Marcus kept one hand on his tie, keeping it from spilling over his shoulder during his awkward half jog down the alleyway - to his right an old meat packing plant flagged for development. Years of academic rigour.

Years.

It’s a hard thing to keep up in Colombia. Especially now. This wasn’t the Colombia he grew up in. Transhumans used to be weapons of war, but now… When they wanted lives at peace and homes of their own…

They were criminals.

Who knows what could happen?

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

Scott hit the wall with a thud, and corrected himself, bearing down on the perp. His prey was masked, and the figure darted under gates and scrambled over ladders. It was swift. But Scott was bigger, Scott was stronger, Scott was righteous.

Around another corner in the backstreets, and Scott knows it’s coming.

As his adversary ducks round the corner, *THUD* Scott hits the wall and loses another couple of metres.

He’ll make it up on the straight.

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

There’s not a lot of money in academia. Sure, you can keep collecting a pay check till you die. But that isn’t much comfort if this city could go to hell tomorrow.

Money is security.

Money could get Marcus out of New Amsterdam, maybe out of Colombia. Somewhere where the world seemed sane again.

Maybe part of him was doing it for higher ideals though. The activist in him trusted a Transhuman. He thought a Transhuman would use it for good - if it had any use at all.

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

The small blue shadow darted through the gap in another fence. Scott would have to climb over.

‘Another 10 metres lost’, he thought.

As his feet collided with pavement on the other side his head rose to the little blue figure still. Back turned to him, but still. He had stopped.

Scott had him.

He leaned forward and launched his large frame at the boy, tackling him into the bitumen, almost crushing his lungs. Scott spun the boy over beneath him and removed his mask to see a ball of snot, saliva and tears.

“Masked vigilantism is a crime! And so is transhuman hero worship! And so is shooting spitballs at cars! Especially my car!”

The boy continued to sob.

“Ok, maybe it’s not a crime. But it is a blight on the Colombian nation!”

The boy sniffed and winced.

“You are a blight on our Colombian nation!”

Scott picked himself up, holding the wriggling little boy under one arm. As his line of sight rose up he saw what the boy had seen, what had stopped the boy in his tracks.

“Little boys like you go to juv-”

Scott cocked his head to one side.

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

Unfortunately for Marcus, this wasn’t a Transhuman.

He slowed his breathing and entered through the decrepit doorway. The meat hooks obscured his appointment from view. Instantly Marcus felt the words, “Give it to me,” .

“You - have the, the money?”

“Give it to me.”

“Now-?”

Marcus’ brief case dropped to the floor, his eyes fixed straight ahead, blood running down from his temples. He saw pain. He heard hate. He smelled the fear of the masses of hell.

Scott unholstered his .45, cocking the hammer.

“Yo, freako! You want to come with me?”

Portal kept looking at Marcus. Scott flew back, taking the gate behind him off its hinges. Scott, the boy and the gate sailed down the alleyway - denting a dumpster to eventually come to rest in an unconscious, twisted and broken mess.

Portal moved from side to side between the meat hooks, wrapped a talon around the case, and was gone.

Marcus stood there watching.












(OOC: I didn’t use anyone else because I don’t know who wants to be involved in this one. I assume Marcus might be an archaeologist or something, but maybe he’s an accounting lecturer helping Portal cheat on his taxes. Just planting a very open and vague seed for a Portal master plan. I‘ve got a little plan for a hospital scene with Scott, but feel free to use me by time shifting forward, or come and bring me flowers to my bed.)

"So, there’s this Portal guy rumored to be out there..."

Portal, eh?

"And based on my experience with rumors, I’d say it’s prooobably true."
What have you heard about him?

"Not much, actually. Google search didn’t produce anything other than ‘REALLY EVIL GUY! MAXIMUM SECURITY PRISON! STAY AWAY!’ without going into detail. So if I were to guess, this guy has a really bad history. He’s not going to be somebody we can take with a few katana slashes."
Well, no shit, Sherlock.

"So anyway, in continuing my adventures as an underground hero, I’m gonna start my campaign to bring this guy down immediately! If I can stop him, then even Paragon himself will have to accept ‘our’ ways. There are plenty of things a ‘licensed’ transhumant can’t do. That’s why he had to use me to do his dirty work for him. And-"

Stop rambling. Alright, fine, sounds like a challenge to me. Where do we start?

"First we have to locate the guy. We need as much information about him as possible. His whereabouts, the kind of powers he has, what he looks like. So preferably, an eyewitness account..."

And where would you find such an eyewitness?

"Right here," Ray said, pointing at a webpage.

‘Portal’ attacks! Was the headline.

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

"Gah, this hurts like shit..." Scott said.

"Okay, I’m going to change your bandages now..." the nurse said.

*BANG BANG* went the window.

The nurse whirled around to see...

...Hell Razor, knocking on the window.

"Could you open up please?" His voice sounded muffled.

"AAAAAAAAIIIIIEEEEEEE!" The nurse ran away screaming.

"Ah, hell..."

*CRASH!* The window shattered into a thousand pieces.

"That’s what I was hoping to avoid. Breaking through the window makes me look like a criminal."

"Who the hell are you?" Scott asked.

"I’m Hell Razor. Don’t you watch the news?"

"There’s a lot of transhumans on the news."

Razor looked insulted. "I’m not memorable, huh? Hmph. Well, whatever. I came to ask you what you know."

"About what?"

"Portal. The article was vague of course, so I need to hear about him straight from the horse’s mouth. What did you witness?"

"Why the hell do you want to know?"

"Because I’m going to be the person responsible for bringing him down." Hell Razor folded his arms.

"That isn’t your job. It’s a job for the police. People like me. Licensed guys like Paragon."

"Yeah? Well..." Hell Razor now paced back and forth throughout the room, shattered glass crackling as he walked. "Your ‘great superhero’ is the biggest dick ever. True story. You guys claim to be all official.
‘VIGILANTISM IS BAD!’ But there’s been plenty of instances in which a ‘vigilante’ has done good for you. I stopped a jewel robbery, you know. Not to mention...oh, say...Professor Mandrake, and Black Fury, two dangerous criminal transhumans."

"You helped Professor Mandrake. Paragon stopped him."

"BULLSHIT!"

Scott found his neck suddenly constricted by a gloved hand.

"PARAGON. IS. A. LIAR." Though his eyes were covered by shades, Scott could see the rage in them anyway, and it seemed to burn right through him. "He used me like a cheap tool and discarded me when I was of no more use to him. That’s right...he called upon ME because he couldn’t bring in Mandrake without legal ramifications on his own. Then when I took care of him, Paragon showed up, thanked me, then told the officers to cuff me."

"That’s a made up story and you know it!"

"No. That’s the real truth despite what you may have been told, and what the news says. If I could get my hands on the security footage in that dam, I could prove my innocence. Paragon’s nothing more than a fucking government face. But the fact of the matter is, he needed me. You guys...need me. So instead of rejecting people like us who want to help you, you should open yourselves up..." Hell Razor calmed down, catching his breath and releasing Scott.

"I apologise. I am prone to strong bouts of rage in this form. Now I know you know plenty about Portal. Pony it up. I would rather not threaten you."

"I can’t tell you anything."

"This guy’s dangerous and notorious, that much I know. No police officer’s going to be able to stop him. Hell, the police couldn’t hold a candle to me solo, so what do you think this guy’s going to do to you? I can help you, though. I’m not your enemy. I haven’t come here to hurt you. I’m going to ask nicely: Please, Scott, tell me what you know."

"Fine," he spat.

Portal sat down in the darkness, opening the case.

"Perfect. It’s exactly what I asked for. Humans can be dependable tools, sometimes."

He pulled out an onyx tetrahedron that seemed to shine even in the absence of light. He felt it over with his hands, feeling the inscription on the sides.

"But no human could understand the value of this... like the fool he was, he gave me the world for a small sum. Now I just need its counterpart, which should be a trivial matter...and then the gates to Armageddon will open!"