Getting out of family movie night is so much easier than I expected it to be. Neither my brother nor my parents ask for follow up questions when I inform them the Naval Brigade will be having a movie night at Amanda's house. Instead, I get the go ahead and a quick pat on the back from my father before he settles down on the couch, throwing an arm over the armrest and taking a long sip of soda from the can.

"I mean, I am going to be missing movie night. You're not upset or anything. Right?" I ask them, peaking around the corner into the family room.

"Do you think we're resentful that you're thriving in your new high school, honey? Your grades are up, your lady friends seem lovely, and you're having a good time. Go have fun." My mom beams.

"You can feel a little guilty if you want to." Adam says. "Just sayin'."

I smile. "Thanks, Adam."

Amanda's house is within walking distance, but when I get out onto the street, I don't turn down Abermarle onto 13th, where her house is, instead I turn right onto the street next to ours, where the old church sits, moss-covered and complacent. The driveway, which leads into the cemetery, is gravel instead of pavement, and I follow it up and around the back, where my entrance lies. A patch of wall too dark to be covered in shadow stands ominously above me, and I close my eyes and step through into the Veins.

The others are already there, and Amanda is sparring with Garrett, paintbrush against halberd. Garrett's halberd wasn't there last time I checked, but it complements his abilities well enough. It's not like portal creation was offensive enough on its own, anyhow. Amanda has also slimmed up her paintbrush, for better versatility, and she's figured out how to actually manifest something resembling paint onto it. She holds a palette in her other hand, which toggles color and ability, and she's working on changing the brush size so that she can draw glyphs and the like with it, or as she says, "crazy cool shit". For now, she wields it like a broom, though it's also a broom with corrosive acid on the bristles.

She turns to me with a massive grin on her face, totally dropping her concentration, and Garrett's halberd swings right over her head. Shiloh walks onto the scene, fur on end, and yells, "Please, can you find a method of training that doesn't involve risk to either of your persons? This is an exceedingly high-risk activity."

"Fine, as soon as you think of one, we'll stop practicing with each other." Garrett slings the pole arm over his back and into the case so that the blade sticks out over his shoulder. It's not practical in the least, especially because he has to adjust his hands several times to get it into a position where he can actually use it, but he claims he saw it "in a video game, once".

"I got such a cool scar though! Check it." Amanda holds up her arm, where a nice, long scratch has manifested up the side of her arm. "Told my parents it was a tree. Sorry Garrett."

"They believed that?" I ask.

"It wasn't the first time I've walked into a tree," she admits. "There was this one time I was walking to school in middle school with headphones on, and I may or may not have been singing along to this great anime opening... I kind of fell into a rosebush."

"Incredible." Garrett says with a whistle.

"If you don't mind, we only have so long. I predict whatever excuses you've made won't hold long after midnight, and it would be best to avoid arousing suspicion, especially this early in our time together."

"Right." I say, raising my shield.

"Remember, this mission is to establish who our enemy is, what their strengths are, and how they might be best defeated given our number and abilities. It's okay if you don't succeed this time around- never has it ever been so simple as a single hit and run." Shiloh continues.

"Your confidence in us is utterly astounding." Karen says, entering with her arms folded. Her cocoa skin is hardly visible around her mask and jacket, the ruff of which has taken on a life of its own and plays at her neck with its long, fluffy tendrils.

"Apologies, I have certain interest in ensuring you don't die. It is not easy to get more civilians from the surrounding area after a string of disappearances. People become quite... vigilant, once they know a certain risk exists, even if they have no idea what they're up against."

"So now we've heard it right from his mouth that we can actually, absolutely die on one of these missions." Karen continues, "You all are still in?"

Amanda gives an enthusiastic nod.

Garrett hesitates, but shrugs, "But we don't, though, as long as we're not stupid."

"Are you scared?" I ask, and although I don't intend it, I sound daunting.

"No, not really. I mean, I'm concerned, but probably not as much as I should be." Karen says, "Look, if we're going to go, we should go. We don't have all night."

Shiloh moves to make an exit through the air, but Garrett brushes him aside with a dramatic stroke of his hand. "I can handle this," he says, lining up his fingers into twin Ls and drawing a screen between them. A pane of darkness emerges, but flickers out long before he can make it large enough for the whole group to fit through, and Shiloh gives him a tired look. "Right, can't handle it."

"I'll get you close as I can go. Will should be able to hone in on it from there, since his senses are the strongest." Shiloh lowers his head and a door appears through the air, another screen of darkness that leads back to the outside world. "Good luck."

We stride through together and emerge, still decked in our hero clothing, in a small suburban neighborhood. I think I recognize it from a car drive a few months ago, through a part of town we don't often visit. The area is full of townhouses, situated back to back to back in cheery rows of three to five. Welcome to Hazel Groves, reads a painted sign with green lettering. Grove is accurate, because amongst the prim lawns are several old, tremendous trees that arc over the houses.

Karen's looking up as well, but she's not viewing the trees. Instead, her eyes are on the power lines, situated beneath the lowest branches. "I have an idea."

I'm not sure what she's implying until she rests her hand against the closest pole, and before she can fire it up, Garrett jerks her hand away. A flash of light fills the area, Garrett is on the ground, and the ruff of soft material on the rim of Karen's jacket is alight with static.

"What the hell are you doing? I could have killed you!"

"Holy shit, we almost just took out a power line." Garrett says, eyes wide.

"Please be a little quieter." I ask both of them.

"Please be a little less obvious, why don't you? Are you trying to get us all killed?" Garrett says, still staring down Karen with bitter contempt in his eyes.

"You're such an idiot," Karen says, flicking her fingers again to find that no sparks fire. "Looks like I'm out of juice. Thanks, Garrett. Hope we don't get foiled by what, home security?"

"Oh yeah, like you haven't just made us seem a thousand times more suspicious."

"There's no way someone didn't see that, or won't see us soon. There are lights on in most of these houses." I reason, "I'd really prefer not to be defeated by the power of Neighborhood Watch."

"How do heroes ever get things done? Or villains, for that matter? If getting into a house in the suburbs is this hard, then how do you pull anything else off?" Amanda asks, frustrated.

"No clue," I say, looking at the lit houses. I pick up my pace as one of the doors creaks open, feeling my heart go a thousand miles per hour, and the others follow, speeding away into the dark space cast by tree shadows hidden between streetlights. I close my eyes, hoping whatever 'senses' Shiloh was talking about will kick in any minute, and sense something emanating from a house not far off. It's like a magnetic push, a repulsion, yet we're walking straight towards it. The house itself is unassuming, with a small patio and few windows, situated at the end of a three-house row.

"What now?" asks Amanda as we walk up the steps to the entrance. "We're not seriously going to ring the doorbell?"
I raise my shield. "Well..."

The door swings open and I just step out of the way. A man with dark brown hair, rectangular glasses, and contemplative eyes emerges out onto the patio. His clothing is formal, complete with a tie, and his hair is long but tied back into a ponytail. Despite the normal clothing and seemingly normal house, he looks adrift, as if he was torn forcefully out of a comic book or another, undefined era in time. I have no doubt in my mind that this, if anyone in the world, is our man. "Please don't bust down my door." he says, his voice kind. "You kids can come in and have some coffee if you want. I can also prepare tea, if that's more to your liking."

"H-hello." I say, putting down my shield. "Um, sorry, sir."

"What are you doing? This is a trap. This is totally a trap!" Amanda yells.

"You've made it through most of my traps already, if less than gracefully. There are going to be reports about a group of hooligans in the area, rather unflattering ones, and likely my neighbors will be coming out of their houses to investigate the noise riiiiiight..."

"Alright." I decide, "We're coming inside."

I don't expect for the others to follow my lead as I enter the house, but they do, silent and nervous as I am. Now, if I could only find the Diosite...

"Feel free to sit down wherever you'd like." The man informs us. "Drink requests? The coffee's medium roast, and I have chamomile and Earl Grey in regards to tea."

"It's literally nine at night. Who drinks coffee at nine?" Garrett asks.

"Adults with poor sleep schedules and a lot of work to get done." he says.

"I'll take chamomile," I say, sitting down in one of the admittedly comfy chairs in his living area. If I bite my tongue, the pain almost covers the incredible panic I'm feeling right now. Almost.

"Dude. Trap. I'm warning you, right now." Amanda whispers, gripping my arm.

"You don't seem too alarmed that a bunch of kids showed up at your doorstep in battle gear," Karen notes as the man exits into the kitchen, likely to prepare the tea or prepare our imminent demises.

"Why would I be alarmed?" he asks. "I knew you were coming tonight."

Amanda peers around the corner, watching him walk into his average kitchen and get out a tea bag from a store-brand container and place a kettle of hot tap water on the stove and preparing himself a cup of coffee. "It's totally sleeping potion. You're so dead."

"Actually, it's from Safeway." he calls back, before returning with tea in one hand and coffee in the other. I take my mug of tea, which smells like your average pot of camomile, but Amanda is making me too jumpy to take any chances.

"What's your name, sir?" I ask, though I'm blushing through my mask. I place one foot on top of the other, trying to keep my leg from trembling, but my hand still shakes around the mug.

The others are looking to me for something I can't provide.

"I should be asking yours first, shouldn't I?" asks the man, his wide brown eyes watching us from beneath his glasses.

"Nope!" Amanda says, bolting to her feet. I almost drop my tea. "We are not at liberty to give that information out. You may refer to me as 'your highness' while I work on my superhero name though."

Right. We can't refer to each other by our real names within the house, either. I don't need telepathy to cue them in on this.

"Whatever the case, as you've already found my abode, I assume you already know enough about me for my name to make little difference. If nothing else, you could guess it through observation, or from anything scattered about my house- my mail, for instance." he smiles, as if he's giving us some kind of hint. "It's Faust, though. Ignatius Faust."

"But it's you," I respond.

He nods.

"We- uh," I look to the others for advice, but they're afraid as I am. With the most authoritative tone I can muster, I throw out my hand and say, "We know you are in the possession of a rare crystal capable of extraordinary generative properties, and we've come to reclaim it. Failure to comply will be messy for everyone involved."

"I'm afraid I can't give it to you." He folds his arms. "I'd advise you sit back down."
I lower the cup of tea and raise my shield. "Or else?"

He holds up a phone. "I call the police."

Karen's hair shoots up as electricity surges through her. "Do you want to bet?"

"That-that's why I'm going to use a cell phone. Don't think I won't do it. I am inputting the numbers at this very moment." he says, mashing his finger into the nine. "It would look incredibly suspicious if I cut off the line, now wouldn't it?"

Fear pulses through me, and the others are on their feet around me, waiting for the call. Anxiety twisting my heart, I admit, "We're retreating."

"Really? Where, outside?" There's a group of people outside, by where we were earlier, discussing something I can't hear from indoors. We can't rush out there like this. We can't get caught on our first mission. We-

I look to Garrett, who opens a portal as quickly as he can.

"I have no clue," I admit, defeated, the portal flickering behind us. Amanda leaps through, and Karen, fists balled, follows "But we'll be back."

Ignatius Faust nods, an eerie stillness in his eyes-- he makes no attempt to stop our escape. "I'll keep in touch."

I leap through as the portal closes, landing on my face in a mercifully soft patch of grass. Garrett is on his knees, next to me, panting. "That takes," he stops, gasping for air, "takes a lot out of you." Gripping his chest, he murmurs, "Ouch."

"Where are we?" Karen asks.

"I don't know. Wasn't thinking." he squints, "I think this is my middle school?"

I look at my team, all of whom are startled and confused, and pull myself up from the ground. "Okay, so expectations were low, but we can all agree that that sucked."

Amanda nods, staring down at her brush. Karen gripes, "Right. Garrett, you're an idiot, and Will, was there one thing you didn't screw up in that encounter? All you had to do was give the order and we could have decked that man. Did you see him? He was a twig."

"I screwed up?" I raise my hands skywards, "Do I look like I know what I'm doing to you? We're not trained professionals! I could barely think of anything to say to him, and it's a miracle I didn't break down crying halfway through that. Do you know how scared I was?" I ask, anxiety firing on all cylinders. My mask fogs up. "Of course it wasn't going to be easy as we thought, but it's not because the villain was secretly packing heavy artillery, or living in an underground bunker, or whatever. It's because of us. We failed."

Amanda puts a hand on my shoulder. "Don't beat yourself up, Will, we all sucked."

Garrett smiles, holding one hand in the air. "Guilty."

Karen agrees, "Guess I shouldn't have been waiting on your signal, either. Way too much pressure on you. Sorry, Will."

"It's fine," I say, and though my hands are still shaking, I throw them around Amanda and hug her tightly. "We're alive, not in some juvenile detention center, and we're going to get home on time."

"Crap, how are we getting home? My middle school is miles and miles from any of our houses." Garrett admits.

We sit in stunned silence, zero plans between the four of us, until a dark hole emerges onto one of the playground slides, a few yards off.

"Shiloh delivers!" Garrett yells, and the anxiety finally breaks- we all laugh until we're blue in the face.

(TWO FAN ISSUES OF GREAT IMPORTANCE:

1: Quick poll: what's everyone's favorite team? I'll ask again as the story goes on but I'm curious.

2: I never actually planned anyone's superhero names. Ha ha kill me now. 

...thoughts?)