Project Prometheus (Original Setting Superhero Quest)

Jacob's Ladder – Justice Unlimited Satellite Headquarters – November 24, 2067

"Y-you sure I don't look weird?" Maddie asks.

"No!" Black Swan interjects, "You look darling!"

"Yes, you look spectacular, dar—" You pause and look at Black Swan who sticks her tongue out at you. My, my. Mocking your vocal tics? Someone has gotten comfortable.

Barkavious lets out a "woof", and Maddie pets him with a slight smile. The poor girl was doing much better, but was still something of a nervous wreck. Black Swan had taken it upon herself to mentor Maddie and approached the task with zeal. You must admit, her idea to make Maddie a costume was a stroke of genius, as is the final product.

"So, have you decided on your name, Madeline?"

Maddie stands up straight and fiddles with her hat before admitting, "I . . . I'm gonna be called 'Menagerie Witch.' I-if you think that's a good one?"


"I think it's darl—" You do not respond to Black Swans teasing grin. "Wonderful. It's wonderful, Menagerie Witch."

The smile on Menagerie Witch's face makes it all worth it.


"Now, come on!" Black Swan shouts, grabbing Menagerie Witch, "We're gonna go do cool poses in front of the big viewscreen and take pictures!"

"N-no! I'm not going to that. T-that would be so lame," Menagerie Witch says unconvincingly.

"Enough you! Then we'll eat dinner. My mom made lasagna!"

"Lasagna . . ." Menagerie Witch whispers reverently with wide eyes. She begins to follow Black Swan before looking back at you with a guilty expression.

"A-ah. . ."

"Don't mind me, dar—love. Don't mind me, love. I have something I need to do that I've put off for much too long."

Menagerie Witch wavers, despite being dragged by both Black Swan and Barkavious.

"I'll be right here when you get back," you promise. You gesture to your hospital bed, "You know exactly where I'll be."

Menagerie Witch bites her lip before nodding and allowing Black Swan to drag her away.

You don't miss the big smile on her face. You hum in contentment before turning yourself to your delayed business.

Seven years ago—was it only seven years?—Rosemary died during the last gasp of The Defiance Unit. She had left wonderful, long, personal notes to every member of the team and sealed them, only to be opened on her death.

You still have yours in your room back in the Apiary. It helped everyone heal after the incident.

A few years ago, someone, probably Harper, had the idea that you should all leave messages to one another "just like Rosie!" Your line of work was dangerous, as were the fights and stances you were picking. Even Towarri saw the wisdom in not leaving things unsaid.

You've had the messages waiting for you for over two months now. You haven't been able to bring yourself to watch them. You haven't felt like you've deserved to. But, seeing a little girl walk away happy after going through hell, you feel like hearing your friend's voices again.

You take a deep breath and begin.

Yazmin

As the recording begins, you see Yazmin pull her wavy hair back before letting it drop. A nervous tic that, once you were aware of it, was impossible to not see. She's wearing her costume—blue spandex with white highlights and a stylized swirl of water on her chest—and clears her throat before speaking.

"Hello, Zixuan. If you're watching this, then I have died."

You refrain from speaking to a video, but can't control the roll of your eyes. Of course she's passed—that was the impetus for you to watch this recording in the first place.

"I guess that's a silly way to start. Of course you know I'm dead—why else would you be watching this?" Yazmin's blue eyes have a glimmer of amusement in them. "No doubt you're rolling your eyes and scoffing to yourself."

. . . well played, Yazmin. Well played.

"The first thing I have to say is, I'm sorry," she says, bowing her head, "I've left everyone when there's so much to do. I just want you all to know . . . I love you and I would be there if I could."

You can feel the sincerity of her words through the screen. A pang of bitter resent wells in your throat. Why was that so easy for her to say?

"You're going to have to pick up the slack in my absence. Pick up Nora too—umm, assuming we're back together by the time you see this. I'm sorry. Those are burdens that are unfair to leave you with."

She pauses for a long while.

"It's . . . hard thinking that life will go one without me. That you all will go on without me."

There's unshed tears glinting in her eyes, but her smile is brilliant and painful and terrible in a way that reopens the wound in your heart.

"Hey, Zixuan, this is going to sound messed up, but I always envied you, you know that?"

W-hat? Preposterous. Why would she envy you? You were the one—

"I know little bits and pieces of what your life was like growing up. I know what you were like before Justice Unlimited. You . . . you haven't had it easy, have you?"

She self consciously pulls her hair back before catching herself. She leans forward and forces the words out.

"Your life is like a recipe on how to make a villain. The stuff you dad did, leaving the Triads, you even had a superhero nemesis. But . . . you're not a villain. You're not a bad person. I know we disagree all the time and I've called you 'heartless,' but . . ."

Yazmin bites her lip and looks down.

". . . if I had your life, I don't think I would be here. I wouldn't have the strength to make the choice you did. I would be a monster."

You sit there, stunned at the admission. Yazmin? A monster like you? The idea is absurd on its face; so ludicrous you instinctively dismiss it out of hand. But Yazmin sits there, her eyes magnetic even in the past. You know she believes it at the very least.

"You are the strongest person I know. Every day, you get up and choose to try to be a better person. I . . . I'm not a good person, despite what everyone thinks. I've done things I'm not proud of."

She sits up and pulls out a screen, which displays a long legal document.

"There's going to be a copy of this embedded in this message. It's my will." She sighs. "You know that I've that I cut ties with my father and all of Ọsanyìn, right? Well, that's only part of the truth. My father would have never left me alone unless I had leverage over him."

She sighs and tugs at her hair again. "Which I do. In the form of control of 8% of the shares of Ọsanyìn Conglomerated Industries."

It's a second before you realize your jaw has dropped. Yazmin owned 8% of Ọsanyìn? Even in it diminished state, Ọsanyìn was still the largest corporation in the world. The amount of wealth 8% represented was . . . was this why Nora never seemed worried about finances?!

"I told my father that if he didn't leave me alone, I would sell my shares to AGL. He only has 40% of the company, you see. It would ruin his dream of taking back control of Ọsanyìn."

Yazmin gives a tight smile.

"It's the only thing he cares about," she says, "But . . . it was a bluff. Vovô left me the shares, sure, but with a stipulation that they could not be sold or transferred to anyone outside of my family. So, now that I'm dead and you're watching this video, that means my shares have gone to my sister, Yara."

You involuntarily open your mouth again. Her sister's name was—

"Yes, yes, my hero name is a different version of my sister's name. I was trying to let her know I hadn't forgotten about her or something—I don't know."

You narrow your eyes. Were you really so predictable that she could guess your reactions?

"Anyway, she already has 3%. So, do the math, she gets my 8% and that gives her 11%. Which, if my father takes from her, will give him a controlling interested in Ọsanyìn. Which would be terrible for everyone."

Yazmin leans forward, toward the camera.

"I'm telling you this because I know you won't say no. Help my sister. Once my father figures it out, he will stop at nothing to get them."

Yazmin barks out a bitter laugh.

"I told you I wasn't a good person."

(You have unlocked the mission: Hero Worship.)

Towarri

Next you, watch Towarri's message. Her silver form fills the screen and she begins speaking immediately.

"Lady Leizi. Or should I say Zixuan? We were never that close, but I think it is acceptable to pretend we had greater intimacy if this is going to be my final words to you."

You can't help but chuckle. Towarri was never afraid to say what she meant.

"I have included instructions on how to maintain all of my terrariums and continue my beetle breeding programs in my stead. I expect you to adhere to all of my instructions precisely or I will return from the dead as a spector and disrupt your sleep patterns."

You see a knit form in her brow.

"I don't understand how that is supposed to be an effective threat. We both know ghosts are fictional. Still Ophélie insisted I say it."

The reminder of Automne's death sends a pang through your heart. That's right, Towarri would have no way of knowing when she recorded this, would she?

"Speaking of Ophélie, I insist you help her find a new relationship after an appropriate period of mourning. A year is customary, but if Ophélie wants to start looking for someone around the nine-month mark so she can start dating as soon as the year has ended, I will not punish her with post-mortem spectral visits."

Her face doesn't change but she stares at the camera for nearly ten seconds.

"That was a joke. I assume you are done laughing now."

She looks side to side self-consciously before leaning forward and whispering.

". . . could you also help Ophélie find someone . . . normal?"

You feel your heart break at that. You want to reach out to her—whether to reassure she's being foolish or hit her for being so incredibly foolish you don't know.

"I've always liked you Zixuan," she says suddenly, "You're like me. We both don't get whatever everyone is talking about when they speak of 'a better tomorrow.' I have the best 'today' I can imagine. I know you feel the same."

Your throat feels dry.

"I'm going to tell you a secret because you're good at those. Do you see this mark on my ankle?" Towarri immediately flips upside-down, her flying to keep her body level in the shot. She slides down her dress and awkwardly raises her left leg in front of the camera.

On her ankle is the image of a star.

"People think I got that because of Valiant Silver, but I had it before. They gave it to me in the place where I grew up."

Her eyes become distant in memory. "There were a lot of kids like me. Kids with powers, I mean. We all got different marks put on us. If you ever see anyone with a sun, lanturn, star, key, or a moon over a crown, they probably came from the same place I did."

Towarri leans closer to the video, still upside-down.

"Be nice to them? I tried to go back to them a few years ago. I got in trouble for it, and the place I grew up is gone now. No one is there anymore."

She minutely frowns. "I hope my instructors are dead. I hope the other kids got out like I did."

Towarri floats flipped in the air, her hands folded in her lap. She's silent for a moment before adding one last thing.

"Oh, and keep an eye on Dr. Mammoth Ibis? He's lonely and we're his only friends, but he has the potential to be the greatest beetle-battler of all time if he can stop cheating."

With that she reaches out and turns off the camera.

Rakeem

You take a breath to steady yourself. This one will be . . . difficult.

Rakeem appears on screen in his human form. He is impeccably groomed as ever—dark hair styled back, goatee and mustache trimmed, his eyebrows meticulously plucked.

You smile. You can almost hear the low rumble of his voice on one of your many road trips. If someone can't be trusted with their eyebrows, how can they possibly be trusted with anything else?

He wears a black turtle neck stretched across his large frame, muscles threatening to burst out. You let your eyes linger for a moment before looking at the gold necklace around his neck. Rakeem sits in a lounge chair—he's the first person you've seen to not just record their message at their desk.

"Zi," he says, "I'm sorry I failed. I am happy, however, that you're okay."

You sigh. Rakeem, ever to the point. He and Towarri were alike in that way.

"With me gone, there will be a great number of responsibilities that will fall to you. Do not let Nora try to take them on. We both know there's too much on her plate already."

Ah, yes. Rakeem recorded this before the vote, didn't he? He didn't know at the time Nora would be "retired."

"If things are bad enough . . . initiate Project Prometheus. Only you, Nora, and I are aware of its existence and, of the three of us, you are best suited to lead it."

You instinctively open your mouth to protest, but Rakeem from the past interrupts you. "No. I can picture your face right now. Stop it. You are."

Rakeem says those last words with such force that the speakers make your bed rattle.

"You have never been able to see yourself the way others see you. But you have it in you to be the greatest of us all. Yaz knows it, Nora knows, and I know it. So don't doubt yourself."

Rakeem lip curls, just a little, and he smirks. "Still doubt me? What? Do you think I'm stupid?"

You laugh. Yazmin once earnestly said that to Nora during one of their many fights. It became something of an inside joke between you and Rakeem—a way to signal that you weren't interested in further arguing a point.

He continues, back to business. "To help you with Project Prometheus, I've hidden a cache of supplies at coordinates attached to this file including. . . the main ingredient. Just be warned—you'll need someone who's either invincible or able to level a building to get to it. I'm sorry about that. Might be difficult."

You chuckle. If only Rakeem knew . . .

"Oh and Zi?" He sits up straight and glares at the camera. "There is a package in there that is marked for your eyes only. Do not let anyone else see what is inside."

You sit up as well. What could possibly be in there that had Rakeem, of all people, so . . . emphatic?

"Zi." Rakeem grabs his neck and looks away. "If I could have one more day. . . I'd go on another road trip with you. One last time."

He turns back, his gaze as sure as the metal that is his name.

"You are enough, Zi. You always were."

The recording ends. It's a long time before you move again.

(You have unlocked the mission: Break Glass in Case of Emergency.)

Eve

Eve is not dead. You will find her and bring Moon River back to Justice Unlimited. You leave the message unwatched.

Nora

When Nora's message begins, you're immediately struck by how recent the recording is. Nora looks the same as the day before the Movement. She also looks terrible, with dark bags under her eyes, her hair unwashed, and her movements frantic. You've seen Nora coming down off using her power, and the signs are unmistakable.

As are the tremors in her hands. They're so bad that she uncontrollably shakes the camera as she readjusts it. She sits in an oversized office chair with her feet pulled up to the seat and addresses you.

"Hey, Zi. I probably look like shit, huh? Well, shut it. I died and I get to look like shit during my last will and testament if I want to."

You smile despite yourself. Leviathan's Blood, she was always so Nora.

"I'm recording this the day after the vote. The night? I have no idea how long it's been actually,: she says, looking for a clock, "Wait, it's been three days? No wonder I smell so bad. Yeesh."

She shakes her head and folds her arms to her side self-consciously.

"You're getting the most recent goodbye from me. I don't know if I'll update everyone else's. I don't know if I have anything to say to them."

Nora looks down, a twisted expression on her face. You can only imagine what she's feeling, if she knows herself.

". . . why'd they do it, Zi? Have this vote behind my back. I wouldn't have known about it if you hadn't told me," she says. She sounds hurt. "They couldn't tell me to retire to my face? They didn't have the courtesy to strip me of the chairmanship while I was in the room?"

You see moisture glisten in her eyes. Nora furiously scrubs her face; she hated crying, especially in front of others.

"How come you understand me? Why can't Yazy?"

For once, you're glad she can't hear your responses. You don't know what to say. You've never known. Every time Yazmin and Nora would break up, every time Nora would disappear into her lab for days, every time she tried again to get her girlfriend to understand the burning need to grow, improve, be better . . . it never changed.

Nora sniffs and keeps going, "So, yeah. They can have the crap I recorded a year ago. If you must, call me pueri. . . uh, puril. . . um. Fuck. What's the word?"

Your heart sinks. There's an all-too familiar blankness to her face as she struggles to remember something.

"Pueri—what? What's the word? Fuck. Puella? No. What's the word?! Shit. What's the fucking word?!"

Nora puts her head in her hands and furiously rubs her face, hands on her temples.

"I . . . shit, what was it?" she looks around the room, like she's never seen it before, "Wait, what am I even doing? What's going on?"

Your heart shatters into a thousand pieces. Nora . . .

She stands up and looks around, shaking her head. "Wait, am I recording? I was . . . gonna tell Zi stuff. Wait, is this already happening? Did . . . Did I forget?"

"God fucking dammit!" she screams, slamming her desk. A number of items fall to the floor with a loud clatter, including a wrench that lands on Nora's foot.

"Ow, fuck—!" Nora starts hopping around the room, cursing furiously. "Great job, idiot! Your power is turning your brain into Swiss-cheese and now you're breaking the rest of your body too!"

She stumbles around the room, in and out of frame, unsuccessfully trying to walk off the pain. It's so absurd—all of it—that you can't help but laugh.

"Shut up, Zi!" Nora shouts from off-camera, "I know you're laughing at me! Yeah, well, I bet you're wearing your stupid sunglasses indoors right now; you can't judge me!"

Nora hops around a while longer before sitting down. So that's how she broke her foot.

"Okay, speed round then. Before I just Rebound-out altogether."

She looks at the camera, her demeanor changed. And like that, there sits Valiant Silver.

"Something is going on with the Leviathan. Its psychic signature has gotten deeper, lower. . ." she sighs, "Okay, bear with me. This is some woo-woo New Age shit that would get me laughed out of a scientific conference but . . . imagine that everyone's, everything living creature's mind is connected to the same place. Like a grand stage. Most of the time, you aren't aware of it. You're in the back, behind the curtain. But if you're a powerful enough physic, if you're in touch enough with the collective unconscious, you can peek past the curtain."

She grabs her arm, tracing the sleeve of roses that tattoos her skin from biceps to wrist.

"I've done it a few times. When I've used the EXCEED armor. You know what I see when I look on stage?"

She closes her eyes and smiles gently.

"A symphony. Everyone's mind drifts in unison. Distinct, but connected. Its . . . beautiful."

She opens her eyes, and her smile is gone.

"But there are four voices louder than everyone else. One is the Leviathan. It's not alive—at least, not alive like we are—but it sings all the same, low, deep, and meaningless. There's another voice, sweet and wrathful. It's coming from Wonderland. From the most powerful psychic in the world."

You don't breathe. Valkyrie?

"There are two more voices, but I can't make them out. They shift and hide and, if I'm being honest, are disgusting. One's like a wax figure of a man that's melted. The other's like if you tried to remake a figure of a person out of the melted wax. But they're getting lounder. And so is the Leviathan."

She grits her teeth and squeezes her arm so hard, her nails draw blood.

"Do you think I want this? Does everyone think I'm trying to Rebound? I knew from the day I learned I was an Algernon-type I would never grow old, but I'm not stupid. I'm doing this because I'm the only one who can see that we're running out of time and I can't make the people in the world I love the most understand that."

Leviathan's Blood and Bone . . . Nora. You had no idea she felt this way. That she was going through all this. Why . . . why didn't she tell you? Did she try and you didn't understand? You feel a wetness drip down from your face and land on your arms.

Nora clears her throat. "Which is my way of saying that I've finished it. The EXCEED-BEYOND armor. It's done."

You freeze in place.

"I know what I did wrong the first time. I'll never be able to use the armor—no metahuman will ever be able to. It will be waiting for you in the Apiary."

Valiant Silver fixes you with a gaze from the past and gives you a command with all the weight of the world.

"Initiate Project Prometheus. It's time."

You exhale and smirk to yourself, the tension broken. Well, in that regard, you're already one step ahead.

"And if you already have and you have that stupid smirk on your face—you smug bitch—then have you figured out another source of goldnine? 'Cuz the R-Train won't let you take any without a fight."

. . . yes, that will be a challenge after your next dose of Ambrosia. Nora could be kinder about it however—that smug bitch.

"I have a lead on that," she says," The R-Train isn't a purely mechanical construction. If it was, then Eve would have been able to take control of it. It's partially biological with its own psychic field. Which means, if you have someone who's sensitive to those or you use equipment from my lab, you might be able to talk to it. Then cut a deal or trick it, or whatever sneaky shit you want to do."

Nora leans back, satisfied expression on her face. "There, cleaning your messes even from the grave. Ain't I the best?"

She luxuriates in the moment before growing serious again.

"There's more I need to tell you, Zi. A lot more. But it's not safe to do it like this. I'll have another message waiting for you in my lab. My real lab, in the deepest part of the Apiary with the Contingency. You'll have to convince it to let you in."

She leans forward, eyes sharp. "You can do it, Zi. Let it know I'm gone. And trust yourself. Remember, the Apiary doesn't just have Rosemary's name. It has her heart."

She looks down at her trembling hands before sighing and looking back up.

"Now, if he's still alive, can you please finally bang Rakeem? We all know what he's into and, as much as it pains me to admit it, your butt is like an 11 out of 10."

You preen at that. You do love compliments.

"I love you, Zi. You smug, fucking bitch. Now, goodbye."

Nora lowers her head and the video ends. You bow your head as well and say farewell to your best friend.

(You have unlocked the mission: Train Kept a Rollin'.)

Harper

You save Harper's video for last. You have no particular reason. You suppose you weren't very close to the woman called The Red Huntress, and perhaps this will be a less emotionally-taxing experience.

You are wrong.

Harper was a bubbly, silly woman who could turn vicious and ugly at the drop of hat. The woman who appears on your screen is neither of those things. Harper's blonde hair is disheveled and her eyes . . . they looked like Maddie's eyes did. She's bit her nails bloody and is constantly scratching at her skin.

You can tell from the window it's nighttime, but every light in her room is on at maximum luminosity.

"Leizi", she spits, "I know you don't really like me. I don't care."

You are taken aback. You and Harper never got on, but you didn't dislike her. Whatever gave her that impression?

"I'm telling you this because I know you're the only one who will do it. You're not scared like the others."

She leans forward, her blue eyes wide and filled with madness.

"I need you to kill my sister."


As the video ends, you sit back in your bed at a loss for words.

A power-copier. Harper's older sister was a villainous power-copier.

You suppose it's no wonder you've never heard of her. The last metahuman who could duplicate powers was Copycat nearly ten years ago. He was found three days after his public debut. Everyone knew the threat a person who could copy the powers of other metahumans could pose. No one wanted to give a threat like that time to realize itself.

And Harper's sister had been active for nearly twenty years.

It was a nightmare. "Touch-based cloning of human beings, including metahumans?" "Total subservience?" It was like a funhouse mirror version of Maddie's power. That the clones were short lived was no comfort when she could just make more.

Apparently Harper's parents had been dead for years, and her sister just had puppets parading around pretending to be them. You've met Harper's parents! They were . . . odd. Simple even. But you never for a second thought. . .

You realize that is yet another threat you will have to get ahead of if you are to stabilize the city. At least, now, you have a name.

Socialite Butterfly.

_____________________________________________________________________________

You unlocked mission: Hero Worship!

You unlocked mission: Break Glass in Case of Emergency!

You unlocked mission: Train Kept a Rollin'!

Jacob's Ladder – Justice Unlimited Satellite Headquarters – November 30, 2067

Between yourself, Chaucer, Dr. Ibis, Black Swan, and Menagerie Witch with her namesake animals, your meeting room has become delightfully crowded.

Black Swan and Menagerie Witch have become thick as thieves in the last few days, and you notice the young girl humming the theme song to Black Swan's favorite television show.

You watched an episode. It was fine.

Chaucer clears his throat and begins. "Justice Unlimited. We are here to discuss the next implementation of—"

"The future of humanity!" Dr. Ibis interrupts, practically vibrating with excitement. "We have enough goldnine for one more dose of Ambrosia! It's going to get turnt as the children say!"

He turns to Black Swan and Menagerie Witch for approval. Menagerie Witch grimaces and Black Swan pats his arm. "You almost got it."

Chaucer pinches the bridge of his nose and tries again. "Yes, the doctor is correct. This is our last dose of Ambrosia for some time. We must make it count."

Menagerie Witch tugs on Black Swan's arm and whispers something in her ear. Black Swan nods and says, "Yeah, Maddie's right. We need someone who punches-good."

"Excuse me?" you say, not knowing if you should be offended or not.

"Not like that, Double-L," Black Swan clarifies.

". . . Double L?"

Black Swan acts as if she can't hear you. "You sneak-good and you can punch in a pinch, but you wouldn't be our first option going head to head against someone super strong or anything. We don't want you fighting someone who could really hurt you. I blast-good, but I'm more effective at range. Maddie thinks-good in a fight, but sometimes you just gotta to deck someone in the schnoz."

She illustrates the point by punching her fist into her hand.

"Maddie was just saying we need somebody like that."

Menagerie Witch nods furiously and blushes at your approving smile.

"I see her point."

"Yes, well, first we'll need to select our candidate," Chaucer says, giving up on orderly directing the meeting altogether, "And since we've undertaken zero recruiting efforts, our options are . . . limited."


"Shall we flip a coin?" Dr. Ibis sneers, "Or will be the man who sciences-good or the man who solider-spies-good?"

He again turns to Black Swan and Menagerie Witch for approval. Menagerie Witch again grimaces but Black Swan doesn't pat his arm this time.

"Maybe you should stick to your own thing, Doc."

______________________________________________________________________________

Who will be the next subject of Project Prometheus?

[ ] Rhys Gardner

[ ] John Henry Rhodes