csyphrett

The MIO is a branch of UNTIL that specializes in inserting its agents into criminal conspiracies and bringing them down from the inside. They specialize in mutant and other powered criminal syndicates instead of the usual normal networks like the Mafia or Triads. Who are the six most used agents and where do they operate in the world for the Mutant Interdiction Office? CES

The Return of the King 2010- Jason Parley paused at the front of the disused church he had been summoned to. He had left his uniform cap in his car so his brown hair fought with the wind that was kicking up. He looked around, but didn’t see a complainer. Did he go in, or did he search for the caller? Parley decided to go in. If the complaint was a false alarm, he could write it up and go back on patrol. If something was going on, he wouldn’t know unless he went in any way. Another patrol car rolled to a stop next to his. The other officer turned on his lights before getting out. Gus Greer rubbed his bald head as he walked over to join Parley at the bottom of the steps leading into the church. “Going in?” Gus checked the street as he touched the butt of the department issued pistol at his hip. “Yeah.” Parley drew his own pistol. “If you want to take the back, I’ll check the inside. It’s probably a prank call.” “All right.” Greer made a face. “If someone comes out, I’ll grab them.” “If it looks like something I can’t handle, I’ll call for backup.” Parley smiled. “If it’s a prank, I’ll write it up for the watch.” “You’re on.” Greer went back down the steps and started around to the back of the building. Parley tried the doorknob. He paused when the knob turned under his touch. He assumed that when the congregation left, they had locked up behind them. Maybe he was wrong about that. He pushed the door open as quietly as possible. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. He didn’t bother with a flashlight, instead waiting on his eyes to adjust to the ambient light coming through the stained glass windows. He heard a noise somewhere behind the raised stage at the other end of the room. He looked to either side as he walked down the central aisle. No one seemed to be in the main room with him. He stepped on the stage. He seemed to remember a couple of doors that led to the back of the building. Living quarters and an administrative office for the priest should be behind these doors. He decided to clear the building as best he could before worrying how it would look in a report. He pushed open the door on the left hand side of the stage. He paused to listen. Someone was singing in a monotone way down there. He advanced through the door. Who could be in an abandoned church in the middle of the night? The answer to that question suggested itself as bums trying to find a place inside from the mild weather the city had been having of late. Parley doubted it was something as simple as squatters. Maybe he had some devil worshippers, or voodoo masters, practicing their rites in a place the public didn’t use any more. A deconsecrated church would be perfect for that. He wondered how he knew that. It had surfaced in his memory, but he didn’t recall where he had picked that thought up. He decided he could worry about his brain, when he was done with his search. So far, the only thing out of place was the singing in a foreign language. He felt he should know the words, but the meaning slipped through his mental fingers. He would figure it out when he was done. Parley moved down the stairs toward the bottom of the church. He turned his radio volume down so he wouldn’t be heard. Figuring out why someone was in the building was next on his list, now that he knew someone was there. He paused at a door at the bottom of the stairs. Did he want to go through that door without backup? Did he need backup? He pushed the door open gently. He took a look through the crack. A circle of men stood around a makeshift table. Someone was chained down on the table. One of the circle held a white sword over his head as he said some words. That sword didn’t belong there. It belonged to him. He tried to shake off the feeling, but it seized his mind. The sword should be in his hands. Rage filled him. No one else was going to use his sword to kill anyone. Parley walked into the room. He shot the speaker as he went to bring the sword down on his victim. The speaker’s hands opened and flung the sword at him as he stepped into the room. He reached up and caught it with one hand as he brought the blade around in a circle. Two of the chorus fell over in separate pieces as he completed his circle. Lightning ran up the blade of the sword, lighting the jagged scar on his forehead. He advanced down to the table. Memories flooded through his mind as he walked forward. Parley was just the latest mask he wore. His job was just the latest that he had taken up. He was the King now that he held his sword again. He was the King, and he always would be even if he walked the Earth a thousand more times. The chorus decided to break for the door. He let them. If he ran into them again, he would know them. Then he would mete out long delayed justice. He brought down the blade of his sword down on the chains holding their intended victim to the table they had turned into an altar. He noted that it was a boy. He appeared malnourished and pale as moonlight. He had colored his hair like a parrot’s feathers. “You shot me.” The spell caster lay on the floor. Blood surrounded him like a dark halo. “I was supposed to complete the summons. The blood was supposed to bring the Kittikaen again.” “Have better luck with that in your next life.” Parley’s scar and eyes glowed to match the sword in his hand. Smoke boiled up from the blood on the concrete floor. Parley stepped back. He stood between the cloud and the drugged victim on the floor. He spun the sword in his hand, shifting his grip on it. It looked like the summons had been sent after all. The cloud parted to reveal a face with too many eyes and too many mouths. One of the larger eyes had been sliced apart from the looks of things. Scars crossed the eye. “I forbid you to come across the boundary.” Parley gripped the lightning in his hand. “Go home.” “You do not forbid me, human.” Kittikaen stretched out tentacles to grip the living barrier in its way. “You feed me.” The sword danced in Parley’s hand. Appendages fell to the floor around him as he advanced to meet his enemy. He smiled under his lightning lit eyes. His blade stabbed out, jamming through Kittikaen’s face with all of the police officer’s new strength and speed. Parley ignored the cry of pain. He switched the grip on his pistol. He used it like a hammer to drive the sword in deeper. The morass of ectoplasm and fleshly hatred baked away from the blade. Pieces of skin peeled away as the sword ate its victim. It dropped back into Parley’s hand with a final howl from its victim. Parley exhaled a breath. He hadn’t thought that would work. The sword was meant to kill anything it came across. He should have known it would do the same for anything that was not meant to walk the Earth. He looked around the room. He was alone except for the sleeping victim on the floor. He would have to arrange medical treatment for the boy. He turned his radio back up so he could call out. He wondered if Gus had caught any of the chanters when they fled the building. He looked at the chopped bodies near the door. He could check them for identification later if he wanted it. He needed to save what he could and get an ambulance. Punishment could be handed down whenever he spotted his enemy on the street. And he did plan to punish them. Allowing something from outside access to Earth could have resulted in many deaths besides the one they had planned. They needed to be taught a lesson about why that wasn’t a good idea. Parley found the church’s walls blocked his radio. He walked upstairs and out the front. He smiled when his radio started working again. He called for an ambulance and backup to secure the building. Parley slid the sword under his jacket. It twisted into a sidereal space next to reality and faded. It would stay there until he needed it again, or he died. Gus came around the corner. He had a man in handcuffs in his grip as he walked the man back to the steps. The man looked at Parley and tried to get away. Greer threw him to the ground, and sat on him. “Settle down, or you’ll get a boot to the head.” Parley turned to go back in the church. “We have a victim they were getting ready to carve up like a jack o’lantern. It was a good thing we came along.” “Keep him away from me,” said the chanter. “He carved up Roscoe and Floyd like nothing I ever saw.” “They deserved it.” Parley entered the church. He headed back to the slaughter room. He picked the boy up and carried him out of the church. He placed the boy down at the top of the steps. Where was the ambulance? The chanter tried to wriggle away from Gus. That showed a persistence that Parley admired. That didn’t stop him from taking aim and kicking the man’s lights out. “We got three dead, one prisoner, and one victim who may or may not be able to press charges.” Parley put his hands in his pockets. “Not really a good haul.” “Maybe the D.A. will get this one to talk so we can round up the rest.” Greer looked down at his hands. “Serving warrants should be easy.” “We have the warrant squad for that.” Parley grimaced. “I memorized their faces. If I see them on the street, I’ll pick them up.” “This is still going to be a mess.” Greer looked down at their captive. “How did you kill three guys?” “With speed and skill.” Parley smiled. “Here comes the ambulance. I’m going to ride down to the hospital with our victim. I guess turn everything over to what detectives show up to investigate.” “At least I got that covered.” Greer shook his head. “This guy probably should go too after the shot you gave him.” “He deserved more than I gave him.” Parley waved at the ambulance attendants. “Luckily for him, his value as an information source outweighs my wanting to kill him.” 15100

It might be too late to use reconciliation. That only had a small window and once it's gone, it's gone. It might have been done when they wrote the budget for the year. CES

There are tales of the Ghost Who Walks, the Ju Ju Man, the Lion in the Night, The Vanquisher of Evil, but few have met N'longa, who carries a medicine stick that was old when Africa was young, who carries a bell that sends away all evil spirits, and possesses the signs that show him which way he should walk CES

Ronnie Fraden is Fake News. He only has one ability. He can implant one idea in his victim's mind and the victim will believe that idea despite evidence to the contrary CES

A Parley 2015- Jason Parley looked at the gates, and the mansion beyond. Business had been good for Robert Tortelli. He could understand wanting to keep that business against all comers. Too bad that the King had arrived, and expectations had to be laid out. “What are we doing here, Jace?” Gus Greer sat behind the wheel of their unmarked car. His partner had changed in the last five years in a frightening way. He hadn’t crossed the line yet, but it was only a matter of time. “We shouldn’t be here. Especially not now.” The reason they shouldn’t be there was Lily Krantz, an 83 year old accountant. She had witnessed a crime that was tied back to Tortelli and his goons. The Cap had ordered Parley and Greer to guard her until trial. That was why she was sitting in the back seat listening to the detectives talk. “Drive around, Gus.” Parley opened the door. “I’m just going to have a talk.” “This is a bad move, Jace.” Greer stared at his partner. “It could be considered tampering.” “I’m just going to have a talk with the man.” Jason turned a smile on his partner. The lightning bolt scar on his forehead seemed to gleam against his pale skin. “Just drive around the block until I come out.” “What if you don’t come out?,” asked Mrs. Krantz from the back seat. “They could kill you.” “Then I expect you to avenge me.” Parley smiled at her. The thought of a retired grandma taking on the mob was the stuff of movies. “Don’t worry. It’ll be a snap.” Parley got out of the car and headed up to the gate. The automobile pulled off at a sedate pace. Gus was an expert driver. If he wanted to crash the party, he could despite his self-doubt. Parley paused at the gate. Two men stood guard on the other side. They looked at him with a bored expression. He knew that he didn’t look that impressive, barely making the height requirement, wearing a rumpled suit, old cowboy boots on his feet. He thought he was the more dangerous of the three of them. But, he admitted, most fighting people did. “Open the gate, please.” Parley stood with his hands in his pockets. “Got a warrant?” The bigger man on the left moved to stand right next to the bars on the other side. “Otherwise, no. Mr. Tortelli is too busy to see you.” “There’s an easy way and a hard way to this.” Parley scratched the side of his head with an index finger. “The easy way is to let me by and go in peace. The hard way is to impede me and never open a gate again, much less hold a spoon to feed yourself. Now is the time to think.” “The answer is still no, cop.” The man pointed down the street with his thumb. “Beat it.” Parley grabbed the man’s tie and yanked him into the bars of the gate. He did it again to make sure the man was too stunned to stop him. He pulled the keeper’s arms through the bars and twisted his hands. Cracking of bone followed the move. He turned to the other man, pistol in hand. “Do you want what he got?,” Parley asked. The man held up his hands, shaking his head. “Open the gate and let me by.” Parley put the pistol away. “It will be better for you in the long run.” The second man did what he was told, opening the gate with one hand while holding his other up. He stepped back, raising the other hand. “Take your friend to the hospital.” Parley stepped through the opened portal. “They might be able to save his arms if you hurry.” Parley walked through the grass island in the middle of the circular driveway leading to the big house. He stepped over the three steps to a stone stage three feet wide. He knocked on the door. Pebbled glass sat in insets on either side of the door, and above the frame. He didn’t see a peephole so he supposed the door man had to open the door to see who was visiting. The door open like he expected. A goon looked down at him. He shoved the door out of the way and stepped across the threshold. “You can’t come in here.” The goon held up his hands. “Get out of here.” “I’m here to talk to Mr. Tortelli.” Parley shook his head. “Once I am done, I will leave. Getting in my way is only going to get you hurt. Be wise and stand aside for the amount of time I am going to take. I would hate to dash your brains out in an instant if you keep standing there.” The tone of Parley’s voice said he would love to dash someone’s brains out in an instant, and he didn’t care how many those brains happened to be. “I’ll get in trouble if I don’t at least try.” The door man looked down the hall. “You’re going to have to go.” Parley punched him in the face so fast it was like he barely moved before the man crashed against the wall and fell to the floor. He made sure he hadn’t killed the man before he continued his march to the middle of the mansion. The Organized Crime boys said Tortelli had a room in the middle of his place where he did business. No one had been able to bug it successfully. They were sure he had put it in the middle of the house to help defend it from them. Parley found the door to the room. He knocked on it and frowned at the metallic thud that answered. He found a button beside the door and pressed it. He noted the presence of a camera and a speaker. He placed his badge in plain view of the camera. “Who are you?” The voice sounded like it was ready for a fight. “Jason Parley.” Parley put his badge in his pocket. “Open the door for me.” “Or what?” The question might have been innocent enough, or maybe the owner felt that Parley wouldn’t do anything since he was a cop. “I start breaking your decor.” Parley picked up a vase with a bunch of flowers in it. “When I am done, I will burn the place down whether you open the door, or not.” “Put that down.” The voice didn’t quite sound scared. “Oops.” Parley opened his hands and dropped the vase. He caught it before it could hit the floor. “I wonder how many pieces I can break this into with one kick.” The door hissed open. The group of men looking at him were not the picture of happiness. He smiled at them as he put the vase back on its stand. “Hello, Slim.” Parley stepped into the room, identifying the one man who was not nervous or angry that he was there. Slim Servo was a fair bodyguard with a realistic expectation of what he could do in any situation. He had probably advised them not to open the door under any circumstances on the grounds he couldn’t protect any of them from Parley’s rage. That earned a little respect from the King. “What do you want, cop?” Tortelli was a tall man, bulky like his men, wearing a better suit. He sat behind a desk with a glass top. Papers covered the top. “You’re on trial for RICO charges.” Parley hooked his thumbs in his belt. “The prosecution only has one witness. I am guarding that witness. Ordinarily, I would just kill you and make my job that much easier. Naturally I would have to kill everyone in this room to make sure there were no reprisals.” The six men meeting with Tortelli drew back as if they had discovered a hungry lion within touching distance. “That’s some talk.” Tortelli leaned back from his desk. One hand tried to open a drawer without his visitor noticing. “If your hand pulls a weapon out of that drawer, you will see how prepared I am to back my talk up.” Parley gave him a bored look. “The only one of you likely to survive is Slim. That’s because he is closest to the door.” The other men realized that Parley stood between them and the exit. If something happened, they would have to roll over him to get out of the office. And they were between the detective and Tortelli. Bullets would fly right through them if things went bad. Servo was on the other side, and could slide out of the room while the other men were fighting for their lives. “My partner feels I should let the criminal justice system do what it will.” Parley’s expression showed how much he thought of that idea. “He doesn’t want to have to explain why I kill every criminal I come across. I respect that. Paperwork is a pain. That’s why I decided to give you options so I don’t have to hear the complaints. “The first option is you leave the city, and don’t come back. You can run your territory from somewhere else using the Internet.” “I’m not doing that.” Tortelli was close to pulling the weapon from his desk. Only the prior warning held him back. “The second option is for you to stand your trial. As long as you leave my witness alone, you can do whatever you want to get out of a conviction. If anything were to happen to my witness, I will be unhappy and I will come back and kill you, your associates, your family, suppliers, anyone even connected to your businesses in any way.” Parley’s delivery was cold and exact. His eyes had deadened into things like brown marbles in his face. “What else do you got?” Tortelli planned to grab the pistol in his desk and shoot this crazy man. No one threatened him in his own home. “I kill you all now.” Parley flexed his wrist, loosening up his arm. “Once I start, all of you will have to die.” Tortelli looked at Slim. The gunman had inched closer to the door. He was two steps away from freedom. The boss had the idea that Slim had run into this guy before and had a fair idea of what he could do. And what he could do was kill everyone in the room. “Let’s say I agree to this, what do I get out of this?” Tortelli put both hands on the top of his desk. “You get a fair warning whenever our paths cross.” Parley didn’t smile. “I’m only interested in murders. Everything else is yours. If you kill anyone else in my city, it had better be more justified than he was in my way.” “What does that even mean?” Tortelli knew what it meant and he looked at the lieutenants in the room. They knew what it meant too from the looks on their faces. “It means that as long as your operations don’t kill anyone, you will probably not see me again. If they do, I expect a name so I can arrest that person.” Parley looked around the room. “It’s the same deal I gave Swift Morgan.” “Swift Morgan is dead.” Tortelli wished he dared take a drink from the glass of water in front of him. “He got chopped to pieces.” “He chose option three.” Parley smiled. “Be seeing you, partner.” He walked from the room. 13270

When the foreign hero known as the Missionary was killed trying to save innocents in the region he protected in central Africa, a native took up his mask and cassock to continue his legacy and accomplish his goal of peace. CES

Bucky Winston was always the hunter of the group, enjoying the wilderness when on the road. He was gifted with a bow, and a quiver of arrows that renew themselves and reduce others to idiocy. Winston has become the MOon Shot. CES

Bound by Jacka. Alex Verus learns that he was never the real target of Richard Drakh, or Morden. CES

Not me. I don't have cable. It's too expensive. But I remember Bill O'Reilly from inside edition. He seemed smarter then, than the news portrays him now. I wonder what happened. CES

Cody Hellinger is the Shield. Possessing the power of the Aegis, he can reflect any attack in any direction. More importantly than that, Cody can turn people to stone with his Medusa Glare. CES

With piracy on the rise off Somalia and Madagascar, one man fights to keep the seas safe off the coast of Africa. Captain Starlight and his ship, the Starjammer, fight a never ending crusade against pirates and all their ilk. CES

Nothere wants a team of teenage girl spies first FB CES

It is and I am 27 k down. The deadline is Sun. CES

The proposal for the tax reform is even worse from the little I could see of it on TV. They expect growth to power their tax reform. CES

Okay great minds think alike. CES

Why not both? CES

I guess I was expecting more flack for using a Tucker Kobold. CES

New Girl 2017- Lynette Harkness stood on the roof of her apartment building in her training suit. She looked at the massive cloud hovering over the island of Manhattan. She must have lost her mind to think she could make a difference in the chaos that had overtaken the city. She must be crazy. Her dad would give her a lecture about trying to jump ahead, when she was still trying to crawl. She frowned behind her face concealing mask. This was an all hands emergency. She couldn’t just sit it out when people needed her. She work things out with her dad later. Her danger indicator flashed on the inside of her mask every time she moved her head. It indicated the cloud was the biggest source of danger in white digital clock numbers. Smaller numbers flashed in that direction, but twelve o’clock flashed more often than the others. A scream drifted up from one of the alleys around her building. The visor dropped a crosshair in the direction of the scream’s owner. She ran to the edge of the roof and jumped to the next building. Lynette’s boots were designed to hook into any surface she stood on and support her weight as much as possible. Running across roofs became safer when you could run up and down walls. She paused at the edge of the roof and looked down. A woman was being menaced by a tree in armor. The thing held a spear with a flaming blade in two of its limb-like hands. A man was down on the alley floor. Lynette took a breath. She had an enemy of unknown capability. He was a threat to civilians. Protecting the woman was first. Then she had to deal with the wounded man. That way they both could survive the night. “Net gun, right arm.” The array in her right gauntlet changed with a click. “Line gun, left arm.” Lynette raised her right arm. A crosshair appeared on her target. She clenched her hand. A diamond-shaped projectile unfurled into a spider’s web. It wrapped around the target and glued him to the wall behind him. He started sawing at the strands with his spear’s blade. She couldn’t let him do that. She raised the other arm and shot another of the diamonds across the alley. The missile extended a line of rope behind it as it smashed against the wall opposite her to form an anchor. She dropped down from her perch, letting the line retract slowly so she wouldn’t hit the alley floor. She dropped down on the soldier with both feet extended. Her suit gave her limited superstrength. She would never be able to hit as hard as the Mark, but she had enough to ruin someone’s day. He cracked under the impact, but he didn’t stop trying to get out of the net. Lynette grabbed the shaft of the spear. She yanked it out of his grasp. Then she swung it like a baseball against the monster’s head. That took some of the fight out of him. “He stabbed Paul.” The woman went to her husband. “I can’t believe it.” Lynette had some first aid, but it wasn’t enough in this situation. She listened and the guy was still breathing. That had to be something. Her danger indicator lit up. She turned her head as a spear flew by her. Apparently the one guy she put down had a bunch of friends. She didn’t know if the training suit could take a direct hit, and didn’t want to find out. “Full Auto Net Guns,” Lynette pointed her gauntlets at the crowd. Suddenly the air was full of projectiles as she shot at whatever was in her crosshairs first. The webs glued the hostile soldiers together in a pack. They went down, struggling to free themselves from their bonds. Lynette turned on her radio. “Man down on the eight hundred block of East 40th street. I need an ambulance and a van to haul away prisoners.” “Lynette?” The voice of her dad came through loud and clear. “What are you doing?” “Nothing, Dad.” Lynette shrugged at the woman. “I have a stabbing victim. I need him picked up.” “All right.” Her dad didn’t sound like it was all right. “Help is on the way. Stay out of this. Go home.” “I can’t, Dad.” Lynette frowned as her danger indicator started feeding her numbers. “It looks like they are sending in troops right where I am. I am going to have to protect civilians in the way.” “You are so grounded.” Harkness muted his end for a second. “All right. I asked a friend to bail you out. Then I want you to go home until I get home.” “I will be glad to do that.” Lynette had no attention of going home. The city had to be protected, and she had her training suit. She could protect herself. “Got to go, Dad.” Lynette cut the radio off. More of the enemy soldiers were flooding into the alley from the far end. Her crosshair lit up as they crossed her field of vision. It was time to get to work. She sent more net bullets at them as they marched toward her. Some tried to cut the nets as they expanded. That just wrapped the net around their arms holding them together as the web contracted. The reloading warning kicked on below the danger indicator. She had used up too much ammunition on these foot soldiers. She had to go hand to hand until the shooters came back online. She looked around. The woman she was protecting had picked up a brick that had been on the ground. She stood over the stabbed man. If the aliens were going to kill her husband, it was going to be over her dead body. Lynette hoped she didn’t get stabbed to match him. The first soldier through the pile went for the stab to the face that she anticipated. She grabbed the body of the spear, yanked him into a kick in the face. She reversed the spear and stabbed him in the lower leg with it. Then she pulled, spun and broke the spear across his cylindrical head. The shaft caught fire on the broken end. She flung it at the next soldier as he climbed over his trapped fellows. Lynette used a wall to get over her next two attackers, and attack a third. She delivered a kick that vibrated her leg. She needed to stick to using weapons against these goons. She dodged several spear points, using the walls to keep out of reach of counterattack. She could see they were frustrated at her holding them up in a little alley while the rest of their mob did whatever it could. Some of the netted ones had been trapped with their spear blades next to their skins. That couldn’t be pleasant for them. The reloading icon switched to ready. She smiled beneath her mask. Now she could take care of business. “Single Shot Net Guns,” Lynette ordered her weapons control. The crosshair lit up green everywhere she looked. She had nothing but targets below her. She began plastering targets to keep them away from the couple at the other end of the alley. She only had one more reload. She had to make every shot count. Her shooting filled the alley with cocooned bodies. The language they used sounded like gibberish, but it was easy to tell what they were saying from the tone. They were saying ‘Fudge’, but not really. She could live with that. The tree soldiers’ big brother dropped in the street. Glass shattered on impact. He looked around with eyes of flame in his wooden head. He half-turned to raise an arm to point at the mouth of the alley. “That can’t be good.” Lynette ran down to where the couple were. She had to get them out of the way. She realized she should have done that sooner. It didn’t matter how wounded the husband was, she should have gotten them out of the way before she had trapped the army. She might have killed them with her mistake. The giant’s hand opened up to reveal fire inside his arm. He smiled as he summoned his attack forward. Killing prey was the best feeling the Queen allowed. “Line gun, right arm.” Lynette fired the projectile as she grabbed the man off the ground. She flung him over her shoulder as she grabbed the woman and held her with her arm. The line retracted as she ran at the tank. She leaped into the air, running along the tank’s wooden body, before swinging across the street. She didn’t think she was going to get the three of them to safety in time. All it had to do was turn and fire as she swung across the open space. A streak of lightning descended from the sky. It became a woman in yellow, hovering between the weapon arm and the intended target. The tank fired at her instead. She knocked the shot back with an open hand. “I don’t have time to play around with you, big boy.” Lightning blasted through the tank, shattering it into flinders. “I got things to do.” “The Mark’s Lightning?” Lynette balanced her burden as she stood on the wall above the street. “You’re Dad’s friend?” “The impression I got was you’re not supposed to be wearing that outfit in public.” Lightning smiled. “Your dad was a little bit irritated.” “Could you take these people to the hospital?” Lynette held out the two people she fought to keep safe. “I would like to finish my patrol before Dad gets home to ground me.” “There’s no patrol.” Lightning took the couple in her arms. “You go home, missy.” She flew off in a bolt of lightning, taking the intended victims with her. “I, the Queen of Genn, the Sister of the Destroyer, the Mother of the Myriad, the Sun of a Million Lands, pronounce sentence on this miserable place for the crime of accepting my rebellious daughter as one of your own.” A giant burning tree held up the Mark in her grasp as she stepped out of the cloud over the city. She stood on a parapet of stone. An image covered the world so everyone could see what was going to happen. “You will all be exterminated just like this hero who tried to stop me.” Lynette felt tears cloud her eyes as the Mark burned away in front of everyone in the city. She took a moment to compose herself. She wanted to be a heroine like her father and mother. She had even more reason to carry on the family business now. 11344

That's fine for a phone. If they all belonged to the same organization, an identifying characteristic might be added on for the summoned character (must possess ring, brand, blind eye, etc) CES

Contacts represent a specific person like Jimmy Two Toes the local dock racketeer. This summons represents anyone the character can justify calling to get information so maybe you can get Jimmy, or maybe Big Mike, or Sal, depending on who answers the phone. CES

If he is going to be involved in an actual adventure, even a basic sheet would be okay. If he is going to be in the background, and not doing anything, then a simple description of who he is, what he can do, where is his area of operations, how he got where he is now, and when he comes into play should be okay CES

Tucker Carlson never realized how different he was from normal humans until he left the protection of the family home. He painfully taught this lesson by a group of bullies beating him within an inch of his life. After he got out of the hospital, Tucker took classes in self defense and hunting. His attackers learned to fear him as the horrible Kobold. He turned his attention on other bullies and bigots, earning a fearsome reputation for trapping an enemy in a humiliating situation for the police. CES

Steve Jack is the hero known as Munchkin. Armed with the ability to draw artifacts and powers out of thin air, he can change any battle's direction with the right pull. CES

Ryan Pitcher is the hero known as Four Corners has the ability to return any attack back at the attacker. He has trained himself to do this, and uses special gloves to protect his hands from things like bullets as he reflects any attack back at its source. CES