Unknown Time, Unknown Date: Undisclosed Location, Nevada
An old, derelict camera perched near the top of an abandoned, concrete structure, desert winds whipping sand into its lens. It had laid dormant for many years, its aging battery barely operational, and its motion sensor questionably functional. Nonetheless, something stirred underneath it and it whirred to life, sending out its errant signals to nothing in particular.
"This is the place," a voice said.
Six figures stood underneath the camera, all of them wearing colorful and clearly modified rubber masks of various predatory animals. They were slightly off-center from view. The camera's cyclopean eye tried to remain affixed to them, to protect this aged, abandoned place it was once tasked with guarding, but its worn-out motors refused to cooperate. So it watched what it could, and listened.
"You sure about this, boss?" the man in the shark mask asked.
"Yes, I'm sure," the woman in the owl mask replied. "Do you have any better ideas?"
"I dunno man," the man in the crocodile mask interjected. "You sure we couldn't just drop 'em all in an old warehouse and let 'em go at it? Seems like a lot of trouble to drag 'em all the way out here."
"But where's the spectacle in that?" Owl retorted. "This isn't just about fighting, it's about survival, and power in all its forms. It's about proving a point."
"And what point is that?" the woman in the bear mask asked, her voice wavering, unsure of itself.
Before the answer could be heard, the camera shut off, its motion sensor no longer detecting anything of note. Only after an eternity of darkness came and went was it pulled once more from the void to continue its observations.
"We've got all the collars and cameras we need, right?" Owl asked, now facing only two figures instead of five.
"Preparations are complete, master," replied the man in the wolf mask. "All of us have been very hard at work."
The owl-masked woman muttered something, inaudible through the mask.
"We'll be ready for anything they might have if they try to break the rules," the man in the tiger mask said in response.
Owl nodded, tapping the sandy earth beneath her feet with an aluminum baseball bat.
"And how many goons did we get to guard the perimeter?"
Once again, the camera shut off, its motion sensor detecting nothing more to observe, and its decrepit battery beginning to finally fail. In spite of the black curtain threatening at any moment to swallow it up, another eternity later and the camera weakly flared back to life. No video feed came through, its lens now completely blocked by sand and dirt. Only audio remained.
"From this day forward," a voice that sounded like the owl masked woman from before began, "we'll be known as..."
There was a noticeable pause, the only sound being the wind whipping against the camera's chassis, and the futile whirring of its motors.
"The Deerstalkers."
A chorus of groans erupted, slightly further away.
"Boss," someone who sounded like the man in the shark mask growled, "that name makes us sound like we're a bunch of comic book supervillains."
There was another pause, the audio feed crackling and filling with static.
"Are we not?!"
Then, with a roar, the static overwhelmed everything else. The audio too came to an end, with the camera sinking back into oblivion forevermore.
Applications for SOTF: Supers open...
TOMORROW
Saturday, November 13th