DISCLAIMER: As much as I wish to the contrary, I do not own City Of Heroes or any of its trademarked characters. All original characters are used by permission, and are in some fashion the trademark of the game's players who painstakingly made them and put up with my shenanigans in our Super Group.

On May 23rd, 2002, a light appeared in the skies above Paragon City. With its arrival, came a fierce alien race, calling itself the Rikti. From all over the world, people joined in arms to repel the threat. From all walks of life, creeds, colours, for one short moment, the Earth was united. From this unified world, certain individuals stepped forward to front the battle, with abilities normal people did not possess. They bore the brunt of the onslaught, took the largest sacrifices, and in all, made the largest impact, eventually turning the tide. The Rikti fell back in such a hurry, pockets of their army were left on Earth, fending for themselves against the ever-growing odds against them.

Since, Paragon City has fallen from its pedestal as a world-famous center of the Eastern-Seaboard's commerce, to become a metropolis filled with gangs, corrupt corporations, drug-pushing thugs, and monstrous beings of both scientific and supernatural origin.

This is Paragon City, City Of Heroes.

Eternity Unbound
Issue One: Resurgence

The bank alarms rang out a deafening wail. Blaring its banshee cry, it sounded in pattern with the flashing lights that accompanied it. A few feet below them, members of a gang calling themselves The Skulls waved guns around. Spiked bats and crowbars in hand, they stood guard over the exits to the building, constantly switching their gazes between the hostages that huddled in crowded corners away from them, and the menagerie of growing Police forces that were beginning to pool outside.

"Hey, Ripper," one of them called, craning his neck to see the heists ringleader stuffing bundles of cash into a duffel bag, "I think they want to negotiate!"

The thug smiled under the white skeletal makeup that dominated his face. He strode up to the door, and waved at the officers, then opened the door enough to slide his head out, "Yes," he called out.

A megaphone clicked on, and the officer began to speak, "This is Paragon City Po--"

"I know who you are! The cars and loud, obnoxious, and sloppy tactics gave that away before you even opened your mouth!"

The officer swallowed his pride. This wasn't he time or place for retaliation of that type, "What would it take for us to negotiate the release of those hostages? Atlas Park is at your disposal!"

Ripper held up a finger, and nodded to him, smiling, "Just a minute," he called back, sarcasm falling from his mouth as he tried not to laugh. He closed the door, and shook his head at the other gang members, numbering almost a dozen and a half, "What do we want," he asked them," pointing a thumb back to the windowed door, "I mean, besides the money."

One thug piped in, "Nothing, just the money!"

The group laughed in unison. Another jumped in, "However much superdyne they have locked up in their HQ. I'll give up the hostages for that!"

Again, they erupted in laughter, although more than three fourths of them gave the idea serious thought.

Ripper shook his head, "I wish, but we can't give up the bargaining chips." He pointed his gun towards one of the hostages, and clicked back the hammer. He waited until the shaking woman began to quiver and cry, before pulling the gun from her, aiming it towards the ceiling.

"You have one minute to comply," the officer said, then clicked off the megaphone, and set it into his patrol car, before turning away from the bank and looking to another cop, the two soon began to converse amongst themselves.

Ripper raised an eyebrow in unabashed shock, "How dare that civil servant son of a bitc--" He halted mid thought, before he turned back to the rest of his Skulls. For a long moment, he stood before them, wide-eyed, mouth open, "We need to hurry," he said, a sense of finality in his words, as he jogged back to the bank vault, and started to stuff money into the knapsacks.

The others didn't hesitate to ask why. They knew something wasn't right. The police seemingly turning their backs on a dozen and a half hostages inside a bank in the process of being looted? That failed to bode well for anyone of them.

Ripper stood tall, holding a hand up. His minions halted their action, falling silent. With the exception of the sniffling hostages, it was dead quiet. The alarm had turned off. Though the lights still flickered and flashed, there was no sound to accompany it.

"Weapons ready boys," Ripper said quietly, "Everyone gather between the hostages and the vault. Make a circle and be on guard."

Crack…

It was already too late.

Crack..!

Ripper looked to the western facing wall. It shook, as plaster began to shake and crumble behind it. He aimed his gun at it, and the rest of the Skulls followed in motion.

Sweat furrowed on his brow as his hands began to shake a bit, but he forced his aim to stay on target. That's when the entire building started to quake. The vibrations in the floor rattled his legs, and threatened to knock him over.

Then he noticed the elegant chandelier above them. And it wasn't moving at all. The building wasn't shaking at all, and while the wall across from them was perceived as the initial threat, he didn't consider an attack coming from two fronts. The tiling of the floor split form under him, as a blue beam of light tore through the plaster blocks, and sent him into the ceiling.

The Skulls turned, their weapons waving in every direction as they tried to pin down the enemy. There guns and bats whipped from left to right, bearing between the now gaping maw in the floor and the wall, which still threatened to collapse. And then it did.

"There's more than enough for all of us, so someone try to keep count. I hate when we forget the one who hides under the teller's desk!" The dust from the now toppled wall settled across the room, revealing three costumes heroes, standing tall behind the wreckage.

A smaller one, adorned with what appeared to be blue and pink butterfly wings, and cropped white hair, smiled before holding high her bow and arming it with an arrow, "Zenu, you get way too unprofessional whenever we do something this easy."

"Let the man have his fun, E'lara," another voice said, echoing at first as another tall, broad-shouldered man rose from the hole in the floor, "We usually have to deal with threats. This one is more like recess." He was Epoch. The groups leader. By far the most intimidating, his appearance was almost devilish; a long black cape and hood that shrouded his crimson eyes and black-wrapped face mask. His arms and shoulders were adorned with spiked pads, as red as his glaring eyes.

Behind him, a red-headed, green-and-white clad man appeared, leaping up from the hole behind his leader. He wore a smug grin, and a pair of heavy gauntlets on his hands. They smoked lightly, wearing off the heat of the burst of energy he had fired through the floor. He wiped a hand against his chest to help cool it against his comparatively cooler clothing, his hand grazing a Celtic knot design that adorned the front of his costume, "I wouldn't even call it recess, boss," he sighed, "This is more like a lunch break. There's hardly enough of them to even think of fighting back. We could leave and let Zenu take care of them by his lonesome."

"Oh can we just can it and hurt them before they pick their jaws up from the floor and do something productive," the other heroine standing beside Zenu asked, as she threw her head back despondently, "there's a lot of City out there that still has things for us to do."

She was An'senthar, unofficially, the group's resident medicinal practitioner. She stood leaning against the 'frame' of the broken wall, hands crossed, and looking impatient.

"Alright, cool it," Epoch finally agreed, "Just get these guys before they hurt a civilian."

The redhead shrugged, and lifted his hand, aiming his clenched fist at the first thug he saw with a handgun, "Roger that, boss," he said, and fired another blast of blue energy. It tore through the room, and struck the robber in the chest, knocking him through the air and straight into Zenu's arms.

Zenu grabbed the man, and pushed his unconscious body back into the main mass of Skulls. As they either hit the floor, or scattered out of the way, Zenu closed in, randomly attacking whichever of the thugs was close enough to hit. Trained in the martial arts, he quickly hit the four men closest to him with swift kicks and punches to their joints, one by one, they began to hit the ground, out of commission.

The other eight men, bore their weaponry. Nails embedded in bats, knives, and other such implements. Epoch was next to take offensive, raising his gloved hands above his head, and spreading a haze throughout the room. As it reached the Skulls, their movements slowed to a margin of what might be considered 'normal'.

E'lara took aim. She pulled back on the string of her bow, and released. The arrow cut through the air with a strict "thwip" and it stuck in the thigh of one of the slowed Skulls. The crook hit the floor, clutching at his wound.

"Nice shot," Edenfire nodded, as his hand charged with another pulse of blue energy. He cracked it alongside another thugs head, and watched him sail into a wall, "I don't recall us saying 'no kill shots', but that doesn't make it any less pretty."

E'lara spun the bow around on her wrist. As it completed its circle back to it's upright position, she caught it on the chin of another gang member, "Actually, I missed," she replied, trying not to sound too smug. She leapt into the air and kicked her foe in the chest with her slender leg. "I was aiming a bit higher."

Eden' grimaced, he turned away from her, and fired another shot at one more adversary. "Glad your aim is a little rough then," he replied, before his voice fell quieter to keep his sarcastic comment to himself, "Remind me not to piss you of…"

He felt a heavy bass noise behind him, and for an instant, his vision blurred and faded to white. He hit the ground, as one of the last Skulls raised his nailed bat high into the air, one of the protruding nails dripped crimson from where it penetrated his back. The thug laughed, rewarding himself as being the only man of his troupe to score a body count, and swung downwards.

Epoch swooped in. He leaped into the air, grabbed the man by stomach with both arms, and dragged him to the floor, "An'," he cried out, his eyes wandering the bank for the young woman, "Eden's hurt!" His attention fell back to the thug, dazed underneath him. He growled to himself, before throwing a heavy punch into the man's face, knocking him unconscious and breaking his nose.

An'senthar flew towards Edenfire, her wings fluttering like a hummingbird's as she sped across the floor to him. Her friend lay on his stomach, eyes closed, a small hole in the back of his Irish-motif outfit, a trickle of blood pouring out, "It isn't bad," she called back, "Not deep enough to puncture a lung, but it was on target to do so!"

Eden' smirked, the hit had winded him, and he found it hard to breath. That aside, he knew the cracking he had heard in his vertebrae wasn't the healthy kind. At worst, he had nerve damage, at best, something to decorate with a band-aid. "Stupid dropouts," Eden coughed, forcing a breath, "Can't even afford to buy longer nails…"

An' smiled. "Wisecracking degenerate," she teased, as a bright green glow fell from her hands and covered his body. In an instant, his puncture wound was healed, nothing more than a tear in his uniform, and a light bloodstain. The green shimmered and sparkled, "There, you should feel nice and minty fresh," she said, giving him a reassuring smile.

"Is that why it's green," Eden' mused, lazily hopping to his feet. He gave her a half-smile, and messed up her hair with his hand as he stepped past, "Thanks doc, I owe you one!"

He headed back to his friends, but stopped cold as he looked around. The rest of the Skulls were on the ground, motionless. Zenu stood over them, dropping the last of them from the grasp he held on his jacket collar, and letting him hit the ground, "I thought this was a team effort," Zenu cried out, his joking accusation echoing through the now quiet room.

Epoch shrugged, "Well, we're done here," he told his team, "People are safe, bad guys aren't moving, no money is missing, and Eden isn't dead. Again."

The faces turned to Eden. He gave them an innocent look and shrugged, "Luck of the Irish," he said, sounding more of a question than an excuse. Even he had to agree that he was An'senthar's most common patient.

"Just quit being do reckless," Epoch said, turning back to the front door, as the others followed, "You might be a smartass, but you're our smartass."

Eden smiled. Better than a formal reprimand.

Epoch opened the front doors, and motioned for the police outside to move in for clean up. "Everyone is safe," he told the Captain on the scene, "The Skulls have been dealt with, hope you brought your share of handcuffs," He said.

The Captain extended his hand, "Thank you Epoch. You saved a lot of people, and money today, I'm sure you know it, but Paragon thanks you."

Epoch took his hand, giving it a firm shake, "You do your job, Captain, we do ours. No thanks is needed." He spoke like a true leader. Understanding and appreciative, but humble and down to earth. "We have to get going, but if you need to contact us for paperwork, you know how to get a hold of us."

The Captain nodded, and turned away, shouting orders to is men as they cautiously entered the building.

"Good work team," Epoch said, as they moved away from the building and gathered crowds. He looked over his shoulder, "we did well, you should be prou--"

A phone ringtone chimed. A music tone set to a heavy rock song.

"I…hate…everything about you…" The tone chirped. Edenfire pulled the phone from his belt pouch quickly, answered it, and hung it up just as quickly, and looked away, his face turning red in frustration, "Keep talking boss," he said, "It's no one important…"

Miles away, northeast of the events in Atlas Park, a rundown port town was shaded in eternal evening. It was named Siren's Call by the people of Paragon City, and given it's open face in the direction of the villain outpost known unofficially as The Rogue Isle's, located miles from the shore line, it was the home of some of the most bitter and brutal battles in all of Paragon's history. Heroes died here. Villians were brought to justice here. But to the naked eye, unknowing of its past, it was a decay of buildings and memorials. It was nothing more than a shanty town in a pre-tense, on the verge if nothingness.

On the water, tinted grey with pollution and debris, a large pod-like ship hung in the air, hovering a story above the water level, the two low-hanging, v-shaped fins on it's astern almost touched the water, only missing so by a foot at most.

Nearby, the beach teamed with black-armoured soldiers. Emblazoned with a red spider insignia on their chest, they represented the behalf of Lord Arachnos: Ruler of the Rogue Isles, and leader of The Web, a conglomerate based out of the Isles which specialized in illegal trades and black-market dealings. Recluse, himself, resided in the Isles, rarely staying far from his territory. It was not for nothing that he was wanted on almost every felony charge known on three continents.

The soldiers held their weaponry at their side. This meeting wasn't for the sake of battle, as Siren's Call was so used to seeing. This was an arranged meeting. The contingent was known as the Wolf Spiders, Recluse's cannon fodder and main army force. By Recluse's standards they were nothing more than common thugs, but they were loyal, and expendable. In his eyes, few were not.

Standing at their head nearest the water, a pale, slender woman, clad in black with a white chest plate and cape, awaited. This was Ghost Widow, one of the four generals Recluse held close to his dealings. Only she, and few others were deemed worthy enough, strong enough, of vicious enough, to serve at his side. The Ghost Widow, as her name implied, was a murderess. Cold, and calculating, she awaited. The wind off the water made her white cape bellow in the sea breeze.

"Recluse is a fool to believe they will honor their agreement," she scoffed, watching at the steely ship off shore sat motionless., "This plan will surely backfire in his face as sure as I've skinned grown men alive."

A few Wolf Spiders shuddered at the thought. By no means were they weak-stomached. They had simply seen it happen with their own eyes often enough to know the smell by heart when the act was mentioned.

The ship let off a pneumatic hiss. It shuddered, and the hull opened. With a neon glow, a ramp descended to the beach, touching down in the trash-covered sands. "Your world is still a wasteland," a disgusted voice said, garbled nearly to the point of indistinct noise, "Your Lord Recluse has summoned The Rikti. Why does he hide himself from us if he so heartily wanted our resources returned to your backwater planet?"

It had no mouth, this being, neither did the three others of his race that flanked him. He was a Rikti Headsman, a large creature the color of chewed gum. Its massive legs and arms belied is slender joints and abdomen. It lowered its stubbed beak as it gave Ghost Widow a burning stare through it's blank green eyes, and twitched its wide head between its broad, high-hanging shoulders, "What coward calls for a meeting, then decides he is too scared to attend?"

"As I recall, Lord Recluse agreed to meet your leader, C'Kelkah," Ghost Widow countered, "Yet, by the looks of your lack of ornamentation, you look to be nothing more than foot soldiers."

The Headsmen garbled again, what would have doubled as an annoyed huff, "What is it you want of our empire, human?"

"Lord Recluse would like to offer you his hand in partnership. He has come up with a plan which gives both of our respective armies what it had fought for so long to achieve."

The Rikti's eyes betrayed its voice, "I'm listening," it crowed.

Ghost Widow shrugged. The answer should have been obvious enough, "The death of our enemies, and conquest of this planet."

Coming Soon: Issue 2- Truth or Dare

Lord Recluse sets his plan to ensnare the globe within his iron fist, and his Rikti guests are impressed. Meanwhile, the heroes battle the Council, uncovering more details of Recluse's plot. Epoch struggles to keep control of his new team, and what, or who, has Edenfire so ready to resign his position and head for the Rogue Isles?