<div align="center"><strong>Britain, Scotland<br/>A Classified Military Base<br/>08:00 AM local time</strong></div><br/>After being contacted discreetly, key world metahumans were flown in via helicopter in the hopes that a team could be organised to form a specialist unit to counter the rising threat of metahuman terrorism. Although the team would be a UN Taskforce, the joke moving around the military base was that this was the founding of the worlds first "Super Team." Commanding Officers did not share the joke. Regardless, the potential recruits arrived one by one and were met at the landing pad by an escort team and brought inside.<br/><br/>They were guided into the facility and brought four floors underground to what appeared to be some form of briefing room. A large table was prepared and currently blank monitors ran the length of the room.<br/><br/><div align="center">*****</div><br/>The Warden was the first to arrive, although his head turned from the greeting escort team for a few moments so his shining eyes could take in the facility he otherwise did not react at all to his surroundings in any manner one might consider impressed or intimidated. He simply followed the team, his suit of white and gold rather clashing with the proper attire of a military facility in the back-end of nowhere's in Scotland. In silence he entered the facility and continued to be silent for the duration of the elevator ride and into the briefing room.<br/><br/>The Warden stepped into the briefing room, eyes running over the long oak table, the monitors running the walls, the dozen leather chairs at either side of the table. There was water provided, but a young woman asked if he would like tea, coffee or some other refreshment. "No thank you." Instead he took a seat and waited. He was....<em>curious</em>about this gathering.