The Metahuman Agency: The Superhuman War

The Skeleton Crew

The television displayed the Metahuman Agency on it. The camera followed them as they exited the podium and disappeared back into the White House. The screen switched back to the anchorman, who spoke.

"Well there you have it," The anchorman said. He adjusted his tie before continuing. "What we just saw was the introduction of the group called the Metahuman Agency to the world. They've identified themselves as Salamander, Tuatara, the Urban Spider, Scarab, Midnight, and Photon." He smirked. "Almost like real life superheroes, huh? Anyway...we're going to over what they said in their answers to the questions tonight. Starting with-"

A paperclip bounced off the TV screen. "Shut up!" A woman's voice snarled. Jacqueline Prescott was sitting at a desk in the large room, leaning forward, fiddling with another paperclip between her fingers. She was wearing a white uniform, a patch depicting a skeleton wearing army fatigues, clutching a machine gun and smoking a cigar on her uniform's shoulder. She wore a pair of sunglasses, contrasting with her chalky white skin.

The anchorman was starting to blather on about the press conference but Jacqueline had had enough. She violently snatched up her remote from across the desk and switched the TV off, cutting off his nonsense. "Of course," She said, moving from behind her desk, continuing to fiddle absently with the paperclip. "Of course she gets a press conference. Why shouldn't she? Parading her little band of freaks before the world like a circus or something. They're probably going to love them, aren't they?" She twisted the paperclip in half. "They're to love them, parade, maybe even get a smooch from the President since they're such a bunch of loyal dogs." She grinded her teeth together and snapped the paperclip in two. "Of course. Of course they will!" She screamed those last few words, hurling the severed halves of the paperclip aside.

Jacqueline twisted around, slicing a hand through the air angrily. She desperately wanted to hit something. Break something. She needed to. But she took a breath and adjusted her shades. She ran a hand through her unkempt hair and approached the desk. She ripped open one of the drawers and rooted through it, slapping aside loose papers, binders, and other bits of junk before finding what she was looking for. A bottle of pills. Anti-psychotic pills. Not that she was psychotic, that was just a brand name. They just helped clear her head and helped her think.

Jacqueline opened the bottle and threw a pill into her mouth. She swallowed it, screwed the cap back onto the bottle, and dropped it back into the drawer. Instantly she felt calmer. She smiled. No reason to get worked over this. What the Agency had pulled, what she had pulled, was just a media stunt. Fifteen minutes of fame. Metahumans were a novelty now but soon they'd be recognized as a part of everyday life and the public would adapt to them. Soon they'd be yesterday's news.

She looked around her room. Her office. It was a large space, with a private bathroom, a closet, and a wall of various different types of guns. A large map was placed over one wall, showing a picture of the United States with several pins placed in various locations. And of course, standing in the corner was her powered armor. It stood there silently like a statue. Sometimes she felt it was watching her, guarding her, waiting for the next time she'd take it out.

Jacqueline approached her and ran her hand over its metal chest. The touch of the cool metal sent shivers down her spine. It was a thing of beauty. The ICARUS Flight Suit. It had taken her years of labor, of hard work, to build the suit but she had succeeded. Sometimes she still marveled at the fruition of her efforts. The suit was nearly indestructible, was loaded with weapons, its powered gauntlets could exert several hundred pounds of force, and of course, it could fly. She was a genius. A genius! This was the product of hard work and raw intelligence. She didn't take the easy way out to reach her goals. No, this was all the product of her own ingenuity and it fell oh so satisfying to know that.