The Sinestrals were a polymorphous race that lived in the shadows for over ten years. Their shapeshifting abilites allowed them to sink deep into the structure of human society. They came through a rift created by the overps of many dimensions, and were incredibly hostile to humanity. The rift, located deep in a jungle, had painted the surrounding wildlife a murky blue hue.

  The grass became like ash, and the flowers withered up. The trees were gnarled, and appeared petrified. Closer to the rift, alien fungi began to sprout on the trees, producing toxic fumes that only furthered the pollution of the nd. In the heart of all this, guarding the rift from the natural world, was a jet bck dome.

  The dome was built from an otherwordly material native to the sinestrals, and had rge, car-sized pores littered across it for the sinestrals to fly in and out of. Along the ground was a much rger opening for the rger sinestral organisms to move through.

  A human voice starts to speak.

  "Are we all here? Ready? In three, two, one-"

  fifty superheroes, all in different colours and outfits appear out of nowhere on the outskirts of the blue jungle.

  "Go!"

  Forty seven of the fifty heroes move independantly, scattering off into different locations. Ten seconds pass, and these forty seven heroes had moved into various hiding spots around the jungle, waiting.

  The three heroes that had yet to move were all wearing the same golden-white outfit. The only difference between the three were their faces and builds.

  One begins moving forward. He was the commander of the group.

  "Everyone's in position. Cookieman, lets start to move him."

  The hero being spoken to- Cookieman- picks up the fiftieth hero of the raid, and starts carrying him along. This fiftieth hero didn't respond to the fact that he had just been picked up, and remained still, as if petrified or soulless.

  The trio head directly towards the dome- The commander in front, with Cookieman behind, holding "him" in his arms like a log.

  While they were shapeshifters, the sinestrals had several forms they preferred to use.

  Bzzzt.

  Giant wasps were one of them.

  Between the group of heroes that suddenly appeared and the dome were about thirty great, ugly wasps. These wasps were legless, and had a giant stinger simir to that of a scorpion in appearence. The wasps were purple with blue stripes, and covered in ugly fur of varying lengths.

  These giant wasps scouted the forest, and intellegence on previous sinestral attacks suggests these were used as scouts. They used phermones to rey information to other sinestrals nearby.

  The two men, although seeing the wasp, pay no attention to it and continue to carry their motionless comrade through.

  Bzzz-t.

  The wasp, currently flying over on a patrol, turns to look at the three.

  Bzzzt?

  Before the wasp has a chance to release its phermones, a cordlike whip shes out from one of the nearby bushes, and wraps around its thorax.

  A hero emerges from the bushes, pulling the wasp to the ground.

  As the wasp falls, the commander pulls two rge bdes out of nothing, and slices the wasp into three. The joint manoeuvre had clearly been practiced hundreds of times.

  They continue to run towards the dome, every second precious to them.

  Around the forest, The army of heroes emerge from the bushes, pulling down and executing each wasp in groups of twos or threes. Bursts of colour fly between the muddy trees as the simir surprise attacks take the scouts unaware.

  The st wasp falls, and the forty seven heroes jump up, out of the flora, and make a beeline towards the dome's rger entrance.

  "No reinforcements coming. Ambush successful."

  The commander reys his words to the army of heroes.

  At the entrance to the dome are two gatekeepers. These gatekeepers look like grey jellyfish, twice the size of a person and standing up using arms like those of a mantis.

  The gatekeepers fall quickly to the tens of heroes diving into them, their limbs filing round in an attempt to strike something. Without any reinforcements to help them they were nothing more than bloated punching bags.

  Two minutes pass, and the punching bags burst into dark velvet particles.

  Everyone runs inside the dome, unprepared for what will happen next.

  [Server announcement: SuperOnline will be going down for an update in fifteen minutes.]

  The commander paused for a moment as he read the message.

  "It doesn't matter, we're on track to finish 'The Golden Siege Raid' before then!"

  >The Scheming Glutton System<

  [Task: Complete "The Golden Siege Raid" 5000 times]

  [Progress: 1331 → 1332 / 5000]

  [Rewards: Insomnia]

  Kyte's eyes shift to focus on the monitor furthest left from him. He clicks the "skip" button through various dialogue, past the end scene until he had control over his virtual character.

  After thanking the pyers for helping him, he logs out of the account

  Four more to go

  Kyte thinks to himself.

  The server closes in fifteen minutes. There's no point in starting a new raid, since it takes around twenty minutes to complete one. It's also questionable how many of the remaining four will finish before the server closes.

  Five days ago, while meditating, he saw a purple, nebulous light appear in his system interface. He didn't like the fact the subsystem called itself "the scheming glutton", but that didn't mean he wouldn't do its task.

  Whilst pying, Kyte re-calcutes the difficulty of the task. Even though he's making good progress now, after a few weeks, the zeal will stop; then burnout will begin, and the rate of completion will fall.

  He rubs his forehead.

  I think I need a better approach...

  Splish, spsh.

  Splish, spsh.

  ...

  Sploosh!

  I dive into the water surrounding SIT

  After finishing the battlesuits, I had lunch with Misa and her friends up in SIT. Then afterwards I browsed round the library for a bit, looking up various things on battlesuits.

  At some point in the day, it had started to rain. Since I was going to get wet anyway, I decided to hand my bag to one of my friends and swim back, thinking of picking up my bag at the station.

  Compared to the rain and the wind, the water feels quite warm...

  Except that's a lie. Its freezing cold here. What gave me the great idea that the solution to avoiding the rain was covering myself in more water?

  I start swimming over to the shore on East Trigon.

  I generally like to stay underwater while swimming, since its more leisurely than doing a proper stroke. As such, I do some breaststroke-front crawl hybrid underwater, like the amateur swimmer I am.

  The water starts feeling warmer, now my body has adjusted to the temerature.

  I occasionally pop my head up to breathe, and enjoy a rexed swim to the beach.

  As I swim, I start thinking about hero costumes again.

  Hmmm.. not the powers I have, but the hero I want to embody...

  In other words, I should make a costume that complements any superpower well, and focus more on one that shows off what qualities I want to aspire to, as a hero.

  I mean, fighting criminals is nice, but if its about embodying my vision of a hero, it has to be about saving people, right? Like, holding up part of a falling building, jumping in front of an explosion to shield children, that sort of thing.

  Even something like a firemen, running into a bzing house to rescue someone...

  Yeah. That sounds like the sort of stuff I want to do.

  Content with my answer on what type of hero do I want to be, I ask myself the next question.

  So, what does a hero like that look like?

  I think for a while, but fail to come up with an answer. So I ask myself another question.

  If someone were to save me, what would I imagine that person to look like?

  I imagine myself, clinging to a protruding tree root on a cliffside. My fingers start to slip, then a shadowy figure appears over the cliff, hid by the sun.

  Thats right. Now, what would he look like?

  The imaginary figure jumps backwards off the cliff, supported by a harness of some kind.

  Kicking himself down to me, he arrives at my side.

  He picks me up, and rests me over his shoulder. Then he starts scaling the cliff.

  After hopping right up the cliff, he sets me down, and I turn to thank him.

  As I think him, his features in my mind sharpen.

  He looks like... like that?

  He's a tall, lean man with a small, bck stubble. The man has an eyepatch on his left eye, and a captain's hat on his head. To finish the look off, he wears a bck coat like a cape over a white shirt.

  He smiles at me, showing off his golden tooth, and speaks starts speaking with a strong accent.

  "Are you 'urt, anyvere?"

  I shake my head.

  "No? Zen I am gd to see zat, you are un'armed."

  He takes out an old-fashioned two-way radio.

  "I 'ave located see person. Ve are on our vay back right now." He puts away his radio, and speaks to me. "Ve should hurry. I am not vell zought of, iin siiss ciity."

  I forcefully end my imagination here.

  Why is my model hero... appearing like some pirate crossed with a foreign agent?

  Dispite my efforts to focus on reality, the imaginary hero was too powerful.

  "Sere vas a tiime vhen, right after I saved some kiid, I took a bullet to zee knee..."

  No! Stop! Focus!

  I reach the shore on East Trigon, and my imagination ends as I exit the zea.

  I mean, as I exit the sea.

  The wind blows, and I feel colder than when I was in the water, so I rush to pick up my bag from the train station, washing the sand off at a nearby foot washer. I start to regret choosing to swim back. Seriously, why did I think that swimming back wouldn't make much of a difference? I would be much dryer and warmer if I didn't decide to swim, and I would be wet for a much shorter period of time if I used the train.

  I enter the train station, and grab my bag from a little side room. There's only a camera to help prevent theft, but I don't see why anyone would want to steal these bags anyway.

  I start running home in the rain.