Hey, people, this is your DJ, White Wolf, broadcasting and howling out and proud to you for New Terrin’s broadcasting services.

It’s 7:00 AM in New Terrin. It’s a bright morning in this beautiful city, indeed. Few cities have managed to make such a delightful comeback from what basically amounted to a nuclear war in our very streets.

It’s been a month since the battle between The Sentinel Striker and Ragnarok severely damaged the infrastructure of New Terrin, which was previously the shining hub of America, resulting in hundreds of billions worth of dollars in property damage, hundreds of civilian deaths and dealing a huge blow to America's economy.

After this battle, Congressman John Phillip Herman introduced a law that was passed quickly by almost unanimous vote in congress. This was the Superhero Registration Act 2012. , Also known as the MEMORIAL law. Basically, every hero was obligated to register to the government in order to be active crime fighters or, in case the super in question didn’t care, in order for the government to keep them in check. Any person who didn’t register is supposed to be hunted down by the law. It’s been two weeks since the implementation of this law. This means that any “super” who hasn’t registered by now will be chased by the police. It is indeed the beginning of a shiny new age where heroes will be actually responsible for their actions.

You’ve been listening to White Wolf. And…gimme a moment, there’s some breaking news…

There’s been news of an assault in the middle of Sideway Avenue. Apparently, a band of 5 criminals have assaulted a bank. Not only that but they have taken everybody hostage. There haven’t been any demands yet. The cops are dealing with this situation as we speak. We hope no supers are involved.

edited 6th May '11 3:01:09 PM by juancarlos

Lucila stared at the radio, irritated that she'd have to be the one to handle this. Leave it to the criminals to pull this off early in the morning, when it was highly unlikely any other supers were out. Good thing she was an early riser.

Of course, the police would definitely want to handle this. Lucila wasn't about to steal their thunder, of course. They would handle it...and no one would likely notice a random passerby, nor notice that the criminals were sweating a bit more than usual. But she had to get there first, and investigate the situation.

She quickly got dressed, and headed out of the cheap apartment she lived in. Officially, she didn't pay for it, but the landlord was sympathetic towards supers, so she got to stay for free as long as she didn't cause trouble. While it was risky having someone know her secret, Lucila knew she had to trust someone.

But thinking about her own problems did nothing to resolve the hostage situation at the bank. Lucila...no, Fogata had to get to the scene, now.

When the call came over the radio Sandy Christiansen was enjoying a very early breakfast. Last night’s intern session at the Lockheed Martin labs had been plagued by malfunctioning equipment; instead of spending his powers testing the new infrared/UV cameras, he had been forced to idle while others tried to reboot the faulty computer. As a result he had been unable to sleep more than an hour or two, almost hyperactive with unspent power and waking up at five. It was just as well.

Sideway Avenue bank, huh. Only a block away. He paid for his food and walked out the door, ducking into a convenient alcove and concentrating, sensing and shifting light around him. In a moment he was invisible to the naked eye. He reached into his wallet and clipped his “registered super” card to his shirt. It was bright yellow and had a barely-visible “24601” hand-scrawled in a corner, courtesy of his parole officer, who liked him and had a rather literary sense of humor. Sandy grinned ruefully as he put it on. The smile disappeared as he rounded the corner, still completely invisible.

Game time.

• BEEP BEEP BEEP*

...

• BEEP BEEP BEEP*

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• BEEP BEEP BE-* *SMACK*

That was the sound of a hand literally stretching out to smack the alarm clock. It was 6:55 in the morning, the time that Bob Taylor had set the clock for; he'd set it at 7:00, but he had found that he needed just a little more time to get to work without using his fancy abilities. So, 6:55 it was. Mind you, he didn't like getting up at 6:55 either, but he was missing work enough as is; he couldn't afford to show up late when had actually had say-so in the matter. So that was that.

As with every morning, he got out of bed, and did a quick stretch; this always scared the cat. And like usual, he proceeded to the kitchen to freshen up and make himself some breakfast. Pouring himself a glass of orange juice and making some cereal, he wearily sat down and turned on the radio. The time was now 7:00 AM. For the next minute or so, he continuously plunked his spoon down into the bowel, eating every bite without much care. And eventually, when it came time to open his mouth one final time... his jaw literally dropped. Right on the table.

'Damn-it damn-it damn-it damn-it DAMN-IT!' he thought to himself, as raced over the wardrobe, quickly grabbing his clothes that he used for, as he called it, 'going out'. Putting them on in haste, he then proceeded to 'stretch' his appearance to that of his alter-ego; tall, and muscular. He then ran to the windowsill off to the side, making sure that no-one was looking towards his direction, and 'stretched' his way through the window, after he had opened it of course. All that remained now was to get a safe distance from the apartment, and then use his means of travel; taking a cue from good ol' Spidey, he had learned to his use his arms and legs to effectively swing his way across the city; this worked because his body had elastic properties, and was rather light and flexible as a result. And off to the bank he went...

"Again?" A black clad figure asked, listening to a radio from the top of a tall building. Nearby was a telescope, which the figure promptly grabbed and unwinded. Peering through the lens after he brought it to his face, he looked around at the lower world until he found the bank in question.

Snapping the instrument closed, he took out two more items, a golf ball and a 9 iron. Plopping the ball on the tee, he then angled himself with the club over the dimpled ball, feeling the wind direction. With a few practice swipes, the figure swung over the ball a few times, before setting it near and preparing to do the real thing.

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

Percy's mom was driving him through the city. He sat in the back of the van, where he was next to his large backpack, and an unattached cybernetic leg that was being used for an experiment of hers. It was making him uneasy, causing him to tap the fingers of his cybernetic arm against the seat. Only the muffled sounds of early morning traffic, and the soft voices on the radio could be heard.

"...Yeah," Percy said, "I'm going through with this." He patted his backpack with his real arm. His backpack included his uniform, his retractable metal rod, and a few minor gadgets that he was probably not going to use. A hover board was strapped in the back of it.

"You're taking a great risk." his mom said, glancing back.

"I know." he lifted up his cybernetic arm and wiggled the fingers. Even after a few months or so, it didn't feel completely syncronized. It was mechanical-like at times, with a slight electric shock or two.

"You should've gone out more before the enactment." Percy did a test-run with the outfit two or three times the week before the Regstration Act was fully enact, but he didn't do any actual rescueing.

"I know-Wait." he leaned towards the radio, "What's that."

"There's been a bank robbery..."

Percy's mom looked back, "So, are you going to finally go for it?"

Percy lifted up his backpack and began to unzip it, "Yes. Let's pull over in a parking garage."

White Wolf: The band leader, known only as "The Jackal", has sent a tape to us, New Tenri's radio broadcast. Hear it here, because you won't hear it anywhere else.

Jackal: Our demands are simple. We want an helicopter and to not be followed by any damn coppers and/or heroes of any kind. In case this demands are not met within the next three hours, I'll blow this bank up. I don't give a damn about my life and this people here are pretty much in the same state of mind.

Question is, if...

-The Jackal picks a random hostage by force and brings her to the camera to speak-

Jackal: Your name

Hostage: May...

Jackal: Question is, if May here would like to keep living. And if you'd like her to keep living. Meet my demands and she will. Don't...and we'll blow this place up to the sky.

Sandy’s expression did not change, though he felt his heart speeding up. Hostages, bomb threats: all in a day’s work. There was also the point about the tape, and how it could have been delivered so quickly to the radio station, which stopped him short the moment he thought about it. Probable enemy supers, then. Step one, of course, was to liaise with the police, which…on second thought…

Hiding himself down an alleyway between two buildings, he switched off his invisibility and removed his superhero card, stuffing into his wallet. With his collared shirt he looked much like an office worker, or possibly a technical representative. The hard part would be to get to the policemen without attracting undue attention. Well, he knew a point or two about that.

By waving his Lockheed Martin employee card in the air, he made his way through the gathering crowd to the police cordon and found himself face-to-face with a police officer. Now came the tricky part. Sandy concentrated on blurring the light around his hand as he pulled out the yellow Superhero card so that it was visible only to the officer, as he spouted his lines about being called over by the superintendent.

"The supervisor sent me over, something about heat scopes and the like," he said, showing the yellow identification card and making sure it was invisible to the crowd. "I'm the tech rep from Lockheed, sir, I'd appreciate it..."

Two Months Ago

"So... You're saying it just appeared. In your bed. Whilst you were sleeping."

"Yep!"

"...Lyna. Lyna, Lyna, Lyna, that just won't do!"

Lyna yelped in shock as her friend gave her a hearty slap on the back. She was just telling Romana how it was. She'd had some weird dream, and when she woke up she'd found some weird wand thingy clutched in her hands.

"Um... Why won't it do, Ro?" she asked.

"It's. Too. BORING." Romana propped back her glasses, and wrapped an arm around her friend's shoulders. "C'mon Lyna, we've got a lot of work to do..."

"Um... Wh-what kind of work are y-you talking about?" Lyna was hesitant to ask. She just knew this was going to end in something exploding. Just like last time.

"Isn't it obvious?" Her bespectacled friend smirked conspiratorially. "We're gonna make a superhero out of you!"

...Yep. Explosions are inevitable.

Two Months Later

The first month had been pretty neat, all things considered. Beating up thugs, saving the day, regular hero stuff really, but to her it was something brand new and wonderful. Like something out of one of her comic books. Sure, it wasn't like she as making much of an impact, or that she'd ever make it to the big leagues, but as long as she was helping someone everything would be okay, right?

And then... It happened.

The damage left by The Sentinel Striker and Ragnarok was unbelievable. To think that two people between themselves could cause such catastrophic devestation... And the backlash towards heroes afterwards was something she'd never once thought could be possible. Things started to go downhill for a while afterwards. But still, it seemed like the people still trusted her. Whenever she went out in costume, she could... She could feel the hope she gave them. Maybe she wasn't the most prolific hero of all time, but at least she knew her neighbourhood would always be safe as long as she was around.

Lyna Lovejoy crawled out of bed to greet another beautiful morning. After taking a few moments taking in the scenery (she loved the view from her room, it was one of those things that made everyday so worthwhile!), she quickly got dressed and rushed downstairs, to be greeted to that most wonderous of all morning smells: bacon.

"Good morning, honey." her mother said habitually, dishing out Lyna's breakfast as the girl parked herself at the table.

"Hey, mom!" she pipped back cheerfully, before quickly demolishing her meal. "Mmmm, delicious as always! How about sec-" She was cut off as the doorbell rang.

"...Could you get that for me, honey?"

"Alright, mom!" Lyna marched her way to the door, and upon opening it was greeted by the bushy haired, bespectacled ball of insanity she knew as Romana, her best (really, only) friend.

"Lyna. Bank robbery. You up for it?" she whispered gleefully between breathes.

"...Why would I rob a bank, Ro." Lyna deadpanned in response. "That's, um, kinda illegal."

"Oh, you~ Look, I know it's a bit of a leap to go from muggers to bank robbers, but..." Romana wrapped an arm around Lyna's shoulder. "I think our Magical Girl Lovely Anima Spiritia is up for it, don't you?"

"...Ro, for the last time, that name is dumb. It's just "Anima", okay?" She slipped out from under her friend's arm. "Look, give me... Five minutes to get ready, okay?"

"Right-oh, Lyna! Let's knock 'em dead! Uh... Well, unconscious. Dead would be going too far, ahah!"

Geez... Remind me why we're friends again?

edited 6th May '11 4:39:53 PM by Moerin

Surveying the situation, Lucila - stop it, she was Fogata - was automatically suspicious of the newcomer. Even from this distance, she could see he was waving what looked like nothing in front of the policeman. He was a little too far away to hear exactly what he was saying. Something about heat scopes...well, if he wanted one, she could oblige. She was close enough to scan him.

Her heat sense detected that he was indeed holding a card of some kind. The card was doing something strange...it didn't actually emit heat. While it still had heat, the fact that it wasn't radiating it told her that she was dealing with another super, probably a registered one. Just what she needed.

Moving closer to the bank, she began to scan it. Given that the police had been shouting about the possibility of explosions, Fogata knew they had to have rigged bombs. Which meant this wasn't a typical bank robbery, but that was beside the point. It also meant the use of her powers were limited slightly, due to needing to avoid the risk of exploding the place. Until she could verify the explosives were not heat-sensitive, her options were limited.

So there were roughly twenty or so hostages in the bank. A little too many for a weekend morning, she thought. The five figures standing up, which she guessed were the criminals, looked to be spread out. Three were watching the hostages and two were standing in the center of the room, probably watching the police through the glass doors of the bank.

And her sense detected another person (to use the term loosely, due to the fact his body shape was far from normal) arrived...on the roof of the bank. Another super? It was highly likely. Damn it, this was getting out of hand. Although part of her wanted nothing more than to get away from here, she stood there and continued to watch, just in case Fogata was needed.

edited 6th May '11 4:39:03 PM by TotemicHero

...and so, without any fanfare, he landed on the bank. Mind you, any other person falling from the height he was at would likely go *splat* on the rooftop, but Bob's unique body-type and his agility allowed to both land on the roof safely, and with no real pain; additionally, he quickly 'planted' his feet firmly on the roof to avoid bouncing straight-off; he used this technique often.

Of course, now was the time to survey the situation. With the situation being what it was, (chaos&whatnot,) he still had some time before he was spotted, but he needed to make it quick. Taking a quick look at the landscape, he could make out random civilians, some guy yelling about... what, he thought, technicians? He didn't have time for this; he stretched himself like a downward-bending stream to the back of the bank, and proceeded to sneak his way closer to the front. He got close enough moving along the side, (while staying as thin&flat as possible,) to see the front without actually being *at* the front; he then stretched out his retinas, moving his eyeballs to the window. 20 hostages, five civilians. At first, it seemed like a simple enough task, seeing as any bullets aimed at him would just rebound back...but then there were all of those hostages to think about. Maybe he could snatch all the guns and weapons away quickly, but it still seemed too much of a problem for one man; if he wanted to avoid any casualties, he needed help. The question was, where could he get it?

edited 6th May '11 5:05:59 PM by kkhohoho

A golf ball fell from the sky, spinning with such intensity the surrounding air was buzzing from its topspin. As soon as it landed, the ball continued rotating in a supernatural way, angling itself towards the vents on the bank's roof, plunking through the outcropping and into the air ducts themselves. Several more followed them, the balls rolling down the ventilation system in search for their target...

Precision jumped on his hover board and took off, leaving the top of the parking garage as fastly as he can. As he felt the air zoom pass his spanlex outfit, his mom's words echoed in his mind.

"I'll be waiting in this garage in five minutes, then I'll drive to the one two-blocks away. Be careful."

Yeah. Be careful.

He stayed two feet above the rooftops of the small buildings, his knees slightly bent. His feet were suctioned onto the top of the board, which had a transparent layer with flashing lights and circuits underneth. The hover board he had was a yet-to-be publicized model that cost quite a lot. He didn't know the details, but some sort of mechanism under the board somehow heat up the air particles underneth, powering it and propelling it forwards. It was a fast and efficient way of going around. Due to how it could swerve in all directions smoothly, it made him a hard target to hit.

When he got near the bank he pressed down his left heel, causing the hover board to slow down. He was three buildings away from the bank.

"Phew," he said, whiping his forehead, in spite of the mask, "It's a good thing...oh darn."

Ahead there was a Super, standing on the roof-top, looking down on the bank. That could make things complicated.

Thinking of what to do next, and not quite certain of just what he *could* dp without resulting in countless deaths, he noticed an odd figure standing upon the rooftop of a nearby building. He wasn't sure what to think, except that he looked to be wearing... a mask? And was that a cheesy fake wig? Yes, what Stretch was seeing most likely a bonafide superhero, as no-one else sane would dress like that. Without any other real options, he pulled his retina back in, and sneaked his way to the back, whereupon he promptly stuffed his coat away in a nearby dumpster; he took off his black shirt and stuffed that away too, revealing a white t-shirt, used in such situations. He then closed his eyes for maximum concentration; when he was finished, he had longer, blond hair, a different nose, and a potbelly, along with a number of other differentiating features. With the disguise in place, he again sneaked his way from the back of the bank, doing his best to remain inconspicuous. Thankfully, the chaos was still in place, so this wasn't too much of a problem. He eventually was able to make his way to the back of the building; upon doing so, he reverted back to his former look, and stretched his way to the top of the building like, again, a stream. And there he was.

With a smile, and a raise of his right hand, Stretch uttered 'Hey.'

edited 6th May '11 6:54:12 PM by kkhohoho

"Hm... that should be good." Revolver said with approval before noting that two other supers were nearby. He remained silent for a while, before turning around to greet the newcomer.

"So, you taking on the case too?" The black robed vigilante asked, putting the 9 iron back in his caddy bag.

"Yes," said Stretch, "I am. And under better circumstances, I'd looove to chat, but you've probably noticed we have something of a problem here. So, I doubt there will be any problems tackling this together, huh? Oh, and my name's Stretch. Powers are self-explanatory."

edited 6th May '11 7:02:32 PM by kkhohoho

"...I'm Revolver. I spin things." The black clad hero responded, rather wary of the other one. In costume, he tended to say as little as possible unless he knew he could trust someone. It simply saved time and energy. "There is going to be a moment of oppurtunity soon." He told the other one, packing up his gear and stowing them in a bag.

edited 6th May '11 7:06:25 PM by GreyStar

Officer: I see...well, mate you're free to go. Captain Ford is right there besides the police car.

Malachi Wolf sat in his dim apartment, eyes fixed on the tv screen. The news coverage of the hostage situation had him on edge, but in a good way. It had been forever since they had sent him out on anything and he getting very bored with eavesdropping on the neighbours.

Turning the phone over in his hands his irritation was rather obvious. Alas, he'd wait.

"Thank you, sir." He strode for the police car purposefully. Sandy was certain that all kinds of support personnel would be arriving soon: bomb squad, paramedics, Federal liaisons. That would make it easier to disguise himself among the throng.

He already had a few ideas, subject to approval lest some trigger-happy officer shoot him. He scanned the bank building experimentally with infrared vision, and groaned when he noticed the moving heat signatures from the tops of the building. Additional supers, and probably unregistered ones at that. Another moral dilemma he had prayed that he would not have to deal with.

Sandy paused, shook his head, and started for the car again. "Captain Ford? Sandy Christiansen. I'm registered at your station. My code-name is Doppler."

... This could be a problem down the road, thought Stretch. "Well, I think we'd better get to work huh? And just to try to break the ice a bit, I'm not with the Regs. And I can understand that it might be tough for you to trust me on words alone, but at this point, I don't think that's really an option. 20 people are at risk here, and standing around doesn't help a bit. So, are we together on this, for now?"

edited 6th May '11 7:11:11 PM by kkhohoho

Capt. Ford: Oh, so you're our tech rep, huh? Well, it's a pleasure to meet ya. Wish we could talk better. Anyway, here's our situation.

We have five armed men in there. One of them calls himself the Jackal. Seems to be an up and coming mob boss. nothing really new.

what we did find odd, though, was the fact that he was able to send a tape so quickly to the media. we think this was either planned before hand.

There were some thumping sounds coming from the rooftops above. Fogata looked up, but didn't see anything. That was fine though, she had other ways of finding out. Scanning above her again, she found that three people were now positioned above her. She shuddered; how many damn supers were going to show up?

Turning back to the building, she scanned it again...and noticed something - she wasn't sure what - moving through what she guessed to either be the plumbing or the ventilation. Either way, it looked like the situation was well in hand, so she might as well leave it to the professionals. The less attention drawn to herself here, the better.

As if she would do something like that. Even if the situation might be in hand, Fogata knew there had to be something for her to do. Perhaps...she nodded to herself, coming up with a plan. Once the other supers entered the building...she'd get to work. After all, it would appropriate for the criminals to chill out, wouldn't it?

That was a bad pun, and she knew it.

edited 6th May '11 7:18:25 PM by TotemicHero

"...Fine. Any other paths inside?" Revolver asked, looking over the building. He seems alright... still, keep your guard up.

Sandy nodded. "I thought about that. They say they have one of the hostages' voices, which really strikes me as suspicious—I don't suppose we've had time to compile a list of hostages? Just to make sure there really is a May in there."

He paused to size up the building. "I registered my abilities—heat vision, invisibility, fun with wireless, anything radiation-related. With your permission, I may be able to get close to the building undetected..."