---

Having settled into his new Chicago home several days prior, Gael was standing in his room gazing out the window. The house was situated in the middle of his block, but it was taller than the surrounding houses by a whole floor, making it a three-floor residence, not including the basement. With his room situated facing the street he had a relatively clear view of both his own neighborhood and some of the surrounding area--though he did wish he could have convinced someone for a larger place. Granted, he could have chosen an apartment in the middle of the city, but that would have made it more difficult for him to fall back to if need be. Hiding out away from the center of the city or its hot-spots where he might eventually be particularly active was probably wise.

So he had compromised a higher vantage point for a safer location. Give and take, that's what many things were...except for relationships it seemed. People had never given enough, so he had to take and take and take. It was annoying, but he had long since discounted it as a result of base human stupidity.

His mind turning to a new series of thoughts, Gael closed his eyes a moment, checking on the exploits of his working parents in their respective places of employment. He was working them to the bone, making sure they saved up extra money. It was all about playing the long game really. Still their measly income wasn't enough for what he had in mind for the Windy City.

Far from it.

Noting that his parents were faring just fine, their workplaces not too far for his ability to just reach them, not to mention that his control wouldn't just suddenly cease. It took time, and they wouldn't be away from him long enough to recover. Not even close. Opening his eyes and turning away from the window, Gael turned to his left and walked to his work desk.

On its left were a series of file dividers, which served the purpose of holding a series of folders in which there were various sketches and plans. All of them were in the form of a storyboard, making it appear as if he was planning to write a book or sketch out a comic of some sort, but couldn't decide which he preferred yet. The reality was that they were plans for his career as a cape. More specifically as a villain.

He had a great deal of things planned out. Contingencies. Some for Chicago, codenamed Thýella, meaning tempest in greek, some for where he'd grown up. A few for other places, but that was much too far down the line now. He had needed to move to a quick response area. Somewhere that the Wards, Protectorate, and PRT would show up in often.

Chicago had been his choice. Now that he was here he needed to do research and one of the ways he was doing so was through the internet, going through popular forums...and not so popular ones as well. The latter were the more important of the two. Leaning over his desk he searched through a few sites, flickering between pages and reading faster than a normal human would've been able to.

Once he'd looked for a bit a grin came across his face, he stood up and he slipped his T-shirt over his head before applying pressure to several places on his desk and then slipping a hidden drawer out of it. He extracted his hoodie, T-shirt, sun glasses, and other cape objects. He donned the T-shirt, tied the hoodie around his waist, then slipped a long sleeve shirt over the patterned shirt. He made sure to bring the T-shirt he'd had on earlier with him.

While it was unlikely that anyone would recognize the shirt yet, he figured it was better that no one saw it as he exited his house than if someone did and recognized it later.

Once he had prepared, making sure to take some eye drops and extra contacts, in addition to his sunglasses, he exited his room and headed down the hallway before he went downstairs, heading for the ground floor.

He had chosen his room to be on the third floor while his parents' room was below. After all if an unwanted guest visited his home, they'd have to go through two floors and his parents before they got to him. By then he could use the tree in the backyard, which was conveniently situated near a window at the far end of the hall opposite the stairs.

Reaching the ground floor he passed through the living room, entering the kitchen and briefly making himself a sandwich before he extricated a Mountain Dew from the fridge. With keys on his person Gael exited the house, locking it behind him before hiding his keys in the usual spot beneath the wooden stairs of the house's porch.

Happy with himself he debated on whether he ought to take the remaining car that his parent's had left or if he should take the bus instead. Eventually figuring that he could always park it a ways off. It helped that he knew he would sense parahumans and any antics they might be up to before they would even see him drive by.

This in mind he sighed and turned around, slipping his keys back out of the small nook beneath the porch. After a few minutes he was off, the garage closing behind him automatically and the car pulling out of the drive way. It really was nice having your parents as slaves. You could never do them wrong.

Everything was just...easier. As he thought it he felt a pang of emptiness somewhere in his psyche. Frowning, he flipped the radio on and turned it up, drowning himself in the music while he drove closer to Chicago's center.

Eventually, once he was close enough, he exited the freeway and took less traveled roads, scanning the area with his field of influence in the form of a three-dimensional web. Some things slipped through, but most of them weren't people. This way he gathered psychic energy and scoped out the area in one go.

It was efficient.

For most of his ride he found little of interest except the occasional distress of a random human as well as the rare parahuman going about their daily life. It brought a not so pleasant grin to his face knowing that he might unmask or use a parahuman's identity against them if he ever neared them when they weren't in costume. He'd never make it public knowledge, but often the threat of doing so would likely be enough to garner favors. Still he knew he'd make enemies fast if he went that route.

So he wouldn't. Not yet at least. Not till later.

Another ten minutes passed and he was about to decide he'd got a good enough feel for the lay of the land until he detected an odd number of capes in the same area as well as distress, anxiety and...adrenaline. A smirk spread over his face, he parked the car in the parking lot of a restaurant he figured he could enjoy later and then got out. Slipping out of the parking lot and into an alley several blocks up, making sure there were no cameras nearby before he slipped out of his long sleeve shirt, slipped his hoodie on and carefully took out his contacts.

Once he was done he looked around, eventually finding a trash can to stow his stuff in. Balling up his shirt around his keys, Gael made sure to stuff the long sleeve shirt into the short sleeve shirt he'd brought along before shoving it into the garbage can, using his gloved hands to shake the can so as to bury it somewhat. He'd dump it out later to retrieve the clothes. Better to hide them well and have something shitty to wear as disguise, than to be seen in the shirt once he'd revealed himself to the public in any fashion.

Or...that was the idea at least.

Pulling his hood over his head, Gael took in a deep breath, closing his eyes a moment as he flexed his power. He felt all the people around him, connecting thin strands of his field to each, making sure they always overlapped with strands that touched his body. He focused the web around people with lowered guards, but didn't press their minds instead allowing his power to focus on draining them.

The energy continued to build up in his field and he could feel traits and perspectives filtering into his mind. When he opened his eyes a minute later they were a fierce glowing pink that shone out from his hood. He directed a repeated suggestion towards anyone near the alley to disregard his presence and while it didn't make them look away their attention would shift subtly to something else.

He left the impression vague and so it was that he walked out of the alley unnoticed even if he had been seen.

At a leisurely pace he made his way towards the location of the parahumans he had sensed earlier. When his net touched the first two he began reading and draining. He started honing in on the capes, counting them as he made his approach.

“One, two. Oh there's three more. One more in the building and another somewhere outside, oh this'll be fun,” he said his grin spreading wider. He narrowed his field further cutting off people who seemed to be even slightly resisting his drain. He quickly sifted through various surface thoughts he was picking up from those he was draining and as he did so he filtered out the thoughts of any normal humans he'd been draining before. He then isolated each of the seven capes to separate trains of thought in his mind and began analysis on each. Swiftly he noticed certain trends and associations. Three of them were working together, as evidenced by their communication and close proximity. There was an outsider who was meandering near the bank and someone who'd been caught up in the events inside. Hopefully neither would be problematic if not he'd just have to adapt.

Then there were the two others who were near one another. As he came into view of the scene, still a block or so away, but on the same street, he noted the color of the bank. As the two capes standing in plain view were revealed to him, his eyes darkened.

It may have been day time, but Nightfall was close on hand and it didn't seem that any of them were yet the wiser.

Not that they could've been.

Hopefully there weren't any power nullifiers close enough to stop him. That would be rather annoying. He'd keep a distance till he got a read on their powers. That was probably best.

The blonde Ward began striding into the bank, hopping over the tellers' counter and looking around. If the alarm was going off then the perpetrators must already be in the vault, considering the time it took to arrive on-scene. "Actually, Scarlet," Chroma spoke up, looking back to his partner. "You go back to the front and go around the building. Or over it. Something like that. If we're dealing with Capes then they might already be outside. Keep a lookout." His red-haired partner nodded in agreement and the two went their separate ways. Scarlet was to head outside and scout around the outside of the building. Chroma was to go further in, towards the vault. "Ah, but safety first." Chroma held his hands out in front of himself, a blob of dull grey paint forming in the air between his hands.

The shapeless blob expanded in size, becoming the size of an exercise ball, before floating back towards Chroma himself. The floating paint expanded and spread out over his body, covering most of him in the grey paint. While it still retained a wet appearance it didn't drip off him in the slightest nor did any one area appear to have more paint than the others. It was perfectly spread out evenly. Only his head didn't have the paint, though his mask was coated for some level of face protection. The grey paint had a consistency of steel. Usually a thin bodysuit like the one Chroma had wouldn't stop any kind of bullet, but now he was like a walking steel wall. He had a negligible amount of extra weight, so this was arguably better than standard military body armor.

As the now grey Ward approached the vault he was quick to realize that there were parahuman shenanigans going on. The back of the vault had a very visible hole in the wall. But it was a shapely hole, not like something made from an explosive. It was as if a square (or more properly a rectangle) was removed from it whole. "Oh boy, this is gonna be good," he mused to himself as he carefully stepped into the vault itself. With his white-washing plan there was nowhere to hide, so it took hardly a split-second to confirm that whoever was in the vault had already left. That, and there was a trail of fallen white-washed bills that led out the hole into the alleyway. Chroma peeked out the hole to see the missing chunk of wall was firmly embedded into an unfortunate car. He didn't dwell on that particularly long before letting his eyes follow the paper trail to...

A van behind an upturned chunk of concrete that had been supernaturally ripped from the ground. As soon as he saw the van it began to peel out, but there was nothing Chroma could do about that. Not the van, at least. "There's a van leaving from the alley behind the bank," he spoke into his earpiece communicator. Scarlet would have to handle that one. However his work in the alley wasn't done. The van left hastily and with peculiar timing. Not to mention the strange wall made out of road that covered the van. Why would the van need cover? He held his hands to his sides, large blobs of blue paint forming in the air next to his palms. As soon as they reached the size of basketballs, which took no time at all, he tossed them one at a time towards the general direction of the upturned concrete. The blue paint splashed across the ground along both sides of it, coating a large part of the alleyway in a dark blue. One could look at the wet paint and guess that it felt wet, but if anyone were to touch it they would find it supernaturally slippery. Applying weight on it was a good way to take a fall. And surely if one fell in the midst of the paint they wouldn't be able to get up without some kind of assistance. What made it even worse was the fact that touching it would get some of the wet blue paint on whatever touched it. It'd spread the slippery effect if one were to get it on them.

But that wasn't enough. Chroma produced even more blue paint and began lobbing it haphazardly along the alleyway. In all of a few seconds he had managed to coat most of the area in blue. Only a few places such as underneath cars or behind the upturned concrete were left dry, places that Chroma didn't have a direct line-of-sight on. "Toss your weapons and... well put the road back down! If you resist I'm gonna have to come over there. And I'll bring an ass-kicking with me! Don't make me do this the hard way, otherwise I'll make modern art out of you!" It was his standard threat. Desist or get beaten. While another glob of blue paint was floating in the air next to his left hand he began to walk forward, the blue paint vanishing underneath his feet right as he was about to step on it. This left a trail of footprints as he slowly walked up the alley towards the suspicious roadblock.

Blackout started fidgeting impatiently as he waited for the Wards to show up so he could begin the action. The bayonet danced between his fingers, while he hummed quietly because of the delay. He glanced up and studied Drho carefully, inspecting the boy's mask, and the ornate golden design that caught the eye. After a few seconds of pondering, and awkward staring, he decided he liked it. It was flashy, yet still reserved. It drew attention, but didn't keep it exactly. He was a cape, and the black imagery that made up his costume was the only edgy bit. He leaned forward a bit, and studied his other teammate, Serephina. She seemed pretty comfortable in the attire she was given, and as he glanced her over he noticed that she was pretty clean for a vagrant, though admittedly that didn't mean much. He could see her green eyes quite clearly, and he studied her brown hair before turning back to Drho. He had odd colored eyes, that seemed to be a mix of brown and red. Odd.

The sound of footsteps echoed from the bank vault, and Blackout saw the van book it. What he assumed to be a ward had walked out of the blasted bank vault, or that's what Blackout assumed. The Ward spoke into his earpiece, communicating to someone that a van was leaving. Blackout smiled, gripping his knife tighter, as he awaited the moment when the boy would try to chase the van. Then the world turned blue. Plaint splattered the alleyway around him, barely missing Blackout. Right next to the building was devoid of paint, but Blackout didn't bother to check if Serephina had avoided it. Unfortunately Blackout had only fought Chroma once before, so he had no idea what this color paint did, but he knew it would be best to avoid it.

Chroma gave a short monologue that amounted to a cease and desist. A smile graced Blackout's face as he realized the man didn't know what he was up against, and probably thought Drho was the only villain here. His paint wouldn't become a normal substance upon Blackout nullifying his power, but he would lose immunity to it, and be unable to create more. The best solution would be to tell Drho to attack him before slipping into a viable range to nullify his powers. Hand-to-hand combat was preferable for Blackout, as he didn't use his power for a crutch in the way other parahumans did. He worked on his body, though the simple act of having the power did give him a knack for judging distances. Regardless, Blackout could not communicate with his teammate without giving away their presence, so he had to think of a move and fast. Shooting him would be a start, and might confuse him a bit, but he had seen the Ward use grey paint to block bullets. Regardless, a shot to the stomach should knock the breath out of him. . . Assuming his power didn't completely break physics, but then again most powers did. In fact all did.

"Focus," Blackout thought, annoyed at himself for getting distracted. The knife returned to its holster, though he kept it unstrapped, and in one motion he drew his gun. He steadied himself internally, and took a step around the corner, leveling himself before putting the cross hairs of his nine millimeter on the Ward's stomach. "I fucked up," He thought as his foot slid forward and out from underneath him, making him fall. Hard. His gun went off, firing wide of its target as Blackout slammed into the ground. His helmet saved him from a concussion, though his gun slipped out of his hands. He had forgotten the paint, and it was very, very slippery.

Regus returned Blackout's stare with a sideways glance of his own, something about Blackout didn't seem quite... normal. Sure he was a villain, and technically Regus was a villain as well. But Blackout was obviously rather different from Regus, though it was hard to define why. Regus's thoughts were interupted by the sound of paint splattering and the entire area around his makeshift cover quickly turning blue, followed by Chroma ordering them to stand down. Regus had been considering what to do in response when Blackout suddenly stepped out from cover and fired: at the same time slipping on the blue paint and falling to the ground. Regus swiftly shifted his roadblock a few feet over to cover his downed ally. Then, he released the road and grabbed Blackout's hand, hauling the villain to his feet as best he could.

Obviously the blue paint must be pretty slick but it was still kinda sad to fall like that. "Maybe you should not step on the paint, savy?" Clearly it would be easier to wait for Chroma to approach so there was less paint between them so Regus planned on waiting until the ward was close enough to hit. If he was lucky the ward wouldn't realize that the upturned road could just as easily function as an oversized club as it could a wall. Of course if it was just Chroma this shouldn't be too difficult, but wards tended to move in groups. Regus checked around for other enemies and steadily spread control of his power through the surrounding area while he waited for his chance to whack the ward.

The Other Side of the Wall

"Really Blackout? The first move and you fuck things up? Have you even done this before?" Serephina whispered aggressively. With her invisibility activated, he wouldn't be able to see her and she was secretly hoping he would be confused. She always enjoyed making others question their environment. She knew he had done this before but he didn't seem like he had very much experience with. . . paint everywhere. With all the railroad tracks, swamps and fields full of rocks she had always had to trek through, she was confident she wouldn't slip. Or. . . So she hoped.

She wasn't really sure what to do here. These amateurs weren't giving her much to work with. She heard a voice say something like "they better surrender or he would make them into modern art" or something. Wow. that was the corniest line I've ever heard as a threat. Odette made a small squeaking noise from the inside of her backpack and Serephina hushed her with a gentle voice.

"Let me help you guys out here" she said with an exasperated huff. Peeking out from behind the wall, she could see the man threatening them covering himself in grey paint. This guy's a freak. she thought to herself, her eyes widening at the rather strange sight. Taking cover behind the wall again, she whispered again to Blackout, who was now steadily on his feet again, "He's heading this way in case you didn't notice! I would make sure your feet are steady Mr. Falls A Lot and DO SOMETHING!"

---

It appeared that getting a sense of abilities was not so difficult as he would have thought, namely as he could recognize at least two of the individuals present by appearance and reputation alone. He smirked as he noted that one of them was a ward known as Chroma, while the other he'd identified appeared to be Blackout. In short he was not terribly impressed with the villain. What an idiot, he thought to himself with a chuckle even as he felt the tiniest amount of pity enter his psyche.

So it appeared there was a nullifier, but he was not a problem. He knew Blackout's effective range and he knew he was outside of it. The others appeared to have much less straightforwards powers as one seemed to be invisible--his being able to locate her entirely based on how she moved through his psionic web not to mention the fragmented impression of her surroundings that he found at the surface of her thoughts. The other ward was still a mystery to him as was the individual who appeared to be somehow molding the asphalt. He wondered how that was being done. Nonetheless half of both parties were idenitified in terms of ability and that meant one thing.

He could move.

Well, not literally as he had decided to stay where he was, but that was hardly the point.

Letting his awareness shift, the psionic web he had cast began to focus around Chroma becoming thicker and more solid, in a fashion. It would not physically impede the ward, but that was not the idea. Casting out tendrils of his influence to Blackout and his two compatriots, Gael utilized his telepathy to communicate a very simple message. "On the count of three attack or run," he telepathed to them, making his voice sound not like his own, but instead like their thoughts, disguising it as something that belonged.

He then counted to three, building layer upon layer of piercing needles around Chroma's head even as he sapped energy from everyone in his surroundings. "One..." his smile grew," ...two..." he continued, channeling hostility and pain into the psychic needles, "...three."

He snapped his fingers and in that moment the needles would slam into Chroma's undefended mind. Pure malice, fear, and a splitting pain would bombard the cocky ward as Gael fed the energy he was gathering into the attack. He was glad that cities were so jam packed with people, it made sustained psychic attacks much easier when he could be constantly sapping upwards of 50 people at once. Perhaps it would be more fitting for him to be active during the day till he gathered enough energy. That way he'd never be at too much of a disadvantage, he thought.

All the while he altered the shape of the needles, allowing them grooves and giving them a spin so that they acted like drills, burrowing into the Ward's mind. A dark smile played across his face as he drank in the suffering of his victim. It was too bad that it wasn't yet wise for him to stick around and wait till the ward succumbed to him.

It would have been wonderful to have a new puppet, especially one with such a useful ability.

Oh well.

A piano was slowly playing from hidden speakers around the café. The symphony started playing as well, bringing it from piano to fortissimo while Vince sat at the table, studying the people across from him. Vince was wearing a white T-shirt, and blue jeans, nice casual attire to go with the glasses he had on. They had a small HUD displayed on them. It told him the time, weather, and had some reminders that he would find useful later. As his parent's profession afforded them a lot of money he had the latest Tinkerfab. The girl next to him was a petite redhead, who was admittedly a bit busty, and a bit older then Vince. He had already forgotten his date's name. A 'friend' from school was across the table with a blonde girl as his partner.

The café itself was bustling with waiters and waitresses entering and leaving small doors at the back that led to the kitchen. A tea was placed in front of Vince, and though he just ignored it, he thanked the waitress. He didn't enjoy the atmosphere as much as most people might. It had almost a snobby air to it, as if hinting that all the occupants should be honored to even be allowed to occupy the spaces they did.

The date wasn't his idea, and his date wasn't his idea of cute. He sighed as he stared out the window, his table mate's idle chatter being drowned out by his own thoughts. I have thirty-five minutes to walk home, leaving ten minutes to study for my Calculus exam. After that I will have to do my homework, and complete it within an hour, otherwise I'll be unable to sleep for ten-

"Vince! Are you ignoring Samantha? She tried to ask you a question," The girl across the table asked him, the other half of the double date he was 'engaged' in. The remark took a few seconds to process, and he shook his head dully.

"No, no, sorry. I was thinking about something else, and just. . . Sorry. What did you want to know Samantha?" Vince asked, clearly interested again. Maybe she had said something intriguing, instead of what seemed to be her favorite hobby; Twirling her hair around her finger, and spouting vapid nonsense.

You do work in the ghettos a lot, don't you? Like. . . Community service?" Samantha asked, her hair still wrapped around her finger.

"Yeah, I-"

"Damn right he does! I saw Vince in the south side of town the other day." The girl started snickering, and whispered to the table, "He has plenty of projects in the projects," The table burst out in laughter, excluding Vince of course. His date slowly recovered and turned to Vince, flushed from laughing.

"I was also wondering how you got that black line on your arm-"

"Long story. Look I got to go," He suddenly stood up, looking annoyed. She swung and she missed. Vince walked out of the café, rubbing his temples with the sort of look that told people not to get to close. He looked off into the sky, getting caught up in his thoughts again before his phone rang. Vince pulled the phone slowly out of his pocket, looking at the caller ID before answering. PRT was displayed on the clear piece of glass that made up his smartphone, and Vince had to catch himself before he sighed at the nuisance.

He put the phone to his ear, and the call automatically answered, the sound switching to his earpiece. An automated message alerted him to the bank robbery in progress, and announced that there was currently one identified threat. Vince scrolled through his phone, before putting on some relaxing music. He chose Beethoven's 3rd symphony in E flat major.

With a bit of hesitation Vince started jogging towards the bank in question, ignoring the automated message alerting him he could get a ride if he needed transportation to the scene. He wasn't fit like some of his colleagues, but he had been working on that. Squeezing running sessions into his schedule, and this allowed him to jog all the way to the bank in five minutes. He was just out of breath and he took a moment to regain it.

After a minute Vince approached the scene, scanning the front of the bank for any suspicious faces, but instead he saw only fear and confusion. He glanced over the bank, noting that it was devoid of color. Chroma had arrived already it seemed. He sighed and walked to the front of the bank, entering quietly. Vince's eyes appraised the crowd methodically, looking for anyone who didn't look like they belonged. He did see a young woman who looked particularly focused, and generally confident. That was unusual. . . Vince approached the woman, pausing his music as he did. He put his hand on her shoulder, and once she turned around, studied her for a second.

"Excuse me, but you do realize a bank robbery is going on? Shouldn't you be evacuating, or ya know. . . Be scared?" Vince said slowly, as if pondering the effect every word would have on her. His emotions were lacking in truth, and she would surely see that. He didn't feel anything particularly strongly, and what he did feel was a mix of apathy, and careful concern.

Spencer took in the aura of the cape, silver strings surrounding him and herself, surprised to see how blank it was. Light dull colors of black, grey, and nothingness. Not to mention she was surprised anyone had even approached her. No one ever did that. She never stood out to the others around her. Why would she stand out to this man?

She processed his question a moment before giving her answer.

"This is nothing new to me", she shrugged his hand off, not at all used to the touch of others.

"Worst things have happened in my past than this petty bank robbery"

Spencer smiled though, unable to contain the strange happiness bubbling inside her.

Spencer made sure to keep the guilt flowing to the other cape across the bank making sure the emotion never faltered as she continued to hold her attention on the man I front of her.

She drew her eyes down the man's body taking note of the tattoo like crevices in his arms. "Interesting. Wonder what that's from?"

Her eyes lingered on the mark a moment before looking back up to the guys face.

Chroma stopped moving forward when one of the mystery villains finally peeked around the road cover, aiming a gun at Chroma. The Ward didn't have the reaction speed to avoid a bullet but he didn't need to as Blackout slipped on the blue paint in the process of leaning out for a shot. He fired his gun when he hit the ground but the bullet hit the wall to Chroma's left, missing completely, before the gun bounced out of Blackout's hand and slid across the paint where it clattered to a stop against a car tire. Chroma was briefly ruffled but was quick to realize his safety wasn't compromised in the slightest. In fact he even recognized the person who tried to shoot him. As the upturned asphalt shifted to cover the recently fallen Blackout, who now had blue paint clinging to his lower right leg and his back, Chroma began laughing aloud. Almost maniacally, in fact, despite him actually being the hero in this situation.

"Was that you, Blackout? Infamous parahuman criminal, busted robbing a bank with a new parahuman buddy? And I thought I was going to be bored today!" he called out to the crew huddled behind the curled road. The blue paint that was floating above his hands shrunk infinitely until it vanished completely. "I don't know who else you've got covering your ass over there, but the two of you are about to spend a long time considering your life choices..." This time he began forming red paint in his hands. It took only a second or so to get to the size of basketballs again, prompting him to launch both blobs directly at their cover. It splattered across the majority of the surface sloppily, some even splashing past it. Everywhere the red paint landed immediately began sizzling, the paint slowly eroding through whatever was in contact with it. It was fairly slow; Chroma expected it would take ten to twenty seconds to corrode through their cover and leave Blackout and whoever else was with him exposed and completely vulnerable. While the red paint began burning away at the road, Chroma began forming one single, beach ball sized blob of green paint in the air next to him. "Your show is coming to an end!"

But Chroma didn't get to wait for their cover to be destroyed. Suddenly a sharp, incredible pain took hold of his head. So significant and unusual that Chroma completely dropped the blob of green paint, letting it splatter against the ground in front of his feet. After a brief wobble he regained his balance, but he brought a hand up to his head as he began to look around. Someone is attacking my mind, he realized, trying to scout around quickly to see where they could be. Clearly it was more than just two enemies here. The pain wasn't overly severe, but it was enough to make it difficult to focus. His gaze continued darting around the alley in all directions but he just couldn't find the source of his pain. While he kept his left hand against his head in a futile attempt to relieve some of the pain, his right hand was held to his side as a new blob of green paint began to form. He wasn't focused on Blackout's Crew at the moment but he certainly didn't forget about them. He continued scanning around for his attacker while he waited for the road to burn away and reveal the villains behind it, but he only glanced in that direction every few seconds rather than paid attention to what Blackout might be up to with his new friend(s).

The girl's gaze drifting over Vince's body didn't go unnoticed, but he ignored it. If he called everyone out who glanced at the 'tattoos' he wouldn't get anywhere in conversations. He looked visibly annoyed at her bubbly nature. He reached up and adjusted his glasses,subtly pressing a button to start a search on a database of known capes or general criminals. Meanwhile he used his sixth sense of sorts to examine the heat she was radiating. This small ability allowed him to cold read (no pun intended), and normally guess someone's mood. However doing so generally gave him quite vague results, though in this situation he knew she was happy. Her body temperature said so, and it seemed to be genuine. Though she could also fool that test with the right power; if she had one that is. Always better to be safe then sorry.

"Petty? How is the bank robbery petty?" Vince asked suddenly, realizing what she had said, "Also you do realize I am a Ward right? I expect the kind of honesty you would provide to a police officer" His voice carried authority, but wasn't demeaning. Vince again glanced over the bank, but made it clear he was still expecting an answer. The conversation wasn't over quite yet, but he had to make sure no threats were in the area, besides this strangely happy girl.

Vince's emotions were a bit stronger this time, but only slightly. It was a mix of confusion, paranoia, and a bit of excitement. He seemed a bit more lively, but he also was ready to finish the job ASAP. He had homework.


It hurt. Not Blackout's butt or head, but his pride. It was thoroughly bruised by the stunt that had just occurred. Before he could explain why he had fallen, thoughts seemed to invade his mind. He could tell they weren't his thoughts, because they were too clear. Too. . . Simple. Blackout never thought like that. Dwelling on the situation didn't seem like the right idea, but after this stunt, Blackout was thoroughly finished with fighting, and he quickly formulated a plan.

"Run," Blackout said, glancing back at his two compadres quickly, noticing that Serephina had thoroughly dissipated. Always creepy thing, that. Dealing with Strangers left an odd, unsettling sensation in the pit of his stomach.

After the third count, as the invading voice had suggested, he ran at a diagonal angle towards the end of the wall. Before he touched the paint he thrust his foot forward, planning to slide on his back into range of Chroma. From what he had gathered after slipping on the paint, he could most likely keep his momentum for long enough to get in range of Chroma before Chroma attacked him. As he slid he picked up his gun from off the paint, where it had fallen.

If he did slide within range without a counter offensive measure taking place, he would activate his power to disable Chroma's paint telekinesis. Afterwards he would say "Bye," to confuse Chroma. Chroma would be unable to understand the words, and then if he kept thinking about it he would start panicking.

If Blackout was instead struck by the green paint, the weight of it would send him sprawling away from Chroma, though because of the angle Blackout was sliding at, it was highly unlikely that enough of the paint would hit Blackout to completely stop him from escaping. Because of this, Blackout would flee directly after getting off the blue paint.

Several things happened all rather close together. His normal thoughts were interrupted by rather strict and short mental instructions, red paint splashed into the barricade, some of it even blasting over and melting the ground near him, Blackout hurtled himself along the slippery paint towards Chroma, who was now searching for some sort of new threat after reeling briefly. Well, as glad as Regus was that Blackout had decided they should bail, he couldn't very well leave Blackout on his own.

So he tore off a section of the road that was untouched by the dissolving red paint, about the size of a homebase plate, and hurled it at Chroma like some sort of oversized frisbee. It flew surpsingly well for a hunk of asphalt, though that would be in part due to its slighter lighter than normal state. Of course it would still be very painful if it collided with Chroma's stomach, as its current path would lead it to. Immediately afterwards Regus turned around and ran for all he was worth, practically melting through the wall behind him and running through the thankfully empty building.

After doing the same thing and leaving several more human shaped holes that looked like they were straight out of a cartoon, Regus emerged onto another street... And found the van from earlier waiting for him. At first he was very confused until he remembered that the Boss had said he had a precog in the letter. Freaky things precogs. Still it was his ride out of here so Regus hopped into the van and waited for whatever came next, keeping an eye out in case any more wards managed to find them

Serephina whipped her head around in confusion as she watched Blackout attempt some sort of Matrix escape method and Regus throw a piece of asphalt at Chroma and then proceed to run away in the direction of the van. Her invisibility activated, she realized that she could do anything she wanted right now. She hadn't done anything to help yet so maybe this was her chance.

Hurling herself over the wall, trying to be as quiet as possible, she hurled towards Chroma wielding her knife ready to land her knife squarely in his ribs. Internally she tried to decide if she wanted to stick around or not. She could just grab a bag of money and take off. . . or she could stay and help Blackout some more. He did look like he would need all the help he could get. He seemed to be very scatter brained and distracted most of the time. He had good ideas it was just that he had no conception of how to carry them out effectively.

Regus on the other hand, that guy needed nothing from no one ever. He knew what he was doing and knew exactly what he had to do to get what he wanted. She assumed he was only here because he knew he would get something out of it. He seemed like he had always been a loner and always would be one. Maybe she would pair up with him later on; he seemed like more her style and they might work well together.

Come on Serephina, make yourself useful. Then you can grab some money and take off. she thought to herself as she got within feet of Chroma. He would never knew what hit him.

A dark orange-ish red, brown, and pink burst through the man aura after his scanning of the area. That was the most color she'd seen from him since he spoke to her. Excited, confused, and paranoid. Interesting combo.

"A Ward hm?" She thought chuckling to herself. "He's too bland to have such an exciting job," She playfully pouted to herself, watching as he looked away from the dark lavender haired girl.

The bank was quiet but the muffled conversations and excitement outside still echoed in the place. Her happiness dulled as her head rang with an oncoming headache.

"If this guy's a problem..."

She wanted to mutter it out loud, but Spencer knew he still had half his attention on her. Plus, talking to herself in this situation wasn't exactly the best option, was it?

The tall girl scuffed her combat boots on the floor while adjusting her over sized grey sweater.

"Compare a bank robbery to murder, Hun." She finally said, hoping she grabbed his full attention again, the smile she once had, returning to her face. She curses herself for letting that pet name slide through her lips in the presence of a ward. Couldn't take it back now though.

"Even a bomb explosion. This is nothing. Were there any casualties, sure, this would blow up the radar, but it's just some capes stealing a few bills, so it's nothing." Spencer lifted her shoulders in a shrug to show how uninterested she was with all this racket.

The unusually happy girl was starting to get annoyed with the strange Ward's unhappy nature. Wasn't being a Ward exciting!? Also the fact she seemed to be a threat. Spencer knew she could be, IF you got on her bad side, but she didn't want none of that right now. All she really wanted was to know what's going on.

Secretly wanting a taste of the action.

"And you may be a ward but you didn't look like it when you first spoke to me so you shouldn't be so mean about it" she visibly pouted at him now, not caring at the childish way she was. It's a lot less threatening than she could be.

"What's going on here anyway?" She asked, curious for the intel.

---

Senses alerting him of a new individual entering the vicinity, Gael's eyes glanced briefly at the bank before turning back to the alley near it. It appeared his attack was going quite well. In fact Chroma hadn't even managed to report to his superiors if his thoughts were anything to go by, not to mention what he could see of his actions. Smirk growing ever so slightly as he felt the ward struggle against his attack, trying to get a hold of himself, Gael hollowed out the drills and began pushing trace amounts of aggression, annoyance, worry, and even more confusion into the ward. Oddly there was some resistance, despite there being no evidence that the PRT had taken precautions in teaching field agents or wards techniques to fend off psychic assault. After all, telepathy was not a terribly common ability, though master class capes were. It seemed no one had even considered the possibility that someone like him existed.

It made him smile to know that the ward had no idea who his assailant was or where they were attacking from. It helped that the edge of pain from the ward's mind fed him. It was almost like a high really, he mused with a light chuckle. As he went about his musings he allow his drills to speed up their rotation and begin to "wobble," within the psychic inicisions they were making in Chroma's mind. It would certainly amp up the pain, making it feel as if red hot knives were stabbing through Chroma's eyes, temples, neck, and crown.

While he did this he fed off of the people in his surroundings, finding their minds far less resistant to him. Interesting, he thought as he began making correlations. When he fed suggestions into their mind he saw flickers of hesitation, but when he tried it on the capes...resistance and awareness. It appeared that his power was more effective against normal humans...or perhaps just useful in a different way.

He'd need to work on that.

Watching the scene unfold he noted Blackout's decision to rush Chroma while one of his fellow villains fled, the other approaching the young hero from behind. As Blackout moved Gael took in a deep breath and let his drills slow down and ease up. The pressure would reduce considerably for Chroma. If he let his guard down, Gael thought, then it would be all the easier to feed a sudden burst of disorientation into his mind at an opportune moment.

If Chroma let up his focus even slightly Gael would strike the moment that Blackout and his invisible compatriot got near, or the moment that Chroma attempted to throw his paint. If he did not let up then Gael would slam the drills back into place, along with several psychic constructs to batter the outer walls of the ward's mind. One was cripplingly painful, while the other would be particularly troublesome given the timing.

If his disorienting trick went through he would immediately follow up by resuming with his drills, the mind hammers attacking in unison. The act would likely increase the disorientation further, not to mention allow him to pierce deeper into the adolescent's consciousness. While he knew he'd not be able to break him faster than he could call for reinforcements, he knew that he could plant the seeds for later development.

Perhaps even plant a dangerous idea in the arrogant artist's fragile mind. The idea made his eyes glow fiercely with a sick sort of glee. He was going to enjoy terrorizing this city, but first he'd have to make sure he was safe from the clutches of authority.

This in mind, regardless of Chroma's reaction, Gael would procede to enter an alley entirely out of sight to the group, heading to another street. As he exited the alley no one even glanced his way, despite the eerie glow of his eyes. Granted, they all barely noticed him, if at all, as he made the most subtle of suggestions to ignore him. He did love how the PRT would have a hell of a time finding witnesses to his presence despite how many there really were.

None of them would remember him because to them he was just another person in the crowd. Another face in a sea of faces. It was a useful trick. He continued his path, now trailing the villain who had retreated, though not by the same path. He knew they were going to rendezvous somewhere and luckily one of them had led him right to the spot. People were so easy.

As he neared the location of the van, for he knew there was a van there, Gael considered what he'd do upon arriving. Should he join them? They clearly needed someone to lead them after all. Blackout, despite his troublesome power, was apparently worthlessly incompetent. It didn't surprise him really, many people were. He knew he could help them better coordinate jobs and they could give him reputation and safety in numbers. Plus...he could prioritize their minds over their powers and in doing so eventually gain himself a group of uniquely useful puppets.

In theory it would be easy, but in practice.... Well, things were never that simple. He'd had people catch on to him before. The question was, could he stop it from happening again and could he avoid Blackout's power stopping him.

The likely answer was yes. For now all he knew was that he needed a team and he needed resources.

It seemed that the team would have to come first. With this in mind he stopped at the edge of the alley where he knew the van was located. He didn't need to peer within to know that the cape he had trailed was there. Now all he'd need to do was wait and hope that Blackout wasn't so worthless as to get captured. If only temporarily, he would need the cape for the simple fact that he seemed the unifying figure of the group.

If Blackout was removed from the picture, they would disband. He needed to make them like him first. After that, well, maybe he could get rid of Blackout.

He put it on his itinerary for later.

Murder? Vince was caught off guard by the comparison between a bank robbery and murder. Her logic was flawed there though. She didn't know if anyone had died or not. . . Or did she? She had Vince's attention for sure now, and he showed this by turning to completely face her. He ran through what she had said to him, and it came to Vince's attention she had called him hun. . . That's odd.

The glasses came up with nothing as far as a criminal record, so he could relax knowing she wasn't a known criminal. On second thought that made him tense up instead, as that could mean he was dealing with an entirely new threat.

The strange girl started talking about how there were probably casualties, but it was still only capes stealing money. That was mysterious too, she was claiming there were capes, but to his knowledge there was only one cape in the area. Were these coincidences? Or was she not letting on how much she knew? This wasn't sitting right with Vince. Not at all.

After she pointed out he didn't look like a Ward, Vince paused before nodding in confirmation. He glanced down at his dress shirt and slacks and he had to agree. A Ward he did not seem to be. Her pouting was a bit exaggerated, but it definitely made him more curious about her, in a 'what the hell is wrong with this girl' kind of way.

To offset her previous knowledgeable statements, she asked if he knew what was going on. Vince shrugged, before realizing he should probably ask Chroma for an update. He raised his finger to his ear and pressed a key on his earpiece. "Chroma, have you found anything yet?" He said carefully, before turning back to the girl. "I have no idea. My. . . Fellow Ward is a bit of a one-man show," Vince explained. "By the way, can I get your name?"

"I'd also like to know why you think there's multiple capes on scene. Our current shared intel suggests only one cape. You also seem to think no one has died, which makes you appear a bit too informed."

"A name? He wanted a name. Does that mean I'm a suspect?! I just needed god damn money not this freak show!"She took great notice that his full attention was on her.

Her face flushed a tad in the process and noise of everything she realized she had started to ramble.
Spencer was now annoyed, but she didn't let that show on her ongoing facade. "He possibly just needs me as a witness," She told her self, in the process of sending her tidbit of paranoia to an onlooker she saw dwindling on the outside of the bank.

She honestly didn't know what was going on, but assuming had got her into a bad position. Again. That's what assuming does. Makes an ass out of me and you.

"My name's Spencer," She calmly replied with a polite smile.

The girl cracked her knuckles getting impatient of being questioned like a criminal. Not that she wasn't.

"There's no need to get all hot n' bothered, darling. I'm just assuming since I don't see so much drama for just ONE cape or a normal bank robbery. This must be a pretty powerful cape then, huh? Since you're finding me so sketchy" Spencer explained, letting he hands fall to her sides.

"This guy needs to chill," She wanted to chuckle at the pun she made. The guy was a fairly known cape. Those "tattoos", or whatever he'd like to call them, were noticeable and not normal. Plus when he touched her, the girl could practically feel the heat radiating off the twirly crevices.

Spencer decided to slowly feed the feeling of calmness into the cape in front of her, easing the paranoia out of him and into her palms for "safe keeping".

Movement caught Chroma's eye as Blackout began to dart out from behind the cover again. Despite the intense pain racking his brain, Chroma knew he had to focus on Blackout's sudden bravery. Chroma moved his left hand from holding his head to pressing the ear communicator. "We have an enemy Master class cape in the vicinity. Blackout spotted. Moving to capture." While in the middle of his comms, Chroma flung the glob of green paint with his right hand, aimed to intercept the sliding cape somewhere along his trajectory towards Chroma. The green paint was supernaturally heavy, even a single drop weighing enough to be felt. Getting splashed by the green paint was often enough to overwhelm humans who weren't supernaturally strong, though there was obvious variation that would depend on exactly how much paint got on them.

But as Blackout continued to get closer, Chroma continued to relay as much information as he could. "At least three capes in the vicinity. Master digging into my mind with some kind of-" At this point his words began to lose meaning, descending into gibberish. For a brief moment he was confused, but it was the signal that he was now within range of Blackout's powers. Talking was pointless now. And it quickly became the least of his worries as the psychic attack on his mind increased in magnitude. Blackout said something, Chroma couldn't tell what, as he slid past. In that same timeframe, Regus had launched a chunk of asphalt in Chroma's direction. It was easy to spot considering he was already facing that general direction and it was easy to dodge without moving by twisting his upper body and leaning backwards at a sharp angle, a testament to his own physical fitness and quick witted-ness. While arrogant in his own way, Chroma wasn't stupid. He knew that if he took another step right now, while within Blackout's range, he would succumb to the blue paint he was standing in the midst of and fall. He had to stand in place for now, for just a moment. After avoiding the plate of road, Chroma directed his attention forward, trying to keep his mind off the pain and on his duty, to see where Regus was running. Unfortunately for him he didn't get to spend much time scanning for Regus.

The invisible Serephina slammed into him from the air, plunging her knife into his midsection. This would come to a surprise for her as well, considering the knife would not only refuse to penetrate the grey-paint coated uniform but even break off at the handle from the weight of the impact and the resistance of the cloth. Chroma's grey paint had a stronger consistency than even steel, something a simple knife wouldn't be able to slash through. But the impact itself served another purpose separate from injuring Chroma: it knocked him down. Both he and Serephina would tumble onto the blue paint, Chroma being moderately confused as to what hit him and why it felt like someone attempted to stab him. It would take a few seconds to piece together that an invisible girl tried to take a piece of him, especially considering the throbbing pain in his head did no favors for his coordination, but Chroma instinctively had a plan of attack.

He knew that once Blackout was out of range he could negate the blue paint he was now covered in, which would allow him to get back up. And after that he could fling a wide arc of green paint in Blackout's direction, something which would hopefully knock down and pin both Blackout and the unknown Serephina that had just made his day even worse. Assuming that all went well and that neither the Master attacking his mind nor anyone else in Blackout's crew had any more tricks up their sleeves, Chroma would have to issue some kind of perimeter scan. A Master class is dangerous, particularly one with enough range that could circumvent a need for line-of-sight. This guy (or girl) was most likely also a Thinker. As Chroma's words began to come back to him with the distance gained by Blackout, he had only one thing to say. "Not today!" He had no way of knowing where Serephina was, but he already began to prepare a large swath of green paint to douse the two criminals in. Their only hope of avoiding it would be to either dodge it by going above or under it, or to get out of the alley someway. The kind of weight that would be behind the paint hitting them would be nothing to walk off, likely even breaking bones if caught at an unfortunate angle.

Spencer informed Vince there was no need to get hot and bothered, and he grimaced. That wasn't the worst thing he had been called, but it was a new one. Chroma started speaking through the earpiece, and instinctively Vince raised his hand to his ear, and pushed the piece closer so he could hear better. He was informed there was a master, and Blackout in the area, along with the villain who had destroyed the vault. Chroma started describing the Master before his words started slurring and he stuttered out incoherent gibberish. 

After a slight pause Vince sprinted towards the way of the vault. His fire quickly started spinning around his body, burning off his clothes and creating a striking figure. An X shape enveloped his back and chest, the lines on his body glowing bright like magma. The floating fire was also gently laced around his legs, though the heat was all directed at his body. The only bit of clothes that weren't burned off were his boxers, luckily. They were obviously tinker made to be heat resistant, and they were the a deep black.

As he grew warmer his skin grew tougher and tougher. No upper limit had been reached as far as his resilience to heat ratio, though he could only get himself so hot. Vince scanned the halls as he ran, arriving in the vault just as he heard Chroma say, "Not today," and he had to smile. Chroma was very. . . Serious? That wasn't the right word. Cliche! That was it. Vince gave himself a mental pat on the back for remembering the word, before crossing to the exit of the vault, his fire swirling around him dangerously.


As Blackout slid he saw Chroma lob paint at him, and was thankful the man was distracted. The paint sailed over his head, a little behind him, letting Blackout get close enough to disable Chroma's power. A small smile graced his face, and he whispered, "Bye," right before Chroma left his range.

Blackout pointed the gun at Chroma, and steadied it, but the man flew backwards suddenly, with something on top of him. No one was there. . . No Serephina had been there. She had made her play, and as her invisibility faded momentarily he saw her tumble over Chroma and slide into the wall. She was now thoroughly coated with paint, though Blackout soon forgot about her as her power activated again. 

Then Blackout wanted to die. The feeling of knives stabbing him, and needles entering his arm enveloped his senses before he appeared in the van. He was panting, and fell to his knees, not a drop of blood on him. The armored veteran-looking man from before was standing in front of him. Blackout stopped screaming when he noticed he was, and fell over. Drho in the van would only see the man with body armor stand up, before disappearing, and reappearing immediately with Blackout in his arms. Gael wouldn't see this so much as sense this. The man didn't so much as glance at Drho before disappearing again.

Inside the van was the same glasses clad man from before, who glanced up to look at Drho. He smiled slightly, his skin taut over every inch of exposed skin. The man clearly had poor eating habits, and it was showing quite clearly. His pale skin seemed paper thin, though he didn't seem uncomfortable in the least. He suddenly stood up, and walked to the open door of the van, motioning Drho to follow. He waved to Gael, and spoke loudly to him.

"Hello Nightfall, Drho, I'm Seth,and I'll be your precog," He said simply, his voice a bit too high pitched for his gender. "Take a seat. The man who just about killed Blackout will be back shortly. His cape name is Greed, a teleporter who, understandably, hates his power. It makes you feel a very intense pain. He's currently looking for Serephina," 

As Seth spoke, Greed was doing just that. Greed was right next to where he had previously seen Serephina, ignoring Chroma. Any attempt at attacking Greed would be answered by a wordless teleport before he returned to searching. Every teleport admittedly took a bit more out of him, but the forty year old man had dealt with much worse. 

"It's time to leave, Serephina. If you don't wanna die. . ." He called out, his voice the exact opposite of Seth's; Gruff, manly, and all business. It clearly wasn't a threat, but he did want to hurry this up. Greed could tell; Vince had arrived, the smoke leaking out of the vault was a very clear indicator, and fire started to leak out as well as Vince exited, and teleporting didn't work if you were surrounded by fire. Or were in fire.

---

Watching by peering 'round the corner every so often, supplementing his actual physical vision with his power and of course his ability to hear properly, Gael listened as someone entered the scene more prominently. He let a small tendril of his influence connect to them and as it did he had to take a step away from the edge of the alley, staggering slightly. There was a return in pressure, something he had never experienced before, even if it was indeed quite faint. Then the man announced that he was a precog and it all fit into place.

Thinker, he thought, iridescent eyes narrowing within his hood. Having realized that he'd been called out in the same moment and by his cape name no less, Gael let a breath out and then walked into view, hands in his pockets--his gait and body relaxed, casual even. He raised a hand to any of the 'villains,' that could see him as he spoke, "Hey," his voice level and non-committal. He crossed half the distance to them, then stopped, looking over the small distance at them. He glanced at the precog, Seth had been his name, and spoke "I'll follow you to base. I think joining up would be cool," he said, smiling slightly in the shadow of his hood. He made a mental note that lightning was going to be troublesome, he ought to fashion some kind of mask. Something that allowed view of his eyes and mouth, but perhaps hid his forehead, nose, and cheeks.

Frowning slightly beneath his hood, the shadows managing to barely shadow his upper face, with the exception of his eyes, Gael spoke again. "But, no offense, I've got my own ride. Be better not to be seen just yet, being new and all. Anything anyone needs to know before I go get my ride?" He turned partially, as if beginning to leave, eyes drifting from Seth and to any of the others. Now they'd simply have to give the go ahead and he could follow them back. Later stake the place out to see if it was set up in a truly...safe location. Nonetheless, he'd need to meet up and have an explanation for his bailing them out. They'd want to know, he figured. He had no intention, even with their precog, of explaining the full breadth of his power.

If only he knew what sort of precog Seth was. Maybe asking wouldn't be so terrible later on. Though, he hoped to know sooner than later.

Already on her stomach, next to a disorientated Chroma after being hit, Serephina raised her eyes and found that there was a swath of green paint sailing above her head. She concluded that it would not be a good idea for her to stand up right now so she wouldn't even try. She extended her hand in front of her in an attempt to try and pull herself along the ground but her hand immediately slipped and her face hit the ground hard. Shit. . . How am I going to get myself out of this? Maybe trying to stab this guy was a mistake on my part. She looked at the scene around her and noticed with dispair that her only weapon, had broken in her attempt at assault. Dammit! That was my only defense mechanism. Now I'm DEFINITELY going to have to steal something from Blackout's warehouse.

Just then, she heard a rather frighteningly deep voice command her to come with him. Looking up again from the blue ground, she saw the source of the voice. Teleportation sounded like a damn good idea in a situation where one couldn't stand or crawl. "Okay, fine. Just get me out of here before I embarrass myself some more." She said in a muffled, closed mouthed kind of voice, trying not to get paint in her mouth. As the teleportation process began, she suddenly felt extreme pain in her head, arms, legs and chest. She let out a rather loud groan and wondered why this pain was needed. Was the person teleporting her even taking her where he had said he was? To answer her question, she found herself in the back of the van with Blackout, looking very disappointed. Frustrated, tired and feeling useless, she spoke up angrily, "So your brilliant plan didn't work did it? Or should I say bullshit attemot at crime with NO plan?!" With a sigh, she let her head slam back against one wall of the van, running her fingers through her hair to try and calm her breathing.

She wondered where Drho had gone. He had fled after hurling a piece of the cement road at Chroma's head but she had no respect for someone who ditched their team in the middle of a battle, especially when she had literally ran straight at Chroma to try and save this piss poor attempt at a bank robbery. He was a good member of the team but he needed to work on his abandonment issues. . .