LC: Super Scrubs Issue #1

She may still be learning this places military structure, but she remembers the ranks and can just tell some of these are people to be respectful to, the way the hold themselves. She goes rigid, standing still, prefect like the soldier she was trained to be. After they spear she goes to tap her fingers against her neck, her worlds version of a salute. No that was wrong. What was it here. Hand to head right?

'Ready and waiting for orders.' She nods. The ;superhero; thing she wasn't sure about. But follow military orders and act as a squad? She could do that.

After the initial introductions, General McKenzie gruffly waxes on, not very poetically, about the importance of Project Reignite. About how the world has lost its most stalwart defenders, and how the next generation needed to rise to the challenge... everything you've all heard twenty times by now from a variety people.

He doesn't say, "y'all need to kick some fuckin' supervillain ass," like Sam Fox did, but the General still more or less reiterates that same point. He talks about Mimic hunting and killing solo supers; about the Leonetti crime family employing super-thugs and putting the police on their back foot in a dozen cities. He talks about John Apostle building an army of religious zealots, about Emperor Karkus reportedly being en route to Earth with an intention to add it to his "Unity." And a least a half-dozen other super-powered goons, crooks, psychopaths and ne'er-do-wells.

"But before we get too concerned with those specifics," Captain Barnette says, nodding at the General when the man gives him the signal to take over, "we need to gauge where you all are as a team. You'll all have gone through batteries of tests already. Today, this isn't about your individual strengths and weaknesses, or your powers."

The man walked the line, looking at each would-be superhero in turn. He gave a little wink to Arachknight, who was a known quantity to the man, then continued.

"This, this here today? This is about threat assessment. It's about setting priorities, and it's about working together as a team. Today we all witness just what you can do. Today we set a baseline."

"Yeah okay, that's great," Jane Baker says as soon as Barnette finishes, Kneeing the dramatic moment the Captain was going for in the balls.

"People: get your shit together. Work out your kinks, settle your nerves, say your prayers, limber up, listen to your fight song... whatever you need to do. Behind me is a proving ground, and any minute now it's going to be full of shit trying to hurt you, kill you, or kidnap or murder a whole bunch of innocent schmucks who are in harm's way."

The wind blows, tousling the blonde's short hair, as she makes eye contact with each and every candidate again. "I'm not going to tell you what's out there. I'm not going to coach you on how to approach the bad guys. This one's on you. Pass, you get the good stuff. Fail and we have a field hospital, right over there."

Another pause as she points and distributes more steely stares.

"Clear? Questions?"

And like that, the group is left to make their preparations!

Sable chokes down her rising desire to roll her eyes at this Baker. She had been warned against taking the bait back on the way in and now she understands why.

The way the young hero saw things, Baker should be sugary sweet with the crew gathered before her… even the old man. Unless Baker thought that she could do half of what Sable could do.

She’s reminded of that night in the alleyway. The steaming hot capsule that had crashed into the dingy side street, cutting the top corner off an apartment building on the way down. The impact had sent a shudder through the surrounding blocks, and Aqee had contacted Sable and gotten her on-site to investigate before the vessel had stopped sizzling!

Too hot to approach, she remembers how Aqee had talked her through unscrewing the thing with her energy. Sable had worked at the capsule for a long while, until the top half keeled over.

The thing had pounced on her, like some jack in the box that had been set loose through the girl’s own efforts. Aqee had had some special name for the thing, but Sable would only ever call it the Cyclops. It had set upon her just as soon as it had been freed from its pod, and then the two were off; as the Cyclops gave chase all over Longshot City.

Wicked fast and brutally strong, it was all Sable could do to not get punched right through the middle. Not yet ready to deal death with her laser sword, she had only stopped the thing with a successful energy blast, just barely matching the power of its massive limbs.

Having fought to a stalemate, the thing took off with a leap, and slipped into the city that night. Too exhausted to try follow it, Sable took the lesson, the draw and some solace in the fact that it had been her that investigated the crash site and not emergency services.

Coming back from the memory, she grips up her hilt, and the laser sword pyewws to life!

"Let’s just do this already!" she says!

So that where some of the Fallen Legion dispersed to after the Squadron broke up their headquarters in the heart of the Vatican. That the Legate and his cohors would stoop so low as to be employed by the Leonetti crime family. Atrophy used to get annoyed at their rallying cry "Pax Romana!" for there was nothing peaceful about their repeated attempts to reestablish their vision of the holy Roman empire over all Europe. The Legate himself was a match for Atrophy on any given day, strength for strength, on the occasions when the Terror Titanics tangled with them. But the roman warrior was a superior martial combatant and nigh invulnerable in his full regalia of breastplate, spear and gladius reputedly forged by Vulcan himself, and shrewd in military tactics.

In their last entanglement, but that was surely a decade ago, Atrophy dropped him off over Mount Etna, with the power flight giving Atrophy the edge this round. The Legate would survive that; his legionnaries would find some way to retrieve him for sure.

"No questions." Atrophy snapped back from his momentary reverie to Jane Baker's last prompt. "Begin."

Sable snorts, despite the tense situation and the memory of Cyclops floating just behind her eyes.

She hadn’t heard more than a few words from the rest of the group, besides the old man in the wheelchair.

Frosty…

So, it was a test. He was too old to be tested. He'd proved himself over centuries. He could just show them...

No. No, he'd agreed to play nice. In this war, he had chosen a side, and his side had rules.

He'd sat out the modern wars, lived off his questionably gained assets in relative anonymity. He'd still be doing so if he hadn't gotten careless in his old age. Careless... he'd have to pay better attention.

He looked at his compatriots, the rest of the so-called team. They were just a bunch of kids except for that tall guy. These fools in charge were going to get these kids killed. Kids killed. He remembered the kids. The twins. Julian and Lilian. His grandchildren. The'd inherited something from him, maybe something from their grandmother. They father hadn't had powers, but those two, with their mental puppeteering... he should have killed them both. But they were blood. He couldn't kill his own kin.

Kill his own kin. He'd done it before. He'd have to do it again. His bloodline didn't need to continue. Should have killed them both, instead of leaving the one in a coma and the other hell-bent on revenge. "The Marionettes" they'd called themselves, and they had some sort of personal vendetta. What, because Daddy didn't love them and he, in turn hadn't loved their Daddy? It wasn't his fault. He'd never wanted children.

Dahlia had told him. It was 1948, Lisbon, that mansion they shared up on the hills of Alfama, overlooking the Tagus River... the place had been gorgeous, a refuge in a neutral country during a war that had nothing to do with either of them. Dahlia was on the rooftop terrace. She'd refused the champagne, told him she was pregnant with his child. They'd never discussed it, never even hinted at the possibility. All they shared were psychic powers and a love of danger, well... and a passion neither could explain. They never would have worked, not as parents. So he'd left her, left the money, left the mansion, left that damned baby she'd tried to use to entrap him.

The kid had never come looking, but the grandkids did. Twins. Powered. Thinking they had some kind of score to settle with their granddad. He must have looked like an easy target to them, in a wheelchair, old, frail. He'd shown them otherwise. Blasted that kid into the back of his own skull when he tried his mental shenanigans. He should have killed him. Should have killed his sister, but she begged... "please, Grandpa, please..." on her back on the ground, hands held up in surrender, pathetic and pleading. It's how he'd left her. He should have killed her. Should have killed them both. They were powerful, those two.

He snapped out of his reverie. Well, nothing they might throw at him would be as bad as another run-in with the Marionette twins, or at least the one that was left. He'd heard she was gunning for him. He never wanted to see her again.

"Should have killed her," he says softly, but out loud, and looks up at Atrophy, then out over the proving grounds.

Slowly his aged body lifts up out of the wheelchair, feet hovering just off the ground, hands down at his sides, palms forward. He floats there, waiting, suddenly looking more formidable, more coherent, his eyes alert and bright.

"Bring on your challenges," he says, and his voice is loud and firm. There is no trace of the frail old man as he hangs in the air ready for whatever comes.

'Are we ready though? We do not know who is going right and who is going left' It was not quite the same as the saying in her language but seemed close enough. 'To 'get our shit together' should discus how it is each of us do that. This is about teamwork yes?

Just rushing in without discussing what everyone could do, who should handle what sort of thing, they would not be effective soldier. Or heroes. Or whatever. They were meant to the be a squad.. well team.

"Quickly then," says Psion, his voice still strong and sure, almost as if he were someone else entirely. "What do we all do? Our powers define our roles in combat, and our roles should define our positioning."

His confidence is unexpected, but then he seems to fall back into his usual persona as a memory is triggered, repeating himself in a sing-song voice as he says, "define our positioning" again and lets out a little laugh, something one might expect from a teenaged schoolboy. It only lasts a moment, and his confident voice returns.

"I can move objects with my mind and my psychic blasts work against living foes. If we face constructs or robots, the best I can do is toss them about. I can read minds, perhaps determine enemy tactics. Defensively, I can protect myself, sometimes others." He looks around him at the others, his eyes focusing hard on them one at a time.

"What do you do?" He asks to the group. "Quickly now, we may not have much time."

"Strength, flight, invulnerability. Things, people, I age them." Atrophy rose off the ground as well, positioning himself in front of the other four, before turning around to reply. The Terror Titanics were also a quintet, though very different from the team assembled here, yet familiar enough for Atrophy to hazard a test formation.

"For open conflict, I will take point. Sable and Nocturne on either side, reinforce or charge accordingly. Psion behind, positioned to be able to see the field of engagement. Arachknight remains mobile, to roam and cover." Classic, almost old-fashioned, but serviceable until they could gauge each others' abilities.

I’m a motherfucking Jedi!… Sable is about to say, until the klaxon rings out. She had been stood, flat footed, as she looked up at the floating and robotically-assisted heroes she had tossed her lot in with when the thing sounded a cut her off!

Everyone had suddenly become so talkative! It warmed the heart!

"I fight. Jump. Move things with my mind. I have this…" she says, holding up the humming laser sword for all to see! The gathered heroes are cast in a shimmering blue light when she brings it up for them to see!

"And I know how to use it!" she says, only half lying!

She nods. A leader. That would be good. She nods again as Apathy starts giving out tactics. That was what she wanted. Direction. A plan.

'I am strong than hu.. than most people. I know how to fight.' She pauses. She started the conversation but how much to give away? 'I can drain people's li.. energy. If necessary'

Sable makes a face at some of the heroes that had been recruited.

Aging people? Draining energy?…

That sounded like people she’d have expected to be fighting against rather than with…

"What is the mission?" Atrophy began to hover to get a better view of the two uncovered buses. "Rescue? Eliminate?" One of those options was clearly his old villain mindset, but he didn't yet know the nature of the test.

"I believe that is part of the test," Psion said, lifting himself higher into the sky for a better view. "Situational awareness. Determine what is happening upon arrival, rescue innocents, identify enemies, ki... disable them."

The grin that spreads across his face is not entirely sane. He'd been killing enemies longer than any of them had been alive. It was easier to take them out since he'd developed his mental powers. You just crushed their psyche and forced them into the dark corners of their own minds. They rarely came back out if you pushed the door shut hard enough.

"It will all be clear soon enough. Shall we move in?" He defers to Atrophy. The tall man seemed to want to lead, and if there was one thing Psion did not want it was responsibility for the entire team. These greenhorns would be lucky to survive training. Maybe if they died he'd be able to return to relative anonymity and live out his final years in peace and quiet. He'd had his time in the spotlight. Heroing was a young man's game.

"Hellooooo! Down here!" Sable says, as the others seemed to be in some unspoken race skyward.

"Maybe the test is thinking on your feet! You know… reacting. Not over planning!" she says, happy she got a nice double-dig in against the others!