Downers Pub, Edmonton, Alberta
Morning of March 2nd, 2008

Super Bear walked up to the metal door of the criminal bar that was allowed to remain, so long as no obvious criminal actions happened on the site. It had that special privilege so that the heroes and the villains would have somewhere safe to share information, and no innocents would get hurt if a villain got too drunk one night and decided to cut loose.

As per the unofficial agreement, no heroes would show up in costume, but this wasn't normal times, and the heroes were in no mood to play nice. While Super Bear dented the door banging on it, Eddie, also known as Carapace was in full armour mode, looking like a humanoid beetle with razor sharp spines on his arms. Edmonton's two part-time heroes, Snowflake and Big Horn were behind them watching their backs.

A voice spoke through a hidden speaker. “Go away, we're closed for renovations.”

Super Bear pulled a pack of C-4 from his pocket, placing it on the door. “You have until I find the detonator for this C-4 to open the door, or your renovations are going to be a hell of a lot bigger than you planned.” he growled.

The door opened almost immediately. A single pretty boy, who had to be an exemplar from his looks was standing there, his hands held up and away from his sides. “Hey dudes, we don't want any trouble. We keep everything clean here and don't ask anybody questions. You got a problem with us, go talk to Fly By and Prairie Sun.”

“It's them we want to talk about,” Super Bear said shoving the bouncer aside.

The four heroes walked in, Snowflake paced around the edges of the large room her icy, white blue skin and armour reflecting the light and her footsteps leaving frost on the well polished hard wood floor. Big Horn closed the door behind them, leaning against it, with his rhinoceros like horn almost touching the ceiling, his dark grey, leathery skin seeming to absorb the light.

A well dressed man in black pants, a white button up shirt, and a mauve vest came out of the back room, polishing a wine glass. “I don't usually see superheroes here, but welcome to Downers Pub. My name is Benny, can I offer you a drink?”

Eddie started forward to get in Benny's face, Super Bear held him back. “We want to know everything that you know about the Blood Cult that attacked Vancouver a few months ago, and has been in the city looking for a girl.”

“Estelle Young,” Benny said. “Yes I heard about that, it's all the local news is talking about now. Of course it only concerns a minor hero in a small city, so I could listen to the news about the Middle East or Karedonia and never hear about it, but still for the area it's big news.”

“Don't act like it's not important, Prairie Sun almost died!” Eddie shouted.

Benny smiled. “So, I see the rumours are true. I wonder how Mr. Young feels about you fucking his wife?”

A jagged fist passed through the space where Benny's head had been. The bartender appeared by a shelf of glasses, and calmly put the one he'd been polishing beside it's mates. “Now, now, I am not a violent man. I deal in drinks, friendly chats, and information. I also like things to be discrete, unlike what you four are doing right now. When Fly By, who I consider a friendly acquaintance, as well as a good tipper, told me about the cult, I passed on the word within the hour, by the end of the next day, everyone who had any connections to the community in Edmonton and a few friends I have in nearby cities were made aware of the problem. They knew if they shared any useful information, they'd be rewarded by the heroes, and by myself. No one heard a thing until yesterday.”

“And yesterday?” Super Bear asked.

“Yesterday during the attack, several gang members downtown saw a number of cars suddenly speed away from a building all in the same direction, some of the men were cursing, asking what was going on and looking very upset. They returned soon after. Fifteen minutes later yet another car came up, it was burned on one side, and they had to help a man get out, his face was raw and blistered as if he had a very nasty sunburn.” Benny smiled. “Quite a coincidence isn't it?”

Growling, Super Bear reached into belt, pulling out a wad of cash. “How much?”

“I said Fly By is a friendly acquaintance, always polite, friendly, never causing trouble. And cults are bad for business. No charge. Here's the address,” a piece of paper appeared on the bar. “But move quickly, a little bird told me they're up to no good.”

Super Bear nodded, grabbed Eddie's arm and waved for the other two heroes to follow him outside.

**

Conference Room of Edmonton Heroes Headquarters
10am

I sat on stage staring as confidently as possible at the press who were waiting for my parents to speak. I wore my best pair of slacks and a white blouse with mother of pearl buttons, and my turquoise necklace and earrings. I could feel the energy surging in her, threatening to spark despite my best efforts, unfortunately the devises from Uncle Herb had been completely destroyed yesterday. So I was forced to concentrate on keeping my emotions nice and level. Not exactly the easiest thing in the world. At least Mom had warned me against wearing a skirt or dress, like I'd planned at first, she'd politely pointed out that there were going to be lots of cameras and when nervously crossing and uncrossing legs it was possible to accidentally let certain things show.

So pants it was.

Kota and Theresa were waiting upstairs well away from the camera's. Mom had called Whateley informing them of what had happened, and while they had recommended sending the girls back immediately and as secretly as possible, the way Kota had been looking at Mom since we got back from the hospital had Mom saying that wasn't possible. The person on the other end had been less than happy sounding, but there wasn't much she could do.

Mom and Dad came out, they were both dressed in conservative suits and looked like they usually did for press conferences, but the tension in the room was all different. Dad spoke first.

“Thank you all for coming. We realize this was abrupt, but after the incident yesterday we feel that it's best to clear the air as quickly as possible. As has been rumoured for years my wife and I are Prairie Sun and Fly By.” The reporters started shouting questions, which made Mom and Dad step back from the podium until their was silence.

“All evening yesterday and this morning, there have been people asking if our daughter is the mutant who manifested and stopped the mass sacrifice in Vancouver,” Mom said. She paused a moment, steadying herself. “That is also true.”

The camera's turned on me, snapping my picture as I gave them a very small smile. I wasn't in the mood to play for the camera like I usually did.

“I am going to ask that after the press conference you respect the privacy of our daughter who is not a public figure and has no desire to be one,” Mom continued after a short pause. “Yes, she has been declared a hero for what she did in Vancouver, but that was her manifesting event. Since then she has happily returned to her normal life, and the horrific events of yesterday have impressed on her that being a superhero is not for her.”

The next fifteen minutes was all about why they felt the need to keep their identity secret, how nothing would change in policing the city, and reiterating that they were private citizens and granted the same right to privacy as everyone else. Then it was time for questions.

“Mark Meyer, GNN, will you be returning the money you received after suing certain parties seventeen years ago, when they revealed your civilian identities?” a reporter asked.

Dad took that one. “No we will not. The situation with the GNN affiliated magazine, was not that they revealed our identities, but that they did not consult us first putting our friends and family in danger. It was unprofessional, dangerous and considering the other articles the publication had used before then, vindictive.”

“Will your daughter continue to go to school with baseline students?” another reporter asked, I recognized him as one of the ones my parents liked, and frequently used to ask certain questions and report stories from angles that they wanted, without appearing pro-mutant or hero.

“She has been going to a private school since she was eleven, and there has never been any cause for concern. Are you suggesting that she should not get an education?” Mom asked.

“Well is it safe for a mutant to be learning her powers alongside other normal students?”

“Certain powers can possibly,” she stressed that word, “be dangerous to others. That's why we work with the MCO for powers testing, and encourage young mutants to contact us to learn how to use their powers in a safe environment. Once that is done, and believe me we have worked extensively with our daughter in that regard, they can learn, work and play alongside baselines with no real concerns. What would be a better option, setting up reservations for mutants in some out of the way place, so that they can be kept out of sight and out of mind?”

Another reporter, who my parents did not like stepped forward. “What about the rumours that have been circulating for years that you have kidnapped mutant children from their families. You're well known for hosting teenagers at your home, declaring them friends of the families, yet we never see their parents?”

“As we have said every time you bring up that question, Tyler, if we have kidnapped any child we encourage the parents to come and speak to us or the police. We have done nothing wrong, who we associate with is of no concern of yours, and we will continue respecting the privacy of our friends and guests,” Dad said.

There were dozens of more questions, and I lasted twenty minutes before I quietly left the stage, unable to keep my energy contained anymore. My parents had told me to leave if it became too much, because having me start to spark uncontrollably wouldn't look very good on camera after saying how safe and well trained I was.

A quick trip upstairs to the workout room, and I was wearing a spare outfit I kept in a locker for working out, pounding away at a punching bag for all I was worth. I heard the door open and expected to see Kota and Theresa, but it was Annie, she looked terrible. The blue feathers that made up her hair were puffed up and her eyes were bloodshot.

“Oh Estelle! Are you ok?” she asked, embracing me.

I hugged her back. And in the warm soft arms, the barrier that had been up since the day before holding back my thoughts and memories of the day shattered. Images and sensations flooded my mind. Not just seeing Mom getting shot and being hurt, but smelling burning flesh, knowing that I had done it, hearing the scream from the driver as he died. It wasn't like in the movies where it was quick and easy. I smelled the gun smoke, and the blood again, the groans of pain. It was as bad as the sacrifice in November.

Putting my head on her shoulder I cried like a baby.

Vaguely I was aware of someone else hugging me. When I finally stopped crying I saw that Kota and Theresa had come into the gym at some point and were holding me as I sat and cried on the floor. Annie picked me up. “Come on, lets get you cleaned up. Have you eaten anything,” she asked.

I shook my head. I'd only picked at the breakfast the hospital had served.

With Kota and Theresa's help I was able to clean myself up a little, while Annie ordered in a big lunch. As I dried my face, they started telling me everything they had done since January. It sounded so normal. Kota had made a few friends, mostly just Theresa's friends, but she sounded happier. Theresa was talking about maybe going to stay with her boyfriend's family for a lot of the summer.

By the time the food arrived, I was calmed down again. I felt terrible, but the crying was over with. As we settled down to eat, Mom and Dad rushed in. “Estelle, we have an emergency, you'll be ok here?” Mom asked.

“Yeah,” I replied, trying not to sound too bad.

She ran off without a word, while Dad gave me a small smile before following her.

“What are they doing?” Theresa asked.

“Their jobs. They have lots of free time, but when something happens they have to be there,” I said.

Annie stroked my hair, then began serving everyone. With all three encouraging me, I started to eat some pineapple chicken.

“Kota, how did you pick your name?” I asked.

“I needed to tell the Windy City Guardians something. And I remember watching War Of The Worlds with Dakota Fanning, it didn't sound too bad so I picked it,” she told me. “Have you thought of any names?”

“I've been making a list. Ellison, Skylar, Ashley, Erin, Aubrey, Emory, Riley, Sydney, Taylor, a bunch of others,” I told them.

Kota gave me a small frown, “Most of those are girls names.”

“They're used by both. I checked.”

“You know what would be a good name? Clark Kent Young. Because you're parents are superheroes,” Theresa chimed in.

Kota snorted. “You want her going to a school of mutants with a name like that! Just call her Logan to really fit the cliche.”

And with that the great name debate was on, as everyone gave their opinion.

**
Downtown Edmonton

The apartment was straight out of a nightmare. Ten bodies laid out in a pentagram, there skin lacerated, entrails pulled from gaping stomach wounds, a mark burned onto their foreheads, and a knife in their hands. A man, if you could call the bloody, eyeless, mutilated creature who somehow was still talking as he castrated himself, a human, stood at the center of the pentagram as people in dark red robs chanted around him.

“Father hear my sins. I allowed the god shard to escape. My failure came of haste, and not following the orders of thy priests. Accept my body, my blood, my soul, and send forth that who can achieve your will,” he said through bloody lips and toothless gums.

Prairie Sun felt sick as she watched the live video of the cultists lair, it had taken Super Bear hours to get his drones to see past the magical defenses. She wished that someone who knew magic was there, she hated dealing with the stuff and this looked very bad. “Super Bear, did your drones find the guards?”

The screen switched to a map of the interior, circles showed where every known cultists was, dark red for guards, red for those doing other tasks, light red for those sleeping. Fly By and the other heroes studied it closely.

“I wish we had more time,” her husband said.

“We don't. That ceremony is almost done, so let's get in there and stop it now,” Carapace, her lover, said.

She reached out and put a hand on her husband's shoulder pad with one hand, and behind his back clasped Carapace's bare hand in her own. Big Horn let out a harsh laugh at the sight, until Snowflake jabbed him in the ribs.

“What's the plan, honey?” she asked Fly By.

“The ceremony has to be stopped at all cost. You, Big Horn, and Super Bear go in the front door, you're the strongest, make some noise get their attention. Carapace and I will go in through these windows, and take out the last sacrifice a minute or two after you enter. Snowflake, you're back up, and our eyes outside. Be ready to come in and support either team if something goes wrong.” He looked at them grimly, only she could see the fear hidden deep within his eyes. “We have permission to use deadly force. These men are willing to kill anyone and anything to bring about the end of the world, don't hold back.”

There were a few questions confirming details and clarifying others, but they all knew they were on the clock, so it only took a few minutes. Prairie Sun squeezed Carapace's hand, then kissed her husband on his masked cheek, wondering if this might be the last time she saw either one of them.

She walked outside with the other two heroes, past the Swat vans that were ready to move in as backup, while the other three flew to their positions, staying low and keeping buildings between themselves and the target.

“So Sun, how can I get in on that MILF action?” Big Horn asked.

“Horn, we're going into deadly combat, do you really want to piss me off more than you usually do just by breathing?” she asked, not looking at him.

Super Bear chuckled at the sudden silence.

They came to the street where the nearly abandoned apartment waited. Police had been redirecting traffic for the last five minutes, so there were just some people walking along, not many considering the rundown neighbourhood. Super Bear threw a large drone into the air and there was a faint shimmering around them. To all eyes they'd just be a bit of haze drifting down the street.

The door was the most obvious way to enter, so there were according to the drones four heavily armed men. Since they were dealing with a proven apocalyptic cult of mass murderers, the usual rules were not in effect. Tapping Big Horn on the shoulder and pointed at a part of the wall that was suppose to be the sleeping quarters for some of the cultists. The goon grinned and nodded.

Pounding his chest, which he claimed was needed to really build up power, Big Horn ran at the wall slamming a brawny shoulder into it. The wall exploded as if hit by a bomb.

Ignoring the dust and haze, they followed Big Horn inside, tossing stun grenades and sleepy gas to either side, relying on the filters in their masks and abilities to deal with everything.

There was shouting from the hallway, overpowered by Big Horns roar and the rapid crack of machine guns filled the hallway. Super Bear tore through a wall into the next door apartment, letting his PFG take the brunt of the blow, flash bangs went off as he kept going through the next wall. With her hard skin and armour, Prairie Sun wasn't worried about the bullets, but rather than follow Big Horn's path of destruction, she charged into the apartment across the hall not bothering to open the door.

There were five men and and women in the room grabbing guns. There wasn't enough time for them to react before she dropped two flash bangs on both sides of the room, kicked and punched them while they were dazed and threw down a sleepy gas canister and ran out the door on the heels of the explosion.

The next room was harder, and she felt slugs hitting the Kevra armour, it didn't hurt much, no more than a slap for a baseline. With her smile hidden behind her mask, she drew her crowbar and in ten seconds had broken both arms of the shooter and her three companions who were trying to get their own weapons up. She didn't bother with sleepy gas, the bones were shattered, and would need months to heal .

Heading into the hallway, she heard fighting in an apartment down the hall. A few people were lying in the hallway, they'd been trampled and shoved through walls. The entire bottom floor went the same way. There wasn't any challenge to it, not that they'd expected much. But as the three heroes gathered at the main stairs going up, they could hear running feet and people shouting orders. They'd done their job, everyone knew they were there. The police sirens wailed outside, warning people to get off the street as swat teams prepared to head inside and arrest the the survivors.

“Ready?” she asked.

“Oh yeah!” Big Horn shouted.

Super Bear nodded, tossing three balls up the stairs, they ricocheted off the walls, going higher up before exploding. Prairie Sun led the charge, the crowbar hitting the jaw of the only person still standing.

**

Fly By, Carapace, and Snowflake waited as the sound of explosions, screams and bullets got louder. Snowflake, who had only started superheroing part time a year ago after graduating college, was biting her nails, which sounded like she was chewing ice. Carapace was buzzing his insect wings, in irritation, and his claws were carving into the bricks of the building.

While the two younger heroes looked tense and nervous, Fly By watched the action in his mind, following his wife's every move thanks to the devise that let them read each others mind. It was the closest they could come to really touching, and they used them almost constantly. Only when they needed true physical contact with someone else did they take the devises off. Now he felt Sun's pent up rage at what had almost happened to their daughter. He doubted that she knew just how close to going berserk she really was, he could tell because he was one step removed, and had spent years focusing on his emotions where she had gone for the body.

Wincing involuntarily, he saw and felt his wife snap the neck of a suicide bomber. If they hadn't had permission to use deadly force he never would have agreed to the two of them taking part. It would have led to an epic fight, but while they argued the others could probably have handled the cultists.

Windows blew out, showering the street and police below in bits of debris and glass shards. Closing his eyes, he saw that Big Horn was down, alive, but out of the fight for a few seconds at least. Super Bear, bloody from his PFG being overloaded, threw a cultist through a wall, and fired his tazer rifle into the smoke.

Sun was completely silent, a very bad sign. Someone rushed out of the smoke, holding a row of grenades. She grabbed him by his shirt, spun him around and sent him hurtling back, from the startled cries she'd hit a small group of cultists. There was an explosion and he felt her excitement at cutting loose.

'Sun! Calm down!' he mentally yelled at her.

'They want to die for their god. I'm helping them,' she thought back, stalking into the smoke.

'We're suppose to try to take them alive. You're not a murderer.'

'They tried to kill our daughter! They wanted to kill all those children!' she screamed.

'You're not their executioner!' he roared back.

'They're child killers. They deser-'

Whatever she'd been thinking was cut off in an explosion that rocked the building he was standing on. “Move it! That's our cue!” he shouted. “Snowflake go check on them, second floor, near the main stairs.”

He and Carapace jumped over the side and flew through the upper windows of the apartment where the ritual was occurring. The smell of the blood, sweat, incense and oils was overwhelming, gagging, he fired a force bolt at the man sacrificing himself, while Carapace went towards the head priest.

Fly By felt his bolt shatter against a shield. He sighed, knowing it couldn't have been that easy, but hoping for a break. Carapace was having no more luck, a tattooed man was grappling with him. Despite the hero's strength, he was being pushed back. A nasty kick with a clawed foot to the tattooed man's knee didn't have any affect.

Ignoring the two bricks, Fly By shot at the priests and chanting cultists. That went better, knocking the fanatics to the ground. The tattooed man snarled, and slammed Carapace through the floor. Fly By tried to move back, putting distance between himself and the brick, but it was no good in the confined room. The man grabbed him and squeezed. Even with the kevra suit, and his stronger than normal body, he felt his bones bending, his back popped and he heard his left arm cracking.

Sending bolt after bolt of TK straight into the face of his attacker, let him wriggle out of the deadly grip, gasping for breath and wanting to cradle his arm and body. But there wasn't time, he flew backwards, firing more bolts at the man.

It wasn't enough. Before he made it five feet, the man was on him again, driving a knee into his stomach, and as Fly By doubled over, gagging, a fist hit the back of his head slamming him face first into the floor. He felt his nose shatter.

Carapace crawled out of the hole in the floor.

“Carapace, help!” he shouted, struggling focus.

The hero took a look at the scene, as the tattooed man began stomping on Fly By's back, shaking the floor with every hit. The bug like hero turned and ran at the priests some of whom were still chanting, knocking them down once more.

Fly By didn't have time to care about the betrayal, his spine was about to break, and the sharp stabbing pain let him know there were internal injuries. Flicking his hand up in a special move, a flare caught the attacker in the face. It didn't do any damage, but the man instinctively jumped back from the flames. Not bothering to move physically, Fly By flew up and away, throwing his hardest TK bolts wildly behind him.

**

Prairie Sun got to her knees, shaking her head, blood dripped from her mask. She saw Super Bear groaning in pain his pink fur singed and smoking. Big Horn who had taken the brunt of the explosion was unconscious, only the gasping wheeze that was barely audible over the ringing in her ears let her know he was alive.

Snowflake appeared in a gust of windswept snow, she took one look at the situation and sent a thin sheet of frost over Super Bear smothering the sparks and burns. Sun waved off the young heroine as she went to check her over, Big Horn needed help more than she did.

It was hard to breathe, her mask was soaked with blood filling her nostrils and mouth every time she took a breath. She chuckled, dazed from a concussion, there wasn't any need for a mask now. Ripping it off, she spit, trying to clear her mouth. Concentrating on the devise, which was difficult as waves of dizziness kept making her want to vomit, she got a mental image of pain and blood. She saw Carapace coming out of a hole in the ground, as Fly By was pummeled.

The shock she felt as her lover ignored her husband, turning instead to attack the priests was like a dagger. They'd done so much for him. Got him onto the Vancouver Heroes Corp, helped him pay for his house, her stock advice had made him close to a millionaire. She'd given her body to him, doing things for him that she'd never done for Steve even when they could touch each other, and her husband had still treated him as a best friend.

Grunting with the effort, she went to the stairs, ripping a piece of twisted metal railing from the banister. Fighting off a wave of nausea, she ran up the stairs.

**

Fly By shot the tattooed man in the back, with one hand while trying to blast through the shield protecting the cultist who continued to mutilate himself, apologizing and begging for forgiveness at ordering his team to attack the god shard before everything was ready.

Carapace was just trying to survive as his shell cracked under the powerful blows of the tattooed man who ignored the annoying TK blows. White pus leaked from the dents and damage. The cultist didn't know how to do more than street brawl, but he had enough strength that he didn't need the skill.

There was a blur, a woman's scream of rage, and the impervious cultists chest bulged a little. The man looked down in amazement, took a few steps forward and fell a metal rod sticking out of his back through his spine.

Fly By didn't waste time on words, instead turning his entire attention on breaking the shield. He still watched what was happening from the corner of his eye, his wife's thoughts were murderous, but there was nothing he could do except push a thread of calmness into her mind.

“Sun...” Carapace began to speak, swaying and shaking his dazed head.

She grabbed her former lover, spun and threw him through the outside wall. Twenty seconds later, every one of the dozen or so cultist in the room was unconscious or worse, and Sun was slamming into the shield at full speed, over and over again. As the shield held, refusing to even budge, Fly By heard his wife begin to scream, getting a little louder with every hit, until her screams of rage was all that could be heard.

The cultist in the pentagram ignored them. Throwing his testicles to the ground, he stabbed himself just above his waist and dragged the knife upwards. Reaching into the wound he grabbed hold of his intestines and pulled. As his organs fell, he plunged the knife into his heart.

The gore began to bubble and writhe. The dead bodies screeched, raising their arms in supplication as the blood rose, swirling. Fly By looked away, his brain tried and failed to comprehend what was forming in the center of the pentagram. He saw Sun pounding and kicking the shield heedless of the obscenity growing within it.

There was a shriek from a thousand demons and something erupted, tearing a hole through the ceiling as it escaped.

When it didn't come back to kill them, Fly By felt his blood turn to ice. Racing to Sun, who was tearing apart the now unprotected pentagram he slapped her as hard as he could. “SUN! It's going after Estelle!”

His wife became deathly still as the words sank in. Her face slowly twisted into something he'd never seen before. For the first time ever he was afraid of her.

Then she was gone. From the hole in the wall there was the sound of metal crumpling and shouts of surprise. By the time he got to the window Prairie Sun was gone, a police car with a crumpled hood told the story.

Flying down, he went to the man in charge. “Contact the station, a demon is about to attack it's going after Estelle.”