Loose Ends (RP storyarc...)

Prologue

Location: Classified. Date: Classified. Time: 1500 hours. Mission Briefing.

The Malta operation is one of efficiency. Operatives work to their finest capabilities, briefings are informative, effective and convey sufficient amounts of information across that are vital to the operation, without breaching any of the lifelong history of secrets and lies that were associated with them. Projected onto the whiteboard was a single cover slide, in standard, military format, with relevant identification codes and subcodes to allow it to be categorised.

The Idol Project.

The images flick past quickly. The speaker explains the foundation of the Project and its progress and goals. A project first formulated thirty two years ago with the abundance of the child prodigy, many of which were later confirmed metahumans of varying grades of power. The Malta Group's objectives, the control and utilisation of metahuman talents blended most efficiently with the popularity of the child prodigy, many of whom gathered small legions of fans who envied and idolised them for doing what they could not. It was a simple enough task to subconsciously train and alter these young prodigies so that many of their great deeds and accomplishments had hidden messages and subversive content that could influence the thinking of the coming generations.

Their parents or guardians were approached, bribed or cowed into co-operation and they were brought into the Idol Project. A share of the profits of these youths exploits went to their quiet sponsors behind the lines and this new revenue went directly into the Group's various lines of research and development.

But it was in the field of the musician that this Project truly began to shine. The era of pop was beginning. Singers and instrumentalists were becoming younger and younger and many of them had talents beyond normal humans. One child in particular showed particular promise.

Her name was Stephanie Martin. Her parents were easy enough to bring into the Project, naturally greedy and selfish individuals with little cares beyond what their daughter could do for them. They truly had no idea what her talents represented to the Malta Group. A raw, untrained telepath. Not only could she manipulate the thoughts of others but with some alteration to her music, with some appropriate training she would be able to direct implant the suggestions Malta sought. It was a goldmine of an opportunity. And so the Idol Project peaked for a period of three years, Stephanie Martin's music taking prime chart places upon release, hundreds of thousands of young fans snapping up merchandise at such a rate that the back catalogue had a waiting list.

It was perfect. Generations were being subtly influenced, new talent was being brought into the Idol Project, willingly or unwillingly and the Malta Group's mission was that much stronger. Hundreds of thousands of sleepers, if not more. Entire generations influenced by subversive messages placed deep within the lyrics of the songs, within the tonal chords of the music or deep within their very mind by the young telepath.

Yet this was not to last. The wolves of the media, ever eager for any sort of story, any sort of conspiracy watched hungrily. The moment the young prodigy slipped up they pounced. Her talents were revealed. Petty arguements and disputes spilled over and her private conflicts quickly became gossip. After three years the media struck and sought to topple the young starlet from her throne. Her parents sent her away, to a specialist school that dealt with metahumans much to the disapproval of the Malta Group. They would have preferred to take her in directly themselves but it was important that they did not and they knew it.

But it was at this school the Idol Project would be sundered. A chain of events that would lead to this briefing upon this day. The child starlet was a troublemaker. Rebellious. Aggressive. Hostile. The staff at this school sought to work with her and help her through her problems. The staff at this school threatened the very stability of the Idol Project though they did not know it themselves.

Nearly seven months prior to Stephanie Martin's arrival at Maggie's Rock the Malta Group had encountered the alien metahuman entity that is known this day as Jake Love. Longbow had codenamed him Evil, Crey had codenamed him Terror. They were hired by the Crey to capture and detain this metahuman for corporate stability and had sent in a number of strike teams as dictated by standard procedures. This target was an unknown. This target's capabilities were unknown, various sources of research contradicting as to what it was, what it could do.

In a single night Malta found out. They had been sent to detain a monster. They had gone in with force and in the space of half an hour of skirmishing they had lost over seventy percent of the Strike Teams. Three Zeus class titan units had been wrecked. Several agents suffered fatal wounds and a large number passed away following the conflict due to the extreme toxicity of the chemicals within the target's bloodstream, saliva and spines. They had been sent to detain something akin to a god of death and within a single night this metahuman, codenamed 'Tempest' by the Malta Group had been placed as one of the highest priority targets within the sector.

No one could have predicted the events that followed Stephanie Martin's arrival in Paragon City. No one could have predicted that she would come across Tempest and worse still for the Idol Project become fond of him. He viewed her as a daughter, she viewed him as a father. And in the weeks that followed war broke out.

There were six active cells monitoring the Idol Project within the Paragon and Etoile sectors. Within the space of two weeks no less than four of them had gone offline. Surveilance footage showed only the aftermath, wrecked databases thrown about, shattered panes of glass, agents broken and cast aside. The modus operandi of the unknown assailant matched up to Tempest's when it was in the service of Arachnos. Terror. Fear. Wanton destruction. These attacks were not just to sabotage the Project. They were to utterly destroy morale within the Group amongst those involved. It was with these actions that Stephanie Martin was declared 'lost' from the Project. It was with these actions that the Idol Project's peak began to fall.

Nearly a year later the Malta Group suffered another attack. Another of the Idol Cells which had since relocated to the Mediterranean was lost. The M.O. matched up to the earlier events within the Paragon sector.

Which brings us today.

'Gentlemen. The purpose of this briefing, as you have gathered by now is closure. The powers that be have determined that as of the past two years the Idol Project's effectiveness has diminished and the viability of the project is such that they are no longer willing to invest any further in it. This of course means that all...loose ends...will have to be tied up..'

Some words are said that are never meant. Other words remain unsaid that were always meant to be.

All families argue. It is a result of being trapped in such close confines, a result of being forced to spend time around one another for extended periods of time. It's always said that the positive outweighs the negative but sometimes a storm brews. Sometimes it cannot be controlled and events spiral rapidly out of hand. This one family in particular was volcanic in its temperment. Hot-headed, aggressive, stubborn, proud. When there was harmony it formed bonds that would never be broken. But when there was discord...

Jake Love fumed. His temper had flared and his daughter had set him off, trying to make decisions for him. Trying to force a decision that he had been loathe to make, trying to distance herself from him so that it would hurt less. But that had only made it worse. Instead of choosing what she was trying to force upon him or indeed choosing her he picked the option none expected. Neither of them. Neither the woman he loved or the child he would die for. He would not be torn asunder like meat between a pack of rabid hounds.

That night was quiet. He knew full well that Steph had packed her bags...she would leave herself come morning. In the past few weeks she had alienated those around her and last night she finally managed to break the bond that had formed between them. Last night she cut him from her life...and in the process had cut him from the life of all involve in his life.

There were no goodbyes. No letters of regret. Nothing packed. He simply took what he needed and left. The iron chains. Anarchy. The souleaters and the Hands of Anubis. In a matter of moments he walked away from the Rock. In a matter of moments he slipped through the shadows, withdrawing from the human world, withdrawing from the side of the angels until he stood alone within the feral, nightmarish domain of Hamidon's Eden.

Eden. To some this was a primal paradise, a living example of life left to be, life triumphant, the natural overthrowing its oppressors. To others it was a nightmare born of madness, utterly unnatural despite all Hamidon's intentions. The 'unnatural' was not welcome. Machines were sundered and cast aside. Material goods wrecked and ruined. Men and their hybrid creations hunted, driven away by the feral creations of Hamidon. Not so for Jake Love. Not so for the last Flea. Not so for the last survivor of a world where the insects had reigned supreme, survivors of a holocaust borne of scientific calamity.

He walked, unmolested through the forests. He walked, in his own withdrawn silence, his thoughts drifting to the pain of that he had surrendered, that he had walked away from. Every fragile bond. Every link that kept him anchored to the side of angels, that kept him 'human' for lack of a better term was gone now. Nothing opposed him. Nothing would control him. He stopped, watching one of the Devoured, watching it tend to the saplings as a mother to children. There was sadness a moment...a memory best forgotten.

Then he spoke, his words calm, quiet, controlled. He knew the creature would hear him. He knew its master would as well and would understand.

'Let's make a deal...you don't hunt me and mine...I won't hunt you and yours...'

There was no response other than a bestial snort as the creature disregarded him, shepherding the plants as it was content to do. After a few moments Jake turned and disappeared, walking into the savage forest of Eden, walking to his chosen life. Monster.

(Been awhile since I read any good stories around here, bravo Flea)

John Phillip Anderson.

Former 90s teen star, famed the world over for his dashing good looks and charm. The envy of every teenage girl, the bitter rival of every snubbed boy. Also a mutant, a powerful illusionist who could fool even machines into seeing what he wanted them to see. It was a mask, a disguise to hide his shame, his flaws, his ugly, plain face.

And now he was dead. As the blood pooled from the hole in his head his murderer knelt down, carefully placing the pistol into John's clasping hands. Suicide. That's what the police would say. Since Hollywood lost interest John's life just went downhill. Bill after bill. Red letter after red letter, the costs of a life of indulgent luxury, especially once the silent partners had pulled their support. The pistol was clean. Not a fingerprint, not a smear.

This may of course be due to the fact that his murderer's arms were nothing more than mechanical constructs, his true limbs ripped from his body long ago by a monster that haunted his dreams to this day. Epsilon would remember that day. He would curse it. It was because of that day that he had come back to the Malta Group. Because of the promise of revenge, the promise of severring every last link to Project Idol and with this vengeance upon the one who took his arms.

The new limbs did not lack. His aim was steady still, he was still one of the finest shots of the Group. But it was not right. It was a lie. Because of the monster he'd become a freak, shunned, loathed, hated by himself and others. A lifetime of purist, xenophobic policy was embedded in his very core. How could he not hate himself? His father ranked high amongst the Group and he knew it was because of his father that Project Idol brought him back. Eliminate every last Idol. Remove every last trace of the Group's involvement.

Cause the monster pain unlike anything it had ever felt before.

*****

You cannot cage a beast. You cannot keep it against its will. In the cold, glass prison of one of the secure rooms within Maggie's Rock he paced. The walls were scratched, clawed, torn up by a trapped beast's moodswings. He was erratic. Unpredictable. Uncontrolled. Feral.

They'd come to see him. Old friends. Family. Even some of the young ones. His moods had driven them away. He would go from calm, tranquil...civilised....to berserk and angry within a moment. He would beat against the glass and roar his anger, trying to shatter the prison and escape. Then he would calm. He would withdraw, keeping himself in the shadowed corners where he felt safe, protected. Unexposed. It was frustrating. It was as though nearly two years of work had been all for naught. Two years of counselling. Two years of education. Two years of 'family'. They'd tried to tame him. They'd tried to help him to belong, this feral killer from a dead world.

But you cannot cage a beast. Sooner or later it breaks free.

It had taken a single action. A single act of rash anger. His daughter had turned her back. She'd left him and with her his world collapsed. He withdrew. He fled. The beast escaped.

No killing. That was Maggie's rule. That was her goal. Within the space of a day the rule was shattered. Eden became Hell. The Predator established its place within the ecosystem created by Hamidon's insanity. The Devouring Earth were culled, a sector of the overgrown jungle claimed by a monster as its own. Longbow were called in, as were Vanguard. A hunt began. A deadly game of cat and mouse.

Then Steph went missing. The police came in. They were looking for anything...everything. His enemies surrounded him, brought him low with science and trickery, using poisons his body had not encountered before. He was slowed, brought down, chained and brought back. And now he was caged, a monster in a land of men.

In the darkness of the night Jake Love glared out from his glass cage. In the darkness of the night the white eyes burned like balefire. One thing kept him in line. Stephanie.

His daughter. She was missing.

....

The beast is caged. Woe upon those it finds when it is finally released.

((Just a response to an anonymous comment. Education is your friend. When you can tell me how Flea fits into those categories do feel free to come back...otherwise don't shoot unless you actually plan on hitting something.))