Threat Level: E

Destructiveness: E

Killability: D

---------------------------

Might: F

Survivability: E

Recovery: D

Mobility: E

Spark: D

----------------------------

Powers: Enhanced Sight and Hearing, Sonic Blasts, Durable Arms, Metabolic Regeneration, Desert Jackal’s Reflexes

Classification: Bruiser/Stalker

Danny arrived at the meeting place at thirty-five-minutes past eleven. He tried it his hardest to avoid racial stereotypes, and hated that his people were known for poor punctuality. It was mostly Indian folk that joked about their own or friends’ time management skills, and connected the issue to their ethnicity. It didn’t matter, since the suit left no patch of skin exposed, but he did it for himself.

The League heroes hadn’t arrived yet, and Danny couldn’t help but feel disappointed. He wanted a moment alone with Druid. Danny didn’t plan on disclosing his identity straight away, but wanted to share the intelligence he’d gathered with him first. Learning the truth about Vish made trusting the average League hero difficult. Danny only knew Fenrir by reputation. The hero avoided appearing in advertisements or television spots. He had built his reputation mostly through accomplishments outside of London. The fact initially impressed Danny, but Vish did the same.

The rooftop Fenrir marked on the map was mostly inconspicuous. It looked down on Holloway Road’s six lanes, and Danny often glanced up at the building when walking by. It featured a billboard with Dryad in a compromising pose. The image advertised her signature fragrance and the advertisement campaign populated most newsfeeds for months when it came out. Several pornographic sites had made parodies of it, too.

Now, most eyes avoided the billboard. Someone had defaced the almost crude photograph by painting over Dryad’s neck and coloured the background red. Crosses sat over her eyes and choice words regarding the League covered the breasts.

Danny shook his head, strolling around the billboard to its tear. As far as he knew, Dryad did nothing but good for wherever she worked. Druid vouched for her, too. Disrespecting her efforts felt juvenile and hateful for the sake of being hateful.

Much to Danny’s surprise, he wasn’t the first to arrive at the meeting place, as previously assumed. A six-foot tall figure with anime-style hair sat in the billboard’s rear supports. Danny recognised the super by their signature weapon.

A giant gauntlet covered Mista Fista’s left arm up to the elbow. The hand dwarfed his head and lines of blue and golden light ran along the forearm, back of the hand and knuckles. Light armour glowing with similar colours protected his torso and legs, too. They didn’t look too different from Danny’s chest piece, but he was sure it had a lot more tech packed into it. He wore a coat similar to Danny’s, too. Mista Fista’s boots differed greatly. They were almost as bulky as the gauntlet and metal scales covered it. Unlike Danny, Mista Fista wore a visor that covered his eyes and nose, but left his mouth and dirty-blonde hair exposed.

“I was expecting you to come up the stairs,” Mista Fista said, hopping down from his perch. His fall slowed at the last second before he touched the ground. “I’m guessing you’re the mission’s stalker.”

“I just leapt up the balconies. It’s dark, and it was quicker.”

“Not worried about cameras?”

“The CCTV watches the streets not the skies,” Danny answered before nodding at the eyes floating behind him. “They tell me nobody was watching. In fact, coming up through the building is more likely to attract attention.”

“Fair.”

Danny studied the super in front of him. He recognised the glove from the dismantled pieces in Beta’s repair workshop.

Mista Fista

Threat Level: D

Destructiveness: D

Killability: D

---------------------------

Might: C

Survivability: E

Recovery: F

Mobility: D

Spark: E

----------------------------

Powers: No one knows Mista Fista’s Fabricator speciality. His gauntlet gives him super strength and can fire concussive blasts.

The boots have propulsion and stabilisation functions.

*Suspected having Mind powers because of how he infuriates his opponents, but also could be because of his love of fisting puns.

Classification: Fabricator/Bruiser/Projector

The entry’s date suggested someone had submitted during the super’s first vigilante appearance from eight months prior. It was likely Mista Fista had added to his arsenal since then.

“What’s your code name?”

“Rev,” Danny answered.

“That’s a stupid name.”

“And Mista Fista isn’t?” Danny asked.

“Mista Fista is an amazing name! It is perhaps the best hero name that anyone has ever thought up.” He sniggered. “It’s also my gamer tag.”

“I’ve always wondered. Why only one fist? Wouldn’t two help balance your… power armour better?”

“I wouldn’t call it power and perhaps two gauntlets would be better than one,” Mista Fista answered. “But it’s not my stoile.”

“Stoile?”

“It’s like style but better. How old are you?”

“Apparently older than you.” Danny sighed.

The conversation ended when the entrance to the roof ended and a pair of mushroom men strolled in. They peeked through the doorway, studying the two supers for a second before standing aside. Then Druid stepped onto the rooftop. A knot formed in Danny’s stomach as he saw his oldest friend. Dark circles marked Druid’s face and an ugly scar ran from above his left eye along the side of his part-shaved head. Long fiery red hair sat in a top knot above his head.

Instead of a shotgun, he carried his weapon in its usual staff form. Danny wondered for a moment why Druid had never told him about the weapon’s true form, origin, or shape while they were younger. They’d been close friends for the longest time and shared countless secrets. However, Druid had left magic out of their conversations.

He must’ve been scared.

It took every ounce of self-control Danny had not to approach the hero and start a conversation. There was too much he wanted to discuss. However, given the circumstances, he’d need to approach the conversation with tact and delicacy. Given everything he had discovered regarding the League and the heroes, the conversation would require correct timing as well.

Before Danny could make up his mind about what to do, Druid approached him. The hero didn’t get the chance to start a conversation. A spectral wolf last landed between them, cracking the concrete between them. The impact cracked the concrete under the horse-sized canine and made Danny almost jump out of his skin. He hopped backwards, falling into a defensive stance.

“I’d think our Stalker would see me coming,” Fenrir said. His mount faded out of existence as soon as his feet touched the ground. Danny looked up his entry in the database, wondering why his eyes hadn’t detected the hero’s approach.

Fenrir

Threat Level: C

Destructiveness: C

Killability: D

---------------------------

Might: C

Survivability: D

Recovery: D

Mobility: C

Spark: D

----------------------------

Powers: Can summon spectral wolves to fight for him. He mounts them to move around battlefields swiftly, and can summon parts of them over body parts to increase strength and defence. He has a minor healing factor, but its parameters are unknown.

Classification: Master/Bruiser

The page said nothing about Stalker-type powers which let Fenrir move around without making any sound or using camouflage.

“I suppose I’m not as good a Stalker as I thought,” Danny said.

“Don’t beat yourself up, Rev,” Fenrir replied. “I’ve been at this long enough to know my way around sensory powers. So, is everyone here?” He glanced at Druid before looking Mista Fista up and down. Danny’s hands picked up a soft rumble from inside Fenrir’s head and he found it unnerving how the hero’s mouth didn’t move when he spoke. “Good. Please tell me both of you have studied the data packets I sent you.”

“Fisting people doesn’t require data packets—”

“I want none of that during this operation.” A soft growl emanated from Fenrir’s throat. “You will go over the data packet after this meeting, or I’ll ask your agency to remove you from this mission. Given your record, that might not fare well for you.”

“Yes, sir—”

“It’s Fenrir. You’re dealing with the League now. You will call me Fenrir.”

Mista Fista nodded, backpedalling from the towering super. Danny was ready when Fenrir turned his attention to him.

“I’ve read through the data packet and sent one of my own with intelligence I’ve gathered regarding Power Merchant and the Freaks—”

“Why haven’t I seen this?” Fenrir asked, turning to Druid.

“It’s nothing we don’t already know,” Druid said. He tore his eyes away from Danny and Mista Fista for the first time since arriving on the rooftop and swiped at the air. “Our final assets are ready to meet us as well. Should I tell them to meet us now?”

Fenrir nodded, and Druid excused himself to a corner of the roof. Danny tried listening in on the conversation, but a rumble in the wolf's head interfered with his hearing.

“Mista Fista, you’ll mostly be working with me.” Fenrir raised a hand before the young Fabricator could speak up. “No. You won’t be fisting anything for now. I need your expertise to track Power Merchant and his henchmen around Islington. Given your hacking expertise, we’ll be accessing CCTV and civilian cameras to track their movements. Finding their base and recovering their equipment is our primary objective.”

“What about the prisoners?” Danny asked. “Power Merchant has children and powerless civilians—”

“That is our secondary objective,” Fenrir replied. “The League demands we secure the power granting technologies and methods first.”

“But—”

“I understand your concerns, Rev, but you need to look at the bigger picture. If Power Merchant’s technology or methods aren’t controlled, someone else will take over once we take him down. They could have the means for larger operations who can abduct more people. The gangs and villains he’s powering are causing irreparable damage. Imagine what could happen to London if more unsavoury characters gained powers or methods to enhance their abilities. No one said walking the hero’s path is an easy one.”

Danny nodded, looking into Fenrir’s wolf-like eyes.

“Given your unique collection of powers, you’re going to assist in the mission’s more hands-on approach.” Fenrir continued. “Druid’s orders involve approaching gangs and attempting dialogue to extract information. You will use your sensory abilities to investigate their hideouts and look for whatever they don’t reveal to us. If things go sideways, you’ll provide back-up. I want to reiterate, though. Fighting the gangs is a last resort. We can’t afford to start a war against them unless the League grants us more resources. Our purpose will get out and Power Merchant will either focus more on covering his tracks or gear himself against us.”

“Why isn’t the League assigning us more resources if Power Merchant is big enough a threat to assign you to the job?” Danny asked.

“It’s because we live in North-East London, mate,” Mista Fista said. “They’d rather send the heroes where the money is. Containment is their primary concern here.”

“That’s not completely false,” Fenrir said much to Danny’s surprise. “It’s worth noting, though, money attracts a greater class of villain. Given the needs around the country and the rest of Europe, the League is stretched thin. Containment is the most we can afford. Otherwise we wouldn’t need the asset programme. You’d be in juvenile detention, and Rev would need to apply to the League in a more traditional manner.”

He isn’t as big a dick as I expected.

Mista Fista tested the waters with Fenrir a while longer. Danny guessed the young super had never worked a job before and therefore not dealt with a stern boss. While the two continued to converse, Danny’s eyes drifted to his old friend standing on the roof’s edge. The usually talkative hero kept silent. His eyes drifted between the two assets and the streets.

When Druid stiffened, a shiver ran down Danny’s spine. His eyes nervously shifted between the streets and the assets. Hoping to overwhelm Fenrir’s constant growl, Danny let his left arm pulse with an almost silent hum. He kept the palm pressed to his leg, sending the vibrations through the limb into the ground. It wasn’t as effective, but he still sensed movement. The floating eyes detected movement in the shadows.

One figure crawled up the building’s alley facing side. Another approached along the rooftops, crossing the gaps between structures with powerful leaps. The late evening light made it impossible to see more than silhouettes, but Danny recognised the latter’s armour—or parts of it.

Suddenly, Fenrir and Druid’s information source made sense. They didn’t need information regarding the Freaks, because the heroes were working with them.