The team fought with enmity and malice. Fang slowly walked towards him, screaming her heart out as she fired enormous laser beams at his legs, trying to cripple him. Rogue, using the force of his exo-suit and dark matter beams, attempted to annihilate his back. Traverse hovered above, stabbing both shoulders and screaming loud enough to crash mountains in his ears. Bullet went for his gonads, trying to buy time for Dart, who was punching his face continuously, tears of joy streaming down his face because he finally had the man who killed his parents. But they all forgot one thing: George can teleport.

George disappeared and popped up again behind Traverse. He gripped him by one of his wings and slammed him onto the ground. Then, he threw him out of the building. He used his hand to block Fang's heat vision and punched her in the gut with the other hand, sending her flying into the wall. George caught one of Dart's punches and used his arm to throw him into Bullet. Rogue was about to shoot dark matter at him when he was kicked through a window and into a palm tree.

George noticed how the building was about to collapse because of the fire, so he ran to a cold, metal box that was on the floor. He picked it up and disappeared.

THREE HOURS AND FORTY-THREE MINUTES LATER...

Damon suddenly woke with an immense pain in his head. He tried to get up, but he couldn't move. He looked around frantically. It was then he realized he wasn't wearing his suit. He couldn't see any of his teammates, either. He tried to collect as much information as he could judging by where he was. Okay, he thought. I'm strapped down, I don't know where anyone is, and I can't see because of lack of lighting.

At that moment, a door opened somewhere and Damon looked around to see where it was. Seeing as how he couldn't find it, he assumed it was from behind him. Wait, he thought again. Can it be...?

"Mr. Tucker?" he called out. No response. Just silence. Then, footsteps. Lights turned on all around him, making his eyes hurt. He could feel someone approaching him. He listened very closely to the footsteps. They were way to light to be George's. "Who are you?" he called out again. "I demand that you let me and my team go. Unharmed." A middle-aged man stood to Damon's right. Then he spoke.

"Oh, I can't promise that," he said. "You nearly killed my son." Damon thought for a minute. Then he remembered the end of his escape from the CIA. He remembered how he spared a soldier's life out of sympathy. He could distinctly remember how that man had a bullet hole in his arm.

"He should feel lucky," Damon responded, now looking at the man. "We killed everyone else." The man chuckled then walked over to the table, turning his back to Damon. He attempted to escape from the straps holding him down. 

"No need to escape, Damon." he said. "We could use you and your team for good. Now, I'm going to untie you. Just hold on a second." He began untying Damon, leaving him confused.
While he was being untied, he asked, "How do you know I won't kill you?" The man chuckled for a second and replied: "I don't. But I have hope." It was then Damon was free and he decided to stand up and face the man who untied him. He seemed relaxed, not even flinching.

"Wait," Damon said. "If I nearly killed your son and you can't guarantee our safety, why are you letting us go?" This was the million-dollar question. "Oh, and who's 'we'?" he added.

"To answer your question, 'we' are T.H.O.R.N.E. It stands for Tactical Helping Operational Righteous National Enforcers. We focus on people with special abilities, such as the supernatural or aliens. Come, I'll show you to your friends and our commanders. We have a lot to discuss." He handed Damon his watch and they walked out the door together.

  He was led into a room where he saw the others watch as he entered. The room had about eighteen people, possibly analysts, typing on laptops. Soldiers dressed in all-out armor wandered in and out of the room, some carrying highly advanced weaponry. There were two people who really stood out because they didn't dress like everyone else there. There was one young man who looked to be in his mid-twenties who had a whole lot of blue and black on him. Him and Damon apparently had shared interests because when the man opened his black, leather trench coat, it was full of knives with blue handles.

   There was a woman standing next to him who was dressed in purple and grey attire. He couldn't see any of her face, so it was difficult to determine her looks. Her face was covered in grey spandex and had tiny eyeholes where you could barley see her eyes. That spandex covered her entire body. Covering her torso, arms, hands, and legs was purple leather with inner outlines. Then, they both walked towards Damon and his team, who weren't wearing any of their suits, revealing all of their identities.  

 "I know you're all very confused," said the man in blue. "But we are on your side. We have been tracking Mr. Tucker, or 'Genesis', as we call him, for months. We believe you five are the key to finding and ending him once and for all. My name is Thorne, and this," he said as he gestured to the purple and grey woman, "is Plague. And we are T.H.O.R.N.E."