Heroes: Shadows over Millenium

[Cynical Cat]

"I'm the team leader and three members of my team decided to fuck off and do things there own way," said Blackheart with a half smile. "I would say that there is a leadership problem."

[Agent Fisher]

He shrugged. "There wasn't much you could have done, short of keep them on tiny leashes."

[Dark Silver]

"Cleansing process for subject Zero-Two-Nine-Gamma has been completed, removal of items from his residence has been accomplished." the voice said over the speaker.

"Run a sweep through the items, make sure we have the appropriate technologies, then dis...."

"Contents of the residence included items belonging to a female."

"Sir, we're receiving Gamma Wave telemmetry from Subject Zero-Two-Nine-Gamma..."

"..return the contents, do not be seen. Insert the Object as we originally intended. Leave zero traces - and hope no one payed it a visit, or I'll have your heads."

[SirNitram]

There was a groan from one of the beds in Ultima's well-stocked medical centre. Full of pins to set his rapidly knitting bones, bandaged, covered in a variety of goo various Metas had concocted for healing, and slowly coming back to a state where it wouldn't be a miracle he was alive, Gravitas shuddered.

"....Ow." Murmured he, as the memory of just what had hit him to put him in this state bubbled up. First a city street, then the white fire. Yea. That hurt.

He also noted he couldn't actually move his neck. Ah. Spinal damage. At least Ultima could put him relatively back together. This left the Nova to quietly lay there, staring at the ceiling, his consciousness reaching out along the gravitational connections. Things seemed relatively in order. The two black-ops were together. Saibot was somewhere near; must need medical attention after whatever happened. Lei was.. Well, as impossible to find whenever she went massless. The fast kid, Blast, and others were around.

"Now, all I need is someone to scratch that personal itch, and a pen I can levitate to write a formal apology to ol' TumorBoy."

[Hotfoot]

A doctor tapped Hotfoot on the shoulder, causing the young man to swing an arm at the offending hand and mumble, "Yeah, 'm up..."

The doctor smiled at him flashed a light into the young man's eyes. "Good response. Well, aside from some dehydration and other minor issues, you seem to be fine. You need sleep, a big breakfast, and an equally big bottle of gatorade, kid. You'll be fine, but if you stay here I might just stick you with something just to be sure."

"Y'know I was doin' the sleepin' part already..."

"Yes, but the exam beds suck, kid. Trust me, even interns don't use them if they don't have to. Go get something from the cafeteria, then get some real sleep from the bunks upstairs."

"Uh, thanks. Do you know where I can get a new shirt?"

"Macy's, but they don't open until nine. Of course you can use a gown until then if you're cold." The doctor motioned to a technician to get a gown.

"Thanks." Hotfoot rolled out of bed and took the gown, not really caring what he looked like at the moment. He threw it on and tied it off in the front. "See you later Doc."

"Stay safe kid." The doctor waved and smiled before turning around and losing the smile just as quickly. "They just keep getting younger, don't they? Fucking hell..." he muttered under his breath.

Hotfoot stumbled off to the cafeteria again, grabbing some sports drink, several cups of coffee, and a bunch of bagels. He slid down to a table by himself and started consuming it...slowly, for him. He had a lot of things to think about, and the solitude didn't help matters.

[Cynical Cat]

"Catch you later," Blackheart said Ghost. "I've got a date with a brain scan."

[Agent Fisher]

Ghost waved as he turned and walked out. He felt sorry for Blackheart. He had been dealt a shit hand and he had tried. But it didn't really work out and he was gonna get hit hard, maybe even get the ax.

He walked past his desk, shutting down his computer and grabbing his bag. Ghost took a look around and walked out. If his bosses at the Company didn't like the report he had in his pocket, then he might not be coming back.

**********
Ryan sat on the bed in his apartment, removing his pants. He looked up and smiled at his wife. “Hey, hun.â€

[B4UTRUST]

Blackheart's report was routed to those who needed to read it. And some who didn't so much need it, as have a desire to have its information.

The computer screen scrolled through the report, the reader making notes of certain things. Decisions were made. Those decisions would affect many lives, both in the present and in the future to be.

The intercom button was pressed.
"A situation has come to my attention. A certain individual requires... dealing with. Have the Bobs brought in, and tell them to contain the situation. Their target is on Mirage team, codename: Argent."


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

The interoffice memo went out to the emails:

To: Ultima/MilCity/Distro/All
Subject: Memorial Service

All Personel;

It is my deepest regret to inform you all that one of our own has been lost. Agent Frank 'Cascade' Pratt was killed earlier today. Details are as of yet unclear concerning the nature of his demise.

At this time, a memorial service is scheduled for this Friday at 1100. Maximum turnout is requested. Dress code is service dress.

More details will be released as we obtain them. Our thoughts go out to his family and friends. Staff counselors will be available for assistance.


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The Ultima forensics unit arrived at Saibot's apartment and entered it to begin the search.