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[IC] Capes of Denver: A Worm RP

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Hidden 7 yrs ago → 6 yrs ago
Zeroth Post
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Zeroth
Current date in game: October 3, 2005.



Hidden 8 yrs ago → 8 yrs ago Post by ProPro
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ProPro Pierce the Heavens with your spoon!

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The Wards: PRT Headquarters

@yoshua171@Lugubrious@solokolos@BCTheEntity@Kafka Komedy



September 1, 2005, 3:47 p.m. Eleven important people had gathered together in the meeting room of the Parahuman Response Team's local headquarters in downtown Denver, Colorado. Four PRT soldiers in light body armor, armed with pistols and dispensers of a brand new tool to the arsenal, containment foam, stood guard as well. Two flanked the main door into the room, while the other two stood at the opposite end by the large glass window. The Protectorate sat in their chairs on one side of the conference table. Nearest to the head of the table sat Inkscape, leader of the local team. Though it was rare for a Case 53 to get much recognition within the Protectorate, Inkscape blew all normal expectations out of the water (pun not intended) by rising up to lead his own force. To their commanding officer's left sat Noble, second in command of the team in her white bubble inspired leotard, wearing an elegant opera mask. On her left sat Captain Morales in his costume of military fatigues and body armor with the Mexican flag proudly emblazoned across his chest. He was most alert of the team, as though he were constantly on the lookout for something terrible to occur. On his left sat no body, but a holographic projection of an overweight Japanese man emanated by a plethora of light projectors built into the room took the spot. This was all anybody knew of the tinker Decoy. At least, anybody that hadn't personally interacted with the enigmatic hero. Finally on the far end slouched what appeared to just be some random guy. Nobody recognized his face, but all knew him to be Protean, the fifth and final member of the local Protectorate, and a shapeshifter. He looked to be largely disinterested in the proceedings, but found his focus instead on the mobile gaming system in his hands.

Seated on the opposite side of the table were the Wards. Some had over a year experience as capes, while others were brand new. None could boast the experience of their leader though. The fifteen year old hero Sonar sat nearest to the head of the table. His costume was a blue armored suit with yellow sound wave designs up and down, emanating from the center of his chest. Over his head he wore a high-tech helmet designed and maintained by Protectorate tinkers, which helped him manage his power so as not to be driven bonkers by the overstimulation. To his right sat Messiah, the official second in command of the Wards. To her right, Martyr. Then Epsilon, and at the very end was Margrave's chair.

A single man in a business suit took a stroll around the table, then sat at the head. This man was Director Roger Kens, the highest ranking men in the PRT within the area and thus the commanding officer of every single person within the building. He carried with him an air of professionalism, exuding the very idea that to cross him meant in no uncertain terms you would be cut down and discarded. He took a moment to size up the room, to command everyone's attention. Once the slackers had their eyes on him, he spoke.

"Ladies and gentlemen, today we induct a new parahuman into the Wards program. I want you all to ensure that she feels welcome and taken care of. If you do not, I will not be happy." He took a moment to make eye contact with Sonar and Inkscape, the team leaders, who nodded in return. "Bring her in," the director commanded the door guards. The door opened up and a short teenage girl was escorted in by another PRT soldier.

"Wards, meet your new team member. She has chosen to go by the name 'Tulpa.' You watch out for her, Sonar. Ink, make certain these kids don't get put in too much trouble, alright?" The director's eyes pierced with the cutting power of knives. Even an invulnerable brute could feel their stinging sensation. "Now we've taken too much of your time. Back on schedule. Patrol and coordinate as normal, Protectorate. Wards, you've got a whole new dynamic to your team, so you best be getting to the practice room for a bonding session. Show one another what you all can do. Everyone is dismissed." Without further word Director Kens stood up and, escorted by the two window guards, exited the room.

Decoy's holographic projection gave a bow to the director as he passed, then a wink of encouragement to Tulpa. The hologram then vanished, no longer being projected. The rest of the Protectorate members stood up, each one moving in to shake Tulpa's hand, introduce themselves, then leave. Inkscape was the last to exit, as he decided to stick around for a moment longer. "Sorry we can't stick around longer, but we had other tasks assigned to us. I would have liked to get to know you on a more personal level first, but we'll have time for that later. Sonar, take the team to the practice room like Director Kens ordered."

With that, the octopus man gave a bow of incredible flexibility (almost as though he had no bones!), managed the closest his face could to a smile, then left the room. With only the Wards remaining, Sonar addressed the group. "Well then, I guess our next course of action is to head down to the practice room," he said with a shrug before extending his hand to shake with Tulpa. "Glad to meet ya! You already know me as Sonar, but as long as we're in these walls, you can call me Collin."



The Gang: Icehouse Hideout


@Eklispe@yoshua171@BCTheEntity@Kafka Komedy



2 months ago the Icehouse loft warehouse was bought out and all tenants had been evicted. Since then a very new kind of clientele began to receive a set of keys and invitation to make the building their home. Among them happened to be four parahumans, each one approved in some form or another by the building's new owner. Each was given a set of keys which could get them through the front door, to a single loft that could be used for their own living quarters if they so chose to make use of the space, and another that accessed a single steel door installed on the ground floor. These four parahumans were given specific instructions to not enter until a specific time. 5:00 p.m., September 1, 2005. Now was that time.

Chatterbox. Headhunter. Love Craft. And Sofia Stein, who had no alternate identity as a parahuman. These four found themselves together in a large storage basement that door led to. Boxes of ammunition were carefully organized, a boxing arena had been setup in the middle, a firing range on the far end of the room, a medium sized circular table with comfortable chairs had been positioned near the entrance, and the place was rounded out with a small kitchen nook, where currently a pot of coffee sat bubbling. As the four entered this room for the very first time they found a man they each recognized, the man that had invited them to this location. The man who had identified himself as "The Broker" poured out five cups of coffee.

"Good, you all made it. Splendid. Well please have a drink, keep your mind stimulated, and have a seat at the table. We'll begin soon enough." His voice was pleasant. Friendly. Yet it had just the slightest hint of an edge to it, just enough to let you know that this was a dangerous man.
Hidden 8 yrs ago → 8 yrs ago Post by Gardevoiran
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Gardevoiran The Forbidden One

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Overlook's Bunker.


Ruben wheeled up to his computer, a bowl of freshly made ramen placed beside him. He was surprised it kept for so long, considering it was about 2 or 3 years old. That being said, it's expiration date was the next day, so that ruined some of the magic for Ruben. Nonetheless, a hot meal that wasn't vegetable based was very nice for once. He kept his helmet off as he opened a window on his computer, turning on his little buddy near PRT headquarters. A smile washed over Ruben's face as he pulled his controller to him. "Here we go buddy, let's take this nice and slow..."

Over at the headquarters, a small black ball turned on near the top of the building. It started to float around before landing on 3 small legs. It began to run into the ventilation shaft at the top of the building and followed any noise until it made it to what looked like a business room, complete with holograms of people speaking. It started to record anything it could while Ruben watched it on a live feed. He recorded because it allowed him to use anything as information later if he needed it. Smiling, Ruben pulled over a tray and sat his bowl of ramen on it. After a quick bite, he spoke once. "...and now, we observe the power of 'The Eye'.

To anyone, it would look completely fine aside from the few lines of white which were barely noticeable behind the vent. Ruben sat and happily ate his ramen while taping this boardroom scene. He then heard from an apparent 'Collin' that they were heading down to a practice room. He decided to wait until they actually got to that room to follow, as he was bound to get lost if he didn't know where to go. His helmet sat close by as a safety net in case he wanted to speak to anyone while he was there.
Hidden 8 yrs ago Post by Eklispe
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Sofia Stien: Icehouse Hideout


Sofia looked around the room as she entered like any normal person would do. Her gray sweater had its hood pulled up and was matched by her gray sweats, coming to a halt just above her somewhat ragged shoes. The room itself seemed to be sort of training are mixed with a living space. All things considered it was fairly nice. Naturally she stepped forward and grabbed one of the offered cups of coffee before taking a seat. Sofia said "Thank you." quietly and began sipping her coffee, staring into the liquid while waiting for further information. She was slightly curious as to why she'd been offered this 'job' of sorts and felt carrying through with it might be worthwhile. In what way she couldn't say though, so call it a hunch. After all things couldn't get much worse than they'd been before.
Hidden 8 yrs ago Post by Kafka Komedy
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Kafka Komedy Bearer of The Curse

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Martyr: PRT Headquarters

Dean looked at the clock. 3:47. He hadn't expected the meeting to take very long, but even though he had been sitting here for only three minutes, Dean was already bored. No one seemed to want to make small talk, and Dean never carried his phone on him when he had his cape costume on. Damage came easy to Dean. Maybe it was because he wanted it to, maybe it was because the universe wanted it for him, or maybe a little of column A and B at once. Point was, he had nothing to play games on like the Protectorate man sitting on the opposite side of the table.

That was Protean, Dean was told by Sonar, and although the man was wearing no costume, one could assume he was Protean. Every other member of the PRT local team was there. Inkscape, the leader, and also a squid (or octopus, Dean always forgot) in a suit. Noble, a woman who emitted gasses from her pores and could float, was beside him. Beside her, was Decoy and Captain Morales. Decoy was (supposedly) a fat japanese dude who built things that the whole PRT got to use, and Captain Morales, who had the ability to give people confidence. It always made more sense to Dean that a Master be in control of things on a team, but he was beat in seniority, so wallowing in obscurity was bound for now.

Dean looked at Sonar with a questioning and dismissive expression. Although the kid had more hero-ing experience, he was younger than Dean by a two year margin. In fact, Dean was the oldest one in the group, even though Elliot- or Margrave as he preferred, was standing at 17 as well. Or, at least, Dean assumed that. Dean had never actually asked Elliot of his birthday, but he knew the girls of the group were 16 both. When was the time to tell someone your birthday anyways? Around the time of the birthday obviously, but if someone wanted an expensive gift then you might not be able to get it to them, because you wouldn't have enough time to get the funds together. But it would be rude to tell them more than a month in advance. Would someone even need a month's advance to get something expensive though? Unless they had recently spent the cash it was pretty unlikely that-

Dean felt someone tap him on the shoulder. It could have been one of the two people to his side, or Sonar, or maybe he was imagining things, but he still lackadaisically looked up and around the room. Kens was giving everyone a look, and, assuming maybe he could be part of the problem, stopped repetitively rapping his fingers against the table. Moments after that, he began.

It seemed the Wards had a new member on their hands, a girl named Tulpa. Kens made it clear in no uncertain terms that Tulpa was to be kept safe and happy, just like the rest of the team. Sonar and Inkscape even got two very horrible gazes to reassure them that they would be much more than fired if this decision bit him in the ass. With this, two men brought her in. Dean had to admit, the new girl did look good. Though not tall, she was slim, with a bit of curvaceousness to her as well. He allowed himself a slight smile as he stood up.

The adults in the room all gave her some encouragement, as they left, leaving just the Wards, and their leader. Sonar suggested they all get down to business, reforming the team dynamic, but not before he introduced himself. Dean decided he ought to as well. He walked up to the newbie as well, before introducing himself in a similar manner, though no formal handshake. He'd let her decide what to do with his hands.

"Hey. I'm Dean Ryder, also apart of the Wards. Martyr, clone powers guy. Nice to meet you Tulpa. Oh, you can just call me Dean, Like Collin over here. Fearless leader guy. We've also got Messiah, Margrave, and Epsilon on the team. Not sure if you've heard of us though. We just started this team up pretty recently and I took a major break a while back so not many people know of the new me." Dean lied. It wasn't a full lie, but it was still mostly a lie, which he felt the tiniest twinge of guilt for, before quickly locking it away. "So yeah, meet the team I guess."
Hidden 8 yrs ago → 8 yrs ago Post by yoshua171
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Evelyn Chambers - Tulpa
Her boot tapping anxiously on the ground while she waited outside of what could only be a conference room, Evelyn...or, well, Tulpa since she was in costume, swallowed hard and glanced up and around. Thoughts whizzed through her mind as she waited, time seeming to drag on and on. What could they be doing in there? Were they talking about her...no, if she wasn't allowed in it was probably something only more experienced capes could talk about. Something they couldn't trust her with...the thought hurt a little bit, but she decided to stop considering it--she was getting ahead of herself after all.

Deciding to turn her attention, and thoughts, to something else the tapping of her foot stilled and she closed her eyes. she began a breathing exercise, one of many she'd learned online and also from her martial arts classes. Within moments she felt calmer, her thoughts clearer, and her insecurities less important, less crushing. A small smile came over her face, that was until her curiosity reared its head, causing a faint shimmering to move out of a nearby wall where it hovered in the air--almost invisible, but not quite. Granted, Evelyn couldn't see it, since her eyes were closed, but she could see it...in a way. The inert projection continued through the air, feeding her information as it passed through it--mostly regarding the air's molecule content, the dust in the air, the temperature--before it moved straight through a person. A bombardment of information about their physical make-up rushed into her mind causing her breath to briefly catch in her throat before she forcibly started the breathing technique again, increasing her focus.

The projection moved on, slipping through the wall and shrinking in overall size to an almost lemon-shaped silhouette of silver light of about 4 feet from end to end and 2 feet around. Then it spread out, the light becoming dimmer as it did, before she willed it to blanket the ground as it entered the chamber. However, before it could impose its 'shadow' upon those in the room the door opened, causing her to start, her eyes snapping open. She was glad she had a mask on...as she felt her cheeks grow hotter at being caught--not that any of the guards would know what she'd been doing.

As they led her in she took another few deep breaths and while she couldn't smile, due to the mask concealing her face, she made her posture as relaxed and neutral as she stopped walking. Her eyes glanced around a bit, noting that no one had noted the ever so slight silver sheen to the floor of the room. It made her smile a bit beneath her mask, knowing that she had her own little secret from everyone there.

Then the PRT director, who she had to admit still intimidated her more than a little, spoke up, telling Ink and Sonar to take care of her and keep her happy. She bit her lip beneath her mask, frowning slightly, before letting the expression disappear--not that anyone could see it. She didn't really like being treated like a needy child, but oh well she'd just have to deal with it for now.

Still she was glad when the Director left the room, though she still bowed her head politely as he passed. Once he had departed the room Ink got up and approached her. Ink!, she practically screamed internally. I mean, yeah he looked kinda doofy, but she'd seen what he could do on the news and heard plenty. He was awesome even if he did look weird. Plus it wasn't like that was his fault, and even if it had been, she wasn't one to judge purely by appearances, it wasn't in how she'd been raised.

Shaking his...tentacle(?) in kind, as she had shook the hands of the other Protectorate capes--something she was squirming about on the inside, it was great! She looked up at him, smiling beneath her mask, the expression clear even with her mask on. While she had wanted to say something to him, anything really, she kept her mouth firmly shut and nodded in understanding before Ink left and she had to turn her attention elsewhere.

Meanwhile, as each cape had gotten up and walked across the room, their feet had entered the shadow of her projection, giving her little glimpses into their powers. It was fascinating and as he walked up to her, Sonar was no exception. His power felt...heavy, for some reason, almost like it was a burden, but nonetheless she could tell it had to do with detection and sound. She'd also heard of him plenty so she knew a good amount about it already. The ability to hear everything within half a mile, not to mention the sonic screams. Man that sounded awesome, also way more direct. She briefly glanced at the floor, thinking of her own power in that moment before quickly returning eye contact with Sonar. "Thanks," she said to Collin, her voice coming out a bit hesitant, but also happy, better than she thought her first words in front of a well known cape would be.

"Well, I guess you can all call me Evelyn, if you want to," she said, a bit of her anxiety leaking into her mannerisms, if not her voice--a small blessing she supposed. It was funny, around really new people and in new situations she got nervous, but she could go to rallies with hundreds of people she'd never met and scream her lungs out without feeling nervous at all. Man the human mind made no sense, she thought with a small mental laugh.

When another of the wards approached her, not offering his hand--weird, maybe he doesn't like being touched?--she nodded and then responded to his...slightly more lengthy greeting. "Hi Dean, Martyr. Hmm," she paused, trying to decide which to call him, before settling on his civ name and speaking up again, "Thanks for the welcome, I appreciate it. It's nice."

Glancing at the others, she felt a sudden recoiling as her projection briefly touched Dean's foot--something he would not be able to feel in the least--before drawing away suddenly. She only briefly got an impression of...summoning? Minion creation maybe? Some kind of master power, she surmised, before she turned her attention back to her other new teammates. Epsilon, Messiah and...Mar...mar-something-or-other. She briefly struggled to find the name he'd just said, having lost it in the brief moment she'd been distracted. "I'm happy to meet all of you, a bit psyched actually, been wondering what my teammates would be like all day, to be honest," she said with a smile in her voice. She was starting to feel a bit more comfortable around them, even though it had only been a matter of several minutes.

Just another of her quirks, of course...it helped to have her projection telling her the deep secrets of their powers--in a fashion. It was kind of nice, everyone seemed really welcoming, cool even. Hell, even that hologram guy, what was his name again...Decoy? Yeah, that was it. Even he seemed nice, if more than a bit eccentric. With this in mind her eyes turned to her other teammates, wondering how they'd introduce themselves...and what their powers were.

She'd find out soon enough, she supposed, but the little spoilers her power gave her, made her all the more excited to see them in action. Another of its perks, she thought.
Hidden 8 yrs ago Post by Lugubrious
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Out of everyone in the room, none sat more stonily than the one known as Margrave. Rigidly he reclined against the chair's back, both elbows on the table, with his hands folded together over his mouth. Compared to the likes of Sonar, or Ink, the newly-arrived girl codenamed 'Tulpa', or anyone, he looked positively ordinary. Dark clothes and a dark hat casting an obscuring shadow over his sharp features simply did not compare to gaudy costumes or physical mutation. Instead, he distinguished himself with his bearing—one of utmost seriousness, befitting an ambassador present to a council responding to a nuclear threat, perhaps. Most importantly, though, this invisible mask of fortitude and dignity hid that, beneath it all, Elliot was totally freaking out.

After all, though he'd known the other Wards for a short time, he'd never met these Protectorate capes until now. In his head, he was panting like a man dealt a garbage hand in a critical game of poker. Was this what it was like to be in the presence of real power? For a villain who walked the path of fear such as he, he could not afford to trifle with the masters of heroes. He could feel cold sweat running down his side, across his ribs and into the cloth of his pants.Oh boy...oh boy....oh boy... Just being here made his nerves go nuts, but fortunately, the intimidation also helped keep his body mostly frozen. To Elliot's chagrin, he could feel himself shaking slightly with an infrequent but almost violent twitch, mostly in his hands. Are they noticing? No way they'll figure me out. My game face is imperceptible. I'm not scared at all, guys. Most frightening, certainly, was his lack of knowledge. He knew pretty much nothing about the reputation or powers of these heroes, despite the fame of a few of them. What was a poor guy to do? Elliot did the only thing he could: listen. Kens' shpeal played out about how he expected: be friendly, make Tulpa feel at home, yadda yadda. Though he allowed no hint of rebellion to betray him, Elliot's inward resolve was firmer than steel. The Margrave would do no such thing. A force of true darkness could never be expected to stoop to being buddy-buddy with a mere mortal.

Following the director's explanation and instruction, the conference room's occupants all began to move. The intriguing projection of the enigmatic inventor vanished, more fleetingly than a dream at break of day. One by one the capes introduced themselves to the newbie, some very warmly. All the while the Margrave remained still, watching with a face of wrought iron. First among the Wards to make a move, all too predictably for an astute observer such as the one and only Margrave, was Collin. Elliot could remember the first time he heard the boy's real name. It caused him to tremble in barely-suppressed, disdainful mirth. No hero could ever be taken seriously with a name like that, as Elliot helpfully informed him. This, of course, led to backlash when Collin found out Elliot's own name, but all too easily, he had a counter ready. Elliot? Who is Elliot? That no-account boy lives no longer. Before you stands a being transcended, one exposed to the secrets of the cosmos and baptized in darkness. I assure you, the elusive Margrave has left humanity, and a paltry human name, far behind. How perfect that had been!

Elliot pulled himself back to the present. He found Dean beginning to introduce himself, as well. In the course of it, the so-called Martyr erred in mentioning Elliot. How could you? I am the only one who can do my true nature justice...

After him, Tulpa responded. For the first time, Elliot deigned to examine her. Possessed of both an extravagant costume and a shapely figure, Tulpa caught eyes easily. Instantly Elliot marked her as an normal person despite whatever power she might be revealed to have. Like bees, fishes, and birds, fools dressed themselves up in gaudy colors to trick others into thinking they were special. Ones possessed of true awareness developed themselves in obscurity until they could back up an awe-inspiring appearance with great ability. That said, she seemed pleasant enough. If a gun were stuck to Elliot's head and he were forced to say something positive about the Wards, he'd sheepishly admit -definitely without crapping his pants- that heroes were much easier to coexist with than villains. He recalled all too readily the half-day he spent with the local villain gang. The bruises still hurt...

With Tulpa's piece said, Elliot felt it time to make himself known. Slowly he stood up from the table, turning his head to face her. He held it at an odd angle before straightening up and beginning to walk. His approach, with its exaggerated steps, radiated confidence and mystique. Finally, he raised one arm to lay across his chest. Upon its wrist he placed his other elbow, and he splayed that hand's fingers over his face. From between his digits he stared into the eyes of Tulpa's mask, and with a voice as firm and sharp as a razor he spoke, “I regret to say that you will wonder evermore! Do not think less of yourself for it, though. Few can comprehend the true depth of the tragic hero you see before you. Who am I, you might ask? I have many names, but above all else they call me the Margrave, named for the noble and ruthless lord of a bastion on the borders of a great nation. If you must blink, do it now, for now you, newcomer, are a part of my enthralling story.” Wham! How cool is that? That's right, I'm a badass!
Hidden 8 yrs ago → 8 yrs ago Post by BCTheEntity
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Alessa Heather: PRT Headquarters

Alessa, in a word, was excited. A new hero was always welcome, in her mind, especially considering the nature of parahumans in general, and to have them introduced to the very same group as herself? Well, that was nothing if not helpful to her own desire to help people. Quickly, she considered the other Wards as she saw them, from what little experience she'd had with them so far - Sonar was, of course, a well-known and frankly exceptional hero considering what his power entailed, in particular its inability to turn off; Martyr was nice enough when it came down to it, though he at times seemed to be caught up in his own world, and if what she'd heard was right had changed personalities drastically and temporarily retired as a cape after a certain incident a year ago; Epsilon already appeared to be the sort of person Alessa liked, friendly and accommodating even in spite of her obviously-troubled past; and Margrave... well, he seemed nice enough, even if he tried too hard to sound cool a lot of the time.

And so the newcomer was introduced into the room. In costume, of course, but regardless, she was remarkably attractive... possibly moreso for the way the costume was built. Better than Alessa's own figure, regardless. Still, Alessa made a point to herself to not ogle or brood, and kept her vision at face level- mask level, more accurately in the newcomer's case- as the PRT director introduced Tulpa, made sure Inkscape and Sonar would keep her happy, then took his leave along with the other Protectorate members, leaving just the Wards in the meeting room. Sonar introduced himself first as Collin, followed shortly by Tulpa naming herself as Evelyn, and then Martyr citing his own name and giving a quick rundown of himself and the rest of the team. As Evelyn cited again how nice it was to meet everyone, Alessa decided now would be a good time to get up and make her own introductions... though she was unfortunately interrupted by Margrave's choice to make his first impression. It was... needlessly extravagant, to say the least. Clearing her throat, she stepped round the "tragic hero" and approached the new cape to hopefully make her feel a bit more welcome.

'Margrave means well. Uh, it's great to have you with us, Evelyn!' she said with a smile, extending her hand for a handshake- which, she noted, Dean either forgot to offer or deliberately failed to do so. 'I'm Messiah, also called Alessa, feel free to shorten those if you want to. Speaking of, do you mind if I call you Eve for short in private, or should I stick with Evelyn? Tulpa in public, obviously, aheh...' She did want to do her best to follow the director's orders, and surely accommodating the new girl would include appropriate naming requests? Hence her questions on the topic. If she was lucky, she might even make a new friend in the process.



Raymond Haywood: Icehouse Hideout

Well, if this wasn't one of the nicer rooms he'd been in in a while... it actually wasn't, he'd been invited into high-rise penthouse suites before now. In gear, no less, as he was right now. It was fine, for a hideout, but dramatic effect doesn't work in one's own head. The kitchen was a nice touch, Raymond admitted to himself, and the proffered coffee was at least a gesture of pleasantry from a man who was, Raymond felt, anything but pleasant. The girl took a cup, anyway. The girl who was definitely a girl, unlike the androgynous creature who could easily be either gender.

'Thanks for offering,' the mercenary muttered as he sat, 'but I don't drink coffee. Makes me jittery.' As if that answered everything- which, for now, it seemed to, with no other topic to hand- he drew his rifle from his back, and began some last-minute inspection and configuration of the weapon. Whilst on the internal topic of "others", it seemed like Headhunter was by far the oldest individual in the room, though the Broker could well be anywhere from twenty to forty years old for how timeless his appearance was. The blonde pretty boy took a solid third place as a young adult: the girl and the boy-girl couldn't be older than their mid-teens. But who knew, when capes were involved? Plenty of Shifters to go around.
Hidden 8 yrs ago Post by solokolos
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Ira Riese:
PRT Headquarters


"Ladies and gentlemen, today we induct a new parahuman into the Wards program. I want you all to ensure that she feels welcome and taken care of. If you do not, I will not be happy."

The director spoke of being kind, and Ira didn't hear a word of it. The adults stood, and Ira hesitantly followed their lead. Inkscape spoke a few words more than the others, but left just as Ira called out, just quite enough that the others couldn't hear or didn't listen. "What about my session?" But he was gone and no response was had. She frowned beneath the porcelain mask, suddenly removing it from her face.

Ira's body armor was just tight enough to annoy her, the straps wearing against her skin and her nerves. She was wearing a black tank top over the body armor covering her chest, and tight pants over the armor covering her lower joints. She reached behind her back and adjusted the armor's Velcro. She did it slowly to be quiet, but the sound was still abrasive at best. As Ira fixed her body armor, the other Wards introduced themselves to the new girl. She had a nice figure, and Ira quickly looked her up and down, blushing slightly. Ira's hair fell into her face, and she quickly moved it. She put her mask back into place on her face, and felt it adjust to the contours of her face just the tiniest bit.

"Glad to meet ya! You already know me as Sonar, but as long as we're in these walls, you can call me Collin."

Ira decided she wasn't going to bother introducing herself immediately for two reasons. One: Ira had failed to produce anything useful as a Tinker and hardly felt useful as a team member because of it. At this point she was basically a glorified civilian, and God she needed that therapy session. Two: She hadn't heard the girls name because she had been too lost in her own thoughts. Ira glanced at the group again, and sighed quietly. She moved around the table to avoid the ensemble of bodies and started heading towards the training room. Might as well get good at shooting the gun she was provided to make herself useful. As she walked through the hallways, she thought about her costume. "I probably need a cloak to cover my body. It can obscure my figure more to make me appear more threatening, not to mention harder to shoot. The mask is a nice touch, though it is a bit effeminate. It looks more like I'm crying mascara than blood," She giggled to herself slightly, oblivious to her surroundings as she walked.

Distracting herself like this helped keep her derangement in check, and avoid that line of thinking. Namely that there was a new Ward with new powers to explore. Martyr's was interesting but at the same time her understanding of his power was at least a little bit flawed. She couldn't think of a way to improve it in the least, and it was wearing on her. Messiah was endlessly interesting, but just didn't have the words to make Ira understand. Plus she seemed to be always having her patience tested by the Oriental girl's endless questions. She hadn't been able to get Sonar alone to even start questioning him, and now she had to get the new girl to tell. . . Fuck. She had started thinking about it.

A bated breath escaped Ira's lips as she arrived at the training room. Her feet brought her to the range, and her hand moved up to her masks, before she thought better of it. If Ira was to be a superhero she needed to get used to shooting with it on. She pulled the gun out of the holster on her thigh, the piece feeling natural in her hands. Ira thumbed the release, and moved her hand to pull the magazine out. It was fully loaded, as expected, thought the bullets were rubber. She slid the magazine back into the modified m1911, and stared at it for a second. Ira had been told it wasn't the type of gun she was expected to carry, though the weight would help with the recoil. Its weight was almost comforting. Almost. The shooting range was empty, which was rare. It wasn't as long lengthwise as most ranges, but it did have four different stations. The range automatically moved targets into place, and replaced the paper targets once they were spent.

Ira hit the button beside her left arm, and let the target move into place at 20 meters. She leveled the gun, and moved her feet into the position she had been taught to take. Left foot forward, and leaning into the gun to prepare herself for the recoil. She thumbed the hammer back, and fired her first shot.
Hidden 8 yrs ago Post by Kafka Komedy
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Kafka Komedy Bearer of The Curse

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Love Craft: Icehouse Hideout

An attractive and intelligent young person stood among 4 others inside a huge storage closet inside the Icehouse. Frankie was their name, but when they happened to look like they did, they prefered Love Craft. The dashing and chiseled rogue who was offering Frankie coffee currently was the man who had called them all here, Broker. He offered Frankie money, and a place where they could build their own lab (or, their father's lab at least.) In return for funding and the space though, Frankie would have to put their unique talents on the table, along with three other parahumans.

The first person to grab the offered coffee cup was a young girl, probably Frankie's age. She exuberated an air of "Eeehhh" and Depression with her drab clothing and slouched back. Frankie doubted those scars even had interesting stories. She sat down near the soldier-man who declined the coffee. Apparently made him "jittery." Frankie couldn't help but giggle at this fact. As much as they loved a man in uniform, he was fairly old, just assuming from his posture and voice, and he still didn't drink coffee? Frankie must've been half this man's age and they'd have some!

"Of course, I'd love coffee." Frankie accepted, grabbing a cup and taking a seat near the mercenary. "I'm strong enough for it. But if anyone has trouble, I wouldn't mind helping them relax." They said in their ever-so-slightly shrill voice, a gaze pointed at the man fiddling with his gun in public. With that, Frankie turned their attention to the final member they had yet to address and was quite impressed.

An immensely attractive young man was the group's final member. He was a bit tall, with boyish messy hair, and was obviously thin but not a stick. Though his costume was kind of foppish, if that was the right word? He was trying a bit too hard to be cool, point being. It was obvious he should try and be pretty like Frankie instead! It was only wise to improve on your strengths than you weaknesses after all. The man was blessed in the genetic category, he ought to show it off! But Frankie digressed, and hopefully stopped biting their lip and looking at them while wringing their hands. To distract themselves, Frankie took out a small snack and started on their coffee. They were ready whenever everyone else was.
Hidden 8 yrs ago → 8 yrs ago Post by Gardevoiran
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Gardevoiran The Forbidden One

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Overlook's Bunker.

As Ruben was finishing his meal, he heard a loud shot from his computer. It seemed that it was time to follow behind these guys. His drone stopped recording as it quickly proceeded to where the shot came from. It very soon reached where it heard the gunshot, which was unsurprisingly the shooting range. Surprisingly, it has only one person in it. An idea cracked in Ruben's head as he controlled the eye to find the easiest escape route leaving the vents and entering that room. Unsurprisingly, his drone ran into an empty room and proceeded to bash the vent cover until it came off, allowing the drone to enter the facility. Hopefully nobody heard that...

The drone proceeded to sneak into the shooting range, where one of the female Wards members was situated, firing an M1911 issue standard handgun. Hopefully she would react calmly to The Eye's presence. The drone flew above the girl and connected to her earpiece while Ruben grabbed his helmet. "Let's hope I'm lucky here." whispered Ruben as he dawned the sweet freedom of his alias. One it was on, his helmet's microphone automatically powered up and was ready to speak into.

"Hey... um... how're you doing my friend?" How do you interact with people again? It'd been a while.

@solokolos
Hidden 8 yrs ago → 8 yrs ago Post by solokolos
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solokolos

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Ira Riese:
PRT Headquarters

The shot echoed throughout the range, and Ira winced slightly before leveling her gun again. The recoil had been a bit more then she expected, but then again it always was. Ira eyed the target from afar, but was unable to see where she had hit. An exasperated sigh escaped her lips, before she fired a second shot. Ira wasn't a marksmen, but she had been told she was a natural, though that was probably more for her self confidence than anything else.

"Hey... um... how're you doing my friend?"

Ira's turned her head sharply to the left, then right. ”Decoy. . .” She muttered, but realized quickly it didn't sound like him. She paused, putting her gun back into the holster, before seeing the drone out of the corner of her eye. She stumbled back, almost falling as she looked up at it. Her immediate reaction wasn't to reach for her gun, though it should have been. ”What. . . Who is that? Are you the new Ward's drone?”

Ira moved closer to the drone, though she didn't trust it. She glanced down at the gun on her thigh suddenly, decidedly not moving her hand to grab it. The drone was just so intriguing, not a marvel of engineering, but. . . Almost like the snake in the Garden of Eden. An intrusion in the paradise that was the PRT headquarters. The headquarters wasn't quite perfect, but it was safe. She started as she realized that the voice had been distinctly male, and the new Ward was a female. Ira moved her hand to the butt of her gun, thinking better of her earlier decision, though she didn't draw it.

@Banana

Zach Kozel:
Waiter(ing) and Superhero(ing)


"You knew the job was temporary when you signed up. Frankly you're not the most friendly and-"

"You don't understand. I need the money, I can barely keep a roof over my head as is and without this job. . ."

"I'm sorry kid, I really am. I hate doing this, but you gotta understand the position I'm in. I got three cooks to pay, not to mention the wait staff. I can't justify keeping you hired, even as a favor anymore."

"There's gotta be something I can do. Cut my hours, make me wash dishes, I don't care. I just really need the money right now, I'll even find another job first!"

A long sigh escaped the lips of the older man sitting across from Zach.

"Alright kid. I'm gonna cut your hours, but you'll still be a waiter. If you're friendly enough I'm sure you'll be able to get enough tips to cover the hours I'm cutting. I'll get back to you on your new schedule, but ya gotta take today off so I can set that up."

Zach nodded eagerly, smiling suddenly. "Thank you so much, sir." He said, his hopes raised again. The older man waved him off, and Zach left the restaurant hopeful for the future. As he passed by a group of black youths, his hand went to his wallet, making sure it was still there. He let out a breath when he felt its familiar presence, and continued walking towards home. He didn't have his baton, as he wasn't expecting to be attacked. He could sleep though, and then when night came he could don his baton and take on the corrupted underbelly of the city.

A breeze rippled against Zach's shirt and he smiled again, avoid the sadness that would come later. He still needed to acquire a job, and had to print out a resume or two on top of that. He glanced down at his shadow, and frowned at how lanky he was. Beating the collective asses of every smaller gang he could hadn't helped his physique much so far. He was just hoping, above all, that he was making a name for himself; whatever that name may be.
Hidden 8 yrs ago → 8 yrs ago Post by Gardevoiran
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Gardevoiran The Forbidden One

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Overlook's Bunker.

"What a shocker..."

The Eye backed up when the girl went for her gun. Overlook wanted to avoid hostility with this girl, as he was unaware of how strong her powers were, if she had any for combat, and even if she didn't, she DID have a gun. Powers or no powers, it's still a gun, and this is a ball of plastic. The girl then spoke to Overlook's drone...

”What. . . Who is that? Are you the new Ward's drone?”

Overlook prepared to flee as he spoke through his mic. "Tulpa? No. I'm my own parahuman, like you I'd presume, but unfortunately when you have no leg it's hard to actually *make* a difference in the world." This was a surprisingly calm encounter. The only other people Overlook could remember talking to was a person claiming to be his mother, and he calmly reacted to that situation with a lot of yelling. It was a hard day. "The name is Overlook. Expert hacker and strategist. Glad to be in the presence of a similar individual for a change, it's really lonely where I am." While Overlook was talking, his gaze turned towards a small set of blueprints he had made in the past while The Eye was being constructed. The blueprints were for a smaller, more compact drone that would accompany his main drone, but it would serve for an interesting purpose, allowing him to hack and control large machines by simply attaching to them. It never made it past the drawing phase though, as there wasn't any way he could create technology like that with his budget or abilities. Alas, Overlook returned to his conversation. "You're good with that gun by the way."
@solokolos
Hidden 8 yrs ago Post by yoshua171
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yoshua171 The Loremaster

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Chatterbox

Already in his guise as Chatterbox, which, if he was being honest felt more like the real him than his civilain identity, Drake Vettman headed for the Icehouse. His mind whirring, his voice humming a tune going from minor to major notes, giving it both a gleeful, but haunting melody that bounced and jumped around in an almost sporadic rhythm, Drake marveled at how the time had passed since he'd been invited. While he'd seen his other... teammates he still found it rather annoying that he'd had to promise to make them immune to his wonderful little addiction. Or, well, not his addiction, not in that sense, but it did belong to him, in its way.

Arriving, Drake opened the door, using the key to open the one room he'd yet to be in, only to find it already unlocked. He smirked, it appeared his compatriots had already arrived, not that they deserved such a title in the least. He predicted that at least two of them would either be idiots, or be useless and that was stacking the odds in their favor really.

He smirked at the thought, closing the door behind him and locking it. It appeared everyone was assembled, including the Broker himself--who had only seen on one other occasion, when the man had convinced him to join up.

He glanced at the coffee and took a cup, taking a sip, an amused grin on his face as he watched the others. They all seemed relatively still, though one of them had apparently opted out of the coffee, fair enough, he thought at that. Then he noticed one of his allies staring at him, with an oddly lustful look in their eyes. His smirk remained as he raised an eyebrow at the fellow, or was it las? Hardly mattered to him, the individual was...something about them struck him as off so he dismissed even the possibility of a fling--no matter how pretty they were. Plus, their gender was...questionable at best.

Crossing the room after several seconds of observation, Drake casually found a comfortable chair, picked it up, walked over to a wall, and then sat in it, leaning back till the back of the chair touched the wall, stabilizing it in its tilted position. He crossed one leg over the other, still smirking, and steepled his hands in his lap, waiting patiently to see what this Broker had to offer them in the way of jobs.

He was sure he hadn't justified his alias yet, nor made much of an impression, but often when a crowd was anticipating a good show, three would be chatter--the curtains still closed--and then as the lights dimmed and music began to play, everyone fell silence. He was treating this interaction as the silence before the show, he was building anticipation. He hoped they'd come to appreciate the fact that he wouldn't be overtly manipulating any of them...at least, not with his voice that was. He almost chuckled aloud at the thought.

"Well bossman, we're all here. How about we get this show started, mmm?" he said, his statement the equivalent of the music starting.

The curtains were still closed.
Hidden 8 yrs ago Post by j8cob
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j8cob The Gr8est / The J8est

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Natasha Burkova


It is no secret that Denver, Colorado is host to plenty of crime, despite the fact it is a parahuman hotspot with its own PRT branch. Or perhaps the criminal underworld is directly because of the high density of parahumans. It was also no secret that one of the prominent organizations in Denver was the Russian mafia. While the combination of bribery and keeping out of high-profile crimes has kept the Bratva under the radar for years, nobody is foolish enough to think they don't exist. They stay afloat through a combination of both legal and illegal business ventures. Many small-time shops across Denver are owned by Bratva members, who use these locations as safe houses. The particularly important locations are few in number, consisting of a sports bar in the downtown area, a strip mall in Cherry Creek, and a 24/7 shipping warehouse on the western outskirts of the city. These businesses are more heavily controlled by the Bratva and thus frequently host their members. The warehouse itself is host to their smuggling ventures and serves as a sort of headquarters. Even the police are aware of the Russian influence in these locations but lack the evidence to pursue any leads. A little bribery never hurt, either.

But recently there had been a change of administration among the Russian mob, and the criminal underworld of Denver knew right away. The local leader had passed away several months ago and since been replaced. Much like the previous head honcho, the new leader came from Russia itself and took the legal ownership of the warehouse and other locations as dictated by the will of the deceased. The operations have since been under the watchful eye and iron grip of one Natasha Castaneda. Not much had changed with the new leadership. The unobservant would figure nothing had changed at all. The truth is that Natasha had cracked down on incursions within her territory. Crime rates have already begun to drop within the Russian controlled areas as the mob has taken a stricter control. Small-time gangs have been kicked out and kept out, as well as many Bratva members taking up a sort of policing to prevent crimes around their neighborhoods. Nobody expects this change to be from any kind of good nature within Natasha; the plan is quite obvious that this reduces the public attention of her activities and reduces the amount of law enforcement patrolling the areas. By cracking down on non-Russian crime it allows her to continue her racketeering, smuggling, and all the other manners of illegal activities.

Of course the reception of Natasha herself has been quite mixed. Despite sharing heritage with many of her subordinates they are still quite unfamiliar with her. The woman is far less friendly and inviting than their previous Captain, but they respect her authority all the same. She doesn't frequent the bar as often as her predecessor did, though she does stop by every now and then to keep tabs on the cash flow. The consensus among the community of Denver is that she is simply a ruthless businesswoman with an icy demeanor, but those who know what is really going on have already realized that she is a calculated killing machine. The previous months have been a testament to her brutality, if one had to judge by the Bratva's new paradigm. When the only change was the leadership it is safe to assume it is the leader who was the cause. She is rightfully feared for her leadership, but even in person she is intimidating. Natasha always stays accompanied by a troop of enforcers with concealed weapons. They drive her around and follow her everywhere, serving as a roaming security detail. Natasha herself is known to be quite skilled, with the story circulating that she is ex-Spetsnaz and could kill with her bare hands.

While that is mostly true, only a select few know that military training isn't her only "ability."

Presently, Natasha and her entourage had arrived at the sports bar she owned, The Penalty Box. The black limousine parked in one of the reserved spaces of the parking lot behind the bar. After the driver exited the vehicle another four men stepped out, all of them Slavic in appearance, before Natasha herself got out of the car. Most of the men were of various heights that centered around average, so Natasha stood noticeably taller than them with the assistance of her high heels. While her troop was dressed fairly casually she herself still wore a professional business suit and carried with her a large purse of matching color. There was no way that someone could witness this arrival and not assume that Natasha was some kind of VIP with a bodyguard escort. Of course the bar wasn't even open yet, it was still over an hour before their opening time, so the arrival would seem odd to anyone who cared to notice. Nevertheless the small group walked around the building and entered from the front door, which was unlocked ahead of time specifically for them.

Most of the tables around the empty bar was occupied by chairs, though the place was certainly clean. The many various television screens were all turned on and tuned into the local sports stations, though no games seemed to be playing on any of the TVs. There was two older men, both seemed to be in their fifties, behind the bar counter and several younger men seated among the stools. There was only one other woman in this room besides Natasha, though this woman seemed to also be middle-aged as she was noticeably older than the young men she was seated with. One of the younger men, a big burly guy with a shaved head and a unibrow, was the first to greet the arriving party. "Hey, boss," he spoke casually with a wave. As the new group entered they all dispersed to remove a few chairs from a nearby table and begin seating themselves, leaving Natasha standing alone in the dead center of the establishment. "Доброе утро," was her response, her stern but high voice making the Russian language sound almost song-like in nature. The large man awkwardly chuckled and lowered his hand, setting it in his lap dismissively. "C'mon, you know I can only speak English..."

Natasha gave the larger man an intimidating glare, making him feel even more awkward before finally responding in English. "Good morning." Her thick Russian accent shone through her enunciation, though her distinct voice still gave her words and operatic sound regardless of the tongue she desired to speak in. It always irritated her how few of her subordinates could speak any languages other than English. The vast majority were born and raised in the United States, many of them here in Denver, so it was understandable they were unfamiliar with their heritage's language. That being said, it was still their heritage and seemed almost embarrassing to Natasha how few could speak it. It was mostly the younger ones, those under thirty, that were likely to only speak English. But the older members, even if they weren't native speakers, at least had a decent understanding of the language. And that made things easier for Natasha. The blonde woman turned her attention to the rest of the bar's staff before her. "Greetings."

After taking a seat in one of the chairs her bodyguards had procured, Natasha crossed her legs and set her purse on her lap, maintaining her gaze on the staff before her. "A beer, please," she spoke up, prompting a nod from one of the gentlemen behind the counter while the other moved to fulfill her order. With that out of the way, she glanced up at the largest TV that hung on the wall behind the counter, over the bartenders. "That one isn't level, you should fix it." The bartender worked fast, walking around the counter to hand Natasha her glass of beer personally before taking a seat in the empty chair placed next to her. "It happened last night. Don't worry, we'll fix it in a little while. Before we open," the older man assured her, his voice also notably thick with a grizzled Russian accent. "Perfect. Now, I was told there is going to be an inspection today, correct? I am confident that there will be no issues with the kitchen, but in case they want to snoop upstairs..." Natasha's free hand dove into her purse, pulling out a bound wad of cash that seemed to all be hundred dollar bills. She handed it to the man next to her, who nodded in understanding before placing it in a hidden pocket within his coat, right next to his handgun. "I do not know how Gregory handled these small things, but I want to keep it simple and smooth. I do not want to have anyone investigating this building for any reason at all, even if it is something silly like a food inspector. Tell the boys to be gentle with the belligerent patrons for the next few days." She paused to take another sip of her drink before setting it down on the table behind her. "Of course. There will be no troubles here. I will make sure of it," he assured once again, standing up from his seat to go fetch himself some beer of his own.

"Now then... I have some time to kill before I am needed. How's the family, Alexander?"
Hidden 8 yrs ago Post by ProPro
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ProPro Pierce the Heavens with your spoon!

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PRT Headquarters

@yoshua171@solokolos@Kafka Komedy@BCTheEntity@Lugubrious

Sonar, or Collin as he had introduced himself, smiled and nodded as each of his team introduced themselves to Tulpa. They were a newly composed team of Wards, but he had taken the time to get to know them in the few weeks they had been together. That's what they knew. Of course it was only logical to assume that he had gotten to know them far better than they knew him, but that was an unfortunate facet of his power. Even with the helmet to help matters, he couldn't turn it off. Such was his curse, but also his blessing.

"Sorry guys, we can't keep chatting. Something is up. Ira went to the firing range and something unauthorized is in there talking to her. We've gotta move!" Thus Sonar urged his team out of the room. The firing range was down only one floor, part of the larger practice attachment, so they could quickly and easily get there via a nearby stairwell. Like any good leader, Sonar was at the head of the charge. If any chose not to follow him, he didn't particularly chastise them for it. His priority was in reaching Epsilon and whatever this object was that was communicating with her. "The name is Overlook. Expert hacker and strategist. Glad to be in the presence of a similar individual for a change, it's really lonely where I am." Sonar repeated the words he heard from the... He wasn't sure what it was, honestly. His powers didn't actually work the same as his namesake, so he couldn't map out the area, just hear all the sounds as though they were right next to him. "You're really good with that gun, by the way."

At that moment the leader of the Wards kicked in the door to the shooting range. Spotting the apple-sized drone, he strode forward, placing a hand on his ear mounted communication device. "This is Sonar to Decoy. We've got an unauthorized breach in the shooting range. It appears to be some sort of small drone with a speaker system, engaged with Epsilon. The operator claims to be a parahuman going by the name-"

Sonar was cut off as nearby hologram projectors kicked in, emitting the image of an overweight Japanese man. Decoy was now, effectively, on the scene. "Overlook, I am aware," spoke the hologram. Well, the hologram didn't speak, but it moved in a life-like fashion and the speaker emitted the words perfectly synced with the light image's lips, so it appeared to speak for all intents and purposes. The voice that came was deep, and heavy with an Onaka accent. "I detected the intrusion as soon as the drone had entered our ventilation system. Don't worry, I've already gotten into Overlook's systems. Kudos, by the way. You've got a really nice setup. I'd like to exchange notes..." The hologram gave pause, then lifted its glasses as though it were focusing on reading something. "... Ruben."



Overlook's Bunker.

@Banana

As Ruben Manhattan controlled his RC drone, other bits of his computer system were left vulnerable, if even only a little bit. An instant message popped up on one of his monitors under the username "TheRe@lD3c0y."

I've tracked your signal. Your presence in the PRT building is an unauthorized entry. Any reason I shouldn't take you in on a federal offense?



Icehouse Hideout

@yoshua171@Eklispe@Kafka Komedy@BCTheEntity

Well that was unexpected, and just a touch rude. The Broker stood over the kitchen counter now with one extra cup of coffee and nothing to do with it. He offered something. For free! That insufferable, ungrateful, philistine or an arrogant worm! Didn't he have any understanding of what offering that coffee meant for the Broker?! The man took a deep breath, and instantly all his rage washed away like footprints on a sandy beach. Had anybody been paying attention, they'd never have even noticed the severe emotional turmoil that had only seconds ago been raging within him. Well, not unless they had superhuman perception, or had empathic abilities, but they didn't. The Broker knew that before he went out to recruit them. Instead of giving in to the burning anger, instead of taking the mug of coffee and hurling it right at Headhunter's face, he smiled.

"Perhaps I should have done my research proper so as to know that I shouldn't have offered you coffee," he said, pleasantly enough in his North English accent. "Perhaps I can get you something else instead? Tea? Cola? Juice? Water?" Whatever Headhunter would respond with, the Broker would ensure that it was placed in front of the mercenary assassin, then took his own place at the round table.

The manner in which this man sat was incredibly proper. His back adjusted until it was fully erect, his posture impeccable, and his eye contact constant. This was a man that had grown up in a high society position, or had his manners drilled into him since birth, possibly through violent methods. Regardless, he addressed each member at the table with a sociable, almost friendly tone, as though this weren't a meeting of villains coming together for business, that he wasn't their employer, but that they were friends starting some kind of new club. "I believe that first on the agenda should be out introductions. Mister Headhunter here is a mercenary of some reputation. Most people believe him to simply be a long distance killer of some great skill, which is true on its own, but he is in fact a thinker. Next we have Mister Chatterbox. His voice is addicting, and I do not mean to say that he is particularly charming, though you are of course. I have required that he grant each of you immunity to this ability so as to maintain... Professional trust. Which brings us to Mister,er, or is it Miss? Love Craft. I must say, I am amused by your name of choice. Love Craft here is a shifter with the ability to alter his or her body structure on a cellular level. Quite impressive. Finally, our youngest member. Miss... Well, as you don't have a name in the cape community, I will respect any wish for privacy you might have and not reveal your legal name. She is a stranger, able to phase through and ignore not just physical phenomena, but anything she chooses, so long as her eyes remain shut."

The Broker leaned forward ever so slightly and flashed a smile that could be seen as equal parts charming and Freddy Kruger. "And of course you all know that I am The Broker, your benefactor. I have gone through no small amount of trouble to track each of you down so that your talents and skills can be best put to use for mutual benefits. To the public of Denver, to the Protectorate and the PRT, you will be seen as just another local gang of villains. To us, to the visionaries, you are cogs in a greater machine, working to better each of us in turn. To that end I have offered you money, fame, and other more personal motivators. You will look out for one anothers best interests, as well as my own. I will occasionally require your assistance with a job or two, which you are welcome to accept or decline at your leisure. Rest assured that I will be paying you every cent and fulfilling every promise made."

The man gave pause long enough to take a sip from his cup of coffee. His eyes darted over to the counter where the remaining cup sat, unused, and his brow twitched just the slightest bit. "I have only a few rules, but they should be considered iron clad. Firstly, and Mister Headhunter I know you in particular will chafe under this declaration, you must avoid killing as much as is possible. If it becomes necessary then so be it, but I would rather the PRT, the Protectorate, and The Community not all have reason to put aside their differences and crush our operations in a unified force. Second, any capes you end up in conflict with should be captured and detained here in the Icehouse. I have a... Vested interest in parahumans. Mister or Miss Love Craft, once I have done what I need with them, I will gladly hand them over for your own research and investigations. Third, you may come to me with requests for supplies, which I shall attempt to provide to the best of my ability, and I will assign you tasks both as a team and as individuals, but when you are operating outside of this room I do not exist. Period. As far as anyone else is concerned you are an independent operation. Now as long as you agree to sign on, I have an envelope for each of you with bank and routing numbers. These are your private accounts which I will wire your individual payments to. You will find that they all already have 100,000 American dollars in advance. If any of you have any questions, now is the time to ask."
Hidden 8 yrs ago Post by Gardevoiran
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Gardevoiran The Forbidden One

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Overlook's Bunker.


Fuck.

This was a terrible start to a peaceful conversation. Ruben's heart started racing at this situation, he'd figure he was okay to just come in and not actually hurt anyone, just simply enter and ask a few questions, but now he was fucked. He had to hope for god he could be a good enough diplomat for this situation to not go south for him. His drone backed into a corner of the room and reasonably took a look at everything around him. He began to type in the text box sent to him by "TheRe@lD3c0y". "Ok, let's be civil here. I haven't done anything to hurt you guys, and I'm not going to... even if I could."

The drone shook in fear, Overlook being completely focused on the task at hand. A speaker rose from the drone as Overlook's voice echoed throughout the shooting range. "There is no need to be violent here, I can have this drone leave and you'll never hear from me again."

Overlook glanced back at the text box, and typed in it again. "I'm not your enemy, and even if I wanted to be I couldn't. I already have half a leg, and I can't do anything with this drone but reconnaissance. All I want is to help."

Let's hope these guys are open to peace.
Hidden 8 yrs ago Post by Kafka Komedy
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Kafka Komedy Bearer of The Curse

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Martyr: PRT Headquarters

As Tulpa- or Evelyn, that was her real name, responded to him Dean suddenly got the urge to shift his feet. He felt nothing, absolutely nothing touched his foot, but he instinctively lifted it up and moved it back a little, for no reason at all. Dean passed it off as nothing more than a flash from the multiverse and moved on though.

As Eve finished her piece, Lord Douche appeared in a puff flashiness and decreed his name. Unfortunately, Dean had already called him Margrave, so all his posturing and silly hand gesture netted him was another person who thought he was dumb. Dean surmised to ignore the giant elephant in the room (how they got stuck with Elliot) and looked instead to Messiah, who stepped around the young man and apologized for his behavior. She also asked names, which Dean wasn't surprised at. Messiah always went out of her way to incredibly nice to new people. And old people. Just people in general, really, which was pretty noble, but probably wouldn't get her many more brownie points.

That left the final member of the crew, and another masked woman, Epsilon. But looking around, Dean didn't see her. She must have already made her way to training maybe? Without introducing herself to the new girl. Dean allowed his palm to hit his face. He knew his team was... well, not very good, to say the least, but they couldn't even introduce themselves properly? Surviving long enough to become part of the Protectorate itself seemed like the only way he was going to get some actual recognition. "Sorry you got stuck with us." Dean said, motioning to Margrave and the empty seat of Epsilon. "I'm sure you'll be moving up to the Protectorate proper soon, right?"

Before the girl had a chance to respond, Sonar interrupted the group. Apparently the absent Ira had made her way to the firing range, and had already gotten herself in trouble. Dean resisted the urge to facepalm at her again, instead using his now free hand to unsheathe the blade strapped to his back. Sonar made his way through the hall and down the stairwell, Dean following suit, ignoring whatever finer details his commanding officer was saying for the moment. As long as he had heads to bust, Dean was fine.

As Sonar busted through the door, so did Dean, blade pointed at whatever looked the most threatening. At the current moment the only thing he didn't recognize was the small drone, so his sword was pointed at that. Sonar entered the room and alerted Decoy, while Dean went over to the drone and poised to slash it in half. The thing could very well be hiding weapons of some kind, and if it showed even the smallest sign of acting up, he'd smash it in an instant. Still, looked like that wouldn't be an issue, considering Decoy was already there, complimenting the kid hacker on his shit. "Any funny stuff, any hidden weapons or EMPs or Parahuman-disablers, I'll smash the thing." Dean explained, half to those in the room and half to the man outside it.
Hidden 8 yrs ago Post by solokolos
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solokolos

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Ira Riese:
PRT Headquarters

"Tulpa? No. I'm my own parahuman, like you I'd presume, but unfortunately when you have no leg it's hard to actually *make* a difference in the world. The name is Overlook. Expert hacker and strategist. Glad to be in the presence of a similar individual for a change, it's really lonely where I am. You're good with that gun by the way."

Overlook. His name was Overlook and he was similar to Ira. But she wasn't an expert hacker, much less a strategist. She felt a bit more comfortable regardless, and visibly relaxed. Ira opened her mouth, but before she could speak the door to the range was kicked open.

"This is Sonar to Decoy. We've got an unauthorized breach in the shooting range. It appears to be some sort of small drone with a speaker system, engaged with Epsilon. The operator claims to be a parahuman going by the name-"

"Overlook, I am aware,"

Ira backed away from the drone quickly, not taking her eyes off of it. ”I didn't mean to- I didn't know. You know that this isn't my fault Decoy, I was- I was scared for my life.” She mumbled quickly, and lying on top of that. She hadn't been scared of Overlook, he seemed harmless, though she had been wary. Decoy had become a sort of father figure, a reassuring voice that was always present. Him, and the therapist had been able to help Ira feel some semblance of normal

"I detected the intrusion as soon as the drone had entered our ventilation system. Don't worry, I've already gotten into Overlook's systems. Kudos, by the way. You've got a really nice setup. I'd like to exchange notes..."

Ira suddenly walked forward, her gun suddenly in her hand without thinking. She leveled it and exhaled quietly as she prepared to shoot the drone out of the air.

"... Ruben."

Suddenly Martyr moved in front of her, and positioned himself in front of the drone. He seemed prepared to destroy it, his sword drawn and at the ready.

"Any funny stuff, any hidden weapons or EMPs or Parahuman-disablers, I'll smash the thing."

A breath escaped Ira's lips as she turned around, her gun sliding back into its holster. She walked towards. . . Tulpa, that was her name. Overlook had said it. She headed towards Tulpa and Messiah, her mask hiding the frown painted across her mouth. She waved slightly as she approached them, and said in a unnaturally happy tone. "Hey Tulpa, I'm Ir-Epsilon." She caught herself before saying her real name. I'm Epsilon right now, I'm Epsilon with the mask on, Ira with the mask off Epsilon thought to herself angrily, a bit more upset and unsettled because of it. God she felt like she was coming unhinged.
Hidden 8 yrs ago Post by Gardevoiran
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Gardevoiran The Forbidden One

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Overlook's Bunker.


"You bitch..." thought Overlook as he stared around his drone, hearing the words of Epsilon as she backed away. He saw her ease up and relax, and he was looking forward to actually knowing someone, but then she went and lied about being scared. He would not forget this, as he took off his helmet.

He was in no state of escape, of defending, or of victory here. All he could do was plead his case and hope he could be civil with the PRT, or fool them into believing that he could prove useful to them. He could also fry all of his connection to his computer, but that would sever himself from any of the outside world. He heard the one called Martyr speak as he thought. "Any funny stuff, any hidden weapons or EMPs or Parahuman-disablers, I'll smash the thing.".

Overlook messaged back to Decoy, which he just assumed was his alias. >Epsilon is lying. She would've told you earlier if she was truly scared for her life.<

The speaker came on Overlook's drone as it began to speak. "Martyr, was it? I can safely assure you that this thing has no weapons, whatever that may mean, and if it doesn't mean much I will sit here and tell you my entire life story, or at least all I can recall about it. Triggers fucked up my memories."

Overlook was desperate. His next message to Decoy was sent through, typed with shaky fingers. >... I never had the chance these kids had, at least I don't think I did. I don't even remember my mother or father or anything. Take with that what you will, but note this. I can get you information you can use to greatly excel, and I will be more than happy to do it, but all I want is to not be seen as an enemy, but rather an asset.<
Hidden 8 yrs ago Post by yoshua171
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yoshua171 The Loremaster

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Evelyn Chambers - Tulpa

Well, everyone had been more or less welcoming...at least that's what she had thought until the one Dean had referred to as 'Mar--something or other' approached her, took some ludicrous pose, and started spouting out nonsense. She raised an eyebrow beneath her mask initially, but as he kept talking, her face--though they couldn't see it--became a clear deadpan. Her posture shifted and her eyes narrowed slightly before she decided to let them open fully, brimming with false cheer as she reached out, suddenly, and quickly, and patted him on the shoulder. "Good to meet you too, Marrie. Oh and thanks for the introduction, now I don't have to spend any time figuring out which ward has a stick up their rear," she said, the same false happiness in her voice before she moved her hand off of him, wiping it off on her clothes--she'd have to wash those twice later--and turning her attention to...mmm, Messiah.

Her eyes softened at the shorter girl's words before she spoke, acting as if she'd not said anything even remotely rude to Margrave, "Oh don't worry, he did me a favor," she said with a wink. At the thought her projection's shadow touched Margrave and information flowed in steadily. If he ever said anything along those lines to her again, which he surely would given how everyone was treating him--not to mention his introduction--then she would simply throw the guy's power in his face, because man was it silly. Actually, that was probably giving it too much credit, she might even call it useless, but she wasn't that mean. She wouldn't say it to his face, though she would be knocking him down a few pegs, maybe give him a reality check or two--hopefully that'd be enough. "if you'd like to give me a nickname, Alessa...um," she raised her hand, tapping her chin lightly in thought, "Lyn would be alright I suppose." She laughed a little, the sound having just the slightest amount of nervousness near the end...before she fell silent again.

Meanwhile, during it all, she felt someone get up and walk out of the room, her eyes briefly moving after the one member of the wards who hadn't come up to greet her. Evelyn's head tilted slightly and she smiled sympathetically under her mask, maybe she's nervous...or insecure? That costume looked kind of uncomfortable, I wonder if I could help her with that... she thought before Sonar...no, Collin's voice interrupted her thoughts, pulling her out of her brief reverie. It seemed that the very ward who had left was in some kind of trouble.

The team headed out and her heart leaped in her chest, a small smile forming on her hidden lips even as she swallowed hard--her stomach full of anxiousness, worry, and excitement all at once.

Before they'd arrived she sent her projection ahead of them, stretching it out after it was out of sight so as to cover as much space as possible. Eventually she located a parahuman that gave off the right information in body shape, outfit materials...tinker pow--tinker powers!?! They had a tinker???

Evelyn missed a step, but caught herself swiftly, swallowing hard again to retain her focus...and composure, in this case. She hoped her teammate was okay, she thought before realizing. It was really nice to be able to say that, if still a little weird. The weirdness reminded her of what Dean had said 'Sorry you got stuck with us,' which elicited a frown. She hadn't had the proper time to respond to his follow up statement due to Sonar. She'd have to remember to correct his impression later, she didn't want him thinking that she disliked them just because they were all so different. If anything...that made her more comfortable, not less.

Her thoughts changing gears as Sonar--Collin!--kicked the doors into the shooting range, Evelyn decided she ought to do something especially since Dean got involved and the other ward--the one she hadn't really met yet--raised a gun to the small drone. However as she stepped forwards to truly act the girl lowered her gun and turned towards her, closing the distance. Evelyn thought she'd just walk passed her and so focused on her projection, causing its shadow to overlap with the drone. She spoke, "He's telling the truth, it's got no weapons. Just a camera, some stuff to help it move, and a speaker or two." She didn't supply how she knew any of that before her projection's shadow, using the shadow of the drone, slipped inside the solid wall, moving down through it before spreading out over the floor of the room.

She turned her attention to the last ward to introduce herself, her own duty done...even if it was a minor one. She extended her hand to Epsilon as she spoke, "Hi Epsilon, I'm glad to meet you. By the way..." she began, trailing off and leaning in close to the girl's ear, "...when we get a free moment, would you like me to help you with your costume?" After she said it, so only Epsilon, and surely Sonar, could hear, she pulled away and glanced at those assembled, wondering how all this would play out. Evidently they had it under control, but still...the poor guy controlling the drone seemed pretty harmless--though he could be lying, she supposed.

Oh well, they'd just have to find out.
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