Lower Manhattan, New York 

Sometime before The Abott descent. 

Outside braving the multi-family Lefton Towers, the live news crew was on the scene.

"The building is about to collapse! Rescue attempts had ceased, one family trapped on the twentieth floor failed to evacuate, the fire made re-entry into the building impossible, and the fear of structural instability was being asked to" 

The cameraman had panned away from the lovely reporter as loud exclamations had alerted him. Without remorse from his supposed 'boss,' he pointed the camera at the commotion. 

The live-action reporter stepped back and hissed at the man, not before silencing the mic. He grumbled but squatted down and zoomed out, unfortunately not getting a favorable close-up to getting her in video two. 

"What is this? A hero in our times of need. Look at him as he descends at a controlled rate. Could this be another mutant? If you recall, there have been numerous admissions of those of us with mutation-" She stopped and squinted.

"Oh my god. That's The Abbot, the priest spotted around New York solving petty crimes and stopping criminals. It looks like he has stepped up. Oh my! He has two children with him." Her voice started to tremble when the man halted almost mid-way and landed. Thankfully, they had all moved back. She stepped to the side and continued reporting as the cops came near. 

Misty Knight 

The middle-class housing unit burned vibrantly; onlookers gasped as the tall, relatively new highrise creaked, the orange of the flame setting the block aglow in its superheated light. 

'That laugh, that indiscriminate condescending laugh.' She thought, the whites of her teeth flashing in the night, the cloying smoke bringing her from her anger as she stepped back, her hand going to her face. 

Her sidearm tracked the man as her finger teased the trigger; she huffed and lowered her gun. Murdock should be here soon; she wanted the man to use his heightened senses and put to memory Jason Todd's heartbeat. Daredevil had let it slip that he could differentiate between individuals by beating their hearts. She wasn't a doctor, but she hadn't known heartbeats were as unique as fingerprints, but she would take the enhanced words for truth. Admittedly, Murdock wouldn't arrive in time, and from her own eyes, she doubted the man stood a chance. The Daredevil had another mission, one he was more suited for. 

She cast her gaze toward the children, the untraceable breathing apparatus being taken away from the suspicious firefighter, her technicians placing them snuggly in a briefcase securing the items. She had been given one weeks ago, and to her amazement, it had been lauded as revolutionary; believe it or not, it held a small container with oxygen in its make.

He shifted, hushed eyes landed on her sidearm, his eyes darkened, and his brows pointed down. Misty looked away, securing her weapon. She would have a long talk with him later; he would fall in line just like the others, and if he were like Cage, an enhanced or even a mutant, she would have use of him. 

Northstrider gaze caught her attention. The reluctant recruit hadn't said his displeasure aloud, but his attitude toward her was always guarded and felt with apathy. She attempted to read his file but was blocked at every avenue. The man had seen supernatural things that made him look upon people differently; oddly, she had always got a starved dog vibe from the man; in his eyes, it was almost stray-like, willing to consume anything to stave off its hunger. 

Firefighters and first responders ushered the line of people back as he ordered. The locals had quickly recognized the man; he had been an almost instant favorite; his action in treating the red goblins had bought him a lot of accolades, even if the city failed to mention the multitude of mutant heroes assisting their cities that night. 

'Hell, even that blonde mutant with the white feathered wings had shown itself.' Angel was what the city called him. He was another individual that the organization had been tracking. It was a surprise when Xavier contacted the young man to refrain from being 'visible.' It was unfortunate that the man dubbed Angel was the son of a prominent figure, and the father had viciously protected his heir; seldom did families, especially the rich and famous, stick their necks out to help those that awakened as a mutant.' 

Xavier's desire to coexist with humans was her agency's go-to when mutants used their powers for vigilantism. Her superiors refused to have mutants parading around like cape crusaders. Misty agreed. The last thing they needed was for mutants to start using their powers to solve the crime; they had enough criminal already on their hands. 

Special Agent Misty Knight watched as the priest was consumed by dark smoke as he entered the building again. 'A woman was remaining; how she survived until now was a question she would ask and run tests to see if she was a mutant. Accelerant? She scoffed at Jason's words; she knew he could, at best, manipulate flames and Ice. Her reports from Xavier had already been disseminated amongst her agents and technicians. Soon, she will arrest him; the hole she stuffed him in would make her career. 

A shadow of thought crossed her mind, one she didn't want to dwell on; if she continued down this path after her superiors told her to cease, then this could end her career, too. She growled and stamped her feet. Again, she didn't care how others were fooled. She knew it was him, Jason Todd, or his most famous moniker, Red Hood. 

She had stressed to her superiors that the red-cowled menace was a threat that shouldn't be allowed to grow. She felt as if she was the only sane one; nobody had been near him, seen the gleam in his eyes, heard the disregard of his words, she knew he thought everyone was inconsequential to him.

Her brow furred, and her left arm itched; that was what had allowed her to detect him; she had pain in her arm, primarily her wrist when he was near, and the moment she laid eyes on this meta-human masquerading as a catholic priest, she knew it was him. His strange ability was deadly; how many faces could he take? Was there a limit; were Omegas limited?

'Xavier and his apprentice had failed to subdue him. Two of the most influential minds in America, not counting the blonde beauty Emma Frost, though not in America, the lady was last tracked to a small European country; the lady was suspected to be a terrorist working with an underground mutant extremist organization.'

"Excuse me, mam." A beat cop said, placing his hand on the Agent's shoulder. Hyperalert and quite frankly mentally exhausted, Special Agent Misty Knight lashed out; she grabbed the offending arm and spun the man around, her free hand on her recently holstered gun, the black, federal-issued .45 halfway from its sleek holster. 

"Stand down." Northstrider barked, his voice making her jolt. She released the man and stood back, her anger still on her face. 

Her actions had caused his partners to reach toward their firearms; her agents had also reached; Northstrider's deep baritone had cut through the foolery as his large stature pushed forward, barking orders to his fellow officers. 

"Agent Knight, go home." He growled. He was stepping toward the more petite woman. The federal agents' hands hovered near their belts, a Quantico quirk taught by all agents. 

"Captain, don't assume to order me around. This is still my rodeo. Get your local back and cordon off the area next time-

He slashed at the air, sucked on his teeth, and spoke in a language she didn't understand but was familiar with.

'Ah. He's Navajo.' she thought, her mind contemplating the man before her with the sealed records. 

"You drew your weapon during an active emergency," he said, walking closer, "you assaulted an officer of the law," he pointed to the rookie, who rubbed at his shoulderblade and scowled at her, "I could have you arrested for that, regardless of your federal status. Leave." 

Misty bristled at the man's words. She hated it when a man ordered her. Before she gave him a new one, her phone rang. She looked at the caller's I.D. and back toward the man. She stepped forward, daring the man to stand in her way; smartly, he moved, and she answered the call. 

Carl Northstrider 

He watched her go before turning to the rookie. He patted the man's shoulder, causing him to wince.

"I owe you one." He said unemotionally. 

"Jeez. You weren't kidding. What a high-sprung bi-"

Northstrider grunted, and the rookie smartly stopped what he was about to say. He didn't like her, but he at least respected her badge and placement not to name-call her, especially not in the present company; he eyed each other suits and stared ahead. 

"Are you sure that's him?" He asked, speaking so low that no one heard him. 

Just who was the detective speaking to? 

Cole Stephens 

Hearing an explosion wasn't the same as seeing one, especially with almost superhuman senses. Cole rolled across the ground, his white glove hand extended as he snapped his finger; the forceful blowback had deflected much of the fiery force upward. Unfortunately, the highrise structure was further compromised. He and the mother were sent spiraling before he caught them in his powers. He cast his mind outward, snuffing the fire. He took stock of their situation; he and the mother sailed through the weak walls into the adjacent apartment. 

She coughed, drawing a deadly breath. Cole acted, summoning a third rebreather and placing it on her face. The mother's teary eyes shot open at the fresh air that entered her smoke-filled lungs. He placed a hand on her chest and sent a wave of chi through her body; he winced as he felt the heaviness of his actions. 

Roy's Mustang glove was also functionally different, similar to Clark Kent's glasses; the enchanted garment had broadened his pyrokinetic abilities somewhat. He stood wrapping the mother in the golden cape that thrummed magically. The mother's eyes enlarged as she stared at herself, her savior, and the fire acting strangely. 

He felt her tense; her mouth started to open, but he shook his head. He knew she was in trouble but was reluctant to extend himself. The hand was still out there preparing; he just knew something big was coming from them; why else would their subverted corporations mysteriously begin to have financial troubles? Then there was the missing Rand heir.

Cole shook his head, refocusing his psionic control over heat that he had subverted the configuration just enough. This excursion had shown him that he had far to grow, but pushing his limits was vital. 

He pointed toward the shattered window. "We're headed out. Your kids are safe. Let's go." 

He pulled on her hand, but she stopped him; Cole cut his head back with a loof of confusion. Didn't she want to see her kids safe? 

"No, they're in danger as long as I'm alive. Please, help me." She uttered in a garbled mess of pain and exhaustion. Cole was about to pull her away when a chime emanated in his head. Cole growled displeasure; the flame fanned out as he grabbed her. 

The astral plane had been a secondary option for retreat. Now, he had to make the woman dead. Cole's hands shot out, beeping batarangs stabbed into the walls as he pushed the fanned flames to another degree, his glove hand warming somewhat. 

Wha had he haunted? Technically, if his mind was telling him right, his haunting left behind his spiritual fingerprint. There was also the reason he had no idea who this lady was. He would have to use facial recognition once he saved her. 

'I hope this was worth burning another mask.' He said to himself. Cole hugged the mother as he and her compressed upon each other in a swirl of black and white. Briefly, the swirl-like aftereffect of his power lingered after his departure.

Back outside. The reporter was interrupted, and a secondary explosion sounded in the eliminated the remaining upper floor; all the people there directed their gaze upwards. The cameraman tried the same, but he only captured a black-and-white swirl that lingered inside the fiery conflagration as if it wasn't affected by the natural order of things before the blinding light of the fire washed it away. 

"This is unbelievable! The Abbott and the mother couldn't possibly survive that explosion. And what was that pulsating black and white light inside of the fire? I can't explain; I have no words to describe what just happened!" the reporter and everyone present watched in shock.