"We were hoping to work out an arrangement where we might occasionally call upon your skills, in a consulting role. We'd benefit from your experience on the street and your impressive metahuman abilities, and in return, you'd get to call upon our resources -- intel, financial, manpower, equipment. The ability to run interference with the law. Plus, of course, we'll pay you. An annual retainer, paid immediately, plus a fee for each job, half in advance."

This is much too sweet a deal. I shook my head slowly, sliding the badge back to her. "I'm sorry. It sounds very interesting, but I've got other things on my mind at the moment. Perhaps in a couple of weeks, we could talk again." I got the feeling Merrick was sincere, but I didn't trust the motives of the people behind her. I stood up, ending the discussion.

"Wait. Before you decide, you should hear what the first two jobs are."

The first one reached out to grab me. I wanted to kill them -- kill somebody -- so badly I could taste it, but I couldn’t afford the luxury. Not yet. I broke his arm and smashed his knee, putting him down with a gratifying scream. The second guy I just tossed over the bar into the wall, hard. He slid down and didn’t move. I slapped Ramon’s knife out of his hand and bent him backwards over the bar, fist bunched in his shirt, my now-broken beer bottle pressed into his cheek. “The bartender touches that gun, you lose the fuckin’ eye, kay? You choose.”

"Hey! Wait! You said you wanted to talk!"

I sighed and settled back to the roof. "We have been talking. We’ve been talking about what a bunch of fuckups you are. How you’ve been infiltrated, and you knew it, and you dragged me into this anyway." My voice was rising. "I am not interested in your games. I’m just trying to cope with the shit that’s been dumped on me, live my life, and help out where I can. As far as I can tell, the only thing that keeps me out of your hands is that you don’t know who I am."

I folded my arms across my chest. "I don’t know why you asked Jade to set up this meeting. I don’t know anything about your group. I don’t know what your intentions are, or if I should trust you even if you told me. I’m not feeling a lot of government love out there for metas. Some of you guys have already tried to cart me off and dissect me, alive or not. I was lucky -- lucky! -- Jade was there for me. Nobody else was. Okay, so maybe that wasn’t you. Or maybe you’re just plan B."

Heatstroke nodded in satisfaction as he stepped back and extinguished the bright flame that had covered his form. A thin, finger-width scorched black line outlined the edges of the huge vault door on three sides, pitted and scarred by rivulets of melted steel. Part of the bottom edge still glowed cherry-red, slowly dimming as it cooled. The room was filled with an acrid smoke, uncomfortably warm.
Fifteen minutes, right on schedule.
His associate spoke. "Phase two complete. Beginning phase three. Five minutes."

The night guard at the gate of Terberon Research Corporation settled in his chair and propped his feet up on his desk, pouring the first cup of coffee of the night from his thermos. The front window of the gatehouse afforded a clear view of the road leading up to the facility, as it wound through the trees toward the brightly-lit final half-mile straightaway culminating at the gate. In the darkness, the headlights of any approaching traffic would be visible a good five minutes before it eventually arrived at his post.

The first indication he had that his facility was under attack, was the sniper's bullet exploding out of the darkness and into his brain.

The Succubus Files-3: Viva Las Vegas!

by Lynceus

Las Vegas gets a new superhero, and maybe, a new Goddess as well!

I took a deep breath. "I'm metahuman."

He shrugged at that. "I expected something of the sort, or I wouldn't have invited you in. You are... unbalanced. In here." He pointed at his chest. "What is inside you does not match the outside. Why do you think I can help?" Just a trace of impatience, a hint of master dealing with a dull student. Executed to perfection.

I lowered my eyes, studying the fine wisps of steam rising out of my cup. "I have new abilities, that I am still getting used to. Strength. Speed. I am very difficult to hurt." I raised my eyes to his. "I'm a blunt instrument. It would be very easy for me to kill a person with a single blow. I don't need anyone's help for that. It is very hard for me to not kill a person with a single blow, and that's where I hope you can help."

Ben Turner offered a half-smile. "I believe I can help. Do not strike anyone. Thank you for coming."

"Okay, let's see. Two Glock 19's? Oh, please, that's a purse gun -- two submachine guns, H&K MP5's, nice choice -- where are you guys getting these things? Assorted ammo. No explosives -- good boys -- and a bunch of zip tie handcuffs. No masks, though. Why is that?"

I looked up at the men, expectantly. I had their heads seriously messed up. It was obvious they couldn't decide whether to run, or stick it out.

Bald Guy produced a nasty-looking knife. "That's no business of yours, girlie. Don't ya know who we are?"

I pulled a few of the zip cuffs from out of the bundle. "Oh, I know you. You're a couple of the Cartel's disposable soldiers…"

Then I gave him a feral grin. "But -- you don't know who I am."