Beneath Kings Row, 14:32
"Rise and shine, pal. I ain't quite done with you yet."
The Vahzilok doctor opened his eyes. The large man in the red spandex and the brutal-looking armoured gauntlets was sitting a few feet away, watching him with amusement. He looked down at his right arm, which had been cuffed to the sewer pipe behind him.
"Let me introduce myself," the other man continued in his soft southern drawl. "You can call me the Shining Shield. And right after you do that, you can tell me about that body the cops found in Brickstown. You folks been havin' some disciplinary issues?"
The Reaper looked away. "I won't tell you anything."
The hero nodded. "Figured as much. More fun this way, after all. So here's how I'm figurin' it. You guys go to the bother of swiping three fresh bodies from the city morgue, and then one of your own docs runs off with them. I mean, of all things. Here you are, hackin' limbs off of innocent folk for the greater good of mankind, and someone just has to go and cheapen the whole thing by trying to make a profit from it." He shrugged. "So you track this guy down, make like you're an interested buyer, set up a deal, and then one of your... wha'dya call them glow-in-the-dark freaks in the gimp suits?"
"The Eidolons are the next stage in human evolution!" the doctor spat, struggling against the cuffs.
"Yeah, totally superior beings." The Shield held up his gauntleted hand, idly picking off specks of dried blood. "Supremely satisfying to beat on." He grinned. "So anyway, you get one of those things, with those funky radiation powers, surprise your wayward colleague at the dropoff point, and fry him alive. You get your corpses back, city pins it on the Freakshow, and the world is back in balance."
"Interesting fantasy you've spun," the Reaper replied, "but you're not even close. We don't know where those bodies are, but whoever has them is going to regret robbing Dr. Vahzilok."
The hero nodded. "Well, I'd wish you the best of luck with that, if I wasn't about to haul your [censored] in for a long stay at the Ziggursky Penitentiary. If you see the big V in there, tell him I said hi."
Knights Exemplar: Wolfram, Autumnfox, Starlit Spirit.
Militia: The Portent, Wavekite, Mr. Sandman.
The Cadre: WarpLocke, Zajin.
Numerous others.
PPD Headquarters, Kings Row, 22:13
Jack Simpson stood by the helipad on the roof of police headquarters, looking out across the city. On warm nights like these, there was something comforting about coming out here, so high up that the electric sparking of the Clockwork and the sickly glow of the Circle's rituals were lost in the gloom. The problems didn't go away just because they were out of sight, but it was good to be reminded, now and again, what everyone was fighting for.
He felt a gust of cold air on his back, and turned as Jennifer Sula lighted silently on the roof behind him. "Jenny. Glad you're back. Any luck?"
"Not really." Jennifer shrugged apologetically. "The Freaks have a hundred and one crazy-[censored] plans on the go, but I couldn't find any sign of them needing bodies." She paused. "Jack, I wouldn't put it past them to just kill the guy and toss the bodies in some sewer. We might be chasing shadows here."
Jack shook his head. "This wasn't random. Our victim had a good reason for being in Brickstown. He must have had a buyer of some sort for those bodies. Whoever it was obviously didn't like the price." He sighed. "I guess we can cross the Freaks off our list for now, anyway."
Jennifer nodded slightly. "Any other leads?"
"Could be. There's a guy calling himself..." Jack reached for his notebook, "uh, Shining Shield who's been finding out what the other Vahzilok know. You might want to track him down. I got word from Vic Johannson earlier that he was going to check out a suspected base in High Park."
"I'll go see if he's found anything." Jennifer hesitated a moment before putting a hand on Jack's arm. "We'll get them, Jack. Whoever's behind this, they won't get away with it. I promise."
Jack half-smiled. "I know, Jenny. I shouldn't let it get to me. I just... I have a really bad feeling about this one."
Knights Exemplar: Wolfram, Autumnfox, Starlit Spirit.
Militia: The Portent, Wavekite, Mr. Sandman.
The Cadre: WarpLocke, Zajin.
Numerous others.
For once, Jennifer's prayers were answered: it wasn't a sewer. The address she'd been given was for a condemned office block hidden away in the shadow of the War Wall. She landed a short distance away to approach on foot, figuring the Vahzilok had probably learned to keep a sky watch by now.
She'd figured wrong. As she drew close, the muffled sounds of fierce fighting began to filter through the cracked walls. She darted to the door and kicked it open, ready to fight.
The Vahzilok had started without her. A mob of animated corpses of various shapes and sizes were brawling shambolically among themselves on the main floor, while masked Reapers crossed bonesaws on the stairs. Jennifer shook her head; this was definitely new.
She launched a riot arrow into the midst of the melee of living fighters, leaving the cadavers to their own devices, and advanced into the main corridor. The first office door on the right was hanging off its hinges, and as she drew near, a zombie was hurled through it, crumpling against the wall like a rag doll. Jennifer readied a stun arrow and crept up to the doorway.
The sight that greeted her did little to clarify the situation. One Eidolon, its stitching slightly frayed, was holding a terrified Mortificator aloft by his throat. In the corner, another wrestled with a blond-haired man dressed in red spandex with a silvered shield on the chest, and a pair of heavy-duty fighting gauntlets strapped to his arms. He looked up at her and mouthed, "Little help?"
Jennifer loosed her arrow at the nearest Eidolon, knocking it off-balance and forcing it to release its grip on the hapless doctor, who made a break for the door. Jennifer tripped him as he tried to pass and aimed another stun arrow at the second Eidolon. The blunt tip glanced off its leather-bound head, and the moment of confusion allowed its opponent to gain the upper hand. His gauntleted fist connected with the unsuspecting monster in an explosion of energy, and it keeled over.
"Appreciate the help, darlin'." The other hero got to his feet, adjusting his sunglasses, and landed a punch on the other Eidolon for good measure, sending it sprawling. "Didn't figure on this turnin' into a civil war on me."
"Any time." Jennifer lowered her bow. "You're the Shining Shield?"
"That's me, when I'm on business anyway." He smiled. "Hank Delacroix, at your service, ma'am. I figure I've heard of you, but I'm godawful with names. You one of the Militia, maybe?"
Jennifer nodded. "Wavekite. Pleasure to meet you, Hank."
Hank grinned and tipped an imaginary hat. "Pleasure's all mine, ma'am."
"Uh-huh." Jennifer looked around the room. "So... they all just turned on each other?"
"Near as I could make out." Hank shrugged. "I came here to have a 'chat' with the local Vahzilok leader, see what he wanted to tell me about that killing in the Bricks. I've barely even started workin' him over when three of those Eidolon freaks and their posse of docs and zombies break down the door and drag him off. I tried to stop them, but..." he looked apologetic. "You saw how that went."
Jennifer shook her head in disbelief. "So we've got, what, a Vahzilok civil war going on here? It can't all be about those three bodies."
Hank nodded. "I reckon not. I'm guessing that was just the first move by one of the sides, and after that all bets were off." He shrugged. "Not exactly the ending we were all hoping for, but at this stage we're pretty much down to damage control."
Jennifer sighed. Looks like I won't be keeping that promise. Damn it all. "Ok, we'd better get started. You up for cleaning this place out?"
Hank cracked his knuckles. "Ready as ever, ma'am. Reckon there's more than one out there whose hospitality I need to repay."
Knights Exemplar: Wolfram, Autumnfox, Starlit Spirit.
Militia: The Portent, Wavekite, Mr. Sandman.
The Cadre: WarpLocke, Zajin.
Numerous others.
Detective Jack Simpson's office, PPD Headquarters, 9:14
"...can't say for sure, but that's the way it looks."
Jack rubbed his forehead, glancing between the two heroes. "Vahzilok factions fighting? That's a new one. Maybe someone from the Facemaker faction making a play for power back in the city? Just doesn't fit."
He shook his head. "Well. You've both done an excellent job, in any case. Thank you." He managed a half-smile as he sat back down behind his desk. "There's, uh, a specialist division that deals with situations like these. I'll need to turn this over to them, let them coordinate the cleanup."
Hank nodded. "Sorry to disappoint, compadre. You've got my number if I can do anything else to help." He adjusted his shades and turned toward the door. "Detective - ma'am - see y'all around."
Jennifer watched him close the door before turning back to face Jack. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to lose this one either, but a gang war kinda changes everything..."
"Nothing to apologise for, Jenny." Jack sighed. "Just feels wrong, is all." He glanced through the door glass at the departing Shining Shield. "What did you make of him?"
"Hank?" Jennifer shrugged. "Nice guy, I guess. Knows what he's doing. A little over-eager, but he'll learn soon enough."
Jack nodded. "The cowboy routine is a little off. There's more Louisiana than Texas in that accent. And self-cleaning spandex or not, he needs to learn to be careful where he steps in the sewers."
Jennifer smiled. Always the detective.
"Well." Jack shrugged resignedly. "I'd better get this information filed. You still up for dinner on Sunday evening? Danny tells me if you try and dodge it for another week, I have to make it an order."
Jennifer laughed. "I'll see you there. Take care of yourself, Jack."
* * *
As Jennifer was closing the door behind her, Jack picked up the phone on his desk and began searching for Detective Minkowski's number. It was disappointing to have the case taken out of his hands, but he was slightly relieved nonetheless. The only other lead he'd managed to find was... not something he would have relished telling Jennifer about. It was always painful when one of the city's heroes switched sides, most of all when it was someone you knew.
Knights Exemplar: Wolfram, Autumnfox, Starlit Spirit.
Militia: The Portent, Wavekite, Mr. Sandman.
The Cadre: WarpLocke, Zajin.
Numerous others.
((Little bit late, but:
Warning! Part of a villain origin story. Depicts scenes of unpleasantness, and censored swearing. Proceed at your own risk.
Enjoy. 
))
Brickstown, 21:38
Jennifer walked in the shadow of the Ziggurat, brooding. She'd persuaded herself to make one more sweep of the local Freakshow activities, but they seemed quiet, by standards. The Vahzilok infighting should have been the end of it, but Jack was obviously not convinced, and that worried Jennifer. Jack hadn't made detective with just his good looks - he was very seldom wrong about things like this...
"Hey, you're that hero lady. Wavekite, isn't it?"
Jennifer turned. A man in a hardhat and reflective overalls was waving to her from near the door of one of the prison power substations. "That's me. Something I can help you with?"
The man nodded. "I work for the city, maintenance stuff. You don't want all the details, believe me. Got a report that the system's been acting up on this grid, so I came to check it out and..." He indicated the maintenance access door. "It's unlocked. Definitely shouldn't be unlocked. I think the lock's been forced. In this city... there's no knowing who or what might have done that, right? Figured this was probably a crime scene."
Jennifer examined the lock. There were scratches from when it had been picked, and... burn marks? "The hell is this?" she muttered. "Who'd want to break into one of these places and leave it running?"
"Guessing someone who needs a lot of electricity," the mechanic offered, pointing a thumb upward. "All that stuff up there. Transformers, high-tension cables, the works. If you needed a good power supply you couldn't pick a better spot. Plus, it'd mask any transmissions you happened to be making."
Jennifer nodded. "Ok, I'll check it out. Go somewhere safe, this might get ugly."
"Sure." The mechanic turned away. "Good luck."
Jennifer pushed open the unlocked door, and stepped inside.
The access corridor was dark, and it stank. Jennifer made her way down the steps to the interior access door, which was closed tightly but unlock. She pushed it open, and recoiled as a pungent stench filled her nostrils, blood and death and decay. The station's backup lights were on, casting a fitful light over the grimy stone and metal. She pressed on, bow raised, ready to shoot.
She spotted the first body a short distance in, and took some time to make sure she wasn't going to throw up. The man's flesh was rotten and bloated, and his chest was a vast, wide-open wound.
The two after him were the same. Some makeshift medical equipment had been set up next to one of them, something with blades and tubes and... Jennifer tried not to look too closely. Her gaze fell upon the rusted metal wall, on which a maze of shorthand notes and equations had been scrawled. The word "corruption" stood out more than once.
Gagging on putrid air, Jennifer turned to make her exit, and came face-to-visor with the Portent. His hand was held out, powered gauntlet inches from her face.
"You!" Jennifer exclaimed.
"You," the Portent replied. "Release her. I will not ask again."
Jennifer blinked. "I don't know what the hell you're talking about, but you have a lot of explaining to do!"
The Portent faltered. "You do not..." He paused, as if listening to a sound Jennifer could not hear, then whipped around just as a bulky figure stepped out of the gloom. Jennifer recognised Hank Delacroix, though he wasn't wearing his heavy gauntlets, or his trademark sunglasses. His pale eyes seemed to gleam in the dim light.
Jennifer stepped forward, but the Portent shoved her aside, one hand reaching to the back of his belt. There was a blur of motion, and Hank staggered back. The Portent's hands came to rest, holding a long metal staff. He stepped into the attack.
Jennifer stared, struggling to comprehend this sudden development. Hank was fighting the way he always did, with grim, deliberate determination. His powerful fists swung time after time, never finding their mark. The Portent moved like a dancer who'd forgotten most of the steps and was improvising in the gaps. His staff whirled and struck with snakelike speed but little precision, each time ricocheting off Hank's shimmering forcefield as he calmly parried.
Jennifer got to her feet, readying her bow to shoot. The air was filled with madness and corruption and death. What the hell have I wandered into here?
Something was wrong with the Portent's gauntlets. Power seemed to be building up in them, sparking off at odd angles. Hank was pressing him harder now, and his movements seemed ever-more erratic.
He's snapped, Jennifer thought to herself. Whatever crazy [censored] was going on in his brain has just taken over. She took aim, hesitantly, unable to line up clear a shot into the ongoing brawl.
Then the Portent ducked a wild punch and jammed his sparking gauntlet into Hank's face. Hank staggered back, clutching at his eyes, his forcefield flickering out. The Portent drove his staff into his opponent's gut, forcing him to his knees.
Jennifer took aim. "Freeze! Leave him alone!"
The Portent looked around. "Wavek - "
He got no further before Hank's fist collided with the side of his helmet. The Portent staggered back, drunkenly, blood trickling down from beneath his visor. A second punch caught him in the chest with an audible crack, then Hank smashed his fists down on the detective's shoulders, and he fell.
Jennifer lowered her bow, but only slightly. "You didn't have to hit him that - "
Hank advanced on her, knocking the weapon from her hand in a backhanded swipe. Before she could recover from the shock, he grabbed her by the throat and pinned her against the floor, rage-twisted face held close to hers. "How did you find this place?" he hissed.
"Hank, what the f - " Jennifer choked slightly. "Someone... someone saw the door left open, asked me to look, I - "
"WHO?" Hank roared. "Who else knows about this place?"
"What...?" Jennifer went pale as the realisation struck her. "You. You did this, all of this..." She tried to form a cage to separate them, but pain and rising terror made it difficult to concentrate.
"You really thought it was him? Hank hoisted her up, easily holding her off the ground by her throat. "You really didn't know him at all, did you? To think I could have pinned it all on him and got away with it... I just never realised you'd be so easy to fool."
Fury filled Jennifer. Fury at the killer who was choking the life out of her, fury at herself for her terrible mistake, it didn't matter. "Yeah, I was wrong. He's the good guy. And he had your [censored] number, [censored]," she growled. "Guess it's up to me to finish what he started!"
She focused her power as best she could. The air around her vibrated with a burst of raw noise, and Hank recoiled in pain. As his grip loosened, Jennifer shook free and grabbed an arrow from her quiver.
"Why, Hank?" she asked, holding the razor-sharp tip a hair's breadth from his face. "Why did you do... all this?"
Hank looked up. Blood was tricking from his ears. "I didn't want it to be like this, Jen. You're a strong person, and I respect that. It's a shame things have to end like this. But it was killing me, you see?"
Jennifer shook her head. "I don't know what you're talking about!"
"They tore out my heart!" Hank hissed. "They cut me apart and... and changed me. I have the power now, the power to make a difference. It's just that there's a price..."
Hank's hands lashed out at her. One grabbed her wrist, twisting it until the makeshift weapon tumbled from her grip; the second grasped her armoured chestplate, and pulled hard. Fabric tore, and the armour came away in Hank's hand.
"I'm sorry things had to be this way," he drawled, tossing the plate aside with a wry grin. "But I don't think it's going to be all bad..."
"[censored] you!" Jennifer concentrated what was left of her power, hitting him with everything she had. He gritted his teeth and held his ground as the field tried to force them apart, but the distraction was all Jennifer needed as she reached down to draw her .38 from its compartment in her quiver.
"You... you're stronger than I realised," he observed, as Jennifer gasped for breath, exhausted. "Shame I can't - "
In the enclosed walls of the substation, the shot was deafening. Hank stumbled back, oily black blood oozing from the wound in his shoulder. He stared in disbelief at the gun in Jennifer's hand, then down at his injury.
"One step," Jennifer warned, "and I will [censored] end you."
Hank looked up, and stepped forward.
Jennifer shot him, four more times. He managed one faltering step forward, and then collapsed sideways.
Jennifer darted toward the doorway until her communicator found a signal, and sent out a call for police backup and an ambulance. Then she ran to where the Portent had fallen. He was breathing, just about. She knelt by him, gun with its one remaining bullet trained on the motionless form of Hank Delacroix, and waited.
Knights Exemplar: Wolfram, Autumnfox, Starlit Spirit.
Militia: The Portent, Wavekite, Mr. Sandman.
The Cadre: WarpLocke, Zajin.
Numerous others.
Epilogue
Brickstown Infirmary
Jack Simpson thanked the orderly at the front desk and followed his directions through the medical centre's corridors. Most of the rooms he passed were in darkness, but there was a dim light in the one to which he was headed - enough to make out of the distinctive shape of Jennifer Sula, asleep in a chair by the bed.
The man in the bed was... remarkably unremarkable. Jack had heard people talk about the Portent, but he'd never seen the man in person, with or without the helmet. He paused for a moment to reflect: the man he'd been prepared to suspect of a brutal murder had come within a hair's breadth of being the real killer's next victim.
Jennifer stirred slightly. Jack gently put a hand on her shoulder and whispered, "Hey."
Jennifer opened her eyes and sat up, wearily. "Hey Jack," she murmured.
Jack glanced over at the unconscious Portent. "How is he?"
Jennifer sighed. "Concussion. Fractured collar-bone. They say he'll be fine in a couple of days. Might be able to get him moved to the Dugout."
Jack nodded. "That's good. And you can get some proper sleep."
"Jack - " Jennifer protested.
"I know what it is you're thinking, Jenny." Jack cut her off. "We made mistakes. Big, serious mistakes. All of us. At the end of the day, everyone's still alive, and you caught the bad guy. You can't beat yourself up."
Jennifer shook her head. "Maybe we all did make mistakes, but this? This thing here? This is my fault. I gotta deal with that." She sighed. "Talk to me in the morning. I'm not in the mood to forgive myself right now."
Jack opened his mouth to argue the point, but thought better of it. He hesitated before continuing. "Delacroix pulled through. [censored] has some kind of enhanced healing ability. He's been moved to the Zig. Forensics took the scene apart, it's pretty much open-and-shut. He's going away for a long time."
Jennifer said nothing. Jack nodded slightly and turned to leave, but paused at the door.
"You told me there was someone, a city technician, who pointed you to Delacroix's hideout?"
Jennifer looked up at him. "Yeah? So?"
"I, uh, I checked with the city maintenance authority." Jack looked uncomfortable. "They say they didn't send anyone out to that part of Brickstown today - there's no record of a fault in the power grid."
Jennifer stared at him. "What... what does that mean?"
Jack shook his head. "I have no idea. Did you get the guy's name?"
"I... I can't even really remember what he looked like..." Jennifer closed her eyes. "He... he had a nametag on his uniform. I didn't get a good look at it. Might have been... Manson, or something, I don't know. I just thought..." She trailed off, staring at the floor.
Jack nodded. "I'll get them to check their employment records. Maybe something will come up." Even as he spoke the words, he knew that nothing would.
Knights Exemplar: Wolfram, Autumnfox, Starlit Spirit.
Militia: The Portent, Wavekite, Mr. Sandman.
The Cadre: WarpLocke, Zajin.
Numerous others.
((A short pseudo-plot leading to bigger things.))
Strength of Corruption
Part 1
Brickstown, 8:39
Detective Jack Simpson stepped out of his car, looking up at the office block whose address he'd been given. The police sergeant on guard at the door nodded to him as he approached. "You from the department?"
Jack nodded, holding up his badge. "Simpson, homicide. What've we got?"
"Wish I could tell you." The sergeant shrugged. "Day janitor found the scene. One of those Vahzilok doctor freaks and a whole lot of zombies. No idea what they were doing here, but it looks like it didn't work out too well."
Jack ducked under the cordon across the door. The lobby of the building had been a mess before it became a crime scene; now it looked like something out of a horror film. Jack stepped over the fallen form that had once been one of Vahzilok's cadavers, and headed for the forensics team who were zipping up a body bag over the only corpse in the room that had been alive the previous day.
Jack cleared his throat. "Got a cause of death?"
The lead doctor looked around. "For the moment, we're guessing it's something to do with the burns over most of his body. Pretty much fried where he was standing. Probably looking at superpower involvement."
Jack nodded. "So we're looking for pyrokinetics? Not exactly Outcast territory around here." Not exactly Vahzilok territory either, but that's another question.
The doctor shook his head. "Not fire. Something burned this guy, but the temperature was barely enough to singe his clothes. Whatever killed him was... conducted through his body."
Jack frowned. "Electricity then?"
"Maybe. Tell you the truth, though, superpowers tend to rewrite all kinds of rules. There's probably more than one kind of localised energy burst that could do this."
Jack looked around the room. "Why aren't the zom-bots burned the same?"
The doctor shrugged. "Good question. They were beaten physically with a blunt instrument until they stopped working. Something like a metal pole. Quite a lot of force used. Ask me, the whole thing's got Freakshow written all over it."
Jack nodded absently. Brute force and electricity, and the location right here in Freak territory. It would explain everything, except what the Freakshow wanted with the one thing he'd been hoping to find here, and hadn't: the city morgue's three missing cadavers.
But the case wasn't solving itself. He'd have to dig into the local Freakshow politics to see who might have decided to branch out into necromancy or some such thing. That and get Officer Johannson in Kings to get in touch with a hero who was working on the Vahzilok problem...
Knights Exemplar: Wolfram, Autumnfox, Starlit Spirit.
Militia: The Portent, Wavekite, Mr. Sandman.
The Cadre: WarpLocke, Zajin.
Numerous others.