//|| //^^\\ || || .|. COHERENT COMICS UNINCORPORATED PRESENTS // || \\ || || --X--------------------------------------------- //======================= '|` ACADEMY OF SUPER-HEROES #47 // || \\ || || Shattering Hellas B: Valley Of Death // || \\__// || || Copyright 2004 by Dave Van Domelen ___________________________________________________________________________ [cover shows a long column of troops and vehicles at night, headlights stretching off into the distance, troops backlit. All around them are sinister amber and red eyes.] ACADEMY OF SUPER-HEROES ROLL CALL CODENAME REAL NAME POWERS STATUS -------- --------- ------ ------ Solar Max Jonathan Zachary Spacetime Control ACTIVE "JakZak" Taylor Comet Sarah Grant-Taylor Superspeed, Ice Body ACTIVE Green Knight Salvatore Napier Strength, Regeneration ACTIVE Contact Aaron Zander Psi, Mind-over-Body ACTIVE Scorch Scott Handleman Pyrokinetic ACTIVE George Sylvester Living Light MEDICAL LEAVE Essay Sara Ana Rodriguez Gadgeteer ACTIVE Peregryn Howard Henderson Jr. Elemental Mage ACTIVE Lightfoot Tom Dodson Velocity Control ACTIVE Breaker Christina Li Telekinesis ACTIVE Fury Arin Kelsey Concussion Blasts ACTIVE ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ [July 24, 2025 - Istanbul, Turkey] "Well, *that* could have gone better," Aaron sighed as he and Peter the satyr got out of earshot of the rest of the participants in the now-closed talks. Aaron had hoped to convince the Moslem Confederation to not send an army into Greece, not to let themselves be drawn into what was obviously a trap set by Q'Nos, the Minotaur of myth. "Ehh, there's only so many times and so many ways y'can tell someone not to stick their dick in the blender," Peter shrugged, trotting along beside him. "If they're set on doing it anyway, it ain't yer fault. At least they got an under-the-table agreement with the EU, so it won't be a *bigger* war. I like Arc, she's got brains and bod...you suppose she...?" "Nope," Aaron shook his head, grinning at the mental image of the super-strong speedster, ah, "rebuffing" the satyr at high velocity. "I'm pretty sure she and Teller still have something going. Don't fault your taste, though." "What, you switching teams?" Peter arched an eyebrow. "I keep telling you, I'm not gay. I'm not straight, I'm not bi. I'm psi. And I'm no more likely to have any kind of deep relationship with Arc than with any other non-telepath. But I can still appreciate the shallow stuff just fine, okay?" "Eh, just trying to getcher mind off the coming storm," Peter grinned wickedly, reaching the limousine first and hopping in. "All right, a minibar!" Aaron followed suit, closing the door and motioning for the driver to take them to the NAC Embassy. Peter meant well, but it was kinda hard to get BOTH of his minds off a problem this thorny. Even if Aaron was distracted, he could feel the psychic echo of Paul in the back of his head, worrying. Multitasking could be a pain sometimes. The Moslem Confederation Expeditionary Force was massing in the Golden Horn, ready to march on Q'Nos's forces in the Shattered Lands at a moment's notice. The Eye of Purity was on his way out to meet that army and lead them in along a path cleared of the reality warps that had plagued most of Greece since the "Godmarket" of 1998. And the EU had already shifted additional troops into Albania and the remnants of Montenegro to back up their public posturing. But as long as it remained confined to the Mediterranean, he was just an observer. And the one observation he was certain of so far was that the whole situation was going to end badly. VERY badly. * * * * [July 25, 2025 - Chicago, Illinois Sector] "Patch & Crow's Nest - At one point a pirate-themed bar, it has since changed owners and themes several times without changing the name. The current incarnation is a fairly straightforward sports bar with reasonable prices and slightly better than average service and variety. What makes it notable of late is its proximity to the Academy of Super-Heroes regional headquarters, and the chance that patrons may catch a glimpse of one of the NAC's own heroes relaxing off-duty there...." - Excerpt from Pieterzoon's Field Guide To North American Cities: Chicago (2025 Edition). On the surface, the mood was jovial, a regular Friday night out at a bar with friends. A few of the screens showed the White Sox or Cubs games, but most were tuned to the paraball game. The Chicago Fire were currently leading the Mexico City Knights 5-3, welcome news after the lackluster first half of the season. But underneath it all, the mood was brittle. World events were marching towards war, and no one was more uncertain about what this might bring than the group at a special corner table, currently swathed in green light thanks to one of the half dozen or so occupants. "I really don't like just sitting around waiting for something to happen," Scott fumed. "When it was Rebus, we went in. When it was Doublecross, we went in. Why not now?" He took a sullen drink from his longneck. George, the source of the green light, shrugged. When he spoke, it was with a slight buzzing sound, as if he was using old stereo speakers that had faulty wiring. "Because we went in when it was Rebus and Doublecross, I think. Well, because you guys did," he smirked, acknowledging that he had been busy being presumed dead at the time of the previous incursions. Darran, one of the intel people who worked in a support role for ASH, nodded sagely. "Doesn't matter that these have been 'our' baddies. Public opinion in the EU has been pretty savage regarding the fact that you guys keep having to go in and save the day. Leaves egg all over EUROPA's face. And it doesn't help that the biggest ongoing threat on their doorstep is run by an expat American ex-con," he shrugged, preferring not to mention Chancellor Radner by name. "Diplomatically, it'd be a real disaster if we sent any of you into the EU right now for anything but consultation." He drained the last of his mug and set it down, sighing contentedly. "But enough talking shop, you two. There's a far more important issue me and the guys," he gestured to take in three non-powered coworkers and Tom "Lightfoot" Dodson, "wanted to bring up tonight. Tom?" He nudged the speedster suggestively. "Ah, yeah," Tom started somewhat hesitantly. In a strictly legal sense, he was old enough to be served in a bar in Illinois, what with being born in 1977. Biologically, though, he was only 20 thanks to his time travel jaunt, and he'd been ill at ease all night because of it. "Two words: bachelor party." "What the old man said," Jefferson chuckled, the maint chief clearly enjoying Tom's whole age-related discomfort. "Running a proper bachelor party for a celebrity like you is gonna take as much planning as the wedding, at least in terms of security, eh?" "I can just imagine trying to find a strip club that passes security checks," Darran chuckled. "Oh, no strip clubs," Scott made a cutting gesture with both hands. "What, Miss Silvestri already having a bad influence on you?" Jefferson winked. "Nah, just never really saw the point," Scott shrugged. "It's like going to a restaurant where they only let you look at the food. Anyway, I'm not sure a bachelor party is a great idea, not after what happened in Ibiza for Radner's. All I need is for an Ares-class Santari Warsuit to pop out of a cake or something, and I won't make it to the wedding. Not that we've even figured out where to have the wedding...probably want to settle on that before even thinking of stuff like bachelor and bachelorette parties." "Have you considered the Cloisters?" Darran suggested. "The ones in New York City?" Scott arched an eyebrow. "Yep." "The same New York City we're not supposed to go into?" George added. "Uh-huh," Darran nodded. "Before you set fire to my shorts or something, hear me out. Devlin Marx has bought the Cloisters and turned it into a casino and convention center. It's neutral ground in the city, and according to the reports I've been getting, the paragangs seem to be honoring that. There's been a few isolated incidents, but mostly at the start, before word got through that 'isolated incidents' would not end well for the instigators. It's a beautiful setting, Marx owes you all collectively, and it'd drive Umbrae nuts figuring out how he'd want to spin things." "There is that," Scott nodded thoughtfully. "I'll mention it to Julie and her International Planning Committee." Just then, a window shattered and people dove for cover. In a flash, Lightfoot was out of his seat and in front of the window, holding a tattered baseball made of silk cables and covered in kevlar. Then he grinned and directed everyone's attention to the screens showing the Fire/Knights game. "And what a home run for Hector 'Slammer' McGee of the Fire, punching RIGHT through Jesus Ibanez's force net AND the stadium's dome! That was not just out of the park, it might be out of the SECTOR!" enthused the announcer. "I'll be back in a minute," Tom grinned, lightly tossing the ball. "Don't make any plans while I'm gone!" * * * * [July 28, 2025 - Shattered Hellas] Mujahid looked up and down the column of advance uncomfortably. Allah may inspire, but man is responsible for the details...and the details of this operation worried him. It reminded him far too acutely of the battle of Teutoburger Wald and the lost legions of Tiberius: an army forced to travel in a tight column through terrain that was unfriendly to them but home to the enemy. At least they weren't also hampered by traitorous guides. "Varus, give me back my legions!" he muttered. "Sir?" Yussuf looked over. The lieutenant had been assigned as Mujahid's aide, but had proven to be useful for little more than the tasks of an orderly. His education was, sadly, typical for that of a soldier of the Taliban. "An old quote from a Roman emperor, who found his armies sent into a situation such as this," Mujahid explained. While the typical soldier's learning consisted of propaganda, scripture and how to field-strip a rifle, the men in charge of the project that trained Mujahid were wise enough to see the value in a broadly-educated super-soldier. Such a role required one who believed in the nation with true understanding, after all, so there was little danger in exposing him to a wider world. Too many followed the Law because it was all they knew, and they would abandon it once they discovered there were alternatives. Mujahid followed the narrow path of the true faith, however. But that did not mean he liked following *all* narrow paths. The Eye of Purity was indeed a holy man, exceptional among his nearly infidel countrymen. But he was no war-leader. He honestly did not believe that there was any particular danger to limiting the army to only two directions of movement...they would always be moving forward anyway, thanks to the grace of Allah, yes? The Hands of Fire seemed to have a better head for tactics, and the Eye was practical enough to hand over operational details to the Omani, but tactical wisdom is not always tied to strategic wisdom, and the Hands of Fire seemed to be a case in point. Mujahid was distracted from his thoughts as Scirocco sped past, raising a trail of dust and showering the vehicles and men with pebbles. "Do not worry, sir," Yussuf grinned. "Allah would not let danger slip past the eyes of one so devout as our Jordanian ally." "No, He wouldn't," Mujahid replied, hiding his scowl from his aide. Unfortunately, their "Jordanian ally" was hardly devout. He put on a show for the public, but in private it was clear he worshipped no power but himself. Oh, he was not one to proclaim himself a god in defiance of Allah, he was merely self-centered and petty. Mujahid treated him merely as a tripwire for now, as Scirocco was likely to either fall to or flee from any dangers first, his absence providing some warning. Even in this he failed. Mujahid heard the faint slap of bowstring against forearm just in time to raise the small collapsinum buckler strapped to his left arm. The arrow shattered against it. Centaurs boiled out of a copse of too-green trees, firing a ragged volley of arrows clearly aimed at command vehicles and at the visible members of the Righteous Flame. Mujahid raised the alarm by the simple expedient of opening fire on the charging creatures with his assault rifle, ducking down to use the firing slit in the truck's high walls. A small corner of his mind realized Yussef was standing stock still in shock, but a quick legsweep brought the aide below the protected level before any arrows could find him. Gunfire chattered out of the column, to little effect as the centaurs seemed to be uncannily nimble. Every few seconds, though, a ravening lance of white light lashed out from ahead of Mujahid, signifying the position of Cannon, a converted alien cyborg who now worshipped Allah and served the government of Egypt. His tracking systems were superior to the human eye in most respects, and soon he was finding a target with every shot, although he was also being found repeatedly by arrows fired during the recharge cycle of his namesake weapon. A few tongues of white flame far ahead told that this was not an isolated ambush, rather it was coordinated along the length of the column. Perhaps even timed to hit while Scirocco was as far away as possible? That the enemy had that level of organization worried Mujahid. The enemy was wheeling away now, leaving dozens of dead and wounded Moslems, but no shortage of their own dead, thanks to Cannon. Mujahid was fairly certain he had felled at least one himself as well. The Base of the Pillar was only now reaching the edge of the column, its lumbering pace being ill-suited to this sort of battle. Much like the bulk of the army, the mass of animate rock was best used in a "set piece" battle where a slow moving powerhouse could get into a dangerous position. Against the Centaurs, it was only really a distraction target, one that they had stopped shooting at once they saw their arrows did not penetrate its stone body. He looked at his shield. The red paint covering most of it had been scratched by the arrow, but there was no other effect on the wafer of preternaturally strong metal. That meant that the arrows were simply arrows, not magical enough to penetrate a product of 20th Century super-science. Good. The enemy had enough advantages already. * * * * [August 1, 2025 - Washington, Federal Sector] To the southeast of the still-standing buildings of the old United States federal government...the Capitol, the White House, the Washington Monument, and so forth...a second set of buildings rose from an area nearly razed by the unrest of the turn of the century. More utilitarian, lacking in the neo-Classical charm of the older buildings, these structures were the heart of the Combine government. With a mere 100-member Commons and nine Senators, there was less need for space, but more need for security. Broad, empty swaths of grass or pavement surrounded each building, with defenses both visible and hidden placed all about. Concealed silos could disgorge antiaircraft drones or even anti-satellite missiles at a moment's notice, and the underground was honeycombed with escape tunnels and bunkers. For all that, the room in which JakZak and Agent Hendrick waited for the nine Senators was unremarkable. No extreme security measures, just a standard, if well-appointed, meeting room in one of the dozens of office buildings that ringed the edges of the NAC governmental complex. Sometimes the best security is just keeping them from knowing where to aim, after all. The Senators had arrived from different directions, by different means, but all entered the meeting room within a minute of each other. They all took places around the table by some silent agreement born of habit and off-screen maneuvers for seniority. As invited guests, JakZak and Hendrick had chairs against the wall near the head of the table. Senator Lafferty, the senior Senator for America, nodded to the two team leaders. "Mister Taylor, Colonel Hendrick, thank you for making the time in your schedule to be available for this meeting. You understand, of course, that anything you overhear here is confidential, and covered by contracts you have signed regarding NAC secrets." The two men nodded. Hendrick wasn't, strictly speaking, under the authority of the NAC, as STRAFE was a United World team. But private contracts provided a way to stopper up that loophole. "Fine. To business, then. Greece. Opinions?" JakZak watched and listened as the nine most powerful men in the Combine government laid out their opinions and propositions regarding the situation in the Shattered Lands. Compared to the Senate's public deliberations, it was remarkably straightforward, with little posturing or playing to the crowd. It struck him that perhaps this was how the Senate conducted all of its *real* business, the public debates merely being a show for the masses. Playing to their age-old expectations that representative democracy must be constantly tripping over itself, unable to make much real progress and therefore less of a threat to those it supposedly served. Maybe the State governments really were that hamstrung, with their unwieldy hundreds...but for all the obvious disagreements, the Senate was frighteningly efficient in this mode of operations. Lafferty listened to the last opinion and then nodded. "So, in summary, we seem to have some consensus, but not much. Sra. Alonzo of the Pacific State and I think overt involvement is inevitable, and would prefer to act before action is forced on us. Sr. Gutierrez of Mexico and Mr. Talbot of Canada think we should not get involved in any fashion. The remainder of the Senate believes something *should* be done, but short of direct intervention. And no one can quite agree on what. Sounds to me like we have a good starting point," Lafferty chuckled. "No matter what we decide to do, someone's probably already got a plan worked out. Mister Taylor, could we hear your opinion of the matter?" JakZak nodded, standing so that all the Senators could see him clearly. "With due respect for the Senators from Canada and Mexico, Q'Nos is a menace on a par with Doublecross or Rebus. He may be a *fallen* god, but that still leaves him more powerful than any single force on this planet. If we let him gain political power in addition to the purely physical, it may not be possible to stop him WHEN, not IF, he turns his sights on the Combine. But like the Senator for the Isthmus points out, it's not obvious how we should intervene. It's entirely possible that the Moslem Confederation will be able to defeat Q'Nos, but will then try to march into the Balkans...do we put forces there to reinforce the EU, even though we've been asked not to? On the other hand, I agree with my teammate Contact's assessment that this is probably a trap, with Q'Nos luring the Confeds into a fight that will leave them badly mauled. In such a case, they might be tempted to use the 'secret' nuclear weapons everyone knows they have." "Are you suggesting we send forces to support the Moslems?" asked Jean-Bertrand Baptiste, the Senator from the Carribean. JakZak shook his head. "No, I agree that doing that would just anger the EU, and we don't need that. Overt aid wouldn't be good, at least not coming directly from the Combine. Colonel, might you have some ideas on this matter?" Hendrick shrugged. "Officially, no. Both the EU and the MC are members of the United World. If the EU wasn't being so pig-headed and refusing to admit in public the deal they made with the MC, we might be able to arrange some support above-board. Best we can do right now is try to sneak in a team, probably Tracey's or Kleinvogel's, to do a little sabotage behind the lines." "We could try to prepare for the contingency of nuclear assault," JakZak added. "Build a limited missile shield of some sort using some of the laser tech we captured from Doublecross's bases, put it in geosynch over the Middle East." Lafferty stroked his chin. "Maybe. But I don't like the idea of letting it get far enough for missiles to be launched in the first place. We could find ourselves in a shooting war with the Moslems if we do swat their nukes. Hendrick, I like the idea of a sabotage team. Given how much of both sides' fighting strength is focused in a few supernaturals, it might be possible to tilt the balance without revealing the presence of the team." Translation: assassinating Q'Nos would be a really good idea, but we can't come out and *say* so. "Taylor, you'll be hearing from my office one way or another soon." Translation: it might be necessary to just drop an asteroid on Q'Nos if the assassination team fails. "Gentlemen, thank you for coming." Translation: We want to talk in private now, and while you did sign those contracts of secrecy, we don't trust you *that* much. And with that, JakZak and Hendrick were shown out. * * * * [August 5, 2025 - Shattered Hellas] The battle raged. Colossal Cyclopses dominated the field, attracting much of the fire and distracting the Confederate forces from other, perhaps more dangerous threats. Shadowy hounds darted in and out of the lines, the so-called Wardogs of Set. Harpies swooped and wheeled, dropping jars of flaming oil or even grenades plucked from soldiers' bandoliers. Centaurs used the hilly terrain for cover and sniped at officers. All of this was clear to the Base of the Pillar, for although slow in body, the Irani supernormal was just as quick of mind as ever. Quicker, in fact, which was a curse. HER curse. In some ways, turning into a sexless brute of stone seemed to be a punishment from Allah. She would shed bitter tears over her fate if she could still shed them at all. But it was better than the life that she had been growing into before her transformation...a bright girl in a society that didn't value the intelligence of women, a nascent freethinker in a closed and intolerant nation. If she had manifested powers that left her clearly human in form, she would have been stoned to death as a demon. She almost laughed at that. Instead, she had been stoned to life, it seemed. Living, immortal stone. The Base lumbered onward, seeking out one of the giant Cyclopses as a fitting opponent. They could move more quickly than she could, but seemed too stupid to think of anything smaller than themselves as a threat. As a human paranormal, she would have been a threat to the system, to be purged before she could have a chance to demonstrate that she wasn't evil, wasn't a demon. So her parents faked her death and helped her concoct a story of being a nearby rock outcropping come to life. She had released some of her fear and anger by smashing that rock to pebbles. Since then, she had been given a great many things to hit, and it did help a little. But it was all so unfair! She was barely a woman yet, only a girl by the standards of other nations, and her life had been taken from her, replaced by cold, unfeeling stone! Even an accidental encounter with one of those called "Anchors" had not freed her, it was as if her natural state was stone, and the only magic was that she could move and think. It had been like dying, if only for a moment. She reached her target, which seemed not to have noticed her, distracted as it was by a heavy weapons platoon. It at least seemed to have the intelligence to block missiles aimed at its eye, she noticed. The Base grabbed its ankle and then planted her feet firmly on the ground, merging with the stone under her and becoming immovable. The Cyclops noticed her now, and tried to shake free. The ground creaked and rumbled, but the monster did not succeed. "Clear my three!" she rumbled, a sound like a talking gravel crusher. Well-trained, the soldiers to her right moved out of the way as quickly as they could, dragging wounded with them. With a mighty heave, the Base of the Pillar toppled the gargantuan Cyclops, its bones shattering like lightning-struck oaks as it hit the rocky ground in an ungraceful slam. A rocket-propelled grenade struck its single great eye as it tried to rise on its one unbroken arm, sending it howling to the ground again. She methodically started to work her way up one of its legs, striking with her full force, shattering the bone into fragments. It would never rise again, and she would feel...better...for a good long time after so much hitting. Let the war take care of itself, she had her battle. ============================================================================ Next Issue: The war for Greece comes down to one climactic battle in Shattering Hellas G: Storm of the Eye! ============================================================================ Author's Notes: As mentioned in an issue of STRAFE, the 2025 season marks an expansion of the Paraball League to eight teams, allowing them to play each other more often and the "normalball" teams less often. Why so many paranormals shifted into what is essentially entertainment? Well, not all paranormals have the temperment for combat, or appropriate powers, or the talent. But getting them into well paid professional sports jobs has many benefits, not the least of which is keeping them from joining paragangs. It also gets them into a situation where they learn teamwork and creative uses for their powers... while they may not be as combat-effective as the NAC Marshals, in a pinch they can be drafted into a fight and be much more useful than if they'd been left to their own devices. The 2025 season roster is skewed towards America, with no teams at all in the Minor States of Carribean, Isthmus or Pacific yet. The Baltimore/ Washington Federals and New York Neons carry over from the 2024 season, although most of their rosters have been spread out across the other teams in a draft arrangement. Added for 2025 are the Mexico City Knights, the Chicago Fire, the Dallas Stars, the Edmonton Megas, the St. Louis Cavaliers and the San Diego Kings. The Megas were originally intended to be the Montreal Megas, but the backers were in town when Montreal vanished. There's some agitation to move the Megas to Montreal anyway, since their stadium was outside the vanished zone, but the money is talking louder than the fans. Investors in Tokyo and Sapporo are looking into forming teams and petitioning for entrance into the league for 2026, rather than trying to run a two-team mixed league a la 2024's season in North America. Oh, and if you're asking things like "Isn't there already a pro team called the Fire" or something, keep in mind that not every professional sports franchise survived past 1998. And now, a bonus "docket entry" on the Righteous Flame! The Righteous Flame: The MC has been very inward-looking since the scouring of the Levant, but the Righteous Flame reflects the attitudes of the "young turk" faction that is looking outward again, hence their involvement in the current campaign of expansion into Greece. Of course, not every member reflects this outward-looking attitude, they may simply be followers of more energetic faction leaders. Being outward-looking doesn't necessarily make them tolerant or embracing of foreign ideas, of course, but it does mean they will tend to make concessions when dealing with outsiders. For instance, when interacting with EU or NAC reps, they will tend to give the translations of their codenames, rather than put up with Westerners mangling the Arabic. Mujahid is the sole exception (even Cannon's real codename is Arabic...and Scirocco is a Latinization of Arabic s^arq), in part because he is aware that his name is a term well-known to the West. Righteous Flame members: Note - the name in parentheses after the full codename is the "battle codename", shortened for ease of use in combat. Eye of Purity (Eye) - Nominal leader, but tends to leave most decisions to The Hands of Fire. Tall, gaunt young Turkish man in simple robes and an eyepatch. The eyepatch keeps him from accidentally unleashing his "purifying" power, which is actually the ability to drain the supernatural from something and use it to empower himself (primarily enhanced physical attributes, but at high levels of absorption he has been known to manifest a "holy aura"). He answers to no name other than his codename or battle codename, having left behind his birth name entirely. He sees himself as truly being on a holy mission to purify lands damaged by the Godmarket. He has tried also to purify the radioactive wastes of the Levant, but it didn't work, suggesting to him that Allah wishes that devastation to stand as a reminder of man's pride. Ironically, Turkey's backlash against enforced secularism did not result in a hotbloodedly zealous culture, and Turkey is considered one of the more moderate members of the MC. The Hands of Fire (Fire) - Generates white flames from his hands. Targets struck by them are not only physically burned, they also suffer some kind of psi attack. This generally takes the form of overwhelming guilt for their sins, and Hands of Fire can reduce the physical burning if he wants to focus on the psi attack. His real name is Aqbar al Hamed and he is from Oman. Oman is currently in a zealous phase, and Aqbar is considered a bit extreme even among his countrymen. He leads the Righteous Flame in fact, if not officially, because his driven personality steamrollers the more introspective Eye of Purity in most cases. Base of the Pillar (Base) - A hulking, vaguely humanoid stone figure. She prefers to let people think she is a construct of some sort, and cultivates the idea that she is the land given form to follow the Eye of Purity's holy mission. This is because her native Iran is very intolerant of superhumans and is one of the more Taliban-like in its treatment of women...a holy creature gets MUCH better treatment than a mutant woman. Her family helped her fake her death and create her alternate origin story, and they still love her. However, because she is supposed to be dead, they cannot treat her as their daughter, and they know that revealing her secret might result in her true death. Base is something of a moderate atheist in her heart, although she has managed to get over her phase of cursing Allah for her fate. Publicly, of course, she says all the right words and does all the right things. The rest of the team suspects she was once human, but not that she is female (the Eye probably figured it out, but is allowing her privacy on this matter). Scirocco - Named S^arq by his parents after a harsh desert wind, S^arq ben Jussef turned his name into a prophecy when he developed superspeed powers and limited control over wind and sand. Raised in the barely habitable eastern parts of Jordan, he's something of a nationalist without much of a nation (Jordan is more or less a protectorate of Iraq at this point, having lost so much in the early 2000's war with Israel). He would love to see Greece become colonial ground for his family and friends to move into. Scirocco is an outright infidel, raised Zoroastrian but generally faithless. However, for political reasons, he feigns devout Islam faith...to the point that his public act can seriously annoy the truly devout like The Hands of Fire or Cannon. Cannon - Oddly, this is actually a Scytharian cyborg that was part of the invasion of Egypt in 2024. He escaped the warzone and turned himself in to the Egyptian authorities, claiming he wished to not only defect, but also convert (it's possible he "got religion" in the same weirdness wave that enlightened Kaliban). Cannon is something of a symbol of the lack of trust growing in the MC...not only do the other members of the Righetous Flame distrust him, Egypt put him on the team as their representative because he's immune to the Eye of Purity's powers (being non-paranormal), and they don't really trust the Eye. Egypt is about middle of the road for the MC, fairly devout and incorporating elements of Islamic law into their current Constitution, but not as strict as Iran or Afghanistan. They distrust moderate Turkey, but tend to side with Turkey against more extreme nations more often than not. Needs no separate battle codename. Mujahid - This Afghani representative is a highly trained normal, not really able to keep up with the rest of the team, but giving them a backbone of solid tactical experience. Like the Eye of Purity, he has given up his birth name and now only goes by his codename, which translates roughly as "warrior". Mujahid is well-armed (although with purely normal technology aside from his Collapsinum buckler, he even lacks much in the way of offworld tech) and highly trained, and ready to give his life for Allah. In public, he's the perfect "Patriotic Hero" for Afghanistan. But, as if someone up there was delighting in irony, he's a really nice guy when he's not "on stage". He's still fanatical in his faith, but as long as you don't touch on the wrong topics, he's pretty good to have around. He even has a pretty good sense of humor when off-duty, and is very broadly educated in a number of fields you might not expect of him (and, of course, things you would expect, such as military history and scripture). His government, however, does not have much of a sense of humor. Their policy is to execute any paranormals that exhibit powers, as they are abominations and demons. They don't even want to taint their representative with unholy alien technology, and simply recognize that every so often they will need to replace Mujahid with a new man, since a normal working with paranormals tends to have a short life expectancy. (Aside: the Taliban managed to hang onto power in large part because after 1998 everyone but Afghanistan's immediate neighbors ignored them in favor of more pressing local problems.)