PACHELBEL’S PILOT - I.f.

"On average, male and female superheroes alike have an extra muscle fiber compared to the average citizen. Heroes are stronger, tougher, more resilient than the common person."

Eric smiled with determination in response to his superior's words. "I hope I have a chance to see those abilities up close."

There's a short pause in their conversation.

No sounds leave their direction, save the occasional movement and light banter flowing about amongst the workers, the managers, and the robots alike.

With a hand raised, Mr. Reynolds gave the youthful worker a shake, "...We can use all the help we can get."

Eric couldn't help but burst with joy.

"Thank you, Mr. Reynolds!"

The metallic sheen of his hand felt warmer then, a gesture full of hope to a generation about to inherit the mantle of heroism.

Everything would come to its culmination rather quickly, the tour eventually ending where his service would truly begin.

Several flat-screen displays covered the walls and showed an overhead diagram of the whole city. A few stations with terminals were accessible, filled with personnel, either suited or simply dressed down, each person focusing on different angles and routes throughout the map. The room exuded an atmosphere of purpose.

"I hope I didn't keep you waiting long, pal..."

The sudden, ominous thud echoed through the room, sending an uneasy ripple through the air. Everyone's attention fixated on a mysterious object covered in a thick tarpaulin. A few feet above it hung a surveillance camera, its monotonous red lens staring intently.

Following a gentle push, the bundle falls in front of the crowd, creating a small yet noticeable hole in the concrete floor. Slowly, a portion of the protective drapery unfolds, revealing a pair of green and black armored boots.

The rest of the sheet was removed, revealing a bookish, rogue scientist type as the man stood and displayed his attire proudly.

“PREPARE- TO BE AMAZED.”

They all moved away, either surprised or confused.

Eric was neither.

A chemical bomb, the size of a burly bear, ticking loudly and threatening the lives of everyone within the confines of the facility. A perfect 'trick,' save the maniacal laughter—another one up to the mad doctor's mischievous mind. It seems as if no one else could be aware of this apparent joke.

Swiftly, Miracle Woman seized the explosive, hurling it into the air.

A deafening detonation shatters the skylight, prompting a hurried evacuation by the guards.

People started running toward the back, scattering in the vicinity. Eric found himself alone amid the chaos, locked in a staring contest with the scientist still donned in spandex, who maintained his footing, seemingly on a whim.

"Pshhh, the fun is just beginning!"

The psychopath snickered as he locked eyes with his opponent. "My body will become divine, my very vessel empowered by the chemicals of THE ARTISAN!"

Suddenly, five colossal robots of the same shade of green burst through the lobby walls, encircling everyone, including Miracle Woman. The hero behind a particular reputation appeared ready, her full-fledged power armor designed for combat, emitting a dim glow while the various slots and sensors on its outer shell were closed.

A heavy slam erupted from the male bathroom door-

"I'm so glad you guys responded to my challenge! Ha ha ha ha! Would've been more glad if you were allowed to finish me off! Ha ha ha ha!" Another flamboyantly dressed villain came out, dusting himself off with an introduction: "Gangstar's is the name, and I'm really feeling suicidal TODAY. See, Artisan? This is a thing we call an ‘invitation for termination!’"

Artisan's tone had turned somber, his right eye half-shut. "Yeah, and guess what? I'm going to take it. Make no mistake about that."

All five of the cyclopes took a simultaneous defensive stance. The large screens broadcasted them both together, their blank faces and harsh-red glow of their orbitals adding an unsettling aura to the already tense situation.

They held the floor.

There was no escape.

"I hope you're ready for these guys; we're going to be under heavy fire!"

Artisan cackled with the cadence and sharpness of a hyena, gesturing to the newcomer with his palm fully extended.

"Gah... Just when I think you guys can't get any dumber, you team up." Miracle Woman's bland comment conveyed her true feelings on the situation. She put herself in front of Eric, a transparent defensive stance.

Miracle Woman looked over, noting his obvious fear.

At her back, he was pale, dumbfounded by the presence of two villains fighting with their heroes while others in the room chattered all the same. As an unwanted observer to the impending catastrophe, it was not helping his level-headedness.

While the world had the pleasure of absorbing all the benefits these wonderful humans could provide, there were cases where the opposite was true. Although every-day civilians had a chance of getting impossibly hurt- and even die, due to the actions of a vigilante being misconstrued, when the worst case would be that a hero gets a little pissed or disappointed at people never being able to learn common sense.

There were others, however, where a greater toll would have to be reiterated from such a simple incident.

The H.I.A., now faced with a mighty task that placed every other citizen at risk, felt so unaccountably obtuse in the moment.

"Eh, no wonder the Vanguard Alliance works for the government and makes dopes FOR heroes nowadays. That's like putting scrambled eggs ovah' der-"

Gangstar pointed at Eric, before wagging his finger at Miracle Woman and Mr. Reynolds both:

"-On top of a burnt sausage creamed with extra THICK caramel pudding!!!"

Artisan nodded, feigning approval of his colleague's sudden loss of focus. "You know what, you got a point there, sir. We can't dispute that logic!"

That exchange was one of unadulterated idiocy.

Only at the right amount.

Mirage Mistress created a cold draft in the air, gusting the civilians from dodge with sweeping winds that sailed across the floor. Mr. Reynolds, however, retained complete composure as it whipped him fiercely with a head pressed-down.

"You go get to safety, too," said Miracle Woman, extending her arm and tossing aside a nearby table the way one might shoo away some pesky street cats.

"Leave it to me."

His eyes widened, and his mouth opened in protest. After some hesitation, his lips curled up and showed a satisfied grin, and his shoulders went slack.

"...All right."

Gangstar let out a strange groan, and said, "Sweet fried honey biscuits... is it just me or is there something amazing 'bout her acting the way she does?"

Artisan cocked a hand on his side. "Oh, please."

As the other bystanders began to run, Eric followed close behind.

"Oops, they're trying to get away, gangstars!"

"...Don't be a killjoy, Dr. Artisan! You underestimate these heroes." Gangstar spoke as he walked toward Artisan, stretching out his arms in the process, stopping short of touching.

A raging flame followed the Amazonian charge-tackling a green behemoth with one sweep of the leg-

-melting and frying circuits with one engulfed one big bot with the blistering fire still coursing from its mouth, a fire breather in the making.

Inferno Blaze floated just above the ground, gazing sternly as his victim crashed onto the once pristine floor.

"Hold it! Run away if you don't wanna lose your lives."

"So cocky you think this will end well, hero?" Artisan removed his helmet and threw it aside like a crumpled piece of paper, peering at Miracle Woman. "It'd probably be better if you weren't in the way... Well, let's do this fast, Gangstar!"

The heroine Eclipse quickly phased through another giant menace, it having been on one knee before its chest cavity caved in its chassis upon impact.

The burning man immediately focused his attention on the remaining three. With their attention diverted, the civilians finally saw this as a golden opportunity, and raced into the elevator.

Meanwhile, Miracle Woman ducked below an incoming punch, delivered a forward thrust, and drove her armored left shoulder deep into one's midsection, before a pair of energy-infused fists flew out at blinding speeds, colliding with machine and wall without regard, destroying either upon impact—metal bent, twisted, or outright shattered where it lay. In an instant, the Amazonian warrior had decimated another menace.

Her blade cut through the mechanical being like butter, parts scattered and strewn about the area as thick fluid poured out from its open wounds like streams. The damaged construct's now luminescent blue eyes flickering rapidly before slowly dimming. Then, with a loud crash, its charred exterior fell lifelessly to the ground with a sound similar to a lead pipe being dropped onto a pavement.

A loud click rang through the air.

Miracle Woman tensed, spun to her left, and glared, intent on catching a glimpse of Gangstar.

She found him behind her, his trademark flintlock pistol raised in an overhand attack —the side facing her weapon gleaming a sickening green and red in tandem.

Her body froze, locking both body and mind into place.

She is suddenly parched.

A shock wave rocked the surface where the woman's heels hit, the floor cracked by impact alone.

"Ughhhh..."

She let out a soft grunt before collapsing face-first onto the cold floor.

With a sharp gasp, she lifted herself from the cold metallic surface—gazing ahead of her, slightly disoriented and breathless from her recent injuries.

Her eyes focused intensely on Gangstar's, clearly unaware of his powers.

Gangstar continued to wag a finger at Miracle Woman mockingly.

"Careful, Little Red Riding Hood.”

“I can kill you."

His voice rose, his words barely above a whisper.

"She makes a mockery of her superhuman skill! Are you gonna stand here like a big bully without powers?" Artisan scowled.

He waved his hand in front of him, demonstrating a dazzling glow.

"In the name of hell, this IS my power."

A maniacal grin spread across Gangstar’s face, eyes gleaming a bright, gleaming vermillion that seemed to burn a hole into everyone who could see.

An icy thunk slammed against his forehead from a blind spot, knocking him out cold and leaving him in an upright position, not unlike a rag doll.

"WHA-"

Before Artisan could finish, the Verity Cord hogtied the criminal- another one of the Miracle Woman's tools functioning as intended.

A caveman stood before her, dressed in only a crude garment. Sharp and thick ivory-colored spires that must have been pulled from the earth itself protruded from the fabric for hands and feet. Like a gargoyle, they carried him into the air, suspended around eight feet off the ground, his back turned. His aura, dark and fiery, consumed the space between him and Miracle Woman.

His guffaw was harsh, and when Artisan looked up, his piercing gaze had become ice-cold with the wrath he wielded, but there was not the slightest fear visible in those orbs. Even the most frightening heroes would avoid it when faced with his glare.

The 'baseball bat' the man out of fashion had crawled out of her own icy skin, checking for Gangstar's pulse by the neck after a succinct barrel roll out of his meaty hand. Her raised toes grazed the underside, carrying the unconscious criminal over the back of his own hair, yet still, not even the merest reaction emitted his way.

"Huh.”

“There's no BLOOD this time."

Eric stood between them all, casually inserting himself into the picture; the flaming wreckage in the background only resulted in smoke crashing through.

Artisan nervously coughed out:

"P... Praise the Abyssal..."

Suddenly, he unveils a C4 explosive device, thrusting the battlefield into chaos. Miracle Woman, in a heroic act, shields Eric from the impending explosion by placing them both on the ground.

However, the impact doesn't send them flying away.

"Tsk. The damn idiot."

At her words, the flames died down without so much as a whimper, not even the hiss of steam to stir the air, leaving her completely unfazed and uninjured in Eric’s wake.

The sounds of sirens blared, authorities in bulky military garb taking up positions around what remained of the battlefield, protecting all others by assuming offensive stances while snipers took aim from their vantage points atop crumbled bricks.

There, still, Mr. Reynolds' stoic demeanor remained, apparently impervious to everything except the most severe of circumstances.