“Listen up,” She said as she called the room to order. She stood at the head of the table, graphs and pictures displayed on the large screen behind her. “We're real and we proved it. We're not some one-off rebellion. We're the Renegades, and the Maji will have to deal with us globally now. That means clashes with the Astral League, the Starseekers, and whoever else they find.” Nedra explained, sitting backwards in her chair at the head of the table. She ran a hand through her dense braids and smiled at the group of agents and majes assembled in the room. Her dark red leather jacket commanded almost as much attention as her confidence did.

“It also means running PR missions for non-Maji aligned countries.” Max said, British accent on full display. “You can run an operation, but civilians need to see us run a campaign.” With his dirty blonde curly undercut and trimmed goatee, Max Winters looked ready for a photoshoot or a battlefield. Like Nedra, he'd also shown up in his typical outfit. Unlike her leather jacket, holsters, and gear just casual enough to blend into a crowd, Max's purple and black bodysuit was designed for absorbing impacts and minimal wind resistance while flying through the air.

“What they need is stability.” Across the table from him, Donojan Oerbas scowled. His wavy silver tresses hung down his brown face in an asymmetric cut designed to obscure his eye patch. “Wars aren't won on the battlefield. They're won in the hearts and minds of the populaces and soldiers involved. Ask me how I know.”

The question was facetious; everyone in the room knew the well publicized story of the crown prince of the nation of Oerbas ascending to the throne 12 months prior amidst rumors of scandal and betrayal only to be ousted after a long bloody civil war led by his wife. Less public was his recent association with a group reviled as terrorists or hailed as liberators, depending on who was talking.

The following is an excerpt from a larger story I'm working on; it's seen only rough edits for readability and represents an acceptable 1st draft. I already know which wide swaths of this chapter need to change. But in the meantime, enjoy magic, powers, teamwork, witty dialogue, and a tense battle.

Staff Sergeant Tiffany Couch had never been so happy to watch a man plummet from the sky. It was a curious thing to even consider. But as the wiry man fell towards the earth, his dirty blonde hair tousled by the wind, she couldn't shake the unmistakable feeling that their situation would improve dramatically once he hit the ground. The Army veteran hunkered down behind an uprooted tree and watched.

The man turned over in midair, righting himself right before he hit the tree line. A translucent purple haze covered his body, slowing his descent until his feet grazed the mossy carpet of the frosty Colorado forest. Sergeant Couch sprinted at him, trusting her squad to keep the attention of the monster they'd attracted.

“Glad to have you, Major,” she said, her voice low and tense. “Did Joint Command fill you in on the situa-”

“Jeez, you look like shit.” The new arrival interrupted her, looking past her and into the dense woodland behind her. “MC2 mentioned an 'unidentified hostile mage.' Something about 'hard light.' I'll figure it out as I go.” He shrugged.

“That's not just 'some mage.' That's Verdict, the religious terrorist.” She explained. “He's one of those Manifestations,”