The man didn't even try to avoid the punch, and Zach smiled brightly, happy with the small victory. He stepped backwards, celebrating internally before looking the man in the eyes. He didn't seem hurt in the least, as if he had been bit by a persistent mosquito. No pain, just contempt was held in the human trash's eyes.

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

The crowbar collided with the back of Zach's head before he had time to turn towards the one who spoke. It didn't hurt, and truth be told it hadn't even touched skin. The crowbar wasn't deflected, but all of its momentum had stopped before it could harm Zach. The man suddenly fell back, dropping the crowbar in the process. The thug let out a cry of pain, his arms clearly damaged. It wasn't too surprising, as Zach's power seemed to stop momentum too fast for a normal human body to compensate for.

Zach reached down, picking up the crowbar as the thugs formed a circle around him. What had been four enemies had been effectively struck down to three, and Zach hadn't even started hitting yet. The thug he had turned his back on, as apart of the process of Zach grabbing a weapon looked visibly shook. He clearly did not believe what he had just seen, which was fair. Not every day did you see a young punk survive a lethal blow without a flinch.

The determined footfalls echoed down the alley as Zach approached the thug he had punched, rearing back his crowbar as he swung wildly for the head. The man ducked quickly, backing off to draw his pistol from his pants. The man quickly leveled the gun to shoot Zach in the chest, and the crack of the bullet echoed down the alley.

”I fucking hate people like you. Your kind, you dogs. You're less than human.”

A second shot rung out, and the sound of it ricocheting off metal was clearly heard. The sound was filtered by Zach's passenger so as to not hurt his ears. The boy rushed forward, clearly not impeded. He swung the crowbar again, hitting the towering thug in the hip. The men behind him had seemed to lose their will to fight, but the man in front of Zach lost his ability to walk. The man's hip bone was severely damaged, and the Zach didn't stop himself. He hit the man again after he fell to the ground, as a guttural scream of pain escaped from the lips of the garbage laid before him. The second hit shattered the man's hip bone. The third hit stuck the part of the crowbar normally for nail removal inside of the space between the lowest two ribs, and forced Zach to wrench it out. Blood had splattered across the alleyway in front of him, and across his face. His formerly clean hoodie was now stained. The screaming continued to escape the man's lips, and Zach turned back to the men behind him.

”Tell your friends” He said, trying his best to seem cool. His hands were shaking, and he looked more than a little terrified. I'm glad it was just these monkeys, I don't have to feel bad about hurting them He thought to himself, as one of the men who tried to kill him started to run.

The trash with the knife looked scared, maybe more scared of judgement by his peers than of Zach. He started to approach Zach, the knife held in a white-knuckle grip. Zach tilted his head in interest, not making a move to approach the man just yet. Screams of pain were still echoing down the alley, emanating from the man too unlucky to pass out.

"Man, my back is killing me," Bill mumbled, performing several basic stretches to relieve the stress that plagued his body. It seemed that trying to become a living weapon was a real killer, the weight from his Six Shooter was putting some real pressure on himself, especially on his back. As he was stretching, Bill was in the lobby of a private airport, it was a decent distance away from the populated city of Denver, but it did allow the more questionable passengers to travel without security or capes breathing down their necks. It provided breathing space for villains, more so Arsenal in general as he would have been caught as early as passing through the metal detector. Still, Carson arrived at his destination in a timely manner, Denver being the closest populated city that provided one of the many headquarters that sprawled across America. Though, it was truly going nigh impossible challenge that he will be preforming, not only was he going to try to exterminate every known cape in the world, but most possibly have to kill every single aspiring hero during his onslaught. It truly is an impossible mission, but that didn't mean too much to Arsenal. He didn't expect to leave out of this journey alive, whether in the end if he would wind up dead, or if he would still be considered alive by the end of his mission. Carson sighed, it was something that he would just have to think about after he had crossed that endless bridge, but it was time to start this mission. He donned his costume, opened the doors, and entered to this bleak future ahead of him.

Now within the confines of the city after a long drive, Bill saw that the movements were slow, the crowds were big, and the entire area reeking of pollution. However, he quite happy with all that was going around him. Bill never left his home, the only interactions with humans were the occasional teacher and the humble servants. It was all very interesting, experiencing something outside of just plotting the defeat of his father. Though, in the exciting front of the city, Arsenal knew that his vengeance was more of a priority over enjoying life. Soon, the car gently stopped, he was more than a few blocks away from the PTR Headquarters. He needed to take in the city's design if he was going to make his escape after the shooting. It would be outright stupid to just shoot up a building full of super-powered beings and just run into the streets without any plan of escape. Thanking the man for the transportation after paying him, Bill exited the car and into the streets of Denver.

Immediately, as Arsenal left the safety of the tinted car window, most eyes landed upon the costumed stranger. This situation was feeling just a bit awkward, too many eyes glued upon him as he started to enter the crowd of civilians. They were most likely trying to figure out if the costume was just worn by a regular person or a cape. Arsenal just kept on moving, memorizing the streets, alleys, and other points of interest while making his way to the PTR Headquarters. Still, he was getting more than second glances at this point, and was pretty sure people were trying to take subtle pictures at the strangely dressed person. Bill started to move faster, trying to break the line of contact from the murmuring crowd, but it seemed that their persistence to meet a live parahuman was greater than expected. So as soon as he could, Arsenal subtlety shifted from out of the crowd and into the shadows of a nearby alleyway. Taking the path less chosen, he tried to work his way into the general direction of the headquarters. He tried to turn into another corner, then a force slammed against his side, forcing him to stumble against the object. "Watch where you're running!" Bill hissed out, turning to the stranger before his eyes laid upon the situation behind the stranger.

A boy, no older than himself was standing over a bloodied, screaming man with a crowbar in hand. The scene looked quite brutal, Bill could tell from this distance that the screaming man had severe blunt force trauma to the hip, done most likely by the imposing person. There was another trying to fight for their survival, and the stranger that ran into him was most likely trying to save himself from the menace. Arsenal scanned the teen, his build wasn't something quite proud of in a fight, and his stance was something that of someone who had never fought in their life. Yet, there lied severely brutalized tough, older male without a single scratch on his body. It seemed that Bill had caught sight of his first cape, hidden away in the back ally of this vacant lot. He squinted at the individual, the Six Shooter whirring underneath the poncho, and soon yelled at the stranger. "Are you are hero?"

Messiah was glad to be able to set a good example as second-in-command, even if it was a minor precedent all things considered. Shortly after this, Sonar began speaking in words that were not his own, clearly the leader of the group and one of his lackeys. From the sounds of things, there were twenty one in total, though only the boss had any sort of parahuman power available to him... even so, the gasp Epsilon made as a result was clearly one of fear.

Messiah didn't have time to say anything to the girl before the elevator doors opened, revealing the lobby for the PRT headquarters, some agents, and a few guests with cameras. Faced with cameras whose images would probably be ruined by the light coming from her eyes, Messiah simply waved to the crowd as they cheered, paying attention to Sonar as he announced who their opponent was: Eyeblight, who could transform into a sort of scarecrow at will, as well as causing significant distress in those who looked at him. Strong, but potentially very weak to her particular ability... which was exactly the problem, in this case. In that state, she suspected she'd have to actually set him on fire to cause any harm to him at all, and she didn't know whether he had any safeguards against something like that. She certainly didn't want to kill him accidentally... though against the normal humans, a persistent wave of heat like a sauna would be enough to render them less viable in a fight, if she could make them sweat bullets until they passed out, or at least induce heat exhaustion. Not heat stroke, though. That would be too far. Not to mention the potential ways in which that could negatively affect her own team members, perhaps moreso for the costume, since it wasn't like Messiah could prevent friendly fire with a wide-area effect like that...

Speaking of teammates, Ira still seemed a bit on edge, staying near the back as the group began to move out. Considering her relative lack of abilities outside of her Tinker power, this was fair enough; even so, it occurred that perhaps she needed some encouragement. Messiah fell back to her, placing a hand on one of Epsilon's shoulders and asking 'Hey, you doing alright? You seem nervous,' whilst also letting out just a little bit of heat, a sort of warming pad in order to help calm her ally for the upcoming fight. She would have smiled in a reassuring fashion too, but the light and all. Indeed, she hoped she wasn't blinding Ira too much at this proximity, though she consciously re-angled the direction of the light from her eyes to try and avoid this.

---

50% bonus. If that meant 50% of the initial $100000, that was another $50000 for a single target. Rarely was any hit so valuable.

That was about as far as his thought processes got before the man walked into the room, in full costume, complete with what appeared to be armour plating, and emitting an aura of intense chill from his person. Of course this was a fifty thousand dollar hit, Headhunter realised. Normally, he was taking out opponents from more than a kilometer away with an anti-materiel rifle; here, he was all but trapped in close proximity to a target who could almost certainly freeze him solid with a thought, who he might not be able to reliably kill with the relevant weapons, and the idea began to manifest as mild claustrophobia. Finishing off his water and pulling up his face scarf, he continued his checks on the rifle as Love Craft made flirty smalltalk with the target, noting the androgynous character's own mislabelling of their power, at least if Broker's assessment of it was correct. As far as first impressions went, the strange white-haired teen seemed a little over-friendly, to put it mildly. Attractive, at least by Raymond's metric, but excessively touchy.

But that was neither here nor there. He had a job, and step one was getting in position. Putting the rifle back over his shoulder, he waited until Love Craft was done with their spiel, then stood to shake the target's hand, introducing himself in a suitably ironic fashion: 'I am Headhunter. I hope our careers together will be long and illustrious.' Whether or not the handshake was taken, he then took himself over to the wall just behind the target, leaning against it non-chalantly, and waited for an appropriate moment when the target was paying no obvious attention to him. Perhaps another one of Chatterbox's prolonged rants would give him the opportunity he needed...

The sound of struggle ensued as Necro observed with several big goons against this young man he was sure that he was dead. Which wasn't necessarily a bad thing, he was short on good corpses and he would make an excellent one if the goons didn't go overboard. As the struggle escalated he heard one of the goons refer to himself as "Murderface" which just sounded sad, like an insecure teen trying to think of a tough name. He pulled the bone motorcycle helmet over his head and re-shaped it into the skull mask he normally used, which also made him think how lame of a gimmick it was. Necro poked his head out again to watch and the kid was doing well, totally unscathed, considering his circumstances would mean parahuman. "So much for that" Necro whispered to nobody in particular. Frank the zombie glanced out from behind the corner as well, "shouldn't we do somethin' boss? kid looks in trouble"

Necro looked up at frank, "Yeah, probably." but he didnt direct his zombies to do anything so they stood idle with him. The fight continued and this kid yelling about evil, scum of the earth. Necro had to smile at that, he was no farther than a dozen yards from someone who uses corpses to do the heavy lifting. Now one man was laying on the ground with a shattered hip, incredibly painful but not life threatening at all. Then however a gun went off, Necro wasn't sure about how the kids powers worked but he knew guns where still a great equalizer. If you didnt have a suit of armor or steel for skin, bullets would kill you just as dead regardless how many trains you could lift. He directed his zombies to come up on the scene from the shadows, while they where not actually very stealthy the battle was plenty of a distraction for them to get closer. They sprang into action a few yards from the fight, just as someone else shouted into the group. "Damn it!" hissed Necro coming to a halt next to the guy with a broken hip. He didnt hear what was said but it was a less than helpful change of situation. He instantly directed Derron to investigate the voice, while Frank blew by the indestructible kid and tackled the guy with a knife. The zombie's bulk and super charged strength easily taking him to ground, with a pair of quick strikes from frank bashing the goons head against the concrete. Necro instantly knew the man was dead and could feel his corpse, if nothing else he had a third body if this became another brawl.

He knelt down, ignoring the kid with the crowbar, next to the guy with a broken hip. "Will you shut up! you are not going to die. you have a fractured hip and possibly a cracked femur, but the kid doenst look strong enough to break that." he said at the guy in agony clutching his hip. Looking straight past Zach "Frank, come pick this guy up we will need to get him to a hospital. I can't fix these bones without a surgical suite." After that he regarded Zach for a moment before moving on to examine the thug with damaged arms. He looked up again, first wondering what was taking Derron so long, then looking straight at Zach. "Im Nec-" he coughs heavily, spitting up a few drops of blood that show very clearly on the white bone of his gauntlets. He turns his head, stifling the hacking cough until it stops. "Im Necro.."

---

Yet, despite her hopes and fears, it appeared everyone was too much in their own little world--likely with her included--to truly say anything regarding her actions. She wasn't sure if she ought to feel relieved or disappointed, but then she heard Sonar, causing her to glance his way, only to see his lips moving, but no sound coming out.

His words were somewhat comforting as it meant that at least he had some handle on how her power worked, or at least what to expect...still, that was only one person out of five, not including herself of course. Her fingers drumming lightly on the handrail of the elevator, she waited for the door to open while once more marveling at Margrave's strangeness as he stood near the head of the group, in some weird stance. Then the room started becoming brighter and she glanced towards its source only to squint her eyes. It appeared that Ale--no, Messiah now, was using her power to hide her face.

Evelyn's eyes lit up a bit, though not even slightly as literally as Messiah's were, and she almost squealed with glee. Man was this awesome, she thought, marveling at the fact that she was among a group of heroes. Then the door opened and Sonar took the lead, with Messiah just behind as second in command, Margrave following right after. Epsilon hung back before Messiah moved to her side. She decided to take up a position between Margrave and Epsilon, putting her at the middle of the group.

Then came the cheers and the cameras and the questions. Her heart leaped in her chest and a smile spread over her face, though no one could see it. Her eyes were alight with shock and joy both as it really started to hit home that she wasn't just among a group of heroes, but that she was part of that group. However, she was pulled from the moment by Sonar's voice informing them of their adversary.

That and the fact that it was twenty others was valuable information. Swallowing hard she decided to take some initiative. "I can scout," she said before realizing just how vague that was. It made it sound like she would be personally breaking from the group, so she quickly added "...with my ability that is." It was awkward, but it got the job done, she supposed.

With that in mind she took in deep calming breath after deep calming breath. She let her body go partially on autopilot as she, for the first time, let her projection's silvery light be seen. It spread up from the ground and moved outwards like a shimmering mist of hazy light. Then before it could be fully registered or processed by anyone present it phased through the ground and out of sight.

She guided it, her sense of what materials it was moving through informing her of when to stop. When it met with the material of the large flood drain she made it stop within the ceiling and spread out thread thin tendrils. The rest of it spread out like a flat film just beneath the surface of the large drainage line, making it impossible to locate unless Eyeblight's power included something like a Thinker ability. once it had encircled the whole of the flood drain in a cylinder she had it extend the thing tendrils into the small amount of water, making them harder to see. They spread out and sifted over and through the floor. She did this until she located the precise location of each of the twenty individuals.

The most notable moment was when her power started feeding her information regarding Eyeblight's power. She had some trouble figuring it out, mostly due to the other information her power was feeding her.

Altered form. Weight phased. Force/strength: Static. Damage Threshold: High.

She managed to get before intentionally shifting most of her focus back to her body, where she took in an even deeper breath to regain her composure before diving in a bit more. The tendrils moved through clothes, hidden by them in the process. They were imperceptible so long as they remained within a substance, something she found very useful in the moment. It allowed her to try to figure out what sorts of weapons the thugs were carrying.

"Most of the thugs are armed," she said aloud, focusing on both projection and her body at once. She was more or less just following Sonar at this point, not paying much attention to other stuff aside from not tripping and falling on her face. Diving back in, Evelyn focused and spread her power just a little bit more. It appeared the thugs mostly had melee weapons, if not all of them, though she might be missing something. Then something else stuck out to her, people...and rope, the latter around the former.

Her eyes narrowed and she spoke, "Weapons are melee in nature. Also, they have hostages, roughly half a dozen. They're tied up with rope, if I'm getting this right." While she was fairly certain, her power was sometimes difficult to translate into normal terms like "rope," and "people," and "weapons," but she had been practicing a good amount just for moments like this so it was getting easier. With her information gotten she withdrew from her projection's senses somewhat and had many of its 'tendrils' move back into its mass so it could reconvene under ground.

She made a mental list of saved traits as they headed for their destination.

Flesh, energy absorption/redirection, form alteration(static traits, altered make-up), metal(hardness, conductivity), concrete(hardness, porous), air(water vapor, ethereal), water(fluidity, conductivity) as well as a slew of other things. She activated her communicator and spoke, "Sonar, Messiah, choose a time and give a signal and I'll provided a distraction so they can't rush us as soon as they see us." With that said, she focused on following their leader, things were probably gonna get pretty hairy, but if she had anything to say about it that wouldn't last too long.

---

---

Interesting, he thought, noting everyone's reactions, though his smile remained. Even when the Broker applauded, his tone dry as bone, there was only the slightest of twitches at the corner of his mouth. Still, there were only two likely possibilities, the first being true boredom, and the second being his using boredom to hide the truth. If it were the former than the man clearly had terrible taste, and if it were the latter than he was right. However, in the moment there was no time to truly ascertain which, especially if the man truly was so good an actor as to not reveal his true face even when met with truly vexing circumstances. When the man asked if he was in, he bowed low and gracefully, before rising again, with a smile and a nod of his head. "Certainly," he responded with ease, his own slight annoyance buried deep beneath the surface. How ironic it was that he had ended up annoyed as a result of his attempt to annoy.

His eyes glanced in Headhunter's direction, not that his gaze could be ascertained due to his goggles concealing his eyes. A small smirk formed before he returned his focus to the Broker, then shifted it to the new comer. Then, with a thought coming to him, he poured another cup of coffee, walked to the table, set it down, then walked back to his prior location. Once he was done, the Broker would have finished his explanation and so entered the man. In that moment, he closed his eyes and for just a second focused. He felt his voice change as mental gears shifted. A hum began as he made a merry little tune to himself, a sound that would be nothing more to everyone else, but strangely magnetic to the newcomer. He watched the proceedings, watching the others to action, waiting his turn.

It turned out that Lovecraft acted first, draping itself around the man who called himself Everest, even offering a false description of its power. He smiled as Headhunter made his quip, one that the newcomer would not appreciate. He chuckled to himself and walked towards Everest, extending a hand despite the ominous crystals of ice floating through the air around him. "It's a pleasure to meet you," he said, and his words flowed like spirits, intoxicating if too much was partaken. "I'm Chatterbox and I must say it's wonderful to finally meet you especially. The others are so interesting, you see, but your power intrigues me," he gestured at the spikes of ice on the man's costume and then made a wider gesture at the particles of frost coming off him, "The Broker mentioned it was ice related," he lied, "...but I am curious as to just how far that goes."

He paused momentarily, hand withdrawn if it had been shaken or not. Not once did he look dejected if the gesture was refused, but instead he would withdraw gracefully as if nothing had happened. He took a step back, sipping his coffee and looking the man over, before walking halfway around him and heading for his chair, making sure not to obstruct Headhunter's line of sight for more than a moment. When he reached the chair he spun it on one foot so its back faced Everest, before he sat down with his legs on either side of the back. He smiled at the man...and waited.

Preparations? A true master of war stacked the deck before the possibility of combat even clouded the horizon. Dozens of tiny preparations lay in patient, brooding wait all across the Margrave's body. His arsenal, invisible to metal detectors, unremarkable to enemies, and always growing as he discovered new ways to utilize his power, would continue to serve him well into the future. Intent on furthering his advantage, Elliot lent an ear to the Wards' young leader as he repeated what his ultrasensitive ears told him. He suspected that the enemies thought themselves beyond the reach of surveillance, and that in their false sense of security might be more inclined to let slip a few important details. In fact, whatever goon Collin zeroed in on dropped an embarrassing wealth of information, not only leaking the size of the marauding force but also those that composed it. Normies, Elliot condemned them disdainfully. How could a gang of ordinary people, unprofessional and unintelligent as this bunch appeared to be, possibly hold a candle to the best superhumans in the city? After all, even if the Wards were dealt with, the Protectorate's elite would swamp them easily. The deciding factory, Elliot concluded, was whether or not they had good guns. That detail would decide the entire battle.

When the door lurched open and Collin stepped out, the Margrave wasted no time. He shunned the people who surrounded the Wards, intent on snagging a good picture or a quote to feed into whatever news station, journal, or blog they represented. They served only as distractions, even if none, apparently, wanted anything from him specifically. His earpiece came to life, relaying the realizations of his commanding officer. Eyeblight, eh? First I've heard of him. No matter how eerie the name, we'll put this scum down before he gets the chance to make a name for himself. For him, we will mete out a grim fate. So focused was he on moving with the team that he didn't notice Epsilon falling back to let him take the point position. The inane small-talk of Messiah to Epsilon did not so much as reach him. How could the fools attempt bonding at a time like this? Evil was afoot, and wherever evil sprang up, there needed to be a prompt, ruthless heel to mash it back down. This was why the Wards needed him—someone who could do what no-one else could.

Together the Wards advanced, and only when the newcomer Tulpa mention that she could scout did the Margrave deign to give any of them his attention. He who had the information had the power, so with one of his fists slightly splayed against his lips in a gesture of absolute meditation did he listen. Satisfaction and assurance arose within him as he heard Tulpa's report concerning the foes' armament. Melee weapons, so long as not administered as a surprise, would do him no harm provided he could get sufficiently worked up. The hostages offered a new problem, but all the Margrave gave in reply was a hmph. The goody-goodies could deal with them. Once an avenue of attack was upon, the antihero would unleash a storm of steel the likes of which had never been seen before, mighty enough to devastate the entire enemy crew should they not flee in terror. "You may rely on me," he told his team through the communicator, "To ensnare their attention or to wipe them out. Whatever is required, a chosen one such as I shall not fail." His heart's beat began to quicken. To the Margrave it seemed like the notes of prelude to a thunderous song of victory.

"Are you a hero?"

The words came from the direction one of the black thugs had fled. A man stood there, a poncho over his chest, a sombrero over his head, and a bandana on his mouth. Something was off though, the bulges underneath the cloth didn't seem correct though it was hard to pinpoint in what way they were wrong. Zach shrugged off his confusion, and answered the man while shifting his eyes back to the waste with a knife.

"I'm not-These apes were trying to mug m-"

The words caught in his throat as something rushed past his left shoulder and tackled the man with the knife, catching both Zach and the vagrant off guard. The knife clattered to the ground, as the man fell to the ground, and quickly had his brains painted onto the alley floor. The creature stood from the scene, along with the corpse of the man it had slaughtered. A man came out of the shadows from behind Zach, kneeling down to talk to the man with the broken hip. As he knelt down the last thug glanced around, chain in hand, before thinking better of it and fleeing without a word. He was around the corner before Zach could react, and a sigh escaped Zach's lips.

"Will you shut up! you are not going to die. you have a fractured hip and possibly a cracked femur, but the kid doenst look strong enough to break that." The man suddenly glanced up to one of the corpses that was nearby and started speaking again. "Frank, come pick this guy up we will need to get him to a hospital. I can't fix these bones without a surgical suite." The man stood, turning to Zach for the first time, and introduced himself twice. The first attempt was unintelligible because of the coughing fit that overtook him. "I'm Necro.." He said, blood staining the man's bone sleeve. Actually the man seemed to be covered in what appeared to be bone, whitewashed by prolonged exposure to the sun. Zach shook off his surprise and responded to the man's earlier statement.

"Wait a minute, what the fuck is that about medical care? This man tried to shoot me, and he would have killed me if I wasn't-" Zach paused, skipping a beat before continuing. "Anyways this filthy ape doesn't deserve medical care. He deserves to die in the street, to be disposed of in the nearest garbage can."

Zach's hand that held the crowbar was still shaking, and he raised it slightly. A threat, not to Necro, but to the man who had recently stopped screaming. The scrap of a man almost whimpered, appearing more then a little pathetic. His attention suddenly shifted, and the young Kozel suddenly glanced over to the mysterious stranger.

"Wait a minute, are you with-" Zach paused again, before remembering the name of the skeleton clad man "Necro. Are you with Necro?"

The Italian man was polite and straightforward, finally explaining the situation once he switched to English. His name was Benito and he was working for a cape named Purge. It was obvious that the "family" they belonged to was the Italian mafia, but Benito was smart enough not to outright claim that. He was an expert, this wasn't his first rodeo. Natasha took a mental note that he already had some background information on her, though by all outward appearances it didn't seem that he knew anything incriminating or dangerous about her. It was still a minor detail but one of potential importance. "Yes, I inherited my uncle's businesses in America and immigrated here recently," she confirmed, sparing a quick glance to her subordinates sitting at the bar. They all were pretending to not be paying attention but it was apparent that they were listening intently.

Now it was time for business. As Benito finished his proposition she put her hand in her purse and withdrew her little PDA. It was a small Blackberry with tiny buttons that were hard to press, but it was a useful tool for note-taking and scheduling. There was a brief silence on her end as she punched in a few quick notes about the Italian mafia based on Benito's brief descriptions. She didn't take too long so as to make it awkward and quickly placed her attention back on Benito. "It is a bit misleading to say that I am the one in charge here," Natasha said first, placing the small device back into her purse. "We are a family, much like your own. We look out for each other and for our communities. I have merely come to own a few businesses here in Denver, you don't need my permission to start your own. But... we are a very protective family. I would hate to hear that somebody got hurt, you see. We keep our affairs in order and expect our communities to do the same. Violence is something that I... abhor."

"Not to mention that money is always a problem for some of us. We do our best to support our brothers but some still hit hard times. Just as I would hate to hear about anyone being hurt, I would also hate to hear about anyone losing their jobs or going out of business. We all have mouths to feed." Natasha looked down at her wristwatch to briefly check the time. She wasn't running late at all, but it was a force of habit for her to always be aware of the time of day. "If you still want my permission, then you shall have it. I do not mind having new neighbors. Just remember to tell your boss that our brotherhood here has many friends, some of them being quite... powerful. If there is no trouble then there is no problem." The blonde woman rose from her seat, drawing the attention of her entourage though none stood up immediately. "If you or anyone in your family wants to talk with me, they can call my office or stop by on weekday afternoons. I would like to meet this Purge man eventually, but I know what it is like to be a busy man. It must be especially difficult to go out in public when someone is in his position on top of that." From within her coat she withdrew a paper business card, complete with a phone number and the address of her shipping warehouse that her office was located at. It didn't look particularly impressive but the little white card got the job done. She held the card out for Benito, fully expecting him to take it. It didn't help that her sitting expression wasn't exactly friendly or smiling, so her stance had an intimidating tone as she offered him her business card. "Ah, before I forget I should warn you about Denver. There are many parahumans here, for better or worse. Your boss may want to know that before he makes the trip."

The young heroes emerged from the Parahuman Response Team's headquarters, bursting forth like a floodgate crushed beneath an awesome wave! The civilians that had been in the lobby attempting to get in close for pictures, autographs, and questions had been held back by the few PRT soldiers that remained in the area. A few attempted to break free from the holdings of the soldiers, but to no avail, and soon the objects of their desires had fled from sight. The people out on the street had been just as surprised and enthusiastic about seeing real life superheroes, but thankfully they exercised far greater restraint. It seemed they recognized that the young heroes were on a mission, that they were needed for some urgent situation. Nobody followed the Wards as they ran off, led by Sonar.

As Messiah fell back to provide comfort for Epsilon, Sonar smiled. Again he spoke, and just as in the elevator his words could only be heard by the specific target of his choice. In this case, that was Epsilon. "Don't worry, Ira. You're brilliant and capable! In fact, I'm the one that requested you be on this team when you first signed on." Whether or not he was sincere, the boy's words sure sounded friendly and honest.

Tulpa jumped in at that moment, offering to scout ahead using her ability, and for the first time the rest of the Wards were treated to seeing the projection she created as an extension of herself. The young heroine concentrated on following Sonar whilst also allowing information to flood her mind, bits of data collected by the projection and provided directly into her brain. The projection certainly provided a great deal of info, and even collected tidbits that Sonar had yet to discover with his incredibly invasive ability. "Melee, no guns. That's such a relief," the team leader commented, coming to a complete stop near a storm drain as Margrave spoke confidently into their communications.

"I know I can count on you, Margrave, the youngest of them spoke through quickened breaths. In only a second he had caught his breath, and stood up straight to address his team. Six years of experience really did pay off if a sprinting session like that didn't affect him very long. "Now we have an idea of what we're up against, Wards. I can distinctly hear twenty-nine different bodies. Twenty thugs with melee weapons plus Eyeblight, which means we have eight hostages tied up. They're positioned exactly thirty meters South of us, near the drain mouth where the water pours into the creek."

Sonar took a moment to make eye contact with each of his team, showing his steely determination and strong confidence. "It's rather lucky that we caught Eyeblight in such tight quarters. That means his natural agility and athleticism will be somewhat mitigated. I recommend a two-pronged assault. Tulpa," he lifted his head to lock eyes with the newest member of the Wards. "Since you volunteered, on my signal manifest your projection from inside the drain tunnel. That way, we draw their attention from the mouth entrance." He then shifted focus to the rest of the group. "While the Community is distracted with the sudden appearance of Tulpa's projection, I will lead assault team A through the mouth. I want Martyr and Epsilon with me. Martyr, if any of them try to escape, make sure they'll have to fight for it by plugging that exit with as many clones as you can. Epsilon, if there's anything you can do to nullify Eyeblight's shifting, do it."

The young boy that led the team once again shifted focus, this time to look at Messiah and Margrave. "Once they realize that we're blocking off the easiest escape route, they may try to simply charge passed Tulpa's manifestation. Messiah, you and Margrave are assault team B. Your job will be to back up Tulpa inside the tunnel in order to make sure none of them can get out that way. Your fire walls should prove essential, but remember that we don't know if Eyeblight's transformation makes him more susceptible to combustion, so be careful. We aren't trying to murder anyone." Sonar glanced right at Margrave, as if to accuse without actually accusing, then said, "I'm counting on you to make sure that none of the thugs can get in close enough to hurt Messiah."

With a deep breath, the team leader added only one more thing. "We all good with that?"

---

---

As Everest approached, the gang could feel the temperature in the air drop at least ten degrees. A noticeable chill emanated from the man, crystallizing water vapor in the air. Just being near him proved itself to be something of a challenge, at least for those not used to sudden drastic changes in temperature. While he accepted every handshake offered, it was clear to the others that holding his hand for long would prove to be unwise. His grip wasn't simply strong and firm, but cold. Ice cold. Not even that, but below zero freezing! Holding onto his hand for more than a few seconds threatened hypothermia.

One thing that Frankie learned when caressing Everest, apart from the extremely low temperature of the man, was that his mask turned out to be surprisingly expressive. The eyes shifted into bewilderment at first, then noticeably uncomfortable. Everest pulled back from Frankie's unwanted attention. "It's nice to, er, meet you... Whatever your name is." His deep, gravelly voice somehow came off as quite humorous as it increased in pitch with alarm, clearly disturbed by the shifter.

Everest appeared to be greatly relieved when he could turn his attention toward Headhunter, shaking the assassin's hand and nearly freezing his glove in the process. "Headhunter? I uh, think I've heard of you, yeah? You're a cape? Thought you were just some guy that was good at shooting things, though."

And then entered Chatterbox. Everest immediately perked up as the flamboyant, garish man spoke to him. The newest cape to the party turned his attention to face Chatter, and his strangely expressive mask showed that he was quite impressed. Relaxed, even. He gladly took the performer's hand, and to Chatterbox's detriment gripped it a bit longer than was necessary. By the time Chatter could pull his hand away, it was turning blue. "It's a pleasure to meet you too, Chatterbox." Then CB mentioned The Broker, and Everest's expression simply... Stopped. The more perceptive in the room could see that the man attempted to hide his emotions, but he trembled ever so slightly. If it hadn't been for the man's immunity to his own cold, one could be forgiven for thinking that he was merely shivering.

"I see. I wasn't informed of any of you ahead of time." Everest's vocals projected like a rock tumbler, grinding against the very air itself.

"That is merely one of the perks of being early," The Broker interjected, speaking for the first time since Everest had entered.

Everest stood silent for a moment, then spoke directly to The Broker. "You knew what I could do before I made my debut in public. That means you know who I am."

The Broker flashed a bored looking smile, nodded, then returned to a neutral expression.

"Inviting me doesn't make any sense, then. Unless..." Everest's eyes moved around the room cautiously, observing the other villains, scanning them for danger. Suddenly realization his him like a sack of bricks. "Oh shit!"

The icy cold cape extended an outstretched palm directly at The Broker with a sudden and great speed. As he did so, shards of ice emerged from his palm, flying outward with the speed of a bullet, like some sort of frozen shotgun. The shards of ice proved to be razor sharp, just as any crystalline object would be when filed down enough, by stabbing through the solid brick wall behind The Broker. As for the gang's employer? He sat in his chair, motionless, an expression of bored amusement plastered across his face only matched by a man dragged against his will to the opera that entertained himself by making up his own words to the story. Somehow, despite all probability, despite all possibility, Everest had completely missed his target with an area attack at point blank range.

The Broker seized the opportunity by seizing Everest's own hand. In response, the parahuman attempted to shoot another icy blast from his left hand, only to find nothing happened. "Wha... What?! What did you do to me?!"

"It is rude to attack your host," The Broker snarled, his normally calm and professional face contorting into some sort of mockery of a human being, highlighting what could only be reasonably called the unholy love child of rage and psychosis. "I was willing to give you a chance if you could kill the assassin, but you no longer have any role in this conglomerate, save as currency. Consider yourself terminated."

---

---

The messaging system remained silent for a moment. No new messages cropped up from Decoy, no notifications popped to let Overlook know that the Protectorate tinker was currently typing. The uneventful silence went for nearly a minute before the next message appeared on the monitor.

I have already sent in a small squad of PRT to your location to investigate. I will keep your drone here under my watch as collateral, while the squad arrives. Once they are there, we will talk face to face.

More or less.

I have no intentions of turning you in or bringing you in on charges, unless you give me reason to think you're a threat. The squad has only been informed that I detected an "abnormal computer signature" at your location that needs to be scouted, they are completely unaware of your transgressions, so they will treat you well. Once we can talk directly to one another, we'll iron everything out.

Didn't seem like there was much room for discussion on the topic. At least for now. Hopefully Decoy was as honest as he claimed to be.

---

---

Benito listened to Natasha's spiel, never once taking eye contact off from the Bratva lord. Just as she had clearly pegged him as mafia, he had clearly pegged her as an extraordinarily dangerous woman, and despite her claims to the contrary, very much the kingpin of the area. He deftly took hold of the business card she had offered, gave it a cursory examination, then placed it within the breast pocket of his suit blazer.

"I am glad you are so open to allowing another family business in the area," he complimented, giving her a nod. "I will let my employer know that you would like to meet him in person, but as you say, going out in public is... Difficult for him, though it has nothing to do with his ventures as a supervillain."

Benito stood, then placed his hat back atop his head. Afterward he set a crisp, clean $100 bill on the bar top. "I always appreciate good spirits, ma'am. Both literal and metaphorical," he added with a wink. "And a special thank you for the warning. We will remain ever alert for capes, and more than simply the Protectorate heroes. Now if you excuse me, ma'am, I must be going. I shall be meeting with The Community leaders for similar purposes."

Unless stopped, Benito would then make his way out the door, exiting The Penalty Box, and leave the way he came: within a 1995 Cadillac.

>Looking forward to it.< Ruben typed before he wheeled away, namely to his little workshop where he created his pride and joy. He quickly grabbed the plans he used for his machines and stashed them in a small folder, put that folder in a backpack, and put that backpack on his chair. It looked shady, yes, but honestly he had to keep these plans safe, for many reasons, but one mainly. He wanted that VTOL. He also removed the Overlook helmet and put it next to his computer, figuring that he could just pass it off as a form of gaming gear that he used to play Morrowind with. Lastly, anything that could connect him to his alias was going to need to be hidden as to avoid any suspicion. His computer was fine, he could just play some Morrowind to cover up while he waited for the PRT squad, but everything else needed to be stashed... then again... how many people knew of this hacker? He covered a few important notes but other than that he left everything as it should be. He loaded up Morrowind and began to play some while he waited for the squad to come and have at him.

"Just say the word, just say that word so I can blast that little head clean off," Arsenal thought to himself, the Six Shooter readied to blast the entire alley way into kingdom come. While staring down the suspected cape, he saw the slight confusion within his eyes, and glanced over to the jutting metal arms that were sprouting underneath his poncho. He would need to remedy that in the future, that Six Shooter of his will be used to hide his firepower, and use the element of surprise to take down unsuspecting heroes. Though, that was later, Bill had to worry about the present in which things started to get fairly surprising in a very fast manner.

One stranger had sprung out of the shadows, tackling the knife wielder to the ground and with two consecutive punches to the head resulted into the apparent death of the thug. Bill soon directed two arms to the bulky man, but soon the leader of the thug appeared in the suddenly crowded alley way. He appeared in all general purposes, a literal walking skeleton. Obviously, Bill deduced it was just a costume, but it seemed that the bones that costumed the figure were real. A villain? The costume seems to scream that he isn't just some friendly neighborhood hero, but his actions counteracted that evil appearance. Bill wasn't too sure at this point if he should start firing upon these strangers, the boy was soon asserting that these thugs were apes that deserve to die, not the most heroic attitude to fighting criminals. Are these people heroes? Arsenal was only getting more anxious as the situation continued, but soon the western character snapped out of it as he was asked a question by the supposed hero. "No," Bill muttered as he eyed Necro the Doctor, "Afraid I don't know this Necro one bit."

So, with the situation ever so slightly deescalated with the death of the thug, Arsenal scanned his surroundings once again, and this time he noticed another being hidden within the shadows. It was most likely another one of Nerco's goons, Bill shifted his glance to the poorly hidden being as he judged the distance between the two, and turned his head to Necro. "I don't know you, and I don't like people sneaking up on me," Arsenal stated, "So get your spook out of the shadows or he won't be leaving this alley alive." Bill was ready to fight at any moment, he was surrounded with strangers with one of them he was just about to try to murder, and he is still wanting to try out his new weapons on some capes in the secluded area. In all honesty, it would be a perfect time to test run the Six Shooter on real super powered beings, whether they were villains or heroes. Though Arsenal would need to read into the situation more before he would foolishly start a four versus one brawl.

Martyr: PRT Headquarters

Dean was relatively silent on the way down the elevator, too anxious to get to the villain. The only thing that snapped him out of his stupor for even a second was Messiah, who donned her disguise by lighting up her eyes. He almost forgot to put his goggles on himself, actually, but he put them on just in time. As the doors opened, the Wards were greeted by a ton of adoring fans.

Dean smiled brightly. This, this was exactly what he lived for. He gave a small friendly wave to the crowd as he listened to Sonar. They were dealing with Eyeblight, one of the guys Dean couldn't actually hit. Luckily for him though, there also happened to be twenty regular goons down their, and defeating armies was what Dean did best.

As the group surged forward, Dean hung back a bit with Epsilon, wanting whoever wanted to snap pictures to get their chance. Unfortunately, Messiah slowed up too, her light probably blocking any shots of the three. Dean huffed a bit, before picking up the pace and coming outside with Tulpa, Sonar, and Margrave. Tulpa proved her usefulness, scouting ahead with her ability and telling them what Sonar couldn't. They had hostages down there, but they also only had melee weaponry, allowing both Dean and Margrave to remain effective. Finally, she recommended herself as a distraction, which Dean had no issue with. If she wanted her weird silver ghost thing to be effective that was probably the only thing she could do.

Margrave reassured he would be willing to fill any role and, Dean, unwilling to be usurped, said his piece as well. "You know I'm up for anything. Distraction, meat shield, I could take down the goons or rescue the hostages. Whatever you need Sonar." Sonar then laid out the plan. Sonar, Epsilon, and Dean himself would lead Assault team A. Dean's secondary goal was to block the exit, but he was also supposed to be taking out their main forces, and would rescue any hostages if possible.

Messiah and Margrave would be Team B, striking from behind when or if Eyeblight's forces attempted to charge through the silver projection. While Messiah would be the one doing most of the incapacitating while Margrave would play defense. But then something of a realization hit Dean. After Sonar asked if the plan was cool, Dean cut in. "Wait, I know Margrave's power doesn't affect flesh, but when Eyeblight is wheat or whatever, can Margrave turn him into a toy? That would be really useful, that'd probably limit his mobility even more actually. If so, congratulations Mar, you might be useful for once."

Messiah’s eyes lit up not with happiness, but with an impressive glow. Epsilon stared for a second too long, and had to blink away the light’s affect. The ward dropped back before matching Epsilon’s pace, and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Hey, you doing alright? You seem nervous.”

Epsilon flinched very slightly, clearly not expecting the show of affection, and seemed uncomfortable at first. As the hand heated up she relaxed a bit more, her body getting progressively less tense as the seconds ticked by. She nodded dully at first, enjoying the touch as she kept her eyes on her feet, but then she responded to the question. Her voice was barely a mumble, and only those listening close would be able to hear her; excluding Sonar.

”Yeah I’m alright, just. . . What am I supposed to do against twenty armed individuals?”

Sonar spoke next, but his words. . . It was hard to explain. When he spoke so only you could hear it was almost intimate, like someone whispering into your ear. Luckily you couldn’t feel his breath against your ear, because that would be even creepier. Regardless Epsilon tensed as the words were spoken to-No. It wasn’t like being spoken to, it was like the words were being left in your head. It was distinctly more private.

"Don't worry, Ira. You're brilliant and capable! In fact, I'm the one that requested you be on this team when you first signed on."

Confusion blanketed Epsilon’s face as she processed the words. He sounded sincere, and he obviously meant for it to be comforting, but. . . It didn’t seem true. She pondered for a few seconds more, before Tulpa, who was directly in front of Epsilon, spoke.

"I can scout,"

A pause

"...with my ability that is."

The face of the young Japanese girl brightened beneath her mask, and she watched Tulpa as she. . . Scouted? Could she see things around her as if she was standing there? Could she look through the eyes of others around her? Epsilon was almost jumping up and down in excitement and interest. As she wondered a silvery light suddenly came up from the ground, just intense enough to be seen past the sun’s light. Before Epsilon could fully take note of its existence it sank into the ground. Her eyes shifted from the projection to Tulpa, watching her closely. The newest Ward waited a few seconds, and spoke as if from a distance.

"Most of the thugs are armed,"

Epsilon’s gaze fell in disappointment. Guns, they had guns, and she had no way to fight against that.

"Weapons are melee in nature. Also, they have hostages, roughly half a dozen. They're tied up with rope, if I'm getting this right."

A breath of relief escaped Epsilon’s lip, before her breath caught again at the mention of hostages. Hostages?! Why the hell did they have hostages? How long had they been planning this for, and how could these thugs expect to protect the hostages with Wards like Dean and Messiah around. As she was lost in thought, she was suddenly interrupted by Margrave saying something. Something Epsilon immediately disregarded, as she had more important things to deal with.

"Now we have an idea of what we're up against, Wards. I can distinctly hear twenty-nine different bodies. Twenty thugs with melee weapons plus Eyeblight, which means we have eight hostages tied up. They're positioned exactly thirty meters south of us, near the drain mouth where the water pours into the creek. It's rather lucky that we caught Eyeblight in such tight quarters. That means his natural agility and athleticism will be somewhat mitigated. I recommend a two-pronged assault. Tulpa,"

Sonar paused, shifting his gaze to, in Epsilon’s opinion, the current most interesting Ward.

"Since you volunteered, on my signal manifest your projection from inside the drain tunnel. That way, we draw their attention from the mouth entrance."

Epsilon’s jaw dropped as she stared at the newest Ward member. She could manifest a full-fledged projection?! Why had Decoy not told her this earlier! He deserves a talking to She thought to herself with an almost faux anger.

"While the Community is distracted with the sudden appearance of Tulpa's projection, I will lead assault team A through the mouth. I want Martyr and Epsilon with me. Martyr, if any of them try to escape, make sure they'll have to fight for it by plugging that exit with as many clones as you can. Epsilon, if there's anything you can do to nullify Eyeblight's shifting, do it."

Epsilon shook her head, recalling Eyeblight’s file. She responded quietly, just loud enough that everyone in the group of Wards could hear. ”No, not unless he is in his human form. But even then-No, I’m sorry. I came unprepared.” As she spoke, she shifted her eyes up to Sonar, but he continued without immediately commenting on the words Epsilon had spoken.

"Once they realize that we're blocking off the easiest escape route, they may try to simply charge passed Tulpa's manifestation. Messiah, you and Margrave are assault team B. Your job will be to back up Tulpa inside the tunnel in order to make sure none of them can get out that way. Your fire walls should prove essential, but remember that we don't know if Eyeblight's transformation makes him more susceptible to combustion, so be careful. We aren't trying to murder anyone. I'm counting on you to make sure that none of the thugs can get in close enough to hurt Messiah."

Epsilon didn’t notice the look given to Margrave, for her eyes had returned to her feet. Despite this she still listened intently, making sure she didn’t become a burden. She was, admittedly, a little bit disappointed she wouldn’t get to spend time with Tulpa, but at least she didn’t have to be with Margrave. Give and take.

"We all good with that?"

Epsilon made no verbal response, but simply nodded as she moved closer to Martyr and Sonar. As she moved, Martyr spoke, his words clearly directed at Sonar and Margrave. Despite this the ignorance in those words shocked even Epsilon.

"Wait, I know Margrave's power doesn't affect flesh, but when Eyeblight is wheat or whatever, can Margrave turn him into a toy? That would be really useful, that'd probably limit his mobility even more actually. If so, congratulations Mar, you might be useful for once."

Epsilon spoke next, sounding confident and a bit annoyed at the condescending tone. I mean, no one liked Margrave, but that didn’t mean you had to be a huge throbbing phallus symbol. She automatically used a teacher-like tone, sounding like a verbal pat on the head. Her voice died at the end as she realized how rude that could be perceived to be.

”No, no. Wheat is living material, and Margrave’s power doesn’t even work on dead flesh. After all, hay is made out of plant material.”

About time he figured out something was wrong. Sofia took another sip of coffee and looked at Everest scornfully from under her hood. However the sequence of events that followed was rather surprising. Everest shot a blast of icey shards that The Broker was somehow unaffected by, then proceeded to get his ass handed to him somehow. All very mysterious. Perhaps The Broker had sold his power. Another sip of coffee. Hm, but wasn't it their job to keep him busy? Well she didn't really care that much either way, it wasn't like she'd been a part of distracting him anyway. The Broker also revealed that if Everest had been able to hold his own that he might've been hired. Not surprising, whether it was an intentional slip to see their reactions or the simple truth mattered little. Sip. Sofia had decided that she would buy some more of this coffee with her money. Maybe buy a coffee shop. Half of Sofia was dozing off with abstract thoughts of coffee and spending money while half watched Everest with some sort of detaching interest, like someone watching ants struggle with a breadcrumb. Curious to see the result, but in the end not really being affected by the outcome either way. This should be a good chance for Headhunter to take a shot if there ever was one, Everest certainly wasn't exactly watching his back right now. Heck Sofia could've probably killed him if she had a gun and a little more training then 'point and shoot'.

Having left the public far behind and grown thrillingly close to the scene place where they would do battle, the Wards drew to a halt. Sonar, having stood straight up, came up a few inches short compared to several of his comrades, but the leaderlike imperiousness that filled him bid the others listen and listen well. The strategic atmosphere of commanders arrayed around a map in the war tent settled over the group, and the Margrave could not help but to don an assured grin that outmatched even his leader's. Putting his arms up behind his head with his elbows pointing upward, in the manner of someone reclining on a grassy knoll, the Margrave absorbed the plan of attack. He did not quaver in the slightest when Sonar delivered his orders. When he received from his leader a pointed look, Margrave took it to mean to pay special attention to his final ordinance: to protect Messiah from harm. A smirk took over his features. ”Child's play. My ally need know no fear.”

The instant Martyr opened his mouth, the Margrave got that sinking feeling once again—that he would find no camaraderie in the coming few moments. Following in the footsteps of so many before him, the blithering ignoramus completely misunderstood the Margrave's power, and, adding to his list of unforgivable offenses, slapped the label of uselessness on every single one of the Striker's previous endeavors. As much as he knew how little the Wards' leader would like it, this insult could not go unchallenged. ”It must be liberating to be you; unbound by the burden of memory.” Luckily, Epsilon was on hand to remind Martyr of the Margrave's capabilities, though he scowled to hear the words can't even issue from her lips. Nevermind...he'd show them. He'd show them all. Rounding on Sonar, he advised, ”Even now the criminal scum is at work. For the sake of duty, we should not delay.”

So, guard duty at one end of the tunnel. If things went south, a majority if not the entirety of the enemy force could attack at once. Already the Margrave's mind raced to think of countermeasures, and like a hungry kid wanting to get fruit from a tree given a stick, he had just the thing. Another one of his pockets held exactly what he needed to deter a headlong charge and mire the opposition long enough to chew them up and spit them out. Why even bother with Messiah when the Margrave could serve as both offense and defense at the same time? He longed to know. Alas, the mystery of his hyper-competence would not be solved this day.

---

As they stopped, Evelyn used the time to catch her breath as while she was fit and in pretty good shape, she still needed a brief breather. Sonar started talking and as she knew she should, she listened and did so attentively. Eyes locked on Sonar, she began to realize why the younger cape led them and not one of the others.

He really knew his stuff. Smiling a bit at the thought that they had a capable leader, she marveled once more at the fact that she was even here. It was pretty unreal, but she couldn't let it get the best of her...for now. Thus she instead focused on her own role and closed her eyes, still listening while she began to frame what she wanted of her projection. She again went over the list of traits she'd gained, not including powers. First she needed to decide its physical make up.

Flesh, energy absorption/redirection, metal(hardness, conductivity), concrete(hardness, porous), air(water vapor, ethereal, gas, freedom, light), water(fluidity, conductivity), and illumination.

Then, having run over what traits were available to her, she decided to frame what sort of thing she wanted her projection to be.

'It needs to be as non-lethal as possible, maneuverable enough to fight in close quarters in a small space, but durable enough not to be destroyed or damaged easily. Can count off making it too big, maybe eight feet max, but spindly...' as the thoughts went through her head the projection's shape began to adjust below the ground, forming into a seven foot tall humanoid figure, before forming four distinct limbs. It would be largely quadrupedal. 'It needs to have long reach either physically or in its power set, maybe lots of long limbs? Or maybe i should give it a weaker form of Messiah's power?' She shook her head, 'No, too dangerous, I don't know how it works well enough to use that to the best of my ability. Wait!' A smile spread over her face and as it did she started deciding on specific traits for the projection.

Durability(hardness+fluidity), illumination, light weight.

The projection's silver light, though out of sight, became more distinct and edges began to form, distinguishing where the projection ended and began.

With the traits in mind and more or less set in stone, she started sifting through the powers she'd picked up in her short time in the room with the protectorate and her teammates. However, rather than list them off as her power would, she ran through a mental list of the powers she knew about--focusing on those which she considered useful--before cross referencing those with what her power had told her earlier. 'Confidence manipulation; Sound manipulation and echolocation; Enhanced agility/changed state: damage resistance; Clone summoning(?); Energy absorption and manipulation; Unknown Tinker power.'

With them considered she began implanting certain aspects her power had told her into her projection, the process feeling as if her power had somehow created not a duplicate but a weird sort of resonance with the powers, which it mimicked in the projection. It didn't make much sense to her...or at least she couldn't explain it to anyone else. Nonetheless, her projection took on what she decided to give it.

Permanent changed state: Damage resistance+agility and flexibility. Sound manip' derivative: frequency(minor). Senses, standard+echolocation(minor).

With that the projection's form began to expand somewhat, growing a host of still insubstantial tendrils that ringed its body, spreading out to roughly 4 or so feet per extremity. However, beyond that she wasn't entirely sure how it would turn out once it manifested--though she had a general sense of it.

With all that done she opened her eyes, only several moments had passed, maybe eight seconds or so. It was a bit jarring really, but she managed to acclimate and look to her teammates, and then Sonar. "Ready," she proclaimed, her eyes shining with glee, she was excited. It was always interesting to formulate her projection, but it would be even better to see how everyone responded...and how effective it would be.

She hoped her practice would pay off. She'd soon find out....

---

---

Ah yes, precious, the response to his power was always amusing, though despite Everest's surprisingly actions that followed, Chatterbox's smile remained, the only change in expression being a raised brow as the spikes of ice entirely missed the Broker, and the man promptly closed the distance. "Interesting," he began, even as the Broker's demeanor shifted wildly, another thing that interested him greatly. Rising from his seat, a smile still on his lips, amusement writ across his features, the eminent Chatterbox approached.

He gestured at Headhunter in an almost dismissive fashion, though the gesture looked reminiscent of a gun. Entirely without worry that he might be hit, by bullet, cape, or the clearly deranged Broker, Chatterbox passed behind their boss to refill his cup, this time with water. He knew he shouldn't partake of so much coffee in such a short time. After all, too much of a good thing was never wise. He turned and leaned on the counter once more, observing the charade. He had a sneaking suspicion that Everest's entrance might have been a test as well as a chance for the Broker to showcase his power and instill in them a sense of how fruitless it would be to turn on him.

'Perhaps a redirection power?' he thought with a question, smile dimming ever so slightly as he looked on with interest and what would have been a thoughtful expression if they could've seen his eyes. He took another sip.

'Unlikely,' he decided, as Everest's reaction implied something far more sinister, and interesting. 'Perhaps a trump. Though a bizarre one I must say. Trump/Stranger perhaps, it would explain why he missed, but also why the power didn't work on the Broker.' He nodded to himself slightly. He remained silent throughout, he'd served as a slight distraction so Headhunter could aim, though he supposed he may have triggered the man towards action by mentioning their host. Oh well, it was incidental and likely inevitable. If the Broker hadn't wished to be noticed, than he would have left the room.

Chatterbox was certain there was more at play.

"Wait a minute, what the fuck is that about medical care? This man tried to shoot me, and he would have killed me if I wasn't-" Zach paused, skipping a beat before continuing. "Anyways this filthy ape doesn't deserve medical care. He deserves to die in the street, to be disposed of in the nearest garbage can."

Necro sighed, this kid was an idiot he was sure, righteous idiot the most dangerous kind. Frank lumbered past the kid and gingerly lifted the man with a broken hip. He was as careful as he could be, but a broken hip hurt like hell and the injured thug screamed in agony. Necro ignored Zach's tirade and told the guy with fractured hands that he just needed to take it easy for a couple weeks, no thuggery or he might break his arms for real. During the exchange he head the kid and the stranger yell at each other, and the stranger say something about a spook. Necro sighed again, Derron was supposed to be the sneaky one, "Derron, get back here. Leave the guy alone"

Necro rounded on Zach, "How stupid can you be?" He didn't give Zach a chance to speak, "do you have any idea what will happen if you go around killing as a Para? The protectorate or the response teams will come down on you like ton of shit. I guarantee that they do not care if you are killing Community thugs or innocents. Ill fight them when the time comes but i dont need some young punk to bring them down on me--" Necro was going to continue yelling at Zach, but was over taken by a coughing fit again. He hacked up blood onto his gauntlet again.

Derron comes out of the shadows and comes to join Necro and Frank. Without a word or even movement from Necro, Derron steps around Frank and helps the guy with cracked arms to his feet. As the coughing fit subsides he glances into the shadows where the other stranger was hiding, "Why dont you come out of the shadows and introduce yourself?" he then turns to Zach again, "What is your name anyway kid"

'You'll be alright,' Messiah promised, trying to sound as positive as she could to help ease off any further discomfort, accompanied by a bit of backrubbing with the hand that was previously on Ira's shoulder before it was eventually removed. 'You're a good shot with that gun, I think. Hey, if it makes you feel better, we could try discussing possible ability enhancements after the mission, eh?' Anything else she'd planned to say was interrupted by Tulpa's announcement that she could scout, with her ability that is... and then, a brief flash of light very similar to what had come before, in the elevator. Was that Tulpa's ability, then? Some sort of long-distance projection? It seemed like it, since she eventually came up with the suggestion that the thugs were armed with mostly melee weapons... and had half a dozen hostages or so. Shortly upped to eight by Sonar. Not a great situation, then.

Still, it seemed like Sonar, ever the consummate leader, had everything figured out already. Tulpa would manifest her projection as a distraction to the thugs; Martyr, Epsilon and Sonar himself would lead the charge against the small army; and Messiah and Margrave, alongside Tulpa herself, would be set as, essentially, backup guards, just in case any slipped by the main group or Tulpa's projection in an effort to escape the sewer system. Messiah half-wondered whether this was to keep them both out of the way - Tulpa was likely capable enough to keep herself reasonably safe, but if her power was in her projection, she would be comparatively squishy; Messiah's own potential lethality was directly mentioned, with regards to Eyeblight specifically, though it seemed more directed at Elliot than herself; and though Margrave was charged with keeping Messiah safe, and seemed confident enough in his ability to defend her, she admitted to herself that she was hard-pressed to think of any reasonable scenarios in which he would protect her better than she'd protect herself.

Though that hardly pardoned Dean's next comment. She knew the two capes didn't exactly get along, but it wasn't like Elliot's power was utterly useless! And on a mission, at that. Tight-lipped and frowning (though it wasn't exactly visible behind the light from her eyes), Messiah shook her head disapprovingly in Martyr's direction, not necessarily wanting to put him down more than was necessary for the time being. Epsilon, at least, put him straight on the topic of what Margrave could and could not convert into toy form. Sadly, that did exclude wheat, and never mind the Manton Effect on top of that. Which was a pity, since turning the scarecrow into, say, an action figure might have been particularly useful, if he started attacking assault team B after all.

Alessa was a bit surprised when Tulpa announced that she was "ready". Whatever that encompassed. So quickly, and what had she done to become "ready", after all? Perhaps something to do with the projection... Alessa hoped she'd get to see the projection in action. It seemed like an interesting ability.

With that in mind, it seemed like the only person left to comment on Sonar's strategy was herself. 'Well, it sounds like a solid plan to me,' she said confidently. 'I don't see why it shouldn't work as intended.' Not to jinx it or anything, she added quietly, though honestly, that sort of superstition was pretty backward in her mind. Unless some precognitive Thinker had gotten involved, she was sure there was nothing to worry about.

---

Literally freezing cold to the touch. Raymond could only imagine, as he nodded to the target's assertion about his powers and flexed his now-cold hand, that the man might be particularly dangerous if he wasn't taken out immediately. He did, however, have a plan for that... though he'd need one or both knives to pull it off without deafening everybody in the room. If those failed to get through the target's armour, well, they might all be in trouble.

That said, Chatterbox really was good at keeping the victim occupied. Alas, Headhunter saw no opportunity in which he could safely draw his weapons and strike whilst they talked- mostly the one talking at the other, really- and by the time he did, the Broker had been brought into the equation. The target's positive emotions immediately gave way to negative, and Headhunter decided he'd wait just a little while longer to make his move, remaining relatively unbothered as the target turned to look at each other cape in turn. Finally, his situation clicked, and he turned to attack the Broker at point blank range.

And missed completely. Almost inconceivable, but Raymond wasn't about to question it. As the Broker grasped the target's hand, he knew now was about the time to do his thing; silently, he drew both his knives, flipping them so both blades pointed up, and began to tread quietly toward the restrained man, noting the Broker's suddenly aggressive manner. Not one to get on the wrong side of. Almost before his final sentence was completed, Headhunter lunged, slamming both blades point-first into the man's neck. Be it miracle or shoddy armour design, both weapons slammed hilt-deep through the target's neck, and he yanked both weapons round and back to practically decapitate the target outright, just short of severing the spinal cord. No risks needed to be taken, even if the cape seemed powerless in the Broker's grasp. For good measure, Headhunter wrenched the right hand knife free, only to impale some other points in the target's neck five more times in sequence, before finally pulling both weapons away and allowing the man to fall limp to the ground. KA-BAR knives, then: thirty centimeters of good combat steel, and seemingly more than sufficient to pierce light body armour, at least at the joints.

That said, he considered as he knelt down to wipe his blades clean on the target's clothing, perhaps for next time I ought to acquire a more powerful weapon. If this happened again, and the target was more heavily armoured, or worse a damage-resistant Brute... the end result would be rather bad, he imagined. Now, what would make for a good gun under those circumstances... a handgun, of course, it'd need to be very strong at short range, ideally a pistol rather than a revolver for ease of reloading... ah, that was a thought.

'I think, Broker,' Headhunter stated, returning the KA-BARs to their sheaths and standing upright, 'that I would like to commission you to acquire a gun for me, if it's not too forward of me to ask. IMI Desert Eagle, Mark XIX, chambered for the .50 Action Express cartridge, plus an appropriate sheath and at least seven clips of ammunition. Time is not necessarily an issue in this matter. I imagine the cost of doing so could be removed from my payment for the recent hit.' Asking others to acquire guns for him was certainly a rare thing, but since he would likely be sent out on a mission sooner rather than later, he supposed it would be an efficient way for the requisite gun to be acquired as soon as possible. And as had already been established, money was no object in this particular job.

"Afraid I don't know this Necro one bit."

Without thinking Zach nodded, looking between the two, before settling his eyes on the doctor. He treated the two monkeys who moments ago were attempting to kill Zach, and it was absolutely disgusting. He shook his head, and stared up at the sky, clearly peeved. The good doctor, slightly pissedly, decided to hold court on the PRT's methods

"How stupid can you be? Do you have any idea what will happen if you go around killing as a Para? The protectorate or the response teams will come down on you like ton of shit. I guarantee that they do not care if you are killing Community thugs or innocents. Ill fight them when the time comes but i don't need some young punk to bring them down on me--"

The man broke into a coughing fit as a another spook joined the congregation. Necro told the mysterious stranger to enter the alley, then asked for Zach's name. A frown spread, and Zach resisted the urge to attack the man. He responded with a tone that could only be described as icy.

”I'm not telling you my name, and just by the way do you really think the PRT gives a single solitary fuck about people like this piece of shit? Children are dying in the streets, people murdered and mugged every day, people not as lucky as I am. But you want to waste medical supplies on this man; you don't even want to turn him in, are you actually loonie?”

Arsenal eyed the poorly hidden figure, the henchman called Derron slinking out of the shadows to obediently scurry away towards his master. This allowed Arsenal to further scan the area for any advantages that he could exploit during the supposed fight, the alleyway seemed to be mostly void of objects besides the broken shards of glass and litter that covered the dank floor. And there was still the problem of trying to fight against four strangers, each that could have some power that could overwhelm him with their numbers. He grumbled, there was nothing that he could do that wouldn't cause such a disadvantage for him during a fight, but an opportunity seemed to appear before the opportunistic gunslinger. Something that could possibly turn this four enemies into one enemy and a possible ally.

It was the argument that was going between the two, each had two differing opinions upon the value of life for the common thug. The apparent parahuman wanted them dead on the scene, yet Necro wanted to save these low life scum to avoid the glaring gaze of the super powered heroes of the PRT and Protectorate. Necro's objective was self serving in the end, but Arsenal could use the conviction of the apparent superhuman boy to his advantage. It was obvious that he despised the actions that Necro was performing, and that ice cold tone within his voice stated that he hated Necro as a person with a boiling aggression. At this point, Arsenal was going to try to use the aggression of the parahuman to attack Necro while trying to get the attention of the PRT with the ensuing fight. So, his great plan started, let's see if it works.

Arsenal left his shaded spot, allowing the full light to shine upon his costume. With an astute ear, one could hear the jingling and scraping of metal as he walked into the limelight. "I have to agree with the young spark here, there ain't no point in using the resources to save these common thugs," Bill stated, a light whirring sound emanating from under his poncho, "Unless these are your thugs Mr. Necro. You be trying to buy more time with the whole nice guy act to keep us in place, and all the while more of your shadowy henchmen will gather up upon us and jump us in this here dark alleyway." Arsenal smiled under his mask, vilifying someone was easy given enough information, but with your costume carrying bleached white bones and minions hiding under the shadows made things way more easier. However, it was time to act on the daring plan, bullets were suddenly flying through the air! Arsenal had fired his guns under his poncho, tearing holes in the cloth, but the bullets zoomed towards henchmen carrying the rather unlucky thugs. "The names Arsenal, the newest addition to the heroes!" Bill directed towards the unnamed kid, "Let's take down this villain together."