking the earbud of the headset into her left ear.

[Wadling]

Felix stood up and placed his hands together in solemnity in front of him. He took a deep breath.

"My name is Felix" He began "And I'm an alcoholic. Phew, It's good to be amongst friends. Oh and also, reality bending is my thing."

He sat back down, picked up the headset and PDA and began flicking through the features. "Sweet, this thing gets Youtube I assume?"

[Thunder]

Thorsten examined the headset and PDA before him.

"Hm. Didn't know we made these" He shot a look at Angel. "Or conference tables with secret compartments".

He stood up, fixed his tie and addressed the people sitting before him.

"My name is Ian Thorsten. I'm the Founder and CEO of An Tionscal Leictrach which seems to provide everything you see here. I've known Angel for quite a bit, and I provided financial backing for this entire operation. As for my ability-"

He clicked his fingers and shot a bolt of electricity at Felix's foot, which he had up on the table. He yelped and withdrew his feet

"I'll show you more of what it's like if he puts them back up. Basically, I'm good with electricity."

He sat back down.

"Oh, and 'An' is the irish for 'the', so please stop calling it 'the an tionscal leictreach'. Thank you."

[sgt_Angua]

Gish could hardly believe her ears. She could almost understand Angel’s ability, but producing and controlling electricity, manipulating someone’s emotions, and altering reality? Everyone was making these incredible claims so nonchalantly, and seemed unfazed at hearing the other’s claims.

“My name is Gish Alac Sahari. I am from Monara. I am very skilled in dueling, although I suspect that my medical training will be of more use to the group.”

[Varthonai]

Monaran, Marc thought, listening to the foreign creature's words. I may have read about you before... why did you come to this hellish place, Mademoiselle? Not for your health, that's certain... especially not if you're a devotee of medicine yourself, as you say...

"Je m'appelle Marc Jean-Paul Facilier," said Marc, leaning forward slightly. "And I do not want there to be any misconceptions here; I have responsibilities that take precedence over my work with this group, and my resources are limited. My contributions will be correspondingly smaller. Think of me as a reserve force."

Several people at the table looked confused. "You have to tell them what you can do, Marc," said Angel.

"Oh, that? Well, I'm professionally trained in several specialized medical fields, both in diagnostics and in surgery. Perhaps not as good as cette belle dame étrangère des étoiles over there, I haven't seen her at work, but we'll see... and I'm also good at forensics, management of small communities, aggressive negotiation..."

"No," said Angel, "I meant--"

"Que je ressuscite les morts, n'est-ce pas?"

"Si," said Angel.

"Ah, but that's not what I'm offering to contribute to the group, Angel," said Marc. "Comme je vous ai déjà dit... my resources are limited. If you were hoping for a seething légion des morts-vivants to cushion your team during every mission, you're out of luck, mon ami."

[kronosdragon]

Arlaen looked around at the others who had spoken, the corners of her mouth turned slightly upward in a subtle grin.

Heh, these guys make me look like a small-timer. I can't fight unless...

She quickly pushed her thoughts from her mind as a flicker of rising emotion made her skin scrawl.

I need to stay focused...

She listened to the man who spoke some of his sentences in a different dialect that, from the sound of it, seemed to be french. She had little knowledge of the language, but she could understand enough of it to know what he was talking about.

A raiser of the dead...how macabre...

She glanced at the one who called himself Felix and almost chuckled.

He doesn't seem to be the very serious type. He's bound to add a bit of character to this group, no doubt about that...

Her eyes flicked momentarily to the woman she had yet to hear from, but from her body language, she didn't seem too pleased by neither Felix nor Arlaen's arrival.

Hmm...very serious...a business type. I don't think she likes me much...better not get on her bad side.

She had seen and spoken with Angel before, but had yet to see his powers in action. Arlaen then turned her attention to the man called Thorsten. He definitely looked like a businessman who knew what he was doing, and as for his power...well, she decided to keep her feet off the table, not like she would even consider the notion in the first place. She was insecure enough as it is, she didn't need to make a fool of herself by being rude. Besides, she deemed the table to be too nice to have her feet on.

She watched the others almost warily. Just because she was presumably in the company of allies, she didn't want to let her guard down too quickly.

[Varthonai]

"I should add," Marc said to the group, noting Arlaen's stare with some discomfort, "that I've been taking formaldehyde to keep this body's flesh from rotting too quickly... but if anyone starts to smell him going off anyway, please don't hesitate to let me know. Spending several days dead in the Mississippi hasn't done much for his sense of smell, so you'll probably notice before I do, and the last thing I want to do is cause needless discomfort for my new partners. Ma nouvelle équipe."

Marc glanced at Arlaen again. "Something wrong, Mademoiselle?"

[kronosdragon]

Arlaen snapped out of her momentary haze to realize that she had been staring at Marc. She smiled nervously at him.

"Oh no, nothing is wrong, good sir. Don't mind me."

She quickly averted her eyes, hoping she didn't come off as rude.

[Varthonai]

Everyone seems to be taking this awfully well, thought Marc, glancing around the table. But then, I suppose you see stranger things than a talking corpse in a place like Hope... maybe I need to get out more.

Then, in his peripheral vision, Marc noticed the pained expression of the man in the seat immediately next to him. Ah-ah, thought Marc, perhaps not everyone's adjusting so well as I'd thought.

"And what about you, Monsieur?" Marc asked. "Racontez-nous votre histoire. What do you do, eh? What is your gift?"

[Wadling]

"Wait, wait, wait" Felix frowned "Marc, is it? Let me get this straight. You have the ability to 'ressuscite les morts', in a city like this, you have the potential for an army of undead soldiers. And you want to help out this group dedicated to saving lives by giving us aggressive negotiation skills? It seems to me, Monsieur, that your priorities are as mixed up as a trifle placed in front of a one year old."

Felix folded his arms "Do tell, what possible better cause can you see that is worthy of pledging a few zombies towards?"

[Killing_Time]

I stared at the piece of technology before me. I picked it up and wondered how I was expected to travel effectively enough with this without dropping it. I put it back down. There were so many new impressions. The thing that worried me the most was how I felt my costume didn’t fit in with the team’s outfits. The larger majority of people wore normal clothes, and I couldn’t decide whether I had overdone it or if they were too lazy to care.
I found Marc to have the most intriguing character, though I hardly understood most of what he said. Was he some kind of zombie or was this rotting corpse possessed?
Thorsten could be a useful resource too, and although I didn’t quite understand what his company produced I could see him as resourceful for the group and helpful towards its efficiency.

I decided not to stand up as I found it to make the situation ridiculously solemn. “I am Villa, that’s Springer to you. My ability is dislocation of joints, knowledge of firearms and the underground world of Hope.”

[Varthonai]

"Tu parle la langue française, Monsieur Félix?" asked Marc, speaking much more rapidly and casually now. A mildly offensive and angry undertone wavered in his voice.

"Et bien, sache ceci: tu ne comprenne rien de moi, ni de mon pouvoir, ni de ses limites. En outre, tu as interrompu ma question à notre coéquipier ici," continued Marc, gesturing at the man next to him. "Alors tais-toi, maintenant, ou je vais te montrer ce que je veux dire quand je dis "négociations agressives". D'accord, Monsieur Félix? EH?"

Marc had been rather hoping that by only alluding to his power in vague terms, only discussing it explicitly in French, the others might take longer to catch on to exactly what it was. He knew it was only a matter of time before they found out, before they started begging him for his time and for his favors... but he had intended to drag it out for as long as possible. And yet Felix had very nearly broken the spell already with his knowledge of three abominable little words.

Marc really needed to learn a more obscure language.

[kronosdragon]

Arlaen looked on, feeling lost. She didn't understand much of what he was saying, but she knew very well from the tone in his voice that he was agitated. She cleared her throat, attempting to gain their attention.

"Ahem...ah, I believe we still have an unanswered question," she said nervously, nodding to the man Marc had addressed earlier, hoping to dissolve the developing argument with a peaceful diversion.

[Wadling]

"Threats, Marc?" Felix smiled "Funny how being rude in French still sounds graceful, but you are right. I interrupted you, please, continue. Keep your secrets, I'm not interested in the extent of your power anyway."

He winked once at Arlaen before turning back to the French to English translator he had looked up on his new PDA.

[Aval]

"Ahem."

Silence...

Ah- hello. My name is Ryan Jones"

More silence, with a polite nod from Angel

"and I don't die."

[Mattbot]

Angel glanced down at the table and flipped out a built in computer which was displaying a bright red flashing light in the top right corner. With a few types on the keyboard Angel opened up a larger screen behind him displaying a live news feed. It was a aerial view of the Orion industries building, multiple smoke plumes and muzzle flashes bellowed out from the lower floors. In the courtyard and streets outside Angel could make out a convoy of armored cars entering the scene to exchange fire with those inside. The reporter on screen was screaming about a large group of very well armed men that had stormed the building in the early hours of the morning and taken most of the employees inside hostage, among these the company chairman and his staff. Only moments ago the police had been tipped off and now chaos was erupting on the streets as the men inside had opened fire.

Arlaen's smile faded as she watched the news feed, her silver eyes turning a shade of gray as the bright flashes within the building lit up the windows. She looked on, expressionless, disgust rising in her gut. Without looking at Angel, she asked, "What are we planning to do about this?"

Angel faced the screen with his back to the team, he temporarily lowered his sunglasses to rub what was left of his eyes. Although they looked unbearable to live with, his eyes felt no different from anyone else’s. This event had cropped up far earlier than he had hoped, Angel still wanted to familiarize his team with the Guard Post before they’re first mission but what could he have expected in a city like Hope where large scale crimes go down by the hour. On the other hand this would be the perfect opportunity for Angel to field test his team and see how well they would all work as a unit.

Turning back to his team who were all focused on the screen he quickly scanned each one of them, adding up their strengths and weaknesses. He turned back to the screen and formulated a strategy on the spot.

“Senorita, I believe it‘s time we mobilized this team!”

[Varthonai]

Oddly convenient timing, Marc thought, idly. Good thing I decided to bring the equipment today...

"Very good, then," said Marc, folding his hands together. "How exactly are we to mobilize, Angel?"

[Mattbot]

“Alright I’m going to need you all to follow Ian to the hanger.” sharing a quick nod with Ian who had just finished another drink. He knew his way around the base far better than Angel did. “I‘ll catch up with you guys, I wouldn‘t be much help without my gear.”

As the team began to lift from their seats and Thunder took off for the door to Angels left, he made his way to the door he had entered the meeting from.

“Villa, I assume we‘ll be meeting you there?” he called over to her as he passed by and down the corridor.

[Thunder]

Thorsten threw open the doors and strode down a large hall.

"All right everyone, Angel requested that you all have your own personal living space, all of which are provided along here" He passed a door marked 'Jones, Ryan'. "As you can see, they have been marked and we have done our best to make you comfortable."

He turned a corner and opened another set of doors, revealing a stairwell. He started upwards, the group following along behind.

"We've also done our best to make the Guard Post a safehouse for all of you. We have top class medical facilities, security systems and one or two little surprises that Angel and I worked on. For example, these stairs are planned to electrocute anyone who's DNA has not already been processed. Obviously enough, they've been disabled for now, as have all seirbhísí eigandála."

He reached the top floor, and strode toward yet another set of doors. He was beginning to questions Angel's love of them.

"Now, through here we have our hangar."

These doors slid open smoothly, in contrast to all the others in the building. Lights flicked on automatically to show a huge open space, packed with all manner of vehicles, including a few special choices requested by the members. The ceiling was held up by massive steel beams, stretching across the length of the room. The floor was solid stone, coated in epoxy to the point where the lights reflected off of it. The vehicles had yet to be sorted into various garages around the outer wall, and were now crowded around the garage stations and shipping containers they had arrived in. A massive set of Hangar doors dominated the far wall, and a part of the ceiling appeared to slide away, showing that all manner of quick exits were available.

Thorsten strode through the mess of cars, vans, trucks, planes and (oddly) a motor launch to one of the garage stations, where a wall of carefully labeled pigeonholes stored the various keys of the various vehicles, as well as pigeonholes named after various members with their personal keys in them.

"All right, everyone take your pick, or get your own."

Felix instantly chimed in "I don't wanna drive. Shotgun!"

Thorsten rolled his eyes, getting the feeling this was to become a regular occurrence. "Well I'm sure you ca-"

"Uhm, my wife is using my car to do the shopping".

Thorsten stared at disbelief at Jones, then back to Felix. He placed the Honda keys back in their place, and reached for the Ford Focus.

[Killing_Time]

I couldn't help but admire the collection of vehicles stored in the hangar. I was rather surprised to find that I would have a place to live too, which I wasn't quite sure what to think of.
I couldn't drive, I didn't trust nor had the money for public transport and I did not want to bore myself with a ride when I had the power to move from A to B in whatever pace I wished with the sole help of my body.

"I know my way around this city. The Orion Industries building is not far away by my standards." I briefly let a teeth smile creep across my face. For some reason I was not expecting we'd get moving so quickly and instead would be bored with a long, painful introduction.
I was ready to move.

[kronosdragon]

Arlaen took a black keycard from her pocket. This was the only way anyone could use her bike; a specialized black racing bike equipped with all of the high-end technology to enhance performance and efficiency. She silently wished she had taken her bike instead of public transport, until she noticed the familiar gleam of silver flames huddled in the shadows.

"My bike!"

She strode over toward the wall, where her bike sat beside an SUV, containing her excitement as she ran a hand over its smooth surface. She silently wondered how they got it here, considering that no one could drive it without her keycard, as well as the password required to start the engine.

Well, I've seen stranger things...

She inserted the coded end of the keycard into the slot, swiping it through and watching with a slight thrill as the lights blinked on. A small screen that would display the speedometer, fuel and other meters flickered to life, displaying "Welcome Back" in bright blue letters. The words "Enter Password" scrolled across the screen and a small number pad popped out from beneath the screen. With a few quick taps of her fingers, she entered the code and the screen displayed the bike's specs.

She hopped off and did a routine check to make sure everything was in proper working order.

Tire pressure normal, treads good as new, fuel tank is full...

She got back on the seat and bounced lightly.

Shocks are good...

She flipped up the kickstand and balanced it upright, keeping it perfectly stable.

Good, the alignment hasn't been tampered with.

She put the kickstand back down and revved the engine, producing a healthy purr. She smiled to herself at the familiar sound.

"We're all good over here!"

[Varthonai]

"Your pardon," said a vaguely familiar voice. "I had to change into a more practical style."

Everyone turned to see the now-headless corpse of Marc's ambassador wiping a scalpel clean of blood with a strip of gauze; the voice was coming from its severed head, attached to some sort of artificial voice box in a transparent jar of formaldehyde. The jar had a shoulder strap, which the headless corpse had situated in the crook between its shoulder and what remained of its neck. The neck itself looked as if it had been cauterized shut.

"What did I miss?" Marc asked. "Who am I riding with?"