'Lyn...' Alessa smiled as she said this; it was short and sweet, as they say. Before she could really offer anything else in response, Dean said something about Tulpa "being stuck with us"- though she seemed perfectly happy to be there, from what Alessa could tell- swiftly followed by Sonar ushering the Wards out of the room, apparently in response to an unauthorised presence of some sort. It turned out, once everybody made it to the training room, that said presence was a hovering drone - not massive, but big enough, and judging by how nearly everyone else in the area reacted to its presence, up to and including Decoy himself, potentially dangerous. For her part, Alessa wasn't quite sure what she ought to do, especially when Tulpa announced that it had no weapons at all on it.

...and how could she know that? Maybe she was just trying to lessen the tension, but if she was telling the truth... did that mean her power was Thinker-based? There wasn't exactly a metric for surety there, since she'd only just met Evelyn a couple of minutes ago. In any case, Alessa couldn't think of anything to do that might alter the situation right now - even if the drone was armed, she could probably melt it into slag in but a moment, or at least its internal components, if Decoy didn't hack the thing into submission first - so for the moment, she kept her mouth shut and her eyes peeled. Maybe the Protectorate would let... Ruben, was it? ...go free in spite of his trespassing. Maybe.

---

'Water would be good,' Headhunter offered, murmuring a quiet 'Thank you' to the Broker once the glass was received. Pulling his scarf down just enough to sip at the glass of liquid in his hand, he listened as the Broker introduced each member of the team - noting that the specifics of Raymond's own ability had been subtly left out of the listings, where every other cape in the room save the Broker himself had had theirs announced accordingly - before going over the rough purpose of the gang, namely to pretend to be a low-level gang which secretly had its fingers in a great many pies. Or at least a more significant purpose than the public would believe.

He bristled somewhat at the announcement that his power would not be put to best use, but remained silent through the Broker's list of rules until they came to their conclusion, before stating the most obvious point in a quiet tone: 'I should ask why you've hired an assassin to engage in non-lethal warfare. I do appreciate the inclusion, of course, amongst other things, but the nature of my skillset would seem to be... counterintuitive... to your stated goal of acquiring living parahumans.' Not, of course, that he couldn't adapt to a less lethal method of operation. It'd just mean his strongest weapon would end up reserved for particularly hard-to-damage targets. And, well, it was always simpler to pick your poison when one assumed no maximum limit to power was needed.

Though prepared to follow in the footsteps of Epsilon and fulfill the command of the senior capes by making tracks to the training room, Elliot paused to glare balefully at Dean for a split second. Without cease, the pigment-devoid scarecrow had antagonized him as long as they'd known one another. A rivalry was one thing, but did this kid really think it necessary to encapsulate the newcomer in their squabble? ”Not yet you're not...” he murmured in a low voice beneath his breath. He intoned this comment, impossible for the other boy to hear, as though a movie-camera had zoomed in on his disdainful face so that the audience might grasp the depth of his feud. The next instant, however, Tulpa made her own move. The instant she began to speak, Elliot began to bristle. When she moved to touch him, his arm flashed out like a striking cobra, batting her arm away before it got close to his shoulder. ”D-don't test my patience, newbie. I'm someone you'll want on your side.” His tone shook only slightly, mostly making how floored he was inside. Even in this tinderbox of egos, nobody had gotten that mean with him that quickly. And she was calling him the stick in the mud? The real question was why anyone around here couldn't let a guy have his fun. Not that 'having fun' was what he was doing. Obviously. No matter...she, too, would fear him in time.

Fate did not afford him much time to ruminate over this most recent slight, however, as Sonar appeared with dire news. Aghast, Elliot's eyebrows flew up, only to drop down soon after and complete a look of grim determination. ”Well, whoever it is shall not be intruding for long!” he declared as he cracked his knuckles, only for Dean to rush past him, drawing his blade as he did so. Truth be told, Elliot didn't think this situation would amount to much, given the kind of control that Decoy wielded over the place. Still, a little bit of action would serve to convince the newbie how cool and capable the Wards -and Elliot, specifically, were. That is, if Dean's little sword tricks didn't steal his thunder. Did the guy really not know how to savor a good moment? In this business, when the scenery needed a good chewing, the real winners spared no expense. Still, on the off chance that there might be some sort of threat, odds were that Ira would need the talents of her mysterious ally Margrave to save the day. Without a second's further hesitation, Elliot sprinted after Collin and Dean.

En route, Collin used his power to describe the conversation to everyone. The intruder's words did not strike Elliot as especially sinister, but he kept staunchly quiet as he followed. Within the minute, the team's grand leader barged through the door, flooding the hallway with the range's bright illumination and revealing the cause for alarm. A spy drone? Elliot analyzed it with steely eyes. Something so small could scarcely be a dangerous weapon, but then again, information could be the most dangerous weapon of all. In his pockets, Elliot's secret weapons felt almost hot, begging to be used. After Dean said his piece, the Margrave chimed in, holding one flat hand up on the opposite side of his head as if ready to deliver a karate chop—or to unleash unimaginable power. ”For the sake of my allies I am restraining my burning fury...do not give me cause to loosen my grip, interloper!” He cast a weary glance to Dean, who evidently thought that a thin bit of tempered steel wielded by an underweight 17-year-old would be enough to seriously damage a high-tech, super-compact flying machine. After this, however, Elliot composed himself to listen.

He could understand feeling alone and unwanted. Elliot never knew true hardship, he had to confess, but in his own ways he suffered nevertheless. The edgelord in him wanted to spout something like, 'a likely sob story!' but he couldn't bring himself to this time. In fact, he didn't know quite what to do, but he felt it entirely appropriate to do nothing at all. After all, what authority lay with him? Did this mean that there would be a fight, or a new Ward on the team, or nothing it all? It truly didn't matter. Elliot could do nothing, so he saw no reason to worry or get involved. Whatever came his way, he'd roll with the punches. Even if something embarrassing happened, or this new girl decided to bully him too, he wouldn't give up one inch. That's what it takes to earn respect. If it worked in high school, it'll work here. He found his thoughts returning to Tulpa, this time wielding the scalpel of discernment. 'He's telling the truth, it's got no weapons. Just a camera, some stuff to help it move, and a speaker or two'....those were her words. Exactly how could she know? Elliot postulated that her power might be some sort of limited omniscience, precognition, or maybe x-ray vision. The very thought made the muscles of his face tightened in restrained bitterness. Even imagining powers cooler than his rubbed him the wrong way.

Love Craft: Icehouse Hideout

Frankie felt odd as the little soldier man and their boss had an exchange about drinks. Broker clearly liked them a lot, or wanted them to like him a lot, to bend like this so quick. After that, the boss sat down, fully erect and stiff. The man was very formal it seemed. Suit, correct posture, offering drinks, it all pointed to an air of professionalism. Frankie felt a bit outclassed, what with two people wearing suits and them left wearing a leather jacket.

The Broker was quick to introduce everyone to each other, having done his research (most likely stalking) on them. Little Soldier Man was a Thinker, though also excellent with a gun. The attractive young man was Chatterbox, and it seemed his special ability was being charming, which Frankie couldn't help but mumble "You bet." under her breath to. When Broker got to them, he couldn't seem to discern Frankie's gender, a mark of pride in their book along with Broker's direct compliment. Finally, the drab girl had the ability to become intangible. Useful.

After this (and a spooky smile similar to some of Frankie's when they were feeling particularly mean) Broker laid down the organization's purpose and rules. The team was to look out for each other, and work together on jobs, should they take them. They were also to stay as low profile as possible, not killing, and not mentioning the Broker. Finally, something that stood out as odd to Frankie, whenever she kidnapped a parahuman she was to hand him over to Broker first. In return for all of this, Broker would get them anything they might need. Money, and a place to work, as well as research equipment for Frankie, though they weren't looking forward to having sloppy seconds on the experiment list. After Little Soldier Man asked his question, but before Broker could respond, Frankie cut in.

"I have no questions, but please, instead of Mister or Missus, just call me Lovely. Or LC, if you want. I like to get personal~."

"Hmhmhmhmhm," chuckled the hologram of Decoy as he observed the goings on in the firing range. It was clear that he had found the entire thing quite amusing. Or at least that's how he projected himself. Nobody could ever truly be certain when it came to this enigmatic tinker. "Overlook, we'll take this private. It's nothing to concern my Wards with." The hologram reached out to The Eye, and although it could not physically touch the machine, it did shield the thing from vision.

Sonar let out a small sigh. "It's probably just as well. If this Overlook is a tinker, there's nobody better suited for this situation than Decoy. Especially since Decoy practically runs this building and all of its defen-" In an instant Sonar's expression changed from one of relief to one of urgency. His eyes, barely visible behind the soundwave dampening helmet, opened wide, while his lips parted somewhat. "Oh Snapple! Wards, with me! Decoy, there's trouble nearby, but we've got this!" The youngest hero of the group waved the team on and took off toward the elevator, about forty feet down the corridor from the shooting range.

Jesus, what was up with this kid? Did he have some kind of hero complex? Oh. Wait. Well regardless, he had a mission in mind for his team, and at his insistence it was an emergency situation. Sonar adjusted the communications setting on his helmet, then spoke into it directly addressing each member of the Wards, but he had cut off the frequency from the rest of the Protectorate. Team, I'm really sorry to pull you around like this, but a high ranking member of The Community stepped into my hearing range and he's got a gang with him. I'm listening in on their plan, but only getting bits and pieces of it right now."

He stopped inside the elevator, slammed his finger on the button for floor one, then extended an arm out to hold the door for the rest of the Wards.

---

---

Overlook's Bunker.

Through the camera of The Eye, Overlook could see the hologram the kids had referred to as "Decoy" dismiss them all, saying that he would handle things. The hologram then moved in on The Eye, blocking all vision from the drone's camera. All Overlook could see now was a large, flabby gut and set of man boobs on a light projection made to resemble a man. Of course, he could still easily attempt to pilot his drone through the hologram, but they were talking now so why ruin a good thing?

I know when my Wards are lying, don't you worry about that. This was the first reply from TheRe@lD3c0y since their first message on Ruben's computer.

I find it interesting you say you want to be helpful, that you're no threat, and yet you use a drone with video/audio recording capabilities to infiltrate the PRT covertly. The front door not good enough? And for the record, like it or not, you are a threat. The wealth of information you could have potentially stolen is more damaging in the wrong hands than any superpower. You're smart enough to set this all up, certainly you realized that?

---

---

As Zach took his route home, his paranoia of nearby blacks was, for better or worse, proven to be justified. A tall, well built thug of a man wearing the colors of The Community stepped in front of the would-be dishwasher and stared down at him. The gang banger had a pistol poorly concealed at his hip, and was a good foot and a half taller than Zach himself. Three more gang members stepped into the narrow space behind Zach, each with a weapon of their own. One lazily swung a chain back and forth. Another held a combat knife in his hand. The last brandished a crowbar, smacking it into his open palm with a malevolent grin that just screamed, "Yeah, I'm a badass and I'm about to fuck you up."

"Where you goin', whitey? Don't you know you gotta pay your respects to the owners of dese here streets?"

---

---

Before Alexander could answer his boss's question, a new body entered the bar. Peculiar, since they hadn't opened yet. This man didn't look like a customer that lost track of the time, nor a drunkard that couldn't care less when it was time to drink. No, this looked to be a man of business. He was short, only about five and a half feet tall, but had the air of a keen killer about him. His skin had an olive complexion, pointing toward a Mediterranean upbringing, while his facial features pointed noticeably toward an Italian heritage. The man's eyes looked sharp, as though they were constantly scanning for trouble through their green lenses. Finally, the man wore a nice Italian black suit, and matching hat. Soon as he entered he spotted Natasha and approached her.

"<Please forgive my intrusion, ma'am,>" he spoke in a flawless Russian accent. "<I have been sent by my employer to speak with you as his representative.>" The man tipped his hat, revealing a thinning hair line and bald spot resting in the very center of his cranium.

---

---

The Broker opened his mouth to speak, only to be cut off by Love Craft. Rather than get upset by the rude intrusion, he gave the strange teenage parahuman a nod of acknowledgement, then answered the question posited to him by the mercenary. "Think of yourself as insurance, Mister Headhunter. I would rather our team come out of an engagement happy and healthy. Thus it it appears that a situation has become too dangerous, I place my trust in your judgment to pull your trigger. I also acquired you for your skills as a spotter, as well as your military tactical training. I do hope this explanation sates your curiosity."

---

Listening to the boss list off the abilities of the actors was rather amusing. In essence they had a shapeshifter, an assassin, an invulnerable girl, and, well, little old Chatterbox. He smirked to himself at the thought, wondering what the others thought about his power. Of course, it's not like the Broker knew, or had explained, his power en full. It amused him that either the man had chosen not to release the information, or simply did not know--and given how careful he'd been in concealing the secondary uses of his power...well, it was more than unlikely that the Broker did not know.

Eyes turning as Headhunter spoke, Chatterbox's head shifted slightly, its alignment diagonal. 'Amusing,' he thought, glancing back at Broker briefly, before he noted the man's response. This was all looking very...rehearsed. Broker, it appeared, had truly thought through everything carefully. 'So we all have a role to play, do we?' he thought, an eyebrow raising slightly. However, there was something else he had noticed during his observations: Hesitation.

While the Broker appeared to be a flawless public speaker he had, twice now, seen slight hesitations in the man at moments in the conversation. This in mind, he pushed his hand against the wall and teetered the chair forwards by shifting his weight, doing it all swift enough that the chair's legs made a harsh and attention getting --smack-- against the floor. His legs uncrossed, he leaned forwards, smile remaining on his lips while he aimed his gaze at Broker. Even with his goggles on, the man ought to know that his attention was aimed towards him, their boss.

Then, with the attention of everyone present, he spoke, "This is all very rehearsed, Mr. Broker. It's curious really. Even the rules. Oddly specific, makes me wonder what you've got in mind for your end game." The palms of his hands met his knees and he pushed himself onto his feet, tilting his chin up to look down at Broker, before lowering it and walking across the room, his shoes striking the floor just loud enough to be attention getting, but not quite loud enough to get overly obnoxious unless drawn out. "I have to admit, you're a mysterious man. Never heard of you till you contacted me. I figure it's probably the same for the rest of you, yeah?" He glanced back at the round table where the others had sat before taking a long drink of his coffee, finishing it. It was harsh going down, but hot and a sense of energy and life filled him as it settled in his stomach.

He reached the table where sat the coffee pot and began operating it, starting another brew. He kept an eye on its progress, letting the faint, but noticeable sound of pouring liquid emanate before he turned to the others again, leaning against the counter.

"Of course, we've all just met, so I doubt you'd dish on what your plans are. You'd much rather string us along I think. Or are you more gracious than that?" His smile spread ever so slightly and as it did the coffee pot reached the fullness that would be required to refill just his cup. He glanced at it lazily, glanced back at Broker, making eye contact, and then retained it while the pot filled further.

After roughly five seconds he turned his attention to the pot, stopped its brewing, and poured himself a cup, leaving too little in the pot to make another full cup, while he filled his completely before taking a sip. He remained there, leaning on the counter, crossing one foot over the other.

After another sip of coffee he lightly set the cup down, his act largely finished, that was, except another small point, "Of course, don't let my words fool you, I'm glad to be here, it's a sort of recognition you see. I'd imagine it is for each of us. It's sort of like being pulled into the big leagues, even though no one knows us yet, this gives us a chance to truly be known, to be infamous, rather than to be brief flashes of light that soon die out with the blink of an eye." He shrugged slightly, "Oh and do excuse me, Broker, I'd just much rather be upfront than act the willing pawn until annoyance brews only to turn to hostility. I'm sure you understand." With that he gave one last smile, before falling to silence whilst sipping his coffee from time to time, his smile much less prominent now--though still there.

It seemed almost never to falter, but that was merely because of the crowd. After all, the curtains had been drawn, so he ought to put on a show.

Ruben sighed as he began to respond to Decoy. A long message was to follow.

>Alright. Here's the deal. I live in a nuclear bunker 40 feet underground with the only exit being a ladder climbing upwards, and as previously mentioned, I have had my leg amputated. It is excruciatingly difficult to climb a ladder with only half your leg. I made a drone, called it "The Eye", it's what is currently in your hologram or whatever. It's how I see the outside world from inside this bunker. I wanted to know information about the PRT and the Wards, maybe sign up as some kind of assistant or whatever for you guys. This drone cannot open automatic doors, as it is not picked up by their detectors, and even if it could, judging from how your Wards reacted, I would've been immediately slain on the spot. I went to do recon for myself by going through the vents, and I recorded it so I can see it later. I went to do more, but I cannot navigate the vents without noise. I found Epsilon in the shooting range. I thought she was a Tinker and she could help me.<

Overlook managed to fly out of Decoy's hologram and simply landed on the ground in front of it. The drone looked to be low on battery, which was surprising, considering it has a long battery life. Maybe holograms screw with its battery.

>I found an abandoned military base with a run down VTOL jet. I wanted to be able to get it without raising alarm so I could actually live somewhere that isn't a bunker. The issue? I'm not a Tinker, I'm a Thinker. I damn near blew my hand off building The Eye, and I cannot make the technology for the drone that could get me the VTOL. That's where Epsilon came in, I wanted her help with getting the technology so I can get the drone so I can get the VTOL.<

Overlook typed another message, this one being shorter than the other 2.

>I took a risk coming in here, and it was stupid, but I'm tired of this bunker. I want to help people without being confined to this closed space. Do any of these messages clear anything up?<

Sofia paid attention to the Broker's explanation, despite the fact that it was rather long winded, as soon as he started she got the vibe that speaking like this was something he was rather used to. She wasn't entirely sure that looking out for each other's best interest was a wise idea either, these people seemed as varied as any group of parahumans she'd ever heard of. Her normally docile face started a little at the mention of the money they would be receiving. That was... A lot. Plus it seemed to be indicated that this was the poor end of their salary. Sofia had no idea what she'd spend that much money on, but the ability to have it could be nice. Everybody began talking in succession after the explanation was finished and Sofia waited patiently. The headhunter guy seemed to not approve of the not killing rule, which was to be expected. The pretty boy, lovely, explained his preferred title. He seemed like one of those... what was the name? Fun boys? Play boys? Ah she didn't remember. Then the guy that liked talking, proved just that. He brought up the rehearsal feel that Sofia had gotten as well as more or less stating that they were probably all pawns. Sofia had taken that for granted but whatever. She took another sip of- oh. Her coffee was gone. Oops. Sofia eyed the extra cup of coffee. Eh. Seeing as the chatter had stopped for a moment Sofia spoke up, "You may call me Sofia." She didn't particularly care if these people knew her name. It wasn't like it told them anything she cared about keeping secret.

Tulpa extended her hand towards Epsilon, shaking it quickly without a firm grip. She smiled at the newly anointed Ward's words, her earlier self doubt momentarily forgotten; a true miracle.

"...when we get a free moment, would you like me to help you with your costume?"

Epsilon could have cried, absolutely stunned by the sincere and caring nature of the words spoken. Her cheeks flushed a deep red, and she could not have been more thankful for the mask. Epsilon simply nodded in response, resisting the urge to hug Tulpa and explain her whole life story. The drone's operator's words melded into the background, and so did any of the other words Tulpa had said. Oh god she had powers, wonderful, new, and interesting powers she could explore!

”For the sake of my allies I am restraining my burning fury...do not give me cause to loosen my grip, interloper!”

Oh god. Epsilon had let the nicest person she had met in a long time deal with Elliot. His power. . . Once you got past the archaic grandiose words he used, his power was. . . Just. . . Not everyone won the lottery, so to speak. Thinking about powers was never a happy affair though, because then Epsilon began thinking of her own power and the shortcomings associated with it. So far she had made a gun that indicated who was a parahuman and who wasn't. There was also a set of goggles that barely ever worked, and a work space that she could toggle powers off and on inside of. She hadn't made a single personalized product yet, and that was tearing Epsilon apart. She could feel it. Her power truly shined when she made something to directly improve someone else's power.

"Oh Snapple! Wards, with me! Decoy, there's trouble nearby, but we've got this!"

A breath escaped Epsilon's lips as she glanced over to Sonar, looking confused. He gestured to the elevator, and Epsilon looked quickly back at Tulpa before moving to follow Sonar's lead. The elevator it was then, as Epsilon never had a reason to stop trusting Sonar.

"Team, I'm really sorry to pull you around like this, but a high ranking member of The Community stepped into my hearing range and he's got a gang with him. I'm listening in on their plan, but only getting bits and pieces of it right now."

Epsilon's hesitant pace suddenly became purposeful as she took off, running to the elevator. Sonar gracefully held the door open, and Epsilon arrived before its first attempt to close. Truth be told her 'running' looked more than a little silly, as she wasn't used to extensive exercise. Despite that, the self defense training she had been receiving had been more than a little exhausting, and was definitely helping the endurance situation. Epsilon's breaths already were struggled as she turned around from the back of the elevator, and she quickly removed her mask in order to breath easier. Epsilon waited patiently for the others.

Martyr: PRT Headquarters

Dean huffed in annoyance as the enigmatic Epsilon holstered her gun, stopped providing back up, and ran into the new girl's arms. The least she could have done if she thought he had the situation under control, was hop into his arms. Even if she wasn't super attractive, she was still kind of cute, and the gesture was always nice.

It didn't matter. The drone caught his attention back, assuring the clone it had no weapon systems. He also offered to tell his whole life story, trying to garner some sympathy maybe? Well it didn't matter, Dean didn't care about him, and Tulpa confirmed it had no weapons on it. Even if she was wrong or lying, Margrave and Decoy were both on stand by and, as much as Dean hated to admit it, Margrave was suited for this job. Dean sheathed his blade and made his way back over to Sonar.

The situation was wrapping up it seemed. Decoy had things under control, the ladies were having a chat, and Margrave was on stand by just in case things went bad. But things never slowed down for a hero. As soon as Sonar started to suggest they actually go do some damn training, his little ears perked up. He had heard the footsteps of a Community nasty near the building and insisted going to clean up. If it truly was a high ranker, than Dean was absolutely down with taking a little walk outside.

As Sonar dashed off, Dean followed, quickly catching up and reaching the elevator at just about the same time as his leader even though he was farther from the door. Guess this was why he ran track for so much of his life. As Sonar hit the lobby button and held the door open for the rest of his allies, Dean checked his equipment. Everything seemed to be here, blade, boomerang, grappling hook, everything. As Ira walked through the elevator, slightly winded, Dean stretched himself out a bit. He had no dreams of dying by a sprained ankle.

Connor left his little hovel trailed by two zombies, Frank and Derron. Frank a no-name heavy weight boxer was a hulk of a man muscles straining against the fabric of the hoodie he wore. Derron was much smaller, a young gang banger skilled in cruelty and robbery, and a good shot with a gun. The trio wandered the streets for a few hours while Connor waited for a new job to ping on his phone. While he wandered he spied a few Community gang members, his curiosity piqued he ordered Frank up to shield Connor and Derron.

they trailed about a block behind the community gang, following them inconspicuously. It was made easy by Frank, dressed in a simple hoodie to hide the stab wounds he earned last week. The huge man walked in front of Necro and his other zombie obscuring them from the community gang. Connor carried his tools of the trade in his backpack and held what appeared to be a motorcycle helmet made of bleached bone. The rest of his armor had been reshaped to be concealed under his heavy trench coat. He pretended to chat with his other zombie, trying to make this morbid situation seem normal. He looked over at his other zombie, and muttered "How screwed up is this man, walking the streets with corpses." The zombie glowered at him, and groaned but only because he couldn't tell Connor off with a jaw that was wired shut.

The trio trailed the Gang for under an hour before they turned down an alley, Necro sighed "I should have brought more of you if the fireworks are about to start." Frank only laughed cheerfully, which annoyed Connor the dead are not supposed to be happy. Connor slowed a step and started hacking into a rag he hastily pulled from a pocket, the labored cough of the dying. Once the coughing subsided he pulled the now blood stained rag from his face and dabbed the drops of blood speckling the corner of his mouth. "well, lets see what happens" he said as he turned the corner to observe the brawl that was just starting.

The bar grew silent as the intruder opened the doors. All eyes were upon the new man as he approached, with the majority of the people present casually moving their hands to be in position for a shootout. Nobody drew their weapons but it was obvious by looking that they were all armed, or at least most of them were. Natasha herself did not make such movements, instead taking another sip from her glass of beer. As the Italian greeted her, one of the young men sitting at the bar stood up and walked to the "employees only" door nearby, exiting the room without a word. Two of Natasha's guards stood up from their seats and slowly made their way around the table they sat at, positioning themselves between everyone else and the front door as they took new seats. The obvious changes in demeanor and positioning were indicators of defense. There would be no way this new man could leave alive if the Russians desired.

Natasha herself, on the other hand, was quite calm and had no immediate changes in her outward demeanor. She always had an intimidating and frosty atmosphere about her and there was no discernible change with the newcomer. After taking one more sip from her drink she finally responded. "<Sent by your employer,>" she repeated, matching the Russian language this Italian man was capable of speaking. "<I have twenty minutes. Who do you work for, what do they want, and what do I get in return?>" Of course she was direct and to the point. Nobody that would track her down in this manner for a meeting would be talking about any of the legitimate businesses that she runs. It was obvious that this man's boss wanted to make some kind of deal with the Bratva in Denver, otherwise they wouldn't go to her. "<It would've been better to meet me at my office in the evening if you wanted to talk business.>" The older man poured another glass of beer and approached the Italian man. "Drink." The drink wasn't tampered with, though Alexander's gesture was threatening nonetheless.

Whether the Italian took the glass or not, the old Russian set the drink down on the nearest table to the man before retreating back behind the bar counter again. Natasha finally finished her glass and set it down, now being able to give her undivided attention to the unnamed man. "<I do not get much time to relax, so I would appreciate if you don't waste my time. Understand?>"

---

With the situation swiftly being taken care of, with Decoy supposedly wrapping it all up, Evelyn had turned her full attention to the team, particularly Epsilon, who stood before her. At the girl's response she smiled beneath her mask, but before they could speak any further she heard Margrave's rather obnoxious words, followed by Sonar's apology. However, she was more struck by his use of the phrase 'Oh snapple,' which elicited a quiet giggle from the girl, before she cleared her throat and followed after her teammates--everyone seeming almost used to it. She supposed the life of a hero was more fast paced than that of a civilian...admittedly she kind of liked it. As she followed, it began to strike her that she'd be having her confrontation with real villains today, on the same day she'd joined the team.

It made her stomach fill with butterflies, but it also made her frown beneath her mask. They hadn't had a chance to learn each other's powers so it was likely going to be a bit...haphazard a confrontation. Or...well, none of them knew her power, she supposed. With this in mind her projection continued its stealthy movements, guided by her thoughts, and grazed the others lightly, always at their feet and out of sight. It made no sound and was only a faint silver light.

She loved how inconspicuous it was. Although, its nature and her use of it also meant that she might seriously startle her fellow wards--squee!--when she did reveal it in its...glory? She wasn't sure how to classify her projection in that regard. Was it frightening? Was it glorious? She frowned slightly, having entered the elevator after Ira already. She made a point to stand by the girl, and as far away from Margrave as possible. Although, she supposed she could make him uncomfortable and more awkward by standing closer to him.... She shuddered slightly at the thought, the idea at least a little crude and repulsing to her.

She didn't like him. He had not made a good first impression, nor second really. As her thoughts turned to him, she glanced his way and smirked to herself, glad that he couldn't see the look. It would be fun finding ways to put him in his place, but she would need to be careful that she didn't start falling low enough to bullying. That wouldn't do, no not at all.

Realizing she'd gone on a tangent, she pulled herself out of those thoughts and considered the powers of her teammates...except Dean, she didn't like how his power felt, so she avoided him...for now.

Epsilon was a tinker of some sort. The projection was giving her impressions relating to other powers as it touched her other teammates. Maybe she pulled inspiration from other powers? She wasn't sure, but she decided to shelf that information for later. Maybe she could just ask he--the thought began, before suddenly stopping as she turned to see Epsilon remove her mask. She was adorable, even if she was perspiring and breathing rather heavily, she was adorable. She wanted to say something, but it probably wasn't appropriate given the circumstances. Maybe later?

She bit her lip, frustrated with her inability to express, or entirely understand if she was being honest, her feelings. I mean, she just wanted to give her a compliment. A positive comment, build a bit of rapport with her team, give the girl a boost in esteem. Show her own good side.

Her thoughts were tumbling over themselves before she forced her gaze away, though it had only lasted a second or two. She watched the numbers light up on the elevator as they traveled, counting down the floors.

It was a little cramped with six people in the space. Just a little though. She returned to her former train of thought, though she was a bit more distracted now. She had her projection overlap with Margrave's foot, and she almost chuckled aloud as the information flooded in.

Contact based transfiguration. Object alteration.

Was the initial read, then more came, revealing the nature of that alteration to some degree. The impression her projection gave her was, well, pretty underwhelming though she could admit it might be useful in some scenarios. Still, how could he be so stuck up and full of himself with a power like his. It would remain the only truly mysterious thing about him, she thought with a mental chuckle.

She moved her projection again, avoiding everyone except for Alessa. She closed her eyes before making contact, after all, with a cape name like 'Messiah,' she likely had something considerably less underwhelming than Margrave.

Focusing and breathing quietly and steadily, she moved the projection's shadow to contact Alessa and then the information struck, as if a dam had broken and her mind had been directly in the path of the great deluge.

Protective absorption. Focus, energetic. Physical limiter. Control appropriation. Non-adaptive control method. Upwards limit, irrelevant. Dimensional access. Energetic storage method: Dimensional. Access threshold: Neural interfacing. Ranged application.

All in just a split second before her eyes shot open and she stumbled forwards, hand moving to the metal railing on the edges of the enclosed elevator to steady herself. _"Woah," she gasped under her breath. What she'd gotten was a lot more than even she'd thought she would. Her gaze now aimed at the ground she noticed the hazy silver glow of her projection and noticed that she had reflexively had it shift out of contact with Alessa. She moved it entirely out of sight, figuring that some of the wards, and probably Sonar who would have heard her gasp as if it was right in his ear, might take notice and comment.

She probably looked like an idiot...and a strange one too. Though, she supposed none of them were exactly normal. It was weird how that comforted her, she thought, as it seemed to make others so much more comfortable.

Regaining her composure she lifted her head and took in a deep breath, ready to face any questions head on. If they asked what had happened maybe it would give her a good chance to explain her power before it scared the crap out of them out on the field.... Maybe.

The black man he had noticed earlier stepped in front of him, towering over Zach menacingly. The human garbage before him spoke of tributes, and had the nerve to call Zach whitey. A breath escaped his lips, nervousness mixing with excitement. Today he didn't even need to look for the trash he was to take out. It had rolled up to him. Despite himself a smile flickered quickly across Zach's mouth. With slow, deliberate motions he reached behind his head, pulling his hood over his head. He glanced over his shoulder and saw three more of the thugs. Shit. To win this fight he would have to incapacitate three bags of human waste with just his fists.

He wouldn't end up hurt, unless he broke his hands, but this was gonna be exhausting. If only he could steal one of their weapons-God, that was actually his only choice right now. Zach made his decision, moving forward to punch the 'leader' in the stomach. It was a sloppy punch with barely enough force to knock the wind out of someone, and if he missed he was going to stumble for sure.

Well, it certainly seems like Ira and Lyn are hitting it off well! Alessa thought to herself, smiling at their interaction with one another. She certainly wanted Lyn to feel as welcome as possible, after all... the more friends they all made, the better. Though on that note, she'd not missed Tulpa's somewhat dismissive comment to Margrave earlier. As she'd said to the girl already, he meant well, and even if his attitude was a bit much, she hoped Elliot wouldn't just be dismissed as a terrible person in Tulpa's mind. That, and... well, she hoped he wouldn't discount his power either. It didn't live up to his bluster, true, but it was still useful in its own right! Tinkers hate him! And, well, he wasn't really liked by many other people... ahem.

But the moment passed, as Sonar confirmed that Decoy had the situation under control, only to call the Wards to him again, this time to deal with what sounded like a much more major security breach. A Community member! Those guys made up the majority of Denver's troubles, it seemed, and even Alessa had a hard time finding anything good to say about them. With one so close to the PRT headquarters, surely nothing good was about to happen unless they stopped it. Alessa stepped into the elevator with that in mind, and it began its descent toward their next fight. Amongst other things, she saw Dean checking his gear prior to entering the elevator, and Ira removing her mask to allow herself to breath easier... for a hero, she was perhaps a little out of shape, judging by her reaction to simply running a few feet. Her costume may have had something to do with that as well? Alessa didn't really want to judge too hard...

A gasp from Tulpa distracted Alessa from her musing, and she glanced over briefly, before re-averting her gaze toward the floor as a means of focusing herself for the fight rather than being distracted by her thought... then she frowned. It looked, for a moment, like some strangely-placed light had been on the floor, only to vanish from sight near-instantly. She blinked a few times, checking to see if it hadn't been a temporary glare imprint from glancing at one of the lights in the hall, then shook her head. She was sure it was nothing, maybe a trick of the light in the elevator itself... And speaking of light, I ought to get myself disguised, Alessa pondered. Steadily, her eyes began to glow a bright white colour, not blindingly so, but enough that her entire face was obscured for the coming fight. There weren't exactly any other preparations to make - make sure she was disguised, make sure she could put up a heat shield at a moment's notice, and remember that her power had the potential to be excessively lethal if misused. And she didn't plan on misusing it.

---

'It does. Thank you again,' Headhunter stated, quietly sipping his drink as, for some insane reason, Chatterbox chose to make a rather large scene. Yes, of course they were subordinate to the Broker; that was the point of being hired by the man, surely? He paid them money, they did his bidding. The most basic employer-employee relationship around. And so what if he'd never heard of him before? He'd never heard of David Bjornson either, until he was hired to kill the man. Still, Raymond wasn't exactly impressed with the chatterbox, and he figured the Broker wouldn't be either.

For that matter, neither was the nameless girl on the team, who shortly after the prettyboy ceased his prattle introduced herself as Sofia. No longer nameless, then. 'Nice to meet you, Sofia,' Raymond said fairly congenially, at least by his standards, which might appear to others to be fairly refined thanks to the volume his voice lacked. 'Do forgive me for not introducing myself as readily as you have. My identity is valuable knowledge to... a few people.' Technically true, if "a few" meant the majority of governments around the world, the US in particular. Still, if a government was considered a person... it wasn't, if he recalled, but he could pretend it was, and that made things a lot easier for him in this particular case.

In the end, there didn't seem to be anything to worry about. Just as the razor-sharp, unfathomable wit of the Margrave expected, Decoy stepped up to handle the intruder. An inkling of disappointment filtered through Elliot's head. In his pocket, his latest ingenious innovation begged to be used, but for now he would be obliged to bide his time. Of course, it wouldn't have been much use against a metal drone, but dealing with it would have been a cinch, anyway. Letting his arms fall, Elliot shrugged, tilting his head to the side slightly as he did to maximize his indifference. For once, though, he said nothing, and a moment later the courageous Collin started speaking, anyway. The boy, two years his junior yet somehow his superior (he thinks himself above I?), more or less backed him up in his flawless estimation of the situation, but halfway through vindicating Elliot, Collin paused, his previously unbothered face seized into a mask of shock.

He then uttered a sorry excuse for a swear that left Elliot to agape to gripe before Collin was already halfway down the hallway. ”Bleck,” he mumbled as he began to pick up speed. Could you say anything less cool? Most kids love cursing nowadays.” Still, if something set off Sonar's sonar, that meant something was afoot that could probably be solved by excessive force. The thought of a little excitement was more than enough to put a little spring in Elliot's step as he followed. One hand he jammed in his pocket as if he were strolling on a breezy day, and with the other, his ears abuzz with Collin's explanation, he grasped his brow to prevent his blinding speed from sending his cap sailing off. For all of the derision slung his way, the Margrave would be the first on the scene and the last one left standing. Well, after Collin. He was the only one who knew which way to run, after all.

Of course, this entire rush went to waste when the Wards surged into the elevator, barely a stone's throw away from the training room. Refusing to allow his bubble to be burst, Elliot kept his hands and his stance exactly the same even as he stood still in the descending elevator car, ready to sprint out and keep running as if nothing had every happened. Even when an odd noise issued from Evelyn, and odd behavior followed, he didn't even look at her. His performance in the upcoming moments would be vitally important. With a power like his that commanded denigration rather than respect, and which had limited application, any second in a fight could be his last. The trick would be to appear to be full of confidence even if none sustained him.

As soon as all five of his teammates had boarded the elevator, Sonar removed his arm from the door to allow it to close. The blasted thing had been pretty insistent on shutting, and had begun making beeping sounds from being held off too long. Once they were moving down though, all was calm. Calm, but not peaceful or pleasant. This was the foreboding feeling before the storm, along with all those other overused cliche metaphors. Now that they were descending, Sonar began to focus, adjusting his helmet to better control his hearing.

Upon Evelyn's small gasp, the leader of the Wards lifted his head up to give her a small but gentle smile, the sort you use to reassure someone. "Don't overexert yourself before we fight. It's useful to get to know your team's abilities before an engagement, but having your head on straight is better." To everyone else, his lips moved but no words came out. To Evelyn, it was as though he were standing right beside her, whispering in her ear. This was a minor use of his powerset, one that didn't come up very often and very few knew about.

Once Alessa began to light up, Sonar addressed them all. "Yes, we should follow Messiah's lead. If anybody has any preparations, make sure you do it now." He then lowered his head and closed his eyes, clearly concentrating on some invisible task only perceptible to himself. After a moment he began to speak, but his words were not his own. The hesitation in his voice clearly indicated that he was repeating someone else. "'-We be doing this so close to the PRT?' New speaker. 'Do you doubt my orders? My power?' First guy again. 'No, but there's, like, ten capes in that building. We got twenty of us, and you boss, but you're the only one with powers.' Second guy again. 'How would you like me to make it nineteen of us?' Small crowd murmuring fear."

At that moment the elevator door opened and Sonar rushed outside without any hesitation. The lobby of the PRT was well designed and quite pretty to look at, with its great big window-walls, colorful potted plants, and marble tile flooring. A few PRT officers wandered around while a small group of guests entertained themselves. The guests immediately cheered as soon as the Wards came into sight, a few of them moving in closer trying to snap photographs or get autographs from anyone that would give them the attention. Unfortunately for them there was danger afoot, and these heroes they loved so had to do the very thing they were loved for: They had to confront it.

"Eyeblight," Sonar announced into the Ward's communication device. "We're dealing with Eyeblight. They're beneath us in the flood drainage system!"

---

---

The Broker observed the scene put on by Chatterbox with a look that could only be described as a professional poker face. His eyes followed the charisma-endowed villain with every flourished movement. Upon each distracting, rude sound the performer made, the Broker gave no indication that it was a bother, or even that he had heard it at all. He merely waited, patiently, for Chatterbox to give pause. Finally the opportunity arose when the blonde man took a sip of his coffee after a rather ill conceived statement about pawns. In response, the Broker stood and began a slow applause.

"Bravo, bravo," he said, his tone dull as bone, so bored. "Your performance was certainly... Well delivered. As a man of the stage, you have proven your merit." The group's benefactor then moved toward the small kitchenette and began brewing the coffee once more. Did he have something against Chatterbox's wasteful attitude, or did he merely wish to prepare some more? Regardless, the man returned to his seat once the pot was brewing again, dropping the extra fifth cup off as he had passed Sofia. Clearly he had paid attention to her eyeing it on the counter.

"I have absolutely no qualms in discussing my own end game plans. That is, so long as you are in. Of course if you are not in at this point then I will have to pay Mister Headhunter here a bonus to rectify the issue. Which reminds me," The Englishman's voice trailed off as he examined a Swiss wristwatch on his right arm. After observing it for but a second he addressed the room once more. "We'll be having a fifth guest joining us any moment now. They believe that they have been invited for the same reasons as you, but in fact have a personal vendetta against me. Entertain them for a minute or two, would you please? Once they are properly acclimated, I will required your services, Mister Headhunter. For a 50% bonus, of course."

Almost as if it had been timed with superhuman precision, the door opened up at that moment and another figured walked in. The new arrival was a tall, muscular man wearing an armored costume of black with blue boots, gloves, shoulder pieces, and chest insignia. His mask was similarly designed and covered the entirety of his head, leaving absolutely none of his features exposed. Small spike shards of ice protruded from the costume's shoulders and belt, somehow refusing to melt at room temperature, emitting a small thin fog around them. The man took a few glances around the basement room, shut the door behind him, then approached the table.

"Ah, and our final member has arrived! Excellent, excellent. Please, introduce yourself to your new team!" The Broker's normally calm, smooth, and unflappable attitude had shifted to one of absolute joy and glee. If he normally had the air of a professional completely detached from his emotions, now he more resembled a child seeing their first R rated movie.

"The name is Everest," spoke the man in the icy costume, his voice deep and gravelly.

---

---

As Overlook piloted The Eye away from the hologram, it flickered, then reappeared directly in front of the drone once again. For some reason or another, Decoy was pretty dead set on refusing to allow Overlook to see anything. At least while the two were still conversing, anyway.

The state of Colorado has many military bases. That said, I find it difficult to believe one is abandoned, especially with a multi-million dollar jet, an extremely expensive and valuable asset. Even if what you say is true, it's government property. Taking it for yourself would be another federal offense, something you appear to have an affinity for.

A moment passed before another message came through.

I am currently reading your files. So far, your background checks out. Luckily for you I am a reasonable sort. You're much better off with me than the primary tinker out in, oh I don't know, Brockton Bay. Just don't tell Armsmaster I said that.

Another pause, and another message.

Well Ruben, I believe we can make a deal.

---

---

"<My apologies for bothering you in your free time, ma'am,>" the Italian spoke, taking the drink that had been forcefully offered to him. "<But it is as my boss says, you never truly have any time off.?" He began drinking steadily, just as instructed. Funny how he had been given conflicting orders in his encounter with Natasha Burkova thus far. Drink, hurry and don't waste my time, those two suggestions did not exactly compliment one another very well. After all, you offered a drink as a sign of hospitality, to draw out the engagement, to be friendly. The Italian laughed inwardly at the paradox of it all.

Setting the glass down, he addressed Natasha once more, maintaining eye contact with the Bratva leader. "My name is Benito Buceli. The man that I am representing today is a high ranking capo in my family. The public knows him as the supervillain Purge. I understand if you have not heard this name before, as both you and he are new to this city. We have recently relocated from Chicago, while I understand that you have recently come from the motherland, no?"

Benito looked about the bar, his eyes training on each of the men Natasha had stationed there. He made sure to take special mental note of the one that had disappeared behind a door. After only a second of getting comfortable and glancing around, his eyes were back on Natasha. "Our requests are simple. We wish to extend our influence in an effort to reclaim old glory. Purge understands this area is under your control, and so I am his envoy requesting permission to operate here. As for what you get in return, your benefit is silence."

---

---

Perhaps Zach had caught the bigger, stronger man off guard. Perhaps a forward attack was the absolute last thing the thug had expected. Perhaps he was overly confident and let it happen. No matter the reason, Zach's punch struck the large black gangster right in the stomach, exactly as planned. The thug bent over only slightly, exhaling just a bit. He had felt the blow, but it hadn't really hurt him that much.

"Fuck you, asshole!" called one of the thugs from behind. "Nobody hits Murderface!"

A second later, Zach felt a crowbar collide with the back of his head with enough force that it probably would have killed a normal person. Good thing he was far from normal.

Wandering eyes drew back to Tulpa, and Epsilon smiled slightly. The mask felt smooth in her hand, and distracted her as she glanced back at it. The material over the mouth seemed solid, but a porous material covered it, allowing air to move through it. From the side you could see through the material, and from the right angle you could probably see Epsilon's lips, though just barely. The light of the elevator was harsh, and kept her eyes low as she leaned back against the railing. A sigh escaped Epsilon's lips, and she slipped the mask back over her face.

Epsilon found her eyes on Tulpa again and watched the girl bite her lip as their eyes met for a moment. What was that? She wondered quietly, tilting her head slightly in interest. She watched Tulpa's face carefully, trying to read it from the odd angle she was at, but she couldn't distinguish much from the girls expression. Epsilon's eyes strayed and she studied her other teammates, all looking relatively normal. Do I look normal? Jesus, what does normal even look like? Her back straightened, and she didn't know what to do with her hands. They slipped into her pockets, and she started looking more anxious by the second.

Tulpa gasped, and Epsilon, again, found her attention on the newest Ward. She stumbled back, and grabbed the railing near her back. Epsilon hesitantly reached out a hand as if to help steady the older girl, but seemed to second guess herself, and brought her hand back to smooth her costume a bit. She, above all, was not inconspicuous. Epsilon's uncomfortable appearance seemed to reach a peak as she stared at the floor.

"Yes, we should follow Messiah's lead. If anybody has any preparations, make sure you do it now."

A soft shuffling sound emanated from Epsilon's direction as she quickly checked the belt she was wearing. She had her goggles, her parahuman identifier thingy, and-Shit. She didn't have her formula thingy. She had made a small batch of the chemical she had created that she used to nullify someone's powers, but she had left it in her room. She was gonna be absolutely useless in this fight, at least against a brute.

"'-We be doing this so close to the PRT?' New speaker. 'Do you doubt my orders? My power?' First guy again. 'No, but there's, like, ten capes in that building. We got twenty of us, and you boss, but you're the only one with powers.' Second guy again. 'How would you like me to make it nineteen of us?' Small crowd murmuring fear."

Sonar spoke, but his words were someone else s. Epsilon gasped in fear, looking surprised and scared. There were twenty of them? This was gonna be a tough fight, and Epsilon could hardly count on not getting injured. She glanced at the gun on her thigh, trying to hide the fear in her eyes. As he finished speaking the elevator doors opened, causing Sonar to leave the cramped elevator, the rest of the crew in tow.

As they left the elevator Epsilon quickly scanned the lobby, looking surprised by the civilians present. A few raised cameras to photograph them, and Epsilon turned away. This was gonna be all over the parahuman forums within the hour.

"Eyeblight,We're dealing with Eyeblight. They're beneath us in the flood drainage system!"

Sonar again, speaking into the Ward's communication device. Shit. Eyeblight was a tough cookie, this was gonna be a hard fight even discounting the twenty henchmen he supposedly had. Epsilon let herself fall to the back of the group as she tried to keep pace with the rest of the group. She didn't want to be part of the front lines, she wasn't resilient enough for that. Not in the least.

Love Craft: Icehouse Hideout

As Broker nodded to them, Frankie too nodded at Broker for his explanation as to why Headhunter was on the team. To keep them all safe. One had to crack a few eggs to get to the bottom of things, that's always how it went down, and if the kitchen got to hot to handle the Little Soldier Man was to put them on ice. Permanently.

But then something awful happened. One of the worst things to occur in recent memory. A moment so monumentally awkward that Frankie was unsure how to respond. Chatterbox, living up to his name, spoke volumes about the kind of person he was when they put on their public display. It was obvious he was pompous, his foppish clothing making much more sense now. He seemed to try every trick in the book to annoy Broker (none of them seeming to work) and insisting he wouldn't be strung along. He assumed they all wanted to be "part of the big leagues" when the truth couldn't be more different. Both of the team's other two members were fairly quiet people, and Frankie, as much as they liked to tease people, was only in this for scientific discovery.

A moment after Chatterbox finished his spiel, the quiet girl revealed her name, Sofia. In response to Chatterbox's display, Broker displayed a proportionate amount of snarky displeasure. He was not bothered by the actions (if he was he hid it well) and had no issues revealing his end game plans if Chatterbox was officially part of their club. Frankie was genuinely unsure if he was honestly. He certainly loved to be given attention for one...

But that didn't matter right now, there was, apparently, another member coming in. Except they weren't a true member, they were some sort of double agent bent on sabotage, if Frankie understood correctly. They were to make sure he wouldn't leave before the Little Soldier Man assassinated them. For a second, Frankie felt reprehensible. This was someone who didn't know what they were getting into, right? Maybe they could be trying to make amends? But then, they were a parahuman. And one had to break a few eggs to make an omelet, and their father would be quite proud...

The man entered the warehouse right on queue, and he was indeed a parahuman. A tall, muscular man, a woman's dream, and Frankie's dream too. He was a Breaker, one of the more interesting trigger events, as he seemed to emit cool, even air particles crystallizing on his form. He would be a very fun study.

Frankie took the initiative. As Everest introduced himself, Frankie stood up from their seat and began walking over to them. "Ah, last but certainly not least. It's very nice to make your acquaintance sir. May I say, you have quite the build~." They complimented, giving the villain a once over. "We've all introduced out power, mine being flexibility," The scientist said, stretching her flesh and giving it a slight elastic feel as they moved their hand over to stroke the victim's chest. "Anything you'd like to tell us? I ain't the kinda person to just kiss and tell, so you're secret is safe with me." They assured. In all honestly, Frankie was just getting themselves worked up, excited to pull their very first experiment with father.

In other words he was wanted. Did Headhunter think she was stupid because she was small and young? Not that she was riled about it, she merely found it odd that he'd seemingly dumbed things down for her. Sofia shrugged and turned her attention to the coffee placed in front of her. Oh, he'd noticed? Well that was alright. Sofia followed along with his explanation of what more or less amounted to their first job. Play housewife until Headhunter got around to killing the newbie. Simple enough. Said newbie walked in shortly, glancing around before introducing himself. Sofia wouldn't be surprised if he was suspicious, though he couldn't have known the rest of them had arrived at the same time, it should've been a warning since he'd come in obviously after they'd already been discussing something. Lovely seemed to take right to the part, practically draping itself over Everest. What a silly name. Just imagine someone saying 'Everest is coming'. The confusion would be ridiculous, was the mountain Everest getting closer, or was the villain Everest getting closer? Both were entirely possible. On the other hand with a name like Headhunter the same situation would be met with utter seriousness. Perhaps she was simply ridiculing him mentally to dehumanize him. It seemed to be working. Sofia considered that she should probably do something to assist in the matter. Hm. She could give him the coffee. But she wanted the coffee. Hm. He probably didn't like coffee anyways. Besides, surely Lovely and Chatterhead could handle it, they both seemed well suited to the role. Satisfied with the situation Sofia grabbed the extra cup of coffee set in front of her and began slowly sipping it. What was she going to do with all the money...

>Let's make a deal, then.< A smile appeared on Overlook's face as Decoy offered to make a deal. With the previous situation being so direct and alarming, it was a very pleasant change for once, because of the nice change of tone. Lets just hope this man is reasonable with this deal he's trying to make...