heroes-anthesis

[heroes-anthesis]

Good morning, sweet succubus (Venus)

The family tribute room was in our basement, but we were never allowed to go in. “That’s the She-Devil’s room. Mama and I are the only people allowed in.” Father would say. This had always confused me, because sister Vesta had told me that it was where sister Venus slept. When I asked Father about it, he said: “She is not human. Never ask me again.” So I didn’t.

Once a month, Father would tell me to write on a sheet of paper everything that had gone wrong the month before. Every bad grade, every weird tasting food, even if I left the house with my shoes untied one day. When I was ten, I figured out that the longer my list, the longer Venus would scream and cry that night. But if I listed nothing, or not enough, it was worse. So I started putting 10 things on the list, everytime.

Our little piece of land in Oregon was hardly touched during the Crisis. Yet, at least once a week, I would hear Mama talk about how the “She-Devil” was causing strife and distress in our country. This was about the only time we would hear her talk about anything political related. Even our history lessons would avoid talking about anything but our beliefs.

It was close to midnight during Venus’s Coming of Age, and we were walking through the woods after Ritual. Despite our isolation, we heard the telltale sign of footsteps.I feared a wendigo, Janus a werewolf. Our parents, the truth: a witch. She dashed towards Venus, who was bound by chains across her whole body, shuffled along like a slave. Father tried to stop her, but it was as if she didn’t exist, moving through him like the wind moves through silence. What the witch told Venus that night, we will never know, for she left as quickly as she came, and Venus refused to tell. But she did change. My quiet, soft spoken sister would suddenly lash out at me, calling me many of the “banned words” without any of her trademarked stutter. Her monthly beatings suddenly became weekly altercations, and then daily skirmishes. Papa stopped making statues for our shrine after Venus cracked Vesta’s skull with one.

Today was my 16th birthday. Where many children would receive money, video games, maybe a car, I received a box at eight in the morning. Inside were three things: A pair of white robes, a weird leather mask, and a note. *Come to the basement tonight at ten. Wear what you have been given. Do not be late or early.* The mask, as I would later discover, was human leather.

I waited outside the entrance until 9:59. As the clock struck, I quickly resolved the nerve to open the door. The staircase down was lined with fine gray stone, and lit with beautiful candles. I descended the stairs quietly, but quickly. Unlike the rest of our house, the flight of steps refused to creak, as if they were created and maintained with extreme duty. Or better yet, the flight was so short and unused that it never saw heavy usage.

The basement used the same fine stone as the staircase, except that various runes lined the room in carefully measured intervals. I was able to recognize many from my lessons, *Protection*, *Wealth*, *Love*. But there was one that littered the room, from head to toe: *Demon*, etched so deep that you could see outside through the cracks. What confused me the most, however, was that there was no bedroom furniture. The only exception was a small rectangle carved into the ground, with the word *BED* etched in the center. Venus’s clothes laid in a neat pile at the foot of the crude sleeping spot.

Father wore a robe mask like mine, with Antlers sprouting from his. Mama wore a hood and plague mask, cloaked in all black. Vesta wore red, wearing one of those anonymous masks that movie hackers have. Venus… wore nothing but chains. They hung from her limbs, dangling her from the ceiling like a wind chime. Her face looked sullen, almost neutral. It morphed into fear as she noticed my presence. I could not meet her gaze, so I followed the scars down her left side, starting at her cheek, and ending at her heel.

“Mama,” Venus asked. “...Why is Veritas here? I thought you said that-”

“Quiet demon. Veritas.” My mother said to me, “Come over here.” I hesitated. **”NOW!”** I was at her side the next moment, scared at the first time I had ever been yelled at. I looked to Vesta for guidance, but she refused to hold my gaze, instead staring at the runes on the ceiling.

“Veritas, let me introduce you to Angra Maihu.” Father gestured to Venus. “We humans are plagued by evil at every turn. Demons infest our lives, using sin and disaster to lead our lives into death and damnation. The devil before you is the twisted mother of every imp, monster, and devil that exists. Each month, we purge our sins on her, to keep ourselves pure. You are of age today, so now it is your responsibility to join in her punishment.”

The look on Venus’s face changed, from fear and shock to anger. We all knew what it meant- her “other side”, the one that the witch had created, had taken over. __***”No! You promised! You no good, cowardly, pieces of-”***__ her speech was cut short as Father struck her in the chest. Blood came out of her mouth, but she was silent.

“You may beat, cut, maim her. But do not kill her, for it will release the evil to all the world. And do not defile her, lest you become a host to evil as well.” Mama held the knife to me, which I grabbed after a brief hesitation.

I hesitated. Earlier that day, Venus had helped me find my shoes. The day before, we had made dinner together. And last week, I played board games with her for hours. But… I had seen her almost kill Vesta. The days when she was beaten the hardest led to clear skies and a large harvest the next day. She had called me banned words when she changed, and her apologies never felt… real. I looked at her.

“Your sister Vesta has developed special gifts, granted to her by the Earth Mother. Save death, she can cure any ailment you wish to inflict. Do as you may.” Unlike everyone else in our family, Venus’s eyes were red. They shone like diamonds, and as a child I was always infatuated with them. Tonight, they filled me with rage.

“So, I can slash her eyes?” Father smiled. Mama nodded. Vesta looked away. Venus gasped.

“V-Veritas… why?” Tears fell down my sister’s face. I approached her. “Whatever I did today, I’m sorry! Just please don’t…” Venus broke down into sobs. The sound annoyed me like a whining dog annoys its owner. I grabbed her neck with my free hand, her cries ceasing as the demon struggled for breath. Blade in my raised hand, I prepared to strike, when suddenly, I stopped.

My head spun. The stiff air changed, becoming a violent haze as the dagger clattered onto the stone. Father’s voice sounded concerned, but his words were drowned out by the sound of something *breaking*. Through my foggy sight, I saw Venus hit the ground, before suddenly rushing into me. I flew through the air, and I lost my breath as I hit the wall.

There was a scream. The shape of Venus flew at the shape of father, and I watched as his horned visage flinched, staggered, and then fell. Venus followed him as he fell, her hand flying up and down at his face. As my vision returned, I saw why: she had picked up the dagger that I had dropped.

Mother was next. She and Vesta had opted to flee, but only made it halfway up the steps. Venus looked at them, and Mama suddenly fell backwards. Vesta, who was behind Mama, matched her path. The only difference was that Vesta didn’t hit her head. Mama’s skull crunched on the stone, and she did not move. My sister screamed, but for some reason, she was unable to shift the corpse on top of her.

I looked back at Venus, who seemed satisfied with her work to Father’s mutilated face as she rose. She took her time walking over to the screaming Vesta, and kneeled gently at her side. If mother was the luckiest, dying instantly from head trauma, Vesta was second. Venus slit her throat, and she was unconscious in seconds.

__***”…Why do you hate me, Veritas?”***__ Venus asked. I was too scared to move, or answer. __***”It’s okay, even if you don’t love me, I love you. Which is why, I won’t kill you, but…”***__ The flash of the knife filled my vision, as my eye was sliced from its socket. I screamed in pain, but when I lifted my hands to clutch the wound, Venus pinned them down. __***”No! You don’t get the luxury of coping with your pain. You will suffer like I did, to understand.”***__

Venus let me go when I stopped struggling. As I lay there, sobbing, she dressed herself and left. I wish I could say that her last words were impactful, but no, she destroyed my eye and left. I managed to crawl out of that dreaded basement, where I called the police. They took the bodies away, and declared Venus a villain to be caught by parahumans. Once they left, I used Father’s tools to seal the basement shut.

It’s been about three years since then. I still own the house, and I work a steady construction job. It’s very lonely, so I visit Father, Mama, and Vesta’s graves every day. Each time, I wonder, if I had refused Father and Mama that night, would they still be alive? Would I still have my family in my life, my mother, father, and two sisters? Would Venus still live in that basement, chained up and beaten every night for a crime she didn’t commit? The thought bothers me, so I put it all out of my mind.

But, she’s on my mind today. It’s my birthday, and the three year anniversary. I was watching the news, and the reporter was talking about the “Succubus of New York”, who had been cornered by a warden but managed to escape. When they showed her picture, I cried. My older sister Venus, with that wicked smile, was on the screen. I had to by a new television that night, because *something* destroyed mine in that instant. It wasn’t me though, I promise. I refuse to be like Venus.

[heroes-anthesis]

THE CRISIS: US HISTORY

The Empowered Creation Event, also known as the Crisis, was an event that occurred in early 2018. Humans across the world suddenly found themselves with superpowers. This led to a global rebellion against traditional governments, using the newfound powers as a way to counter militaries and police forces.

The Estimated Territories of Each American Territory during the Crisis.This graphic is a rough estimation.

To date, only the United States, Canada, Mexico, Cuba, Ethiopia, Germany, China, and Australia are in control of their original territories. Saudi Arabia, and Scandinavia dissolved entirely, being replaced by either a new government or warmongering states. Russia controls a fraction of it’s land, with the remainder being controlled by a Siberian warlord.

In the United States, an estimated 15% of the population are Empowered, though only 10% are registered in the Empowered Personnel System . This number was decided among think tanks, accounting for similar population densities in other countries. Of that amount, about 2% were responsible for the warlord states, operating as leadership or militia forces.

The rapid formation of the Parahuman Soldiers, founded by Artur Stonewall in New York, gave the United States the manpower it needed to retake its former territory by the beginning of the next year.

Territories

-United States

The United States government, caught off guard by the Crisis, was able to maintain control of all territory from Maryland up to Maine. Within two months of the Warlord period, the US Army began testing the Parahuman Soldiers, using government aligned Empowered (Via military, police force, or general patriotism) as a counter force to the Warlords.

-The Neo Confederacy (Colloquially the Mississippi Khans)

The first “Warlord” group to rebel, prompted by a Black senator being killed in an Empowered attack. Following this, multiple other politicians were attacked and executed by a radical group, who then took control. Their territory covered North Carolina, South Carolina, Georgia, Florida, Alabama, Mississippi and Tennessee.

-New Vegas

Mob bosses within the Western hemisphere quickly took control, utilizing Empowered force and gambling debts to create a fighting force. The area was lauded as a safe haven for Empowered, who were welcomed indiscriminately provided they provided their services. Territory included Colorado, New Mexico, Wyoming, and Montana, and everything West of those states.

-Farmer’s Alliance (Colloquially Oz)

Due to the already sparse population density, the number of known Empowered in the region was low. Following the Crisis, many Empowered fled to The Midwest Alliance was created by a union of Unempowered farmers and hunters, citing claims against both New Vegas and the United States government. The territory included Dakota (Formerly North Dakota and South Dakota), Nebraska, Oklahoma, Kansas, Louisiana, Arkansas, Missouri, Iowa, and Minnesota.

-The Northern Group (Colloquially, the Windies)

Local gangs were joined into one army, under the command of Antony “Windy” Lawrence. Though his power is unknown, it is believed that he had some form of mind control power. The gangs spread out, becoming the local police force in the area. Unempowered were forbidden from leaving their cities, and made to work manual labor. The territory included Wisconsin, Illinois, Indiana, Ohio, Virginia, and West Virginia.

-Republic of Texas

Immediately following the creation of the Midwest Alliance, the Republic of Texas claimed independence from the United States.This new nation was the last one to be reclaimed; following the fall of the Northern Group, Texas made an alliance with Mexico, becoming a vassal of the nation in exchange for protection and resources.

-Lost Territories

Due to their distance away from the Continental United States, Alaska and Hawaii were taken by foreign nations. Alaska was taken by Siberia (Formerly Russia), Hawaii by China. Their distance, along with continued unrest within the continental states, has made recapture a low priority. Representatives of the government claim plans for recapture, but have noted worries of war with neighboring countries.

Timeline

January 1, 2018-People across the globe begin developing powers. These powers vary in strength, range, and effects. Government and Media Organizations label those people as “Empowered”.

January 15, 2018- The CDC and WHO label the sudden appearance of powers as a possible pandemic. Citizens are urged to isolate themselves from people who display powers, leading to a wave of unemployment of Empowered people due to the lack of a protective class status.

January 22, 2018-Prompted by a sudden spike of crime, the US Congress passes the Limitation of Powers Act, which makes the unauthorized usage of powers a felony. Additionally, this act creates the Empowered Personnel System, a list that all Empowered are legally required to register to on the first sign of superpowers.

February 7, 2018- The President of Russia is assassinated by an Empowered. That same day, an empowered man in Tupelo, MS, inspired by this event, attacks and kills a local State Senator.

February 12, 2018- A registered hate group, known as the Mississippi Khans, take over the Mississippi State Capitol, claiming secession from the United States. Armed service members are called back to the United States. On arrival, many eventually defect or go missing.

February 13, 2018-Riots begin within the Southern United States. The National Guard is deployed to Atlanta, Birmingham, and Tupelo, but are routed by Empowered Militia operating under the Mississippi Khans. Their leader, Jeffery Palmer, officially claims Mississippi, Alabama, and Georgia as territory of the Neo Confederacy. Politicians and unempowered citizens flee the region.

February 22, 2018-In an unseen assault, multiple members of the United States Armed Forces defect, attempting to take control of the available weapons and vehicles. The attack fails, and the remaining members of the coup flee throughout the country. Many leave for the Neo Confederacy.

March 15, 2018- A coalition of gangs working under Antony Lawrence launches a sudden invasion based out of Chicago, Illinois. Damage done by the Assault of the Mississippi Khans prevents the National Guard from properly mobilizing. The coalition, under the name of the Northern Group, launched a sudden invasion of neighboring states.

April 8, 2018-The Northern Group officially stops their invasion after taking Virginia. In response, important members of the federal government flee to New York, establishing it as an emergency Capitol. Martial Law is declared within the remaining territories under US control. Congress labels all of the rebelling territories as enemy nations, and declares war. That same day, Command Sergeant Major Artur Stonewall receives the green light to begin a program for training Empowered humans.

April 9, 2018- The United States Congress unanimously votes to give President Maxwell Harrington emergency powers to deal with the situation, dubbed by historians as the Crisis. He declares martial law across all US territories along with dubbing any defectors as enemy territories. The Armed Forces are restructured into the United States First National Guard.

April 15, 2018- Mafia bosses who fled to Las Vegas, Nevada, initiate a hostile takeover of the city. Utilizing their manpower, connections, and powers, New Vegas is established, claiming dominion of a large portion of the Western United States. A broadcast is sent out to the rest of the nation, offering shelter for all Empowered in exchange for their labor.

May 3, 2018- Stonewall begins training the first class of Empowered soldiers, later dubbed Parahumans, in the Empowered Training Facility in Trenton, New Jersey. The Prepared Parahuman Program utilized an Empowered person’s instinctual ability to use their powers to provide an accelerated training. Leader Lawrence calls for a fortification of the Northern Border.

May 5, 2018-Due to a lack of effective oversight in the area, the National Guard successfully secures Virginia and West Virginia from the Northern Group. The first recorded assassination attempt on President Harrington’s life was thwarted by an unknown empowered. From then, an estimated two assassins each have allegedly been caught, tried, and executed by the CIA each month.

June 3, 2018- The first graduates of the Prepared Parahumans Program are deployed to Warden, Virginia in an attempt to rout an invading Neo Confederate platoon. The battle goes in favor of the Parahumans, who manage to force the platoon out of the Virginia border. The invading force, which was composed of the Neo-Confederacy’s strongest parahumans, retreated to Tallahassee due to their massive casualties and a misfire of a teleport ability.

July 4, 2018- The second class of Parahumans are sent to New Vegas, using the territory’s Empowered friendly policy to infiltrate the enemy. At the same time, a demonstration in Atlanta led to a large fire that decimated a majority of the Neo Confederacy’s supply of rations.

July 25, 2018- Major leaders of New Vegas are assassinated during a strategy meeting. The offending parahumans are apprehended, and held hostage. The second in commands immediately declare an invasion of the Farmers’ Alliance, citing a food crisis as the motive.

August 1, 2018-Citizens of the Neo Confederacy, both Empowered and Unempowered, riot following a revelation that the Khans were hoarding food and medicine. Many of the rebelling faction’s officers, including the President, Secretary, and Head Judge, are decapitated in a public execution.

August 15, 2018-The New Vegas Militia successfully capture a major farm in the territory of the Farmers’ Alliance. Despite a lack of an official surrender, the group claims control of the territory.

August 16, 2018- Neo-Confederate Vice President Humphrey Hitchcock surrenders at the border of Virginia. He provides key information about the Neo-Confederacy’s military in exchange for immunity. His safehouse in Maine is later destroyed in a claimed freak Empowered accident.

September 22, 2018-A group of unempowered within Chicago successfully manage to capture the main headquarters of the Northern Group, where leader Antony Lawrence is captured and executed. Using weapons found in the headquarters, the group manages to force a retreat of many Empowered soldiers of the faction, who flees to the Neo Confederacy and New Vegas. The First National Guard successfully annexes the territory, where a new base of operations and Parahuman training facility is established in Lexington, Kentucky.

October 30, 2018-A team of 50 parahuman soldiers Invade Tennessee from Lexington. With a strategy of killing every citizen, the state is captured by the team in two days.

January 2, 2019- The first recorded Empowered with Nation Level powers, Coraline Daniels, uses her power FIREBALL on the still independent Texas.75% of the population, including about 10 miles of neighboring Mexico, are completely destroyed. New Vegas and the remnants of the Farmers’ Alliance officially surrender later that day.

The Second Reconstruction

Following the surrender of New Vegas, the National Guard was deployed to every major city center in the country. All active Parahumans were called back to New York for additional training. In April of 2019, all remaining police forces, along with the Prepared Parahumans Program, were merged into the National Guard.

Due to outstanding service, Director Stonewall created the Warden Elite Team, consisting of high performing Parahumans within New York and Washington DC. These teams were designed to be extremely competitive, with the worst performing member demoted to Parahuman at the beginning of each month. Additionally, the Sovereign Guardians were also created, composed of ten Parahumans with nation level powers.

President Harrington, during his 2019 State of the Union speech, requested for his emergency powers granted to him by Congress to be kept, citing foreign enemies and possible sedition from disgruntled politicians. That week, a majority vote by Congress approved his request for another year. Since then, Congress has approved the retaining of President Harrington’s emergency every year since, along with a suspension of presidential elections and term limits.

The establishment of the Seer Department, spearheaded by the Original Seer, created a system of surveillance throughout the United States. Utilizing Empowered with temporal and spatial observation powers, the Prepared Parahuman Program created buildings known as Superhuman Oversight Bureaus in major city centers, as both a way to keep an eye on criminals, and serve as bases for Parahumans and Wardens

Within the first few months of 2020, President Harrington created new classifications, vigilantes and villains. Vigilantes, by definition, were known as Empowered who attempted to take the law into their own hands. Vigilantes apprehended by the police or Parahumans, were sentenced to life imprisonment without a trial. Villains, by definition, were regular criminals who used their powers to commit crimes that were not classified as vigilantism.

Complaints and Criticisms

One of the key issues during the Crisis was the role of the Empowered Personnel System established by the Limitation of Powers Act. While the system aimed to regulate and monitor Empowered individuals for security purposes, it also led to discrimination and stigmatization against those who were Empowered. Many Empowered individuals were given a status below that of a protective class, leading to widespread unemployment and isolation.

The use of Parahuman Soldiers, trained Empowered individuals working for the government, was also a topic of contention. The establishment of the Prepared Parahumans Program provided additional manpower for the government in their fight against the Warlord factions. However, the program also raised concerns about the line between using superpowers for national defense and exploitation of Empowered individuals.

The handling of the Neo Confederacy, a Warlord faction that claimed secession from the United States and controlled multiple Southern states, was also heavily criticized. The National Guard's inability to properly mobilize against the group allowed them to capture key states such as Georgia, Mississippi, and Alabama. In addition, the group's founders were allegedly associated with a hate group, and reports of food and medicine hoarding further made them unpopular among their own citizens.

The creation of the Vigilante and Villain classes are attributed to the rise of violent crimes. Experts claimed that while the change did help to hasten the justice process, innocent people had been imprisoned and killed unfairly, leading to those caught taking more radical actions against the government. This issue also went along with the creation of the Seers, where the lack of supposed privacy had a direct correlation with crime.

[heroes-anthesis]

ATHENA’S SPOTLIGHT

The flickering of a barely-functioning LED spills across the wooden countertop laden with discoloured bottles and more than a handful of glasses in various shapes. Most of them empty, excepting the one kept in hand of course. Whiskey for the most part. Just barely enough for the otherwise empty room to be pleasantly out of focus. Empty, of course. Can't have some snooping journalist stumble onto controlled information, now can they?

**"Ten minutes, luv'. Get your game face on!"**

*How did it come to this?* she asks no one in particular. Sitting in some bombed-out ruin, dressed in some kind of ancient, extremely oversized half-robe, nursing a drink she doesn't even like. Hoping against hope she'll just forget the next half hour of her life. Dreading the cameras and the endless questions directed at her regarding *"What she thinks about the most recent allegations."* against some hot-shot suit... She was supposed to be what passed for a cop, not some kinda government mouthpiece!

She'd just talked to those kids. They were scared and alone so what kinda cop was she meant to be if she weren't supposed to go to them and do everything she could to make sure they weren't traumatized? That's literally it! Just talk to 'em, make some jokes, show 'em she was no one to be scared of despite the uniform. Get 'em to their parents and then that's that. Right? Wrong.

No cuz' see, some parents apparently think it's important to personally thank the people that save their kids. *"I'm just doing my job."* she'd said. Humble, as she was supposed to be. But no, no... Her superior thought this was a *great* opportunity to push the public image.

Imagine, first page in some tabloid they'd bought out:

## Parahuman Hero Saves Children!

... They'd not really needed saving. They'd just been lost. Standing somewhere they weren't supposed to be, scared of things children are scared of. It hadn't been anything special. Stuff like that happens every day, right? But *no*, it was *insisted* that she at least do an interview.

She should've adamantly refused. She realizes this *now*. For *that* is when all this started. Of course it was. It started with that god-damned picture of the parents shaking her hand in thanks. *That* is when the media frenzy began. After the first interview, there came another. Then another. Then after that, there came a *televised* one where she was to be asked a few questions about the local clown warlord. She'd never encountered him nor read about him, of course. But her superiors wanted *her* to answer the questions. She had *"The goodwill of the people."* they said. So she was given a loose script, an info packet...

If she'd stuck to that, it'd have been fine. She'd just be another mouthpiece. Just someone repeating what she'd been told. But no she had to go and fuck *that* up to. The journalist had been an asshole; trying to fire people up, trying to *scare* them. Asking questions like *"How can we trust the Parahuman program if you can't even keep Charlotte safe from one guy?"*

But her empowered self? That bitch? She'd decided that was a *great* moment to really dial things up to eleven. Reassure people. Not emptily promise them everything was gonna be fine, but actually make *declarations*... Naturally, no one had told her to *not* use the mind-affecting effects of her powers on the crowd and crew.

*"The single most successful interview given by a Parahuman representing the program."* might look good on paper, but in reality just means you'll be expected to do more of the same.

**"Time's up. Get in gear, Athena. We're not sending some goth girl out there!"**

The glass is drained of what drink remains. Little more than a moment's focus is needed. And oh-so-suddenly, that half-robe thing? Nigh skin-tight. Taller, practically sober. Less self-pitying...

Put on a smile. Time to be a hero.

[heroes-anthesis]

BETRAYAL OF MARCEL

“I mean if it’s really necessary…” Marcel replied to the man in front of him. Marcel was currently sat down across from a man in a suit, a clipboard in one hand and a very nice looking pen in the other. The man was asking Marcel about what he had done prior to wanting to join this particular organization. The Irish Mob, led by Arsenal. Marcel, in his maroon suit, wasn’t quite prepared to talk about the kinds of bad things he had done in recent. Still, he had to do it. Marcel cleared his throat to continue his response. “It wasn’t that long ago, but I suppose the best thing to start with would be how I became Manager of Hell.”

Before Marcel could even continue, he could tell even in this ominous darkness that the other figure was confused by this statement. “Don’t worry, it’ll all be explained in excruciating detail.” He reassured before beginning the story…

Marcel’s POV:

I had been walking down the street. Admittedly I can’t remember what road, but I know it was somewhere in the Eastern Part of Charlotte. I had been looking into doing one of my ‘illegal odd jobs’ when I was suddenly greeted by this fiery entity. It just appeared to me like a ghost! Like it was summoned! I tried to hide my surprise, but despite my eyes being covered at all times I’m sure I wasn’t exactly hiding it well…

“Eyy Yooo!! I’m a big fan of your work, Buddy!” A dark voice spoke. Despite this voice range it almost seemed to vocalize like a teenager, or an influencer. It felt like a very off putting contrast… I tried using Adoring to see if it was able to be influenced or ensure at least it was non hostile but… it didn’t appear to have any mind to influence. And yet, it was perfectly capable of English. I was speechless, just trying to figure out what this was…

It talked further "As it seems you don't know what you have been selected for, its a true wonder alright. You have been selected-" It paused, putting his hands up in the air. "-for an exclusive sin making course hosted by me! A demon coming straight from hell!”

As someone originally raised with faith in his life, this was a little nerve racking. Was Satan himself seriously coming to collect me as some kind of roadie? Some unholy follower? It was already making my head spin. “Can I ask why you’re giving out this free course?” I asked, and the spirit just shrugged.

“Because I have nothing better to do.” It responded. Then after a few seconds it started to flare up. “Plus, I could always kill you if you refuse.” It added, the voice becoming more intense and dark. As I tried to figure this thing out, I decided to test something. I punched at the Spirit, and attempted to undo its memory, only to find it was able to remember me punching it. This likely meant no brain. It also burned my hand very badly, but Throwback could heal that easily… I nodded my head, and he proceeded to explain what he wanted from me.

Apparently he wanted me to shoot up and rob a Cafe we were near. Specifically I was also tasked with killing the Cafe’s Owner. He even gave me an AK-47 to do the job. I ended up accepting, putting the weapon on my back to seem a little less dangerous. After all, everyone needs protection. Regardless, I walked in and decided to take a stealthy approach. I got on line with everyone else, this apparition yelling in my ear to just shoot the place up. But I whispered for it to remain patient. Eventually I got to the counter. I pulled out my pistol, fired it, undid the sound of the gun going off, undid people’s memory of seeing me take out the gun, then undid the bullet wound in the target’s body but not the bullet inside. All of which was a perfect recipe for a false heart attack.

3rd Person POV:

“When I got out, the demon thanked me for my job well done, gave me the AK and 33% of the money. Made my life a lot nicer having this gun. Especially since my abilities have no direct offensive capabilities…” Marcel said as he gestured to the rifle on his back. After a few moments the man across from Marcel got up with a nod.

“Hmm… I think this is enough info. I’ll let the boss know, and we’ll see from there.” He said before walking away. Marcel nervously tapped his foot as he waited. As much as he could undo many of his problems, he wasn’t exactly sure he could survive a large army of goons and Arsenal himself…

[heroes-anthesis]

Hero's Anthesis! Who and what we are!

Hello hello hello! My name is ThatMusicMan or Quinn, whichever you prefer. I am the proud owner of a discord superhero rp server called Heros' Anthesis! Now I can already hear you asking, 'Quinn, what makes you guys stand apart?' Well I'll tell you! Here at Hero's Anthesis, you do not get to choose your own power! Instead we have a system in which your power is generated by chance for you! Here you can become a powerful villain or hero. Take on the world with the cards dealt to you! We would to love to have you! Come on down and take a shot! https://discord.gg/c3c8MtKebB

[heroes-anthesis]

MIRELLIA'S MIRACLE

The train was coming particularly late today. The intercom had said it would only be 10 minutes late at most, but it had been half an hour. Mirellia had gotten bored and started challenging people to arm wrestling competitions. She had won about two-thirds of the time, and by now, everyone waiting had resorted to some method to stave off their boredom and worry about being late to work. She noticed a teenage boy reading "Lord of the Flies," a businesswoman playing some mobile game, and an old couple were chatting about something; she'd narrowed it down to either their children or a heist plan. One was more likely, but one was more interesting, so she didn't care. The speakers finally spoke up: "Apologies for the inconvenience, we are truly sorry. However, as per the 51st term in our train pass terms of service, you are unable to sue us. We will make sure that everyone gets one piece of candy when on the train." Capitalism at work, once again.

The old couple had noticed someone slightly below their age but richer looking, and if Mirellia had been straight, she would've said he was attractive. It seemed he was a sibling of the woman, that or their sponsor for the heist. It was weird how long the joke she'd invented in her head had gone on without being disproved. The teenage boy had put away his book, stuffed with sticky notes, and had gotten on the phone when his mom had called, yelling why he was absent, loud enough for the noise to carry to Mirellia's ears. One of the few times Mirellia was glad about her foster parents. From what she'd heard of her mom, she would've been exactly like that. The businesswoman was chewing on a Starburst, looking up at the ceiling of the train station, bored or angry, Mirellia couldn't tell.

And the pilot was worried… why? Why was he worried? Something in her was telling her that something bad, very bad, was happening at the front of the train. It wasn't exactly a gut feeling; it was similar, but her whole being felt it, and it was certain. Shit. The train was probably going to crash, wasn't it? Her body agreed with that idea, so it must be right. She had felt this before, after the crisis, and it had never been wrong. She could feel anger from her neighbor, and tomorrow his wife was reported dead. Worry followed by pure fear, and then she'd seen a car crash. She hadn't acted; she wasn't sure how she could, and now she was being punished by being on the receiving end of it. She'd never been religious, but in times like this, she wished she had a god to pray to. "Fuck it, Mirellia would try anyway. God, Allah, since it maybe covers more of you, please get everyone off the train. Or Buddha, I don't think miracles are your thing, but maybe this time? Confucius, wait, no, that's definitely not how it works."

Mirellia looked around. She was on the street. So was everyone, and many dead bodies. They'd been hit, she realized, by the cars. They had slammed on the brakes as soon as the people appeared, but it didn't matter. There were bodies now, but there used to be people. She noticed a boy with a backpack skid across the ground next to her, a massive wound near his stomach. Three heads of gray hair fell to the ground, and she almost felt like their eyes rolled to stare into her soul. This was her fault, wasn't it? She'd prayed to get off the train, and she had been slapped by a monkey's paw. She saw someone, with a parahuman uniform, staring into the crowd. At the least, a dozen were dead, and she knew it must have been an empowered. The woman's eyes were terrified. She thought it was a massacre. It was, wasn't it? Just not one with a goal. It was an accident, but people wouldn't see it that way, would they?

The court cases were exhausting. A parahuman who could sense the activation of powers used in the past had been called in. He had spoken, one by one, to every single one of them. It had only taken three tries before he'd gotten to Mirellia. A lawyer, sympathetic and believing Mirellia when she said it was an accident, probably Entitlement at work, had offered to work for her at a quarter of his normal price. She had accepted, scrounging up all of her savings for it. It was the day of the verdict, and, as much as she hated it, she knew Entitlement had gotten her this far. The jury had all believed her when she said it was accidental. The judge sentenced her toa year of house arrest, to the chagrin of every person who wasn’t in the room, convinced by Mirellia’s powers. So, Mirellia had went to her apartment, and rotted, eating, sleeping, checking the news sometimes, and practicing conversation, so she wouldn’t be so terrible at it when the year ended. She watched 5 seasons of TV every week, and read a book every 3 days. Finally, the year was over. She celebrated by calling Empowered eats, and ordering taiwanese. A lot of it. When she opened the door, she was greeted by a man, he looked similar to that high schooler who she had killed. And a woman, silvery white hair and a red mark on her cheek were on the other side. Damn, the girl was cute. Maybe it was because she hadn’t seen anyone in person for so long. “Hello! Never seen you before, move in recently?”

[heroes-anthesis]

BEGINNING OF EMERGENCY AID

A long, dejected alleyway stretched away from the street, ending in a dimly lit dead end. The buildings appeared old and forgotten, and the concrete was cracked and worn. Dusty brown stains still remained soaked into sections of the curb, poorly concealed by broken bottles and debris.

"Gah-! Stop! Please stop-" A young man begged as he was dragged into the alleyway. Tears streamed down his bloodied face, with shards of glass still sticking out of his cheek and an eyelid. His glasses had been broken and just barely hung off one of his ears.

“I warned you to stop stalking her. I'm not someone you fuck with," A grizzled man responded. He had a grim look on his face. Specks of blood and glass dotted dark, bruised knuckles. Two other men followed behind him, but they had their hands in the pockets of their thick, padded jackets. One of the pair stopped to face the mouth of the alleyway, removing a hand to light up a cig.

"I wasn't stalking- she-" He was cut off.

"She asked you pretty fucking nicely to leave her alone. This is where you learn what happens when you don't listen. Do you know where we are?"

"No- my glasses and- and you locked me in your trunk! How would-" His voice was cut off into a choked wheeze as the grizzled man tossed him up against the wall. He followed up immediately with a swift kick to the ribs.

"We're a long way from where we picked you up. Nobody's gonna be coming for you. Understand?"

The bright red feathers on her mask swayed with every step. A woman walked down the street clad in a thick white coat and matching white cargo pants. The name she chose: Emergency Aid. 

Her boots tapped against the sidewalk as she neared the entrance to the alleyway. Her head turned as she heard the commotion, and she jogged to the corner of the building, the top of her beast-like mask peeking out over the side of the alleyway’s entrance.

“Psst! Over here! Are you a superhero too?” A youthful man’s whisper came from behind her. When Emergency Aid turned around, she was met with the face of a young man, wearing a classic superhero’s outfit. He was spry and lean, with blond hair peeking out from under his hood as he crouched before her. His outfit was.. Similar- in that its main colors were white and red. Though, that wasn’t what the woman was thinking when she saw him.

“What-? Hey! Don’t talk so loud!” Emergency crouched down with him and shushed him. Putting a finger to his lips, she peeked around the corner again. Nothing seemed to have changed.

“I asked if you were a superhero, too. I’m kinda new to this,” The young man scooted around Emergency and peeked into the alleyway too, “I was wondering what I’m supposed to do now.”

The man that was smoking had been facing the alleyway's entrance and his eyes narrowed at Emergency Aid as she peeked her head around the entrance. He blew out a cloud of smoke and rummaged in his pocket idly. When Emergency Aid moved out of his line of sight to talk to Supernova he glanced back towards the others and if any saw him he gave an exaggerated, signalling nod of his head in the direction of the street.

"Some-one o-ver there," He heavily mouthed to the others, a scowl on his face as he kicked a broken bottle aside.

One of the men, wearing round sunglasses and a long jacket, simply raised an eyebrow, and began walking towards the two disorganized do-gooders. His hands were behind his back- and although it appeared he was simply walking with his hands clasped behind him… Both were clutching dangerous weapons. One hand held a dagger, and the other, a pistol.

The young man alongside Emergency sprung out from his hiding spot, a worried smile on his face.

“Hello! Can I uh… Help you with something?” The young hero chuckled nervously and put his hands on his hips.

The smoker stomped out his cigarette with a huff and walked to join Ikigai after he heard hero’s greeting. They sounded harmless, he could hear the awkwardness radiating out from the man’s tone of voice. As soon as he saw what the two were wearing he immediately looked repulsed, "Ew... What the hell are you two wearing?" He still had a hand in his jacket pocket.

There was another cry of pain from the alleyway. Whatever the grizzled man was doing to the young man didn't seem to be waiting for the two vigilante's conversation to finish.

“Hey! I worked hard on this costume! I think it looks pretty cool!” The man turned to glance at Emergency aid, who was still hiding. “And their costume is cool too. Anyways, what’re you doing back there?”

A smug grin crossed the sunglasses man’s  face as he lowered his sunglasses- just enough for the two vigilantes to see his striking azure eyes.

“Halloween was a month ago, you two. Sorry, but we don’t have any treats to give you today.” Sunglasses sneered.

Emergency aid’s heart felt like it was pounding so hard that it would leave her chest. She opened her mouth to speak, and her words were jumbled up with whatever the other rookie vigilante decided to say at the same time. Though, something her ‘companion’ said registered in her mind.

“… Or I will have to throw a rock at you,” The unnamed vigilante picked up a pebble off the ground… And things began moving too fast for Emergency aid. Too fast.

The smoking thug and the other vigilante exchanged insults, the tension in the air growing thicker, until it felt like you could cut it with a knife. Then, the sunglasses thug said something, and Alula felt a hard impact on the back of her knees, sending her tumbling to the ground. When she looked up, sunglasses had a knife held to the other vigilante’s throat.

“I probably should’ve stayed in bed…” Emergency aid grumbled nervously, before leaping to her feet, and launching a rapid, yet clumsy punch at the thug- and then was hit by a wall of nausea. She stumbled backwards, and found the thug she had punched swinging a knife at her throat. Emergency aid managed to clumsily catch the man’s wrist before he stabbed her in the neck, but the blade inched ever-closer to her vulnerable skin.

Before the thug could end her life, though, Emergency aid sent a course of energy blasting through her arm. It rippled through her veins, and shot out of her hand in the form of a pink explosion, right into the thug’s wrist! The man cried out as his wrist twisted at an odd angle, and the knife flew out of his grip.

The man fell, screaming for sunglasses to do something as Emergency aid ran past the man.

“SORRY! So sorry!!”  Emergency’s boots pounded on the concrete as she ran towards her first objective- helping the man that was being beat in the alleyway. Though, she wasn’t able to-

CRACK

The deafening snap of gunfire reached Emergency aid’s ears as she felt a fierce, burning pain in her chest. The young woman gasped and stumbled as her body screamed… and then went silent. A green glow leaked like blood from her wound, and the flesh stitched itself together, showcasing Emergency aid’s power in its purest form. It was as though the wound was never there.

“Asshole!!” The young woman screamed, shaking off the pain. She had to move quickly, and that’s exactly what she did. The ground underneath her boots glowed pink for but a moment, before an ear-splitting blast echoed throughout the alleyway, and she propelled herself forward while simultaneously blocking sunglasses’ vision of her.

The man who had been beating the victim earlier had turned around to face Emergency aid, whipping out a pistol and…

CRACK

CRACK

CRACK

Gunshots assaulted Emergency aid’s ears- and the young woman flinched, expecting pain. Though, none came. The man had fired at the other vigilante. Emergency aid didn’t have time to check on him, as the man wearing sunglasses was sprinting along the wall, directly towards her! She watched him pull out a dagger and fly towards her, a devious glint reflecting off of his sunglasses.

She turned to run, as the cold steel approached her back- aimed directly at her heart…

And she tripped.

Emergency aid went down hard. She rolled over and scrambled to unsheath her own dagger strapped to her thigh. She kept the blade between the two of them, the black eyes of her mask staring into the man’s sunglasses.

More gunshots distracted Emergency aid, and she felt a harsh impact strike her ribs with a sickening crunch, throwing her to the side. The young woman slid, losing grip on her knife as she pressed her hands against her side, the green glow ebbing the pain as her power forced her broken ribs to repair themselves.

Emergency aid’s mind went blank, and as she stood back up, a pained cry tore itself from her throat. She hadn’t noticed it, but the energy around her had begun thickening into a glowing pink aura. Before she could stop herself, the energy ripped itself from her grasp, blasting outwards in four spikes of neon pink death.

Three aimed at the most immediate threat, but Emergency aid couldn’t control her power. Not well enough, at least. The last blast rocketed towards the fleeing grizzled man with the pistol.

Time seemed to slow down as the blast of volatile energy savagely tore through the man, the memory of which having long been suppressed now.

Though, she still remembers the overpowering scent of iron.

The thick shower of crimson rain.

The cold steel of the pistol pressed against her head.

Only numbness remains when this memory plagues Alula Seong’s nightmares.

This is what had spurred her to seek out help from a notorious villain.

To break herself apart and build herself back up from scratch.

And to get to where she is today.

[heroes-anthesis]

BEEPS RESEARCH LOGS #1

Specimen Name: Capgras

Entry 1:

I am Richard Timothy, also known as "Beep," and these are my information logs on the mad clown named Capgras. Let's begin at the beginning. I encountered the clown while wandering around Charlotte, and his power gave me a significant shock. It seems impossible to counteract his abilities in a conventional manner, but I have found a temporary solution—a mixture containing almost 100% THC helps me retain control of my mind, albeit temporarily. However, every encounter with him chips away at my sanity; he is a genuine menace.

Entry 2:

Capgras appears to behave relatively normally and seems mostly bored when I speak with him. I recently witnessed him in combat, and it was terrifying. He defeated multiple empowered individuals effortlessly, demonstrating his formidable prowess. However, it seems that the temporary measure I devised has been effective, although further research is necessary.

Entry 3:

In this entry, Capgras engaged in a fierce battle with the strongest warden in Charlotte. The clash was intense, with both parties displaying equal power, but the warden ultimately lost. Capgras even managed to brainwash him. Additionally, I discovered that despite Capgras's immense power, he is not invulnerable; he can be killed, as demonstrated when Beep administered medical aid after Capgras was shot with a shotgun.

Entry 4:

I have struck a deal with Capgras; I will assist in creating a body for him, and in return, he will aid me in establishing the Church of Hastur. This endeavor is perilous, but it aligns with my long-term objectives. I eagerly anticipate the outcome, whether it proves successful or catastrophic, as there will be valuable lessons either way.

Entry ?:

My mind is in chaos; I cannot recall anything. Capgras must have done something to my mind; he is the only one capable of harming me in this city besides Hound. I visited him, and he had the body we were constructing, yet I cannot remember why. Why can't I recall anything? My head throbs, and I struggle to think clearly. What has he done to me? Why is my memory failing me?

Entry 26:

It has been a while since my last encounter with Capgras, but we recently launched an assault on a government/military facility. I have developed a cure for the chemical weapons housed there, and my plan is to have the Freedom Fighters release it to avoid government scrutiny. Unfortunately, another party beat us to some of the resources, but I will deal with them in due time. I observed Capgras fighting again, and while his methods have become bloodier, they remain just as effective.

Entry 50:

I have not met with Capgras for an extended period, and it appears that my mental state is slowly improving. Perhaps I can continue to regain my lost sanity and resume the projects I had postponed for so long.

[heroes-anthesis]

"A Battle of Wills"

The park had been left without any person to pace its trails. The air was still with the lack of motion and voices to occupy its particles. I know this sounds canny, but bear with me; I am really stretching my words for this.

I was sat with my pup, just taking in the air as the Lockdowns had left South Charlotte pretty empty. Nobody could see me, hear me or judge me. No noses to curl at my stink. Just think of it, will ya? Imagine the feeling of freedom you’d get from that… true alone time with the only thing that matters to you at that moment. Some call me simple as an insult but if being simple means I can appreciate times when thoughts ain’t needed then I’ll gladly be the biggest dumbass around! It was blissful, how little actually happened for a while. Me and Argos, enjoying the quiet.

O’ course, all good things come to an end, right?

The priest was skinny as a twig and looked about as easy to snap. You’d be hard-pressed to break that guy though; skin was like iron and about as dense too. He came to me, alone, and struck up a conversation. Immediately I could tell he was no good. Something about that man… Father Maple… my bones still ache thinking about him and my neck hairs stand on end. He was yapping something like it was the last sermon he’d ever give.

When I dared to badmouth his faith, he hit me like a freight train and about as fast as the eye could track. Some kind of super speed was in his bones and set him off at higher speeds than I could track at that moment. He talked of purity and how I was some profound evil; as if he hadn’t just punted me across a football field's length! Naturally, I tried to hurt him but like I said, his skin was tough as nails.

It was all a blur from that point. I sunk into rage and my powers went as crazy as my heartbeat. Bastard tried hurting my fucking dog. I cracked and let the energy out. I remember… a crackle all the way down to the stuff that made my organs. It was electric and had me feeling high ‘n’ mighty. Boy, what a sight I must’ve been while screaming about freedom and pissing on that priest's dumpster fire rendition of Jesus.

We threw hands like nobody’s business. He tried killing off a building full of hiding folks, I ran his ass all across the area and fists were flying. I’m pretty sure wherever we stepped the ground just broke. Two forces, with different powers but similar effects. Then it all came down to the wire. I dunno if it was my inexperience, overwork or just plain bad luck but I didn’t beat the preacher. He had a hold of me, about to put me out of the game forever, until I blasted myself into orbit or something like that. Fell like a rock and hit the ground hard. Probably would’ve died if I hadn’t hit the trash.

A friend came by, hospitals and healing type Empowered… my skin still feels odd sometimes. I can feel my bones more clearly than ever before. And the pain. It never really goes away; just dulls to a white noise in my legs. If I ever catch that priest again… I ain’t much of a murderer but I’d make an exception for him.

[heroes-anthesis]

Character Introduction: Sona Baspher

Ladies! Gentlemen! Put your hands together for… THE ILLUSTRIOUS SONA BASPHER!!

This loud mouthed, attitude having Rocker has quickly become Charolette’s favorite rockstar!

Hailing all the way from a small town in Montana, Sona and his boyfriend Volare abandoned their home when the crisis happened. Traveling from state to state, doing gig to gig they had it easy for a long time. Until a raid happened in Charolette North Carolina happened. Sona made it out… Volare didn’t. Ever since then, Sona has dedicated his life to being an activist for empowered rights.

Weather it be through his other life as a vigilante or as a quickly growing rockstar, one thing is for certain: Sona loves what he does. But that’s not all he loves. Sona is currently in a relationship with everyone’s favorite medic, Alula. T

So? Get in here and meet the ROCKERBOY!! If you don’t, don’t worry. You sure as well will hear him.

[heroes-anthesis]

CONFESSION OF ARSENAL

“So, you want to know about me? Ok but the real me or the name that brought me all the notoriety I have gained.” the red eyes figure says lighting up a expensive cigar. A well tailored suit covering him.

“Because without the powers I was just some young adult like the ones you see every day on the street, had a job as a glorified janitor for the government. . Yea what bullshit that was. Maintenance worker. . . Never got told to fix things just clean up shit.” He pauses as he takes a lungful of the smoke and exhaling a smoke ring forming before him before it seems to suddenly slow down in mid air.

“But these powers, oh boy. They made me the real deal, lost my job as a government worker when all the shit went down. . . Had to turn to petty crime. . . But soon I found out I could warp peoples perceptions. . . That I was bullet proof, no so much more then that, that others people's powers didn't work around me. That time and space itself bends to my fucking will like I'm some fucking anime character.. Police won't notice me moving my shipments of weapons. That officials would let anything slide when I asked politely. . .that hardened gang members would show me loyalty that no one else could acquire.” The figure says with a grin.

“I'm Arsenal, the head of the Irish Mafia. The government can't really stop me. They tried, the White Knight Gallant was sent to kill me, they used precognitive people to give up heads up, the fact he had practically unbreakable armor. . . Shit could block bullets and explosives. . . Didn't stop the piano wire I slipped under his neck and strangled him with it.”

“Nowadays it's even worse for the government, specially made anti hero weapons, almost a dozen villains under my direct control, armed resistance movements danced at my finger tips. Not to mention I'm allies with some of the strongest villains in the region. . . After all, why settle for just being a kingpin, when I can be the emperor of crime itself.” 

suddenly knocking on the door would catch your attention.

“Oh I'm telling you this because I feel like you need to know who you're taking the fall for. Here's the gun I need you to hold out with. Make sure they don't take you alive kid, I went through a lot of effort making sure I could get you here specifically. . . After all that guy who's dead upstairs is my rival and more importantly in this situation, is the guy your girlfriend was cheating on you with. . . Nice little scape goat.” Arsenal says with a chuckle before seemingly to fade from reality. . . Leaving you with nothing the anger of your new knowledge. . . And more importantly. . . With your want to be taken alive. Reduced to nothing.

[heroes-anthesis]

Alula, Capgras and Sona drawn as Hazbin hotel characters

They have this kind of dynamic canonically and it’s hilarious!

I would’ve changed Charlie’s design more to fit Alula’s but I was getting tired when I drew this lol.

-AlleyWitch

[heroes-anthesis]

INTERVIEW WITH "HOUND" (K9NSA68R)

I recall with clarity the harrowing silence that followed the bombs' detonation, there existed a profound stillness, a momentary cessation of time where the soul seemed to hang in the balance, teetering between existence and oblivion. There exists a moment of stark revelation—a bone-jarring impact not of sound but of the soul, as the earth itself shudders under the weight of destruction. This silence, oddly serene, a precipice upon which the mind fell between the past and the inevitable future. It was in this quietude that the true impact of devastation settled deep within the marrow, a chilling realization of mortality's fragile thread. The dust settles, a silent witness to the chaos that has transpired, and life, with its indomitable spirit, persists in the face of obliteration. I recall the moment when the eruption of gunfire shattered the stillness, a violent intrusion that clawed back the momentary reprieve, heralding the onset of chaos. The cannonade that follows is a mess of survival and despair, a harbinger of missed fates and escaped destinies. The terror it invokes is primal, a visceral understanding that each bullet not met with flesh is a cruel lottery of life and death. The cacophony of battle, though initially arresting in its intensity, gradually became a backdrop to existence, a constant companion whose presence dulled the senses to the horrors it conveyed. Amidst this tumult, I found my purpose—or rather, it was foisted upon me. I, a product of war, find my place not in the quietude of peace but in the clamor of battle. Born, perhaps, under a different star, fate deemed it fit to mold me into an instrument of conflict. The first memory etched into my consciousness was not of warmth or affection, not of toys or games, but the cold, metallic heft of a Beretta M9—a burden and legacy entrusted to my tender hands. Its heft was burdensome, and unwieldy, to my youthful frame, and became an extension of my being.

It taught me the gravity of life taken, demanding a resolute heart for its operation. From that moment, the path was set, each step a further entrenchment into the realm of warriors, where the weight of a gun becomes the measure of one's resolve. This lesson molded me into the instrument of war I became. To carry the same gun to this day is not merely a preference for a weapon; it is a totem of my journey, a constant reminder of the path that was chosen for me. It symbolizes the weight of life and death that rests in my hands, a weight I have carried since those nascent days. The conviction required to wield it is not born of malice but a profound understanding of the stakes at play. In this world torn asunder by strife, I stand as a testament to the resilience of the human spirit, sculpted by war, yet ever-vigilant in the search for meaning beyond the battlefield. In the quiet moments that punctuate my existence, my fingertips wander across the textured surface of scars—those etched into the metal of my Beretta M9 and those that mark my flesh—testaments to a shared history steeped in conflict and survival. We share a kinship, the weapon and I, bonded by the scars we bear, each a memory of a tumultuous past steeped in conflict.

My age remains a mystery to me, obscured by the relentless tide of warfare that defined my upbringing within the ranks of Rose Company. My name, too, is lost to the annals of a life not chosen, replaced by the moniker bestowed upon me: Hound. My existence has been a series of commands followed, a life dictated by the will of others. Yet, within this imposed path, I have forged a legacy, one marked by the blood of adversaries, a path distinct in its depth and darkness. In Sierra Leone, they whispered "Dede Kontri" with a mix of fear and awe, for I was the harbinger of death, leaving a trail of silence in my wake. In Mozambique, they knew me as "O Carniceiro," a relentless butcher from whom no enemy found respite. In Kuwait, the epithet "Kalb Yanhaq" was spat from the lips of those who opposed me, for my approach heralded the onset of war. I embody many roles—a murderer, a cutthroat, a creator of widows, a beast, a war criminal, and one betrayed—labels that, while accurate, barely scratch the surface of my existence. My hands, forever marred, carry the ingrained stain of blood, each deed a mission with no regard for the moral weight it carried. I harbor no illusions of redemption, for I seek not the solace of absolution. My deeds, though devoid of personal vendetta or pleasure, are mine to bear. Each act of violence, each life taken, was a mission completed in the cold calculus of war. My existence is not one of joy or sorrow, but of duty fulfilled, a path marked by the relentless pursuit of objectives laid before me.

In this way, my life, much like the weapon that has been with me since my inception, is a record of survival in a world dictated by the unforgiving nature of conflict. Now, I stand as an instrument of the Superhuman Oversight Bureau, cloaked in the title of Captain of the Wardens within Charlotte's confines. Yet, the essence of my being seldom graces the solitude of the office assigned to me, for the streets demand my presence, a sentinel on perpetual vigil. The power bestowed upon me now weaves a cloak of respect around my form, a garment that in times past, I would have had to drench in the lifeblood of my adversaries to claim. My dominion is that of "Pocket", a realm where space and time bend to my will, a kingdom where I am sovereign, unchallenged, and absolute. Alongside, I wield "Flash Studio", a cunning and malicious specter of deceit, creating illusions so convincing they ensnare not just those who dare oppose me but occasionally, ensnare even myself in their web of lies. In this new chapter, I am known as Hound, a fortress of order amid the tempest of chaos, the unyielding guardian of order. As a Warden, my efficiency, though ruthless, in quelling threats is unmatched, earning my name utterances filled with equal parts admiration and dread. My existence remains tethered to the battleground, my spirit indomitable, my resolve unyielding. I have not departed from the war; rather, the battlefield has transformed. Here, in this urban expanse, I continue to wage war, not as a soldier of flesh and bone, but as an embodiment of order, guarding the fragile balance that teeters on the brink of pandemonium.

[heroes-anthesis]

ALEXANDRA GREY

The Solider Queen, Keeper of the Hornet’s nest.

Alexandra Grey is a woman in her late 30s with long, raven-black hair that falls down her back like a cascade of night. Her eyes are a cool, piercing grey, with a sharp, intelligent glint that misses nothing. Her features are strong and defined, with high cheekbones and a stern jawline that gives her an air of unyielding determination. She stands tall and proud, with a commanding presence that is impossible to ignore. As the sub leader of the government’s para-solider team, Alexandra is a force to be reckoned with. Her ability VIABLE HELP only reinforcing her already sharp mind and unparalleled skills. This has earned her the respect of her colleagues and superiors. Her dedication to training new cadets and managing paperwork is unwavering, and she takes her responsibilities very seriously. She is known for her tough exterior, but those who know her well are aware of her compassionate side and unwavering loyalty to her team.

Her journey began long before the crisis, as she fought for her country in the military. She rose quickly through the ranks becoming staff sergeant. She later transitioned to the CIA before the crisis happened causing her to be reassigned as the trainer for elite teams of para-soliders. She had been offered higher ranks but refused them, as she preferred training the soldiers so they might live just a bit longer. Despite her toughness, Alexandra is not without her vulnerabilities. She has a deep sense of duty and a strong moral compass, which can sometimes make her question the decisions she has to make. She is haunted by a troubled past, one that has left her with scars that she keeps well-hidden. But she is a survivor, and she has learned to use her experiences to fuel her determination and drive. Even if she doesn’t have the strength, speed or mobility of a regular empowered, she will stand and fight to ensure all survive. In her free time, Alexandra enjoys reading, particularly historical novels and biographies. She is also an avid runner, and can often be found pounding the pavement in the early morning hours before the rest of the world has awoken. She is a solitary person, preferring to keep to herself, but she has a deep love for her team and will do anything to protect them.

[heroes-anthesis]

LAMENT OF THE BAKER BOYS

DEACON

Deacon was a simple ruffian living in the slums of Charlotte, he wasn’t anything special nor was his brother Calite. Stemming from a fairly dysfunction family they started out in the streets a little earlier than most, pickpocketing and starting fights where they shouldn’t. Street urchin wasn’t a liked nickname by Deacon though… it never really was. By 16 they’d already developed a small following by others their age, petty crimes evolved into breaking and entering and outright mugging, life hadn’t dealt Deacon and his brother a good hand so he would simply bluff life right back.

Eventually word spread and then there was few people in the slums of Charlotte who didn’t know the duo dubbed the ‘Baker Brothers’ they’d developed ways to launder money, sell drugs, topple businesses through black mail and eventually topple empires. Well into adulthood they stood at the top of it all. Standing on a mountain of sin they had quite the view, but it wasn’t enough for Deacon. Even with his power he thirsted for more, power that shouldn’t be wielded by any man.

Money was no object to them anymore, even if they was low on cash it wouldn’t take but a phone call to provide some, their connections had spread to upper Charlotte and to every crevice in the city there was to hide, yet they seemed to be only known in the slums and that was just how Deacon wanted it, there was a few things he’d learned in life and it was that fear didn’t solve everything… sometimes you need to surprise folk to get your way

Deacon and Calite moved into an apartment together out of the slums, started to leave the petty stuff in the past and focus on bigger and better opportunities. These days Deacon is lurking around high end social lounges either making enemies or very wealthy friends, the more connections he had the more threads he could pull in this city. He wanted it all, he wanted to rule this city through nothing but cunning and fear but like most things for him… it just wasn’t enough

CALITE BAKER

Calite is a former criminal from south charolette, he grew up in the slums and did what he had to to get by which in this case was crime. He spent most of his early years following behind his brother Deacon, unlike his brother he didn’t really care about crime or making a name for himself he was just doing what he had to, and as he grew older he gradually became more uncaring and more apathetic, and generally just bored when it came to life.

But now he’s different, his change began when he met a man named Buddy, who talked to him and helped him realize there were things in life that were actually worth doing and being interested in, and since then Calite has been slowly working towards becoming a better person, since meeting buddy he has started to focus on self-improvement, and has also made some friends and gone on one or 2 adventures, but most recently he has gotten a job as an accountant for a mob boss named Arsenal, ok maybe I lied maybe he isn’t a reformed criminal.

Calite's main powers are SURGE and SHIELD, SURGE allows him to create powerful blasts of various kinds of energy and force, such as kinetic and destructive force and thermal energy, while SHIELD allows him to create barriers that can block or deflect attacks. He has grown a lot when it comes to his powers, both through his own effort and through the guidance of another version of himself who he met while investigating a mysterious portal that appeared in an abandoned warehouse, this other version of himself helped him learn to better control his powers.

Nowadays Calite is just living his best life, reading, doing work, and hanging out with his buddy Zeph, unlike his brother Calite doesn’t really care about money or living the high life and just wants to do things that make himself happy.

[heroes-anthesis]

STORY OF BEEP

In the tale of chaotic randomness and betrayal involving Beep, a mad scientist, a doctor, a florist, a priest, and a now-former city-wide gang boss, the story unfolds with a murderous clown at its heart. Let's delve into the narrative of this bald madman.

Beep's journey commenced when he joined the Saints, a small-time street gang in Charlotte. However, Beep found himself behind bars for assaulting a parahuman. Remarkably, his jail time was converted into a fine, thanks to adept legal maneuvering. Tragically, during his incarceration, all of Beep's friends and fellow gang leaders fell victim to a ruthless parahuman while attempting a seemingly innocent jewelry heist. Upon his release, Beep vowed vengeance, but before he could act, the parahuman disappeared after committing further atrocities.

Following a period of mourning, Beep assumed leadership of the Saints, expanding their influence over three-fifths of Charlotte's underground drug trade. Yet, his empire faced a violent demise following clashes with a rival gang controlling North Charlotte, compounded by the intervention of a vigilante who decimated Beep's forces. Despite losing control in some areas, Beep retained power in East and West Charlotte through the clandestine support of the Church of Hastur, which he led covertly as both high priest and head secretary.

Beep's involvement with the occult, stemming from his earlier research endeavors, intertwined with his rise to power. His fascination led to homelessness until the Saints provided refuge, propelling him toward his current status. Under his guidance, the Church of Hastur became a formidable presence, advocating unity and protection for ordinary citizens. However, Beep's scientific endeavors took a dark turn when he granted a malevolent clown named Capgras a physical form, amplifying his powers inadvertently. Regret consumes Beep as he witnesses the havoc unleashed by the clown and his cohorts, prompting him to engineer a solution clandestinely: the creation of an ultimate hero to combat the clown's tyranny.

Despite his past missteps and hidden regrets, Beep maintains alliances, notably with Hound, the head warden of Charlotte, with whom he collaborates closely. While burdened by remorse and secrecy, Beep remains committed to rectifying his mistakes and pursuing justice, as he has done before and will continue to do so.

By Lord Lebanov

[heroes-anthesis]

BROOKE DE ALCANO - CHAMOMILE

Brooke De Alcano, or as most know him, "Chamomile," is a villain known for a wide array of crimes ranging from art theft and burglary to war crimes and invasions on government property. His criminal record includes murder, assault, assault on a government official, burglary, federal trespassing, grand theft, biological warfare (4x), destruction of property, invasion of government property, theft of government items, inciting a riot, attempting to bomb a government building, terrorism, among others. Despite his extensive criminal activities, Brooke is generally regarded as a very bad person, at least his alter ego is.

Brooke himself is 20 years old, a college student, and registered as a powerless individual. His parents, one a government worker and the other a parahuman soldier, strictly forbade him from using his power publicly to maintain his first-class citizenship. Unfortunately, his parents died 5 years ago when he was almost 15, leaving him to fend for himself. Over the next three years, he turned to breaking into museums and other art storage units, making a living through art theft. He used his parents' old equipment as well as his power.

His main power, 'HIDE,' allows him to become invisible, boosts his speed and strength, making him a moderately formidable opponent. With this power, he almost managed to stealthily raid a government building alone (with the help of a hacker off-scene, of course), obtaining almost half of the government's available information and escaping unscathed, which is surprising even by empowered standards.

Brooke is currently in college on a scholarship for law and business. He is peculiar to interact with, being quiet and unassuming when not assuming his alias, which is cocky and quite rude. A side effect of 'HIDE' causes his eyes to appear odd, a trait he dismisses as a genetic mutation to avoid detection. Visually androgynous, Brooke has more feminine features than masculine, and his style accentuates this with flamboyance. He is known as an art appraiser with connections to many buyers, while 'Chamomile' is a known terrorist and co-leader of an anti-government revolution.