Push

The world we live in is one of secrecy and deceit. There is one side of society, where everyday people live, and there is the side of society that houses an assortment of 'superpowered' people. They are then sorted into nine different categories: Watchers, Movers, Pushers, Bleeders, Sniffs, Shifters, Wipers, shadows, and Stiches. Each power is different although effective in their own way.

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In our story, the Division presence in the area has grown so tyrannical that most of these 'superhero' types have left altogether. There is a small contingency though. A tiny group of rebels that still fight the Division. This group is led by Trae Smith, a shifter with an inside job at Division. He has spent the past three months plotting the demise of the dreaded Division. This is where our story begins...

Trae was having a rough day. The new strain of the drug going around was making everyone who took it vomit uncontrollably. "Just my luck," He said to no one in particular. "I would be working the day that this new strain comes out. It's like the universe is out to get me. When will I ever get a break!?!" Just then, the whistle rang. "Thank the lord! I finally get to leave this hell-hole." He started walking toward the locker rooms, thinking to himself, 'If I wasn't planning the eventual downfall of this branch of Division, I don't think I could take this. It's like torture in there.' He changed into his street clothes and walked through the exit, getting a retinal, finger and voice print.

It was a wonder that he hadn't gotten caught yet... Or was it. Since he got out of Division he had been running and running until he found a stitch in town. She was just about to leave when he asked for a favor. He asked her to change his appearance. He made sure to check all of his bases. He had his eyes changed, his fingerprint changed, and even some other parts of his body changed, although if this was to escape detection or just for personal reasons we'll never know. With that, he changed his name. He spent over a month just trying to get an illegal birth certificate and social security number. But once he got it, he was scott free. There was no way that division could track him down now.

He walked over to his car, turned it on, and started to drive home.

Tabitha had finally been given the orders to come back to headquarters, she felt like young kitten with a string. Though her first day back didn't start off to well with everyone throwing up everywhere. unable to stand the stench any longer, Tabitha had decided to leave for a stroll out on the town. After getting a retinal, finger, and voice print; she headed out to the bike rack next to the building. Sighing she completed the bike combination lock as it had just begun to rain, not very hard but just a drizzle. Growling in annoyance Taby flipped her hood over head, then proceeded to yank the bike out and ride it downtown to the resturants.

When Trae arrived at home he did his usual routine for checking for intruders. He checked every nook and cranny for anything out of the ordinary. There shouldn't have been anything wrong. He would have been alerted if anything moved in his house while he was gone. He deactivated the security system with another complicated series of numbers and letters. Trae then walked into what seemed like a closet. In fact it housed several monitors behind fake cleaning supplies. He did a quick overview of the tapes. Nothing. Breathing a sigh of relief, he headed into the kitchen for a well earned drink.

Pulling her bike to the first place she saw with an overhang, her stomach growled loudly. "Ugh, *rubs stomach* Food." locking her bike back up she trudged into the resturant dripping wet, as the man waiting to seat looked at her with appauled look as she walked in. The man turned his head the other way saying "Please this way." Tabitha pulled her hood back and followed him to the back tables, and sat down.

Trae thought to himself for a second and decided to make the most awesome drink in the world. The DeathBrew. He made sure to ad a shot of vodka to it as well. "What's a drink without a little kick?" He said to himself. He sat down in his front room and fiddled with his little objects on his coffee table. Just little practice objects for shifting. Nothing too complicated. Just simple. Things he could shift in his sleep. He messed around with them as he plotted his eventual take-down of all things Division...