Knight Warden/The Price Of Heroism

Since gaining his hero license in 2019, Morgan Denvers had been working alongside experienced heroes and law enforcement in order to better develop his skills and become more confident in his abilities. A larger part of this had been his time shadowing Detective Elaine Winterby of the PPD.

The following is a collection of relevant stories, in chronological order of the events of this story.

Questions, post-Halloween Rave

Pendragon Lane, Founder’s Falls Suburbs

Since the destruction of Eastgate, it was hard not to say that Founder’s Falls had become the richest part of town, at least in appearance. Home to Paragon’s esteemed Yacht Club, it was also a hub for learning and a key point of tourism, even if this would be one of the core places for the Rikti and Circle to crawl out of the sewers while the Devouring Earth clambered out from Eden.

Tucked away behind some hills south of Talos Island and west of Founders Falls dwelled a small section of suburbia that, were it not for its own set of War Walls, would have a perfect view of the bay. A few hundred homes designed with the mid 2000s style, cookie cutter projects built with haste after the invasion in 2004 wiped out much of the neighbourhood; each two story detached house an exact duplicate of its brothers and sisters within that lane, only the most basic of variations present within the neighbourhood.

Morgan sat on a stool in the kitchen of his home, hands clasped together, eyes cast down to the counter as he sat across from a pair of people he had always worried he would fail to live up to the standards of: his parents. His mother, Sarah Denvers, stood straight, arms folded, face cast in a frown. She was a prolific author and, having grown up in a strict household in Dublin, couldn’t help but share those same ideas on parenting. Her long, raven black hair brushed back and tied into a tight ponytail, she scrutinised her son for every indication of body language. A tablet on the counter next to her had been open to a page of the Tales of Talos news website, the headline reading “Rave Becomes Warehouse Disaster.”

His father, Andrew, a broad shouldered man with square features and fiery red hair that never seemed to relent to any kind of brush or comb sat on another stool next to his wife as he sipped his coffee. He’d opted to let Sarah do most of the talking, as she always seemed to be the more proactive of the two. It was him that had moved the family from Ireland to Paragon after a job opening for a fire fighter became available. Morgan was born shortly after and Andrew had worked his way up to the role of chief of his local precinct.

“Morgan,” Sarah began again, “I feel the need to ask, what were you thinking? You’re sixteen! You can’t be going to a rave like that!”

“I... I know mom, I’m sorry...” the boy could only mumble. He knew his parents weren’t exactly stupid, and since he was registered with the FBSA, the two of them had been watching the news constantly, keeping an eye for any mention of the Knight Warden.

“So you should be,” his mother continued, “no wonder it went arseways, the thing was run by the Warriors. You remember the Warriors, right?”

“Y-yeah...” Morgan shifted uncomfortably in his seat as he prepared some kind of defence, “b-but I didn’t exactly know it was a Warriors party until an hour before we went...”

“That still gave you the chance to turn it down,” Sarah countered, “that is a thing you can do, ya know.”

“Y-yeah...” his shoulders slumped,

“Indestructible you may be, but they can still cart your arse to jail if they have to,” his mother’s elaboration twisted the knot in Morgan’s stomach tighter, “so, tell me, why’d ya go?”

“Uh... w-well... concern, actually...” he explained, “I didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings and, w-well... if I was there I could try and stop things from hurting people, m-maybe... Terri felt the same way.” Sarah sighed and shook her head,

“Christ on a bike, Morgan,” she started, “I know ye haven’t had many friends, but if they all decided to jump of a bridge, you shouldn’t be eager to do the same, would you?”

“Still,” interjected Andrew, “it was good of you to keep an eye out for them. It’s an awful good thing the news sees it the same way.” Morgan finally looked up from the counter to his parents, more surprised than anything.

“The news?”

Sarah scooped up the tablet from the counter, scrolling down to a section of the article.

“’While Sunstorm and noted members of the PPD arrived on the scene to apprehend criminals, eye witness reports state that up and coming hero the Knight Warden was on the scene fighting the amorphous monsters alongside Warriors, Freakshow and other, currently unidentified metahumans,’” she read, before turning the tablet to show Morgan a blurry, cellphone picture of Knight Warden throwing an off balance punch at the oozing creature before him, the background a mix of rave painted Warriors and other Hydra creatures under the filter of UV lights.

“...Oh...” was all he could manage. His idea of ducking away to change into costume to maintain his secret identity from the general public had suddenly backfired. All it did was give hard evidence that he was in the area, while the store bought vampire costume had a hood, and could let him remain at least somewhat anonymous. He could only be thankful none of the other students were positively ID’d alongside him, at least for now.

“Imagine if they took a picture of something else,” Sarah stated, putting the tablet down, “Your secret could be blown and you could have been arrested.”

“Y-yeah...” he said, his voice sounding somewhat hoarse as he looked back to the counter, another anxiety to throw on the pile. Andrew raised an eyebrow as he looked to his son inquisitively. Clearly, something else was going on.

“I get the feeling you’re not telling us the whole story,” he began. He paused to let Morgan interject with something, but when all he got was silence, he continued his role as good cop, “you know you can tell us anything.” Morgan said nothing, only giving a bit of a nod. Sarah, picking up on the cue, took it in her own direction.

“Morgan, love,” she started, loosening her stance to be less confrontational, “you’re... not on drugs, right?”

The question caused the young hero to look up quickly, a fear that his parents thought he was a drug user screamed to the forefront of his mind.

“What!? N-no! I don’t... I...” he calmed. They were right, of course. He trusted them with his secret identity, he told them everything that he would do at school within reason, he might as well tell them this.

“Then what’s the matter?” Sarah probed. Morgan heaved a sigh and took the plunge.

“Th-there’s this girl, at school, and I, um...”

There was a pause as he tried to find the right words to elaborate, but his thought process was cut short as his father burst out with a loud, baritone laugh, the man putting down his coffee mug as he started to double over, wife glaring at him as he did.

“Andrew!” she snarled.

“Heh, faith and begorrah, Morgan,” his father said between gasps of air, “you had us scared to death there. Well, come on then, out with it, who is she?”

Knight Warden: Addicted

The Gimry, Steel Canyon, 4:07pm, November 10th

Today was a complicated day.

Due to a recent series of reassignments and too wide a variety of cases, Detective Elaine Winterby was, as of one month ago, the only detective in the Bronze Way precinct assigned to the Superadine cases. She was working the case as part of a trio of detectives, but a lack of meaningful headway, as well as fallout from the Metallix Incident almost a year ago had meant the other two were made to look into some other cases within their jurisdiction in Steel Canyon. While stressful, this wouldn’t be a problem most days; the labs they had been finding were always abandoned by the time they got there, and had been cleared out long enough that forensics couldn’t find anything due to the perps cleaning the scene, so there was no active danger for her or the officers that came along with her. The dens were no better, with the only people there being users who were too late to pick up their fix. They remained tight-lipped through the whole endeavour, surprisingly so. Previous experience with the Skullz and Trolls meant that this didn’t strictly fit their MO, but you could never rule it out.

However, what made today specifically complicated were two things.

The first was the cape. A long while ago, in an effort to up funding and public appeal, Bronze Way’s captain, Alex Munroe had accepted a suggestion from the FBSA to have younger, inexperienced heroes tag along with police investigations to understand more aspects of the law. It wasn’t that the PPD and local superheroes had a strained relationship, mind; the incident in Talos Island some time ago was more to do with the availability of Mediporters than anything else. Rather, it was just that the abundance of super powers and mass appeal behind the brand, so to speak, often made it feel like the PPD weren’t always recognised for their efforts. That, and the ‘brand’ meant that heroes would have a personality to go with their general theme, more or less like a celebrity, and that lead to clashes in ideology more often than anyone could like; too many loose cannons who were a little too close to literal cannons than anyone on the force could be comfortable with.

Knight Warden was not the assignment anyone in the squad expected, however. As it turns out, the hero that was assigned to the precinct for work experience was a fifteen year old flying brick with major self-confidence issues. Invulnerable, strong, fast, and not truly willing to put any of it to use, which, the more Winterby thought about it, was almost a blessing. Better to have the limiters on and take forever to turn it up than to start big and then learn restraint while among the rubble, she thought. About a year ago, the Metallix incident meant Knight Warden was reassigned; given the influence on technology the praetorian-born entity had, it played major havoc with the Hard Shells, and he just happened to be their best replacement. Since then, Winterby continued her investigation, lost most of her team due to reassignments and was largely operating alone until Knight Warden had come back a couple weeks ago, eager to continue his aid with a bit more self-confidence than before. He mentioned being transferred to a new school, making some new friends and learning more about his abilities.

He daydreamed a bit more as well, his body language being sheepish and embarrassed whenever he was brought out of it, saying he was worried about something. Great, she thought, either he’s not having the best time at school, or he’s got a girlfriend. Either way, it was a distraction she’d rather do without.

Of course, even this wasn’t the biggest complication of the day.

That was the fact that this time, they had gotten to the scene early.

The building, a squat industrial office of brick, sat behind a group of newer buildings, hidden away from the bustling streets of Steel Canyon like a blemish the city was ashamed of. Two floors tall and weathered by years of misuse, little light seemed to escape the building, whatever windows that weren’t boarded up being smashed through. The quiet rumble of activity could be heard inside, interrupted with the occasional shout.

Winterby used the cover in the alleyway to move right up to the open front door. She noted with some interest that there wasn’t even a single guard outside the door itself. Back against the darkened brick, she took the pistol from the holster on her belt and peered around the corner. Her current partner in this investigation, the young hero Knight Warden, was positioned nearby, a little ways out of sight given his costume didn’t suit for matters of stealth. Winterby had been given an anonymous tip earlier that day that some suspicious looking people were creeping into an alleyway. It was normally the duty of a patrolling officer to check out, but she played a hunch, and it seemed to pay off.

Inside she could see a small line of individuals, backs to the door. The way they were dressed suggested they only barely managed the effort. They stood and waited, the fact seeming to agitate them as they looked over their shoulder, at the walls, never in one direction for too long as they busied their hands by scratching themselves or pulling on their clothes. Winterby grimaced; customers, she thought.

The small line was being tended to by two men in black clothing, though certainly not of the Skulls variety, just dark and expensive looking street clothes. Winterby locked her gaze on something that one of the two carried; it was a rifle, but not of a design she’d seen before. The size suggested something of a far heavier calibre than the budget of a regular gangbanger could accommodate, and it was covered in panels and blinking lights. Given the capabilities of certain folks within the city, she elected to expect the worst and assumed it was an energy weapon of some description. The other man, whose choice of clothes seemed a lot tighter than his smaller companion’s, was handling the potential buyers and appeared unarmed.

She hesitated. She didn’t have the confidence to send the kid in by himself, not so much for his own safety but for the safety of those who were there for their fix of ‘dyne. Similarly, if she went in, she might be cut down by whatever that one guy was packing, and they’d get away while Knight Warden was alone and rudderless. They needed to go in together, but how?

“Dispatch, this is Detective Winterby, we have a situation at Fourth and Crescent. Need backup, over,” she muttered into her radio, turning the dial down to a whisper as they responded saying that officers would be on the scene in a few minutes.

It was only a moment. They just had to wait a little longer, and then they could catch the dealers in the act. It was merely a pity that things couldn’t always work out that way.

Mere moments after closing off her connection to dispatch, Winterby heard a voice coming from inside. Peering in, a third man, much less intimidating than the others, appeared around the corner. He tossed the first customer in line a ziplock bag full of some thin, plastic cylinders and turned his attention to the other two goons. Loud, obnoxious music was blasting from the poor quality speakers on his phone, which he held in his other hand.

“Boss says we need to move out. No new people, just give these guys the stuff and we go,” his order was all he said before turning around to move back into the building.

The detective frowned. Now she was on a time limit, and chances are, by the time the rest of the force got here these guys would have cleared out. She had to act fast, just to get at least one of these guys in an interrogation room. After a few moments, she listened to her gut and formulated a plan. The guys in the front didn’t look like they were too smart, and as such, could probably be convinced to move away from the civilians. Looking up to Knight Warden, who was watching her like a hawk for any kind of signal, Winterby used a series of hand gestures to indicate that there were two of them inside, one was armed, and when ready he was to take the weapon from the guy. It took him a moment, but the young hero gave a nod, and primed himself to move in. The detective had to hope he understood what she meant, before taking in a deep breath and slamming her foot against the door, remaining hidden around the corner.

Inside, the congregation turned to regard the loud noise. The two thugs turned to each other, and after a brief, hushed discussion, the one with the rifle crept towards the door. With a flip of a switch on the side of the device, the weapon let out a high-pitched electronic whine, the wielder already placing a finger on the trigger. Winterby calmed herself, reaffirmed the grip on her pistol and remained hidden.

Listening to the footsteps, the crunch of rubble under heavy boots, felt like it took far too long. Her mind raced with contingencies in case the kid couldn’t manage direct combat, how to handle an opponent with a powerful energy weapon, who the priorities belonged to. Her gaze was fixed squarely on the open doorway, watching as moments later, the raised barrel of the rifle came into view.

Then, from out of the corner of her vision came her backup. Knight Warden flew down, boots impacting with the concrete as his hand came down, grasping on to the panels of the rifle. As his grip tightened, the hard alloy bent and faltered like cardboard, and with a swift yank, the thug was disarmed, the electronic rifle sparking and hissing in protest. Taking her opportunity, Winterby placed a hand on the thug’s shoulder, guiding him down to better land a knee to his midsection. With a wheeze he fell, and without missing a moment, the detective grasped one of his arms and put him in a practiced hold.

“Hey!” called the other from inside, moving forwards to aid his comrade. Winterby looked to the young hero who was already in motion, placing himself between the oncoming threat and her. The thug raised both his bare fists as he bore down on the armoured hero, and after rolling one shoulder, pulled back his arm to deliver a right hook with as much force as he could muster. The strike made contact with the metal cheek guard of the Knight Warden’s helmet, ringing out with a loud pang and sickening crunch. The thug pulled back, grasping his right wrist and crying out in pain. It seemed that he hadn’t anticipated how durable the kid was. After the briefest of pauses, the Knight Warden reached forwards, placing both hands on his opponent’s left shoulder and pushed him to the side. As if he weighed nothing, the brawny man tumbled into the nearby wall, slamming hard into the brickwork and sliding to the ground, dazed. Without missing a beat, the hero turned to the would-be buyers and gestured to the door.

“G-get outside where it’s safe!” he said, the stammering, tenor voice not matching the costume at all.

Still, this didn’t hamper the weight of the command, and the people scrambled to their feet and made their way out in a less than organised fashion. While this occurred, Winterby had busied herself with handcuffing the two thugs while reading their Miranda Rights in the professional monotone hammered into her head back at the academy. Propping them up next to the door, she took stock of the situation. There were at least one more of these guys in the building, possibly two, and still some time before the rest of the precinct would arrive with enough people to contain the place.

Winterby thought back to the third guy who had come in earlier. He implied having some connection to whoever was running this place, and was clearly carrying a phone. Phone records could point in the right direction if this is a much larger operation, and the guy himself might be a much more valuable repository of information than the two designated to tend to customers. Venturing further ahead to peer around the corner, the detective saw a set of stairs going up to the second floor. She sighed, realising that unless the guys at the door were dragged along, the two of them would still have to split up. She certainly didn’t like the idea, since if one of these guys had an energy weapon, there was no telling what the other guy had, if anything.

She turned her attention to Knight Warden, who stood by the two captured thugs and looked back at her, awaiting orders.

“You OK?” Winterby asked, turning her attention to the stairs ahead.

“Y-yeah. What do we do?” His voice was shaky. Despite the length of time he had been doing this, the kid still seemed apprehensive at these more active crime scenes.

“There’s another guy upstairs. I’m going to need you to keep an eye on these two for now, but come up when I shout, ok?” her order was responded to with a nod. Plan confirmed, the detective made her way upstairs.

Thankfully, despite the age and misuse, it seemed that the building was still structurally sound. The stairs were made of concrete rather than wood, which let Winterby creep up with nary a sound. The smell of dust and damp began to mix with another scent that she had come to know while on these investigations, being the pungent scent of Superadine. She could still hear the obnoxious music being played up ahead, and upon reaching the top of the stairs followed it to a large room at the head of the hallway, something that looked like it used to be a break room of some kind.

Inside there was a single table with a pair of cardboard boxes, one of which Winterby’s quarry was loading more of these bags filled with the plastic vials. He bobbed his head to the music, clearly oblivious to the confrontation downstairs. There were no other exits from the room, bar a window that led to an all too thin alley.

Perfect.

She wheeled around the corner, pistol raised.

“PPD, freeze!”

The guy looked up, eyes wide. He raised his hands, though the phone that was playing the music was still firmly grasped in his right hand, an ampoule in his left.

“Hey, be cool man! Be cool!”

The detective began to move into the room, keeping the pistol trained on the ganger’s centre mass.

“Drop it,” she ordered, “no funny business.”

The growing panic in the guy was tangible. He subconsciously shuffled backward while the detective moved closer, his gaze glancing to the ampoule in his hand and the door that the detective had come through. With only a few feet between him and his captor, his fear overtook him, and in a panic, his grip tightened on the ampoule and he sharply brought it down, jabbing it into his own leg.

Reacting quickly, Winterby moved her aim to the left shoulder and pulled the trigger, bullet impacting the man, who toppled backwards to the nearby wall. The detective moved forward to get to the wounded man, holstering her pistol and preparing a set of handcuffs.

As she got closer, she noticed a change, perhaps a little too late. At a glimpse, she noticed the man’s skin take on a sickly green tint, and a rapid succession of sickening strains and snaps could be heard throughout his body. Winterby had but a moment to pull backwards, narrowly avoiding the guy’s arm as it swung in a wide, clumsy arc, the brickwork of the wall as it made impact cracking.

Winterby tumbled back, already going for the pistol again. Even for Superadine, that was way too fast, almost instant. Most ‘dyne users didn’t even turn green until after they were going overboard with the stuff. This batch was new and frightening. She had to hope that it wasn’t the uncut stuff some Trolls used in Skyway. There was no time for speculation now, however, what was needed was distance. The detective retrieved the pistol, hurrying back to let her get through the door at a moment’s notice.

Through the door, Knight Warden appeared, rushing to Winterby’s side.

“Wh-what’s going on?” he asked, though he got his answer soon enough. The dealer pushed himself fully to his feet, righting himself and removing his hand from the bullet wound, hand and phone coated in blood. After but a moment to slip his phone into his pocket, he took a step forward, grabbing the table in front of him and hurling it at the two with little effort.

Knight Warden moved, crossing his arms in front of his face and shielding the detective, the table exploding into wooden and plastic shards, the boxes spilling out by their feet with a clatter. The dealer used the opportunity to make a break for it, tearing past the two of them with a quickness that matched his newfound strength.

Recovering from the shock of the attack, both detective and hero made their way outside, Knight Warden taking to the air the moment he arrived outside the building. Winterby was close behind, only throwing a cursory glance to see if the two from before were still apprehended, which they thankfully were. She cursed herself as she ran. Of course this had to happen, of course the dealers would try to use it to let them escape. It was no matter now though, what was important was getting to the guy before he got too far.

She turned a corner, seeing the view on to the busy streets of Steel Canyon, the crowds of people before her.

“Shit,” she whispered, slowing her pace. Steel Canyon always had some high levels of traffic, both on foot and in cars. She lost sight of him before he got into the crowd, most of which had seemingly stopped before the entrance to the alleyway as they looked up at something. Looking up, she saw, hovering above the street, stock still was Knight Warden. He had his back to her, but he floated there, not moving an inch.

“Hey, kid!” she called, only to get no response. Was he ignoring her? Frowning, she was about to call out to him again, only for his body to twist sharply in the air and surge forwards at an alarming pace, vanishing from view as he flew down the road. The detective sighed, reaching for her radio.

“Dispatch, I need an APB on a Caucasian male, roughly five ten, black clothes, last seen fleeing the scene on fourth and crescent, suspect is empowered and highly dange-”

The command was interrupted as she heard the grunts and snarls of someone from above her, a stream of frustrated vitriol boosted by power-granting narcotics and backed by loud, obnoxious music. She looked up and descending from on high was the Knight Warden. He had his arms wrapped around the dealer, fingers locked together. The dealer struggled all he could, shouting and swearing as he tried his best to escape, but even with the enhanced strength he now possessed, it wasn’t enough to break the kid’s grip.

“....Cancel that dispatch. Suspect has been caught. Need further backup on fourth and crescent, over.”

Winterby holstered the pistol, looking up to the two with a raised brow and a grin that couldn’t exactly hide a level of pride.

“How’d you find him?”

“A-a friend has been helping me with my hearing,” Knight Warden explained, though he had to shout a bit to be heard over his captive’s profanities, “T-took me a while to kinda pick him out from the crowd, but it helped that he had the phone with him.”

“I’m impressed. Where’d you learn the hold?” She asked. The sound of sirens could be heard in the distance, approaching rapidly, and the detective felt a notable amount of tension leave her. The crowd from before had suddenly taken notice of the two, who had been in the alley way’s entrance in plain view, and as most would do in this modern age, had taken to watching and recording the incident on their phones.

“Uh... j-just guessed, honestly,” the teen explained, “I came up behind him and knew I wanted to keep his arms tight, s-so I thought this would work best.”

Winterby gave a nod and a thumbs up.

“Well, good work. It’s good to have you on this one.”

After the adrenaline high that was the investigation, the wind down that came after felt like an eternity, though it was one that Winterby could easily welcome. A squad of officers, as well as Sergeant Rooker, the precinct’s resident Psi-Cop, had come in droves, setting to work on containing the scene. Rooker pacified the dealer, lulling him into a stupor long enough for them to slap a power dampener on and let Knight Warden release him, lest the poor kid have to carry the perp until the Superadine wore off. The other two thugs who had been guarding the door were escorted to separate police vehicles and carted away, leaving only the matter of crowd control and cordoning off the crime scene.

Winterby spent a long amount of time briefing everyone important about the situation, checking in with each officer there to make sure that everything was in order. It was after a moment of time that she found Knight Warden standing off to one side, away from the crowds who had stuck around to see what they could. He was staring at the emergency vehicles, EMTs and officers alike tending to a quintet of poorly dressed and scared looking people, one of whom was being talked into relinquishing a newly acquired ziplock bag. The detective walked next to the teen.

“You OK?” She asked.

“Are they going to be OK?” he responded, quietly. Winterby looked to the congregation, a sight that the hero’s fiery gaze hadn’t left since.

“I can’t say for sure,” she said, shifting her weight, “superadine’s a hard drug. Hopefully they’ll get back on their feet during rehab, but it’ll take some time. What we’re doing is getting it off the streets so that this sort of thing doesn’t happen, but it’s an uphill battle.”

“...Right...” Knight Warden’s response didn’t sound especially convinced. The detective sighed a little, placing a hand on the hero’s shoulder, a light ting sounding as her wedding band hit the heavy metal plating.

“Fighting this stuff comes from a lot of different angles, kid,” she mentioned, “trust me, I get it, it’d be easier if all this stuff was something that would be fixed the moment we put someone behind bars, but it’s not. There are a lot of things that need to be changed everywhere, and people need to be convinced of that.”

The comment caused the hero to turn and look up to the detective, who tried her best reassuring smile.

“What’ll make the difference is people like you inspiring others to make the system better,” she explained, “because when that happens, stuff like this will happen less and less.”

The hero paused a bit, his gaze returning to the group of people, still being calmed by the EMTs present. After a moment, he gave a small nod.

“R-right...” he murmured. Winterby gave him a nudge on the shoulder.

“You’ve got this,” she said, “now, I’ve gotta get back to it. Stop by the precinct later on, we’ve got a bunch of paperwork to fill out. You did good work today, I think we’re finally going to make some major progress on this one.”

She gave one last smile to him before she made her way to speak one last time to Rooker. She needed to go over the place, one last sweep to be sure it was secured and what they had to inspect next.

Knight Warden stood in silence for a moment, ruminating on what he was just told, a swirling series of uncertainties that sat in his mind. After a few moments of hesitation, he slowly made his way over to the group. As one of the addicts caught sight of him, they recoiled lightly, though it was to be expected, given Knight Warden’s aesthetic. Stopping short a few feet away, the young hero clasped his hands together, doing his best to make his body language seem as non-threatening as possible.

“H-hello,” he began, softly, “I’m the Knight Warden. I’m sorry for the commotion. I-I know you’ve been through a lot these last few minutes, but would you like some company while all of this is being sorted out?”

The Big Break

Bronze Way Precinct, Steel Canyon, 6:03pm November 30th

“You’ve been busy.”

Winterby’s comment brought the young hero out of a stupor. Knight Warden had been staring at the clipboard in his hands for a while, the filled in report having remained unchanged for the whole time, though his thoughts were elsewhere.

The detective held in her hands two cups of coffee, standing next to the desk where he sat, eyebrow raised. They were at one of the desks in the open-plan room of the precinct, other officers and detectives moving about as much as they can to tend to work.

“E-excuse me?” he asked.

“I’ve been hearing about the stuff you’ve been up to the other day, good work,” she explained, sitting down at the opposite side of the desk. She didn’t offer either of the cups to the young hero, a yawn she didn’t even attempt to conceal being evidence enough they were both for her.

“Oh, uh, thank you, Detective,” Knight Warden noted. He put the clipboard down and sighed quietly.

“Something on your mind?” she asked. The young hero shook his head.

“Yes, but not something I can get into,” he said, there being something of a sad note to his response. Winterby took a sip of her first coffee and gave a nod.

“If you say so,” she replied, looking over some of the stacks of reports to her side. Work to be done later, of course. She turned her attention to the hero before her and allowed her lips to curl into a grin.

“So, something interesting came up recently,” she continued. She leaned forwards on the desk, as if to keep it a hushed secret, despite the high traffic of the room, “you know that den we busted a few days ago?”

Knight Warden gave a nod, sitting a little straighter as the question caught his attention.

“Well, the commish has seen it as a potential problem that needs eliminating now. New, more dangerous Superadine? New tech? Can’t be good, right?” Winterby explained, “he wants a Task Force started, and he’s put me to lead it.”

“Oh, uh, congratulations Detective,” the hero stated, offering a thumbs up.

“Thank you. Honestly, this feels like a really big amount of progress, but,” the detective held up a finger, “it’s going to need some major work, right? Some heavy hitters? You up for it?” There was a pause as the young hero considered it.

“You sure you need me?” he asked. The detective gave a nod.

“As big as this development is, drug busts of this nature are usually dolled out by the FBSA to inexperienced heroes. That, and you’re kind of my good luck charm by this point; you were the one to help find the break in this case, after all,” she leaned back in her seat, taking another sip of her coffee. There was another pause as Knight Warden thought it over, but he gave a nod.

“I’ll do my best.”

“That’s the spirit. And uh, hey, you have friends right? You think they need work experience too?” she asked. This got a more immediate response, the young hero giving a more enthusiastic nod.

“Y-yeah! I mean, I don’t know if they need the experience, but they’d be happy to help out,” he explained. The detective gave a wry smile.

“Well, if they’re as good as you say they are, we’ll knock this out of the park. I’ll speak to the Captain later today, see if he can’t send an email to your school. In the mean time,” she placed a hand on the stack of unfinished reports next to her, “we’ve got some boring stuff to do.”

The Detective Winterby Task Force

A Task Force has been created and is playable through Architect Entertainment. Labelled Detective WInterby Task Force parts 1 and 2, it is a total of 8 missions in which players will take on the Family as they help Winterby take down a major drug operation.

The Task Force comes with a souvenir badge, which reads the following:

Winterby's Compadre Badge

This badge, a small metal rectangle has a fairly plain design. On a silver canvas is a golden star, the badge bordered by a pair of golden wings.

This badge is one given to you by Detective Elaine Winterby of the Paragon Police Department after you joined her as Task Force Trafalgar.

"If you're ever looking for work experience, the PPD would be happy to have you."

It reminds you of a story you call...

The Newest Addiction

Detective Winterby, a mentor of Knight Warden's, requested aid from the AoH in the completion of a Task Force to take down a worrying new drug that's on the streets of Steel Canyon.

After forming up, you quickly dismantled a drug den, quickly finding out that these well equiped thugs were being backed by members of the Family.

With this information in mind, Winterby had you look for clues the old fashioned way, interrogating Family goons until one of them told you of a warehouse or two nearby that might have something to do with the operation. Checking it out, you found more 'dyne and papers detailing the building belonging to 'Laud Solutions.'

Winterby told you that the Family's new 'dyne variations are just being made cheaply but in wider, more dangerous varieties. Additionally, after checking with some contacts, Laud shipments all seem to congregate around one key building, and that it might be worth checking.

Once there, you find the place to be a 'dyne lab. After a brief interruption by the Tsoo who were attacking the warehouse, you find what you believed to be a Supa Troll, who launched at you with a feral fury.

Defeating the troll and locking down the scene, Winterby congratulated you on a job well done and confers with some contacts about what to do next, eventually telling you to head to Laud Solution's head office to investigate the company.

What you found was an empty warehouse, which turned out to be a trap as Family hitmen stormed the building to kill you! Fighting them off, you speak with Winterby with what little information you had and tells you of an off shore shipment coming in via freighter, and you're sent to secure it to gain further evidence.

Returning, Winterby works with you to piece together the remaining evidence, that the operation is likely being run by Giarnelli enforcer and chemist Luciano De Mallo. With a warrant to search his home, you head inside to find the place already under attack by the Tsoo and Luciano having fled!

After finding data on his next project, and security footage, you deduce with Winterby where he had fled to, and pursue him.

Following him to a warehouse, you confront Luciano, who briefly escapes to use the new Blitz super drug on himself. After a hard fight, however, you bring him low.

With Luciano behind bars, Winterby congratulated you on a job well don. Truly, Paragon had been made safer.

News Report, December 5th 2020

Welcome to the Paragon City News, I’m your anchor, Felicity Scarborough.

A noted member of the Family organised crime group, Luciano De Mallo, has been arrested as the result of a joint task force between heroes and members of the Paragon Police Department. De Mallo, in addition to a large number of his associates had been heading a large scale drug operation within Steel Canyon. Detective Elaine Winterby of the PPD lead the task force, with assistance from several newer heroes from the Academy of Heroes.

“This win has been a long time coming. I’m proud to say that a dangerous threat to our streets has been taken out of the equation, and it was thanks to the co-operation of these young heroes that all of this was finally accomplished. It was handled beautifully, and it’s exciting to see so many young supers want to do good. I believe I speak on behalf of every officer in my precinct when I say we’d welcome more of this kind of co-operation in the future.”

Luciano De Mallo, known among others in the Family as ‘Lucky Luci’ has been found on the wrong side of the law before, but has never been found guilty of any crime he’s been arrested for. De Mallo, in addition to another associate, is being kept under close watch due to the nature of their final confrontation with the Academy of Heroes. Reportedly, this is due to their use of an experimental super serum, which has had a detrimental effect on their physical bodies, and may require extensive medical treatment. Captain Alex Munroe believes that this is proof of their step in the right direction.

“I know sometimes things between the PPD and the heroes of paragon can get a little strained. There’s a lot of problems in every direction that need to be fixed. This, I feel is a good step in the right direction. With heroes and the PPD working this closely together, we have a real victory over some of the more insidious aspects of organised crime.”

Damien Morton, CEO of Invoked Inc, commented that there was still healing to be done.

“Blackspire will be more than happy to accept mr. De Mallo and his associates as they serve their sentences. In light of the nature of their crimes, Invoked Inc. will help back a number of foundations dedicated to helping those afflicted with an addiction to Superadine and similar drugs. The monster might be defeated, but the people he hurt still need help.”

Over the past year, reported drug use in Steel Canyon had been rising, with most cases being linked in some way to Superadine.

De Mallo’s lawyers could not be reached for comment at this time.

Detective Winterby's Personal Story

Bronze Way, Steel Canyon, December 27th, 10:41pm

It wasn’t often that things were quiet in a PPD precinct. Even with heroes working around the clock to stop crime, it didn’t mean most of the PPD had turned into desk jockeys. While the officers were out on their beats and detectives worked on their cases, the precinct was typically an ever active hub for work.

Winterby surrendered to a yawn as she scoured over the text on the computer screen before her, the last report to be filed relating to Neo ‘Dyne and the Family’s involvement. A total of two hundred and sixty seven arrests had been made, twelve tons of illegal substances, a further twenty tons of counterfeit electronics and black market cybernetics, and the acquisition of close to twenty commercial buildings and two freighters. She did not envy the judicial system for this particular workload, and she was glad to see the end of it. The FBI had come calling at least twice to read over the documentation, part of their own efforts to thwart the united mafia as best they could, no doubt.

As her tired gaze scanned over the last of the documentation, finally sure it was grammatically correct and detailed as could be, she heaved a sigh and slumped back into her chair, which squeaked in protest at the slightest movement. Satisfied, she clicked the save icon, three times to be sure, before closing the windows one by one and savouring the feeling of logging off.

“All done?” asked the detective on the neighbouring desk. Winterby glanced over, seeing Martins who was still slouching back in his chair, coffee mug in one hand. His long, blonde hair was a mess, but that was to be expected; Winterby knew the man never got enough sleep and he steadfastly refused to comb it lest he had a date.

“You know it,” she responded, forcing herself from her chair and stretching, feeling the joints in her arms and legs pop from the tension of being sat in the same position for hours at a time.

“Ten bucks says the Captain won’t be satisfied,” the man remarked, taking another sip, “you know how he is.”

“It’ll be fine. It’s a goddamn novel, it’ll take a week for the lawyers to read the whole thing,” Winterby plucked her jacket from the back of the chair and slipping it on. She took a look around the precinct, “where’s Rooker? He can’t still be out on a call, right?”

Sergeant Rooker was dedicated to his protocol, sticking strictly to the book as much as possible, and was sadly quite humourless as a result. He was the precinct’s best interrogator, but since going through the training to become a Psi-Cop, he’d been banned from the interrogation room for ethical concerns. He didn’t have a bad bone in his body, but his all business outlook combined with the public knowledge that he very much could read your mind wasn’t comforting at all.

“He called in the scene about an hour ago, might be getting something to eat,” Martins remarked. He yawned, following it up with a mouthful of coffee before putting the mug down and standing himself, “gotta go and check in with Jones in security. Catch you tomorrow.”

“Go to bed, Martins,” Winterby remarked, earning a dismissive wave as she made her way out.

The night time air was especially chilling. Out of habit, Winterby put her hands into her pockets and made the short trek along the snow covered sidewalk to around the back of the building. Rounding the corner, she spied her reliable sedan, one that had been with her almost as long as she had been in the force. The very sight of it forced a sigh of relief, the physical embodiment of the journey home.

However, as she approached she slowed down. Something was off, and it wasn’t until she inspected the other vehicles in the parking lot that it had occurred to her what it was; the car had lacked a layer of snow. She had been working all day, a near sixteen hour shift working on reports, and it hadn’t stopped snowing. However, the car looked like it had just arrived. Even Musgrove’s car, a ridiculous looking compact that she swore was the wave of the future, was covered in snow, and she had rolled into the precinct four hours after Winterby did.

Out of habit, she placed a hand on the pistol attached to her belt and moved forwards, checking each direction for anything else out of the ordinary. The footprints in the snow were too numerous, at least without closer inspection. As she arrived at her car, she gave it a once over. Nothing seemed damaged, at least. Curiosity took her, and she tested the handle on the driver’s side.

It was unlocked.

Frowning, she made sure the door was closed and backed away from the vehicle. As far as she was concerned, the car was now a crime scene, and professionally she shouldn’t be touching anything. She also didn’t know if anything was stolen or if this person had left something behind.

Taking another glance around the lot, she spied one of the security cameras. It had a clear view of the car and her. Maybe Jones would have some answers. Taking out her phone, she dialled Martins’ number.

“You get lost?” was his snide response.

“I need a favour. You still with Jones?” she asked

“Yeah, still with him here. What’s up?”

“Can you ask him to check the camera in the parking lot? Anything up with it?”

There was a pause, Winterby’s growing concern forcing her to check behind her as she waited. Nothing, so far.

“…Looks good. You leave your car here?”

“I’m still by my car,” Winterby explained. She lowered her voice, “I think it’s been messed with.”

“You’re still with your car?” Martins asked. After a pause, his tone grew far more serious, “Come back inside. Leave the car here, I’m going to put out an alert. You’re not showing up on the camera right now, I think it’s being looped.”

The detective grimaced. The hand she had hovering over her pistol removed the clasp that kept it in its holster.

“Got it,” she remarked.

“Stay on the phone with me,” Martins added, “just in case.”

“Don’t worry, I wo-”

Her response as interrupted as she turned around, eyes settling on a large, suited figure. They wore a long black coat over their red suit, red fedora hat gathering snow which seemed to melt almost immediately on the brim which covered their eyes. A Family goon. Winterby froze. Even with the guy standing casually, blocking the entrance to the parking lot, hands in pockets, the likelihood that he had powers meant that she couldn’t risk a sudden movement.

“Winterby, you there?” asked Martins, who got no response, “Elaine? Shit, hang on.”

“The famous ‘Detective Winterby’ eh?” spoke the goon, taking a few slow, casual steps forwards, “You’ve been real busy.”

“I’m guessing you have a problem with me doing my job,” the detective’s response was almost snarled through gritted teeth.

“I guess we do.”

Rounding the corner were two others, similar in build and with matching red suits. The first goon glanced over his shoulder.

“You boys keep the cops busy. I’m gonna have a chat with Ms Winterby here,” he said, with the other two turning and heading back towards the precinct.

“Getting awful obvious with your methods, dirtbag,” Winterby spat. She threw caution to the wind and drew her pistol, aiming for centre mass. The goon stopped his advance, smile widening.

“Subtlety works for only a few. Enough of the cops and judges in this city are rotten, and forgiveness is easy to find with a little green,” he explained. He removed his hands from his pockets, both of them being empty though harbouring an impressive array of burn scars, “must be hard, knowing that we’d kill you and walk free all the same.”

“This is your last chance to stand down,” the detective’s order was met with a laugh.

“Oh, it’s too late for that, detective. You and your super kid squad messed with the wrong group,” the goon raised a hand and snapped his fingers, a small spark emitting from it. Almost instantly, the upper half of Winterby’s leather jacket began to smoulder, a small column of smoke rising into the air. The detective choked and sputtered, now blinded. She fired off a round, but the metallic ping was enough to tell her that it missed. She backed away, getting closer to her car.

“No one fucks with the Giarnellis. We’ve been at this for too long to let that happen,” the assailant moved forwards, speaking with the confidence of a man who believed he had already won, “whatever we don’t run is too scared to get in our way. They know this is what happens if they do.”

There was another snap, and moments later, a hideous explosion as Winterby’s car erupted into a fireball of burnt metal and broken glass. The force of the explosion threw Winterby bodily several feet, landing in a painful heap in the snow nearby. There was a brief period of numbness as her mind tried to process exactly what happened. The explosion had freed her from the choking smog of her ruined jacket, and groggily she breathed in the cold winter air. As her mind settled, she recognised the pain, the sting of a hideous burn all down her side and the dull, pulsing pressure of what she soon began to think were broken bones. Her head swam and her vision was blurry. The last detail she’d recall being that she lost her gun.

The assailant took his time to find the detective’s missing weapon, slowly advancing over to the fallen form as he tested the weapon’s weight and balance.

“Well, ain’t you lucky,” he says, pulling back the hammer, “ain’t many that can survive this long. Don’t worry though, it’ll be over soon.”

The assassin levelled the gun to aim at Winterby’s head, pausing only a moment to savour the finishing touch. He could hear the gunshots in the street nearby, the other two Cleaners doing enough to keep them from being uninterrupted or so he thought.

As he settled his aim, the weapon began to disassemble itself, piece by piece. As the mechanism that allowed the gun to fire was removed, the bulk of the weapon was torn from the assassin’s grip, flying through the air and landing in the hand of a stern, middle aged man in a long, dark coat and beret, a plain white plastic bag in his other hand.

“I’m going to have to ask you to surrender,” Rooker’s order was met with a sneer. The assassin turned to meet the new challenger, his confident smile fading. When it became clear that the answer to Rooker’s request was going to be a no, the sergeant sighed and dropped the disassembled pistol.

“Sleep.”

With a quick, almost dismissive wave of the hand, Rooker generated just enough of a psionic push to scramble the assailant’s mind and force him to shut down. The assassin opened his mouth to speak, only to rapidly become drowsy and topple forwards, landing in the snow with dull thump. Threat eliminated, Rooker took out his radio and immediately called in.

“Dispatch, this is Sergeant Rooker, Bronze Way precinct, code 10-40, need medical ASAP, Detective Winterby is down, I repeat, Detective Winterby is down, 10-51,” he rushed over to the wounded detective as the rattled off the commands, doing whatever he could to ensure she’d survive.

News Report, December 28th 2020

Welcome to the Paragon City News, I’m your anchor, Felicity Scarborough.

An explosion at the Bronze Way Police Precinct in Steel Canyon has gravely wounded one officer late Sunday evening.

Detective Elaine Winterby, who had recently lead a task force alongside younger heroes in the arrest of Family chemical expert Luciano De Mallo and a large number of other associates, is alive and recovering in intensive care.

PPD Captain Alex Munroe issued a statement Monday morning.

“Last night, one of our hardest working detectives was attacked. It is greatly fortunate that Detective Winterby had survived the attack, and is now being taken care of by skilled medical professionals. I want to make this clear: this was most definitely an attack by the Family, in retaliation to our successes recently. We will not be intimidated. We will continue to fight the good fight, whatever might be in front of us.”

Representatives of Mr De Mallo still have not been reached for comment.

Details of the attack indicate that three suspects were seen assaulting the precinct. While one of these assailants has been reported as arrested, the remaining two are at large. Further details have been provided by the PPD on their website and social media.

The profiles include two men, one blonde, the other with a shaved head, being of a larger build. Both have notable burn scars on their skin and reportedly have pyrokinetic powers.

Ire of a Made Man

Talos Island, The Silent Crow club, January 5th 2021, 3:27pm

Stepping into the Silent Crow was like taking a step into the past. The patrons, while few always dressed in crisp suits and beautiful dresses, quiet jazz music filled the cigarette stained air and the only people in attendance were those who could afford to be there.

Sitting quietly in a back office of the club was a middle aged man, olive complexion on his thin frame, the lips on his long, narrow face turned into a frown, as if contemplating the drink in the glass tumbler he held in his right hand. His left lay motionless on the desk he sat behind, the sleeve rolled up and the skin pulled away so the man sitting next to him could tune the cybernetics beneath.

The Giarnellis, a Sicilian crime family who, up until the arrival of Sebastian Frost, had a branching territory all over Talos Island. Granted, the Giarnellis had seen the most benefit from the merger, and even kept a substantial amount of their power, so that fact never really changed. When Frost approached them with the benefits of falling in line, the Giarnelli’s don, Marco had been all too quick to sign up, and because of such quick loyalty, the Giarnellis remained one of the more influential members of the Family, with Marco being among the few Dons who are closest to the top of the pyramid.

With this stepping stone, the Giarnellis would advance the selling of the Superadine drug, even expanding upon it to make the recipe much more versatile. Beyond the selling of the drug, they had also heavily invested in the technology boom created from the spoils of war with Praetoria, and Marco had, with the backing of his own consigliere, taken to research into cybernetics thanks to a lucrative acquisition shortly after the battle in Steel Canyon with Battle Maiden.

And then Luciano had to go and screw up.

Leo ‘One-Two’ Giarnelli was not pleased. He had spent a great amount of time catering to Luciano and his little projects. As Consigliere, it was his job to challenge and advise his cousin, Marco in the matters of the organisation and he had really pushed to improve Luciano’s production of Superadine and expansion of their cybernetics, and yet the bald bastard couldn’t even maintain his one job when challenged by a bunch of children. Luciano’s failure was his failure, even if what Leo had been doing was more important to the progress of the Family as a whole.

He might have lost his cool, ordered a trio of cleaners to send a message to the PPD, that despite their public victory, they weren’t untouchable, that the Giarnellis still existed, but that only set to make things more tense between himself and the Don. If he wasn’t careful, it would be brought to the attention of Frost, which would be an offense Marco wouldn’t be able to forgive all that soon.

The door to the room entered, a young man with brushed back black hair poked his head in.

“I’m not interrupting, am I?” he asked, albeit a little timidly.

“Nah, you can come in,” Leo murmured, raising the glass, “I’m guessing you’re here to tell me how we just lost another lab?”

“’Fraid so,” the younger man started, slinking into the room and closing the door behind him quietly, “another one in Independence.”

Leo heaved a sigh before taking a swig of his drink. He put down the glass, expression becoming more stern.

“They’re dropping like flies,” he snarled. He heaved a sigh and rubbed his face, “and without the freighters, we’re cut off from our off shore suppliers too. Who was this one busted by?”

“Got word it was the Knight Warden, sir,” the answer forced the consigliere to groan. He knew of the Knight Warden, in fact it was the one cape that had been hounding the superadine project alongside the PPD. Another kid. Unlike the dear detective, however, the Knight Warden was noted to be a little sturdier, to put it mildly.

“The kid’s probably looking for the two guys we sent after Winterby,” Leo explained after something of a pause, “no child, powers or otherwise, has a right to mess in the affairs of the Family. We’re being upstaged by children.”

“We’re doing our best, boss,” the younger man said. This, in turn had earned a scowl from Leo.

“If we were doing our best, this wouldn’t be happening,” he explained, “if we were doing our best, the Knight Warden would be dead. Got it?”

He thought deeply about what to do. Of course, he didn’t know exactly how strong the Knight Warden was; he wasn’t exactly alone when Task Force Trafalgar brought in Luciano, and it might have been any of the other kids who had been doing the heavy lifting, but Knight Warden was the most prominent, the one who didn’t just walk away to deal with other matters when the detective got attacked. After a moment, he shook his head.

“He’s one of those strong types, right? More powerful than a speeding locomotive sort of deal?” Leo’s question got a nod, “Might not have as strong a mind. Get in touch with the Bartiluccis, see if they wouldn’t mind us borrowing Mind Slice Moe for a job.”

“You’re gonna have him killed?” the younger man asked.

“If the kid’s old enough to fuck up our business, he’s old enough to suffer the consequences,” the consigliere’s response was a little calmer, not a shred of regret in the notion, “we put him down. Then maybe people will wise up and stay out of our way.”