Love Craft: Icehouse Hideout

As Lovely's hand grazed Everest's chest, their hand was profoundly chilled, an expected result if his body was crystallizing the air vapor. It was distinctly worth it though, as Everest reacted almost like a child. One could even see his face contort under the mask, but even if they couldn't, his deep voiced was distinctly a pitch or two higher. They giggled a bit, and stepped away, allowing Little Soldier Man and Chatterbox to say their pieces.

Head Hunter's introduction went off without a hitch, and Chatterbox's seemed like it was going to be even better, obviously because of his ability, but at the mention of Broker the Iceman "Froze." He and Broker seemed to work through the fact that Everest had no real meaning here, and that his sole purpose was to be eliminated. Everest scanned the room one last time before realizing he was screwed.

Everest extended his hand towards the Broker, crystalline icicles shooting out of his palm like one of HH's guns. Lovely tried to cover Broker, or at least soften the impact by creating a wall of hard flesh, but they weren't near enough to either Everest or Broker, and weren't ready to exert themselves like that. Luckily, every single shard missed, instead being imbedded in the wall behind Broker. As everyone struggled to react, Broker grabbed the victim's hand and held him in a death grip with a look that screamed "even if you die a thousand times, I'll never be happy."

As the target was sufficiently restrained and... unable to use his power? Lovely bit their lip. Was that Broker's power? The ability to nullify another's? She would need to ask him about it, while being sure to not incur his wrath. If he could stop their shifting, then the fight would be... well, a fifteen year-old versus an adult man. But they was getting ahead of themselves, HH easily took care of the man, dissecting his neck sloppily. That was certainly a downside, even if he was the most eligible bachelor currently. Frankie wanted a partner who knew what they were doing with their hands.

But that didn't matter. As Everest lie on the ground, barely breathing, something felt particularly wrong about the experience. Frankie was no stranger to blood and guts. They had dissected animals before, and even taken a look inside their own body. But Everest lie there, still breathing ever so slightly, waiting to die. Frankie thought the least they could do was attempt to put them out of their misery. Frankie morphed a hand into a short, incredibly sharp blade and hardened it, before crouching over the almost-corpse. If Everest had any last words, he ought to say them now.

”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?”

Necro sighed, he was about to shout something back at the kid but it was going to be no use. A righteous idiot he reminded himself, he came in to help and this situation was turning sour. If trouble came he could raise at least one more goon to help him out. Seeing a dead man stand might even scare the kid off, that was a gamble though and he couldn't be sure of the other guy's disposition. 'Why didnt they understand what he was trying to do?' he thought to himself 'The thugs where not the problem, they had always existed, thats what the police where for'

the stranger came out into the light "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." Necro's heart skipped a beat, 'oh.. Crap' he thought very forcefully. As the stranger spoke he edged his way back, partially obscuring himself behind frank and began running the options. 'I have them outnumbered, and they don't know my abilities' his mind raced, 'i could make a break for it, no, these guys are asking for it. I could get up to 5 zombies if i had to, long odds for them even if they are parahuman.'

Just then bullets came tearing down the alley, "Damn it!" Necro shouted, even as several bullets struck the bone armor casting off shards of shattered bone. He held the armor together resealing the cracks, but it taxed his concentration a bit. He slipped fully behind Frank allowing the big boxer to absorb the hail of bullets, that did very little to damage him. Many bullets tore into the man Frank was carrying, killing him as well. "Alright asshole" Necro muttered, then shouted "Rise!" while drawing his 9mm.

The dead man with a shattered skull sat bolt upright, letting a glob of brains slop to the alley floor. Without a word Necro issued commands to his zombies, purely a mental link. Frank dropped the now dead goon and charged Arsenal, ignoring the bullets tearing through his flesh. Derron did the same, faster than Frank but a much smaller target. Necro hoped that the two zombies could bring him down while his other zombie tied up the kid. The one leaking brain matter rolled and grabbed at Zack with inhuman strength while Necro leveled his gun at Zach as well.

The Wards listened in on Sonar's plan, and for the most part had no objections or meaningful comments. When Epsilon stated that she actually did not have anything prepared to nullify Eyeblight's abilities, Sonar gave her an understanding nod, then continued on with the explanation of his plan. It was not the answer he had hoped he would get, but that didn't change their plan of attack. At least not by any meaningful amount. After all explanations had finished, the team decided that now would be a good time to start up with the bickering, incited by Martyr. Sonar sighed inwardly. Dean was a good kid, and had more experience than most of them in the group, so why'd he have to act so petty? Epsilon was quick to interject, speaking in an attempt to educate her peer but Sonar knew well enough that it could easily have been perceived as condescending. And then Margrave. Sonar tensed his mind for some grand display of rebuttal, prepared to tear into the darkest individual on their team, but Margrave's response came surprisingly low key. Well, that could have been a lot worse, the team leader thought to himself. Thankfully Messiah and Tulpa didn't join in on this pointless bickering. Such maturity was expected from the team's official second in command, but Sonar hadn't quite gotten a grasp on Tulpa's persona yet, so he found her professionalism a relief. Hopefully it wasn't just nerves from her first outing and he'd see a lot more of it.

"That's enough, team. We'll have time to point and laugh at one another back at HQ. Out here, we're a single unit." The youngest of the group projected his voice quite strongly, his tone shifting to take command. Was this the natural leadership skills he had picked up over a 6 year career? Or was his power at work in some way? "Teams, get into positi-" The young boy's eyes suddenly opened wide as something interrupted his train of thought. "Eyeblight is planning on taking the hostages to Patriarch. They're abducting anybody that they can to bring to their leader. 'They will join our community' he said. Aw fudge stick. Team, into positions."

With that last bomb of information dropped on the team, Sonar turned round and lightly jogged down the sidewalk, fully expecting Epsilon and Martyr to follow him. Their destination, the mouth of the drain off into a small riverbed, was about 90 meters away. Once they neared, Sonar slowed himself to a walk, doing his best to make no sounds. Finally he came to a complete stop at the top edge. Clouds rolled in, darkening the sky just enough to be noticeable, but not enough to make any distinguishable difference. At least, not out in the open.

"Assault Team B," he uttered once his hearing could confirm they were in place. He did not speak into the com system, yet everyone heard Sonar as though he spoke directly into their brain. "Prepare yourselves. Tulpa, now!"

Meanwhile, it was a bit of a tight squeeze for the Wards designated Team B to get into the storm drain, but not an overtly time consuming effort. While the immediately area happened to be illuminated (albeit rather poorly) by the natural light creeping in, deeper down the underground tunnel was much darker. The area that Sonar had said the Community and hostages were, 30 meters, was visible only by a couple small flashlight beams apparently being held by the gangbangers. The space was tight, no more than two or (or three for the particularly petite) could stand next to one another at a time, shoulder to shoulder. At this distance making out the individual gang members, much less the bound hostages, would be next to impossible.

Next to impossible for all save Tulpa's manifestation, that is. Once created, thanks to the enhanced hearing provided to it by Sonar and its proximity to the gang and their light source, the projection could make out each individual, though not in perfect detail. The eight hostages had been lined up against the right side wall, hands bound at the wrist behind their backs, while a simple burlap sack had been stuffed over their heads and tied around the neck. Each were bound to the next in a row, the rope reaching from neck to neck to neck. The Judging by size, they appeared to be six adults, one teen, and a child no older than eight.

The twenty gang members loitered about, some smoking, some shooting the shit with one another, and some doing fuck all. Most, though not all, held a weapon of some kind, which ranged from pipes to knives to batons and glass bottles, but not a single gun amongst them all. Well, all except for one. Eyeblight himself stood at the center of the group, currently in the act of inspecting his captives. He wore a costume of simple cotton and burlap cloth, torn apart into rags stitched together poorly. For reasons unknown to the public and anybody with a fashionable mind, Eyeblight had opted to leave his navel exposed when in costume, showing off tan skin covered in third degree burns. Holstered to his belt one could make out a combat knife and a simple 9mm pistol.

As soon as Tulpa's projection manifested, the goons react with a great deal of confusion. The ranks were not quick to realize their situation, but once they did attention shifted toward Team B. "Intruders!" As soon as Team A were to jump in from the other side, they would immediately notice that the majority of the gang's focus was in looking the other way. All except for a single mook that just happened to be lucky enough to see them coming, or slow and dumb enough not to react very fast.

---

---

Horrified. Desperate. These words seemed too tame, too inconsequential for Everest at this moment in his life. At the last moment in his life. The Broker released his hand, but Everest did not have the opportunity to try another attack as he found his neck suddenly screaming in pain. His first instinct was to fight back, to thrash against his attacker, but it was to no avail. Headhunter's knives had cut in too deep, caused too much pain, and so when Everest attempted to spin around to swipe at the assassin he only succeeded in causing further harm to himself. Bleeding profusely, his head dangling haphazardly from where his neck had once been, Everest slumped to the floor.

Though Love Craft closed in, having transformed one of its limbs into a weapon to deal the final blow, Everest's eyes instead hung on to the only figure he could see from his position: Sofia. Whether or not she met his gaze didn't really matter, for what he said next he said to himself in delusion. Only those that bothered to listen closely, through the gurgles of blood, could make out the faint words spoken. "They said... These powers... Could kill... My... Enemy... Why... Cal..." Everest ceased to speak. He ceased to move. Ceased to be. A moment of silence pervaded the room now.

"Well that was eventful," spoke The Broker, breaking the silence in his usual professional manner. He had taken to adjusting his tie, combing his hair, and recomposing himself in general. This mood swing of his was incredible, a true sight to behold. "Thank you for your service. Ronald Dahl, former owner of the Icehouse. He didn't take it too well when I purchased this property out from underneath him. Such a shame, really. If he had been more agreeable, I was going to offer him a place in this little business venture of ours. I might have even allowed him the property back, in a managerial capacity. Miss Sofia, is it possible for you to 'ignore' the blood through the floor? That would save us a good deal on cleanup I think."

---

---

Overlook's preparations were well founded. If the PRT squad had seen some of the more sensitive information or equipment he had around, that could have proven to be catastrophic on a personal scale. Thankfully he had the foresight to ensure that didn't happen, which meant that as long as Decoy was an honest hero he shouldn't have anything to worry about once the squad arrived. After he took his precautions, Ruben was able to get in a good ten minutes of Morrowind (of course, always just enough to become invested but never enough for it to have been worth it) before he was interrupted. The cameras and sensors around the bunker picked up an armored van parking nearby. A squad of three soldiers exited the vehicle, armed with pistols and some kind of spray can dispensers, then began to scout out the property above his bunker. This was it. He could either wait and let them find the entrance, or he could invite them himself somehow.

Well that was brutal, Sofia thought to herself offhandedly. Headhunter indeed. A puzzled expression came over Sofia's face at The Broker's request. Ignore the blood through the floor? What a very odd idea. Sofia had never tried anything of the sort before. She drank the last bit of her second coffee and set it down, standing up and approaching the body, and its pooling blood, slowly. "Hmm. I don't know. I suppose I'll have to try it." Sofia crouched down next to it and stared at it for a moment, wondering how to go about this, ignoring Lovely and her fleshblade thing. She cautiously placed a finger in the blood and closed her eyes. In that moment she was pleasantly separate from the world, separate from the smell of blood and the residual cold and everything. What was next again? Ah yes the blood. She let herself feel it on her finger, such an odd liquid blood. Hm. The blood... Ignoring the floor. Just like that the blood feel through the solid ground beneath it. However once it left her hand Sofia had no idea what had happened to it. The blood may have kept going until it went beneath the buildings foundation and liquidized then, or it may have become mixed in with the floor as soon as it left her touch. Hm. This raised several questions as to how her power worked in several specific situations. If she was serious about this she might want to find the answers to these questions. If. Opening her eyes again she swiveled to face The Broker. "Hm, I'm not entirely sure where the blood went. I haven't used my power for anything other than what you saw when you recruited me." She glanced at the body again. "Want me to take care of the corpse too?" Sofia asked plainly.

"Goddammit, just enchanted that sword t-" Ruben stopped talking immediately as he saw the armored car pull up near the entrance of the bunker. He began watching them like a hawk as they looked around for the entrance to his home. Ruben then realized that he had an issue he had to take care of. These men were armed, and what if they questioned how a 21 year old got all this stuff and why he had such a powerful computer? He had two options in front of him, one being letting them find the doorway to the bunker and then him coming face to face with angry armed soldiers. The only other option was for him to open that door and face them with confidence. Let's go with the second option, shall we?

The bunker door opened, as a light turned on beside it, occasionally flashing to indicate where it was. Hopefully these soldiers would know not to shoot on sight when there was an amputee around.

The older man was quite pleasant and even overpaid for what was a free drink. Natasha gave him a polite nod as he departed, taking a mental note that Benito and Purge were going to be involved with the Community as well. Important information. One of the young men at the bar reached out to the bill that Benito placed on the counter the second that the front doors closed. Natasha had her back turned to him but she could sense the movement. "стоп!" she ordered with a strict tone, surprising her subordinates and making them all freeze in shock. "Do not touch it." Now she finally turned around and approached the bar. "His boss is a supervillain whose power has to do with bacteria. He may have been a cape himself. Use gloves and put the bill in a container."

"Why is that? Are you going to give it to the cops?" the middle-aged man behind the counter asked, already crouching down to search for gloves behind the bar. In his motions he accidentally bumped the shotgun that was hidden underneath the counter, causing it to clatter on the floor. "Shit." After placing the weapon back where it belonged he continued rummaging through the shelves.

"Yes. I'll have it examined to see if it was tampered with. Just in case. It pays to play safe." As the man put on a pair of gloves and procured a zip-loc bag, one of the young men spoke up again.

"If we're supposed to play it safe then why did you invite them in? I've heard some stories about the Italians on the east coast. They'll be bringing capes, too..." This young man immediately felt as if he had made a mistake. It was one thing to question a decision from someone higher-up than himself, but his tone had come off aggressively and Natasha was known for not taking any back talk. He froze in place as the blonde woman finally switched her gaze from the $100 bill towards this man.

She kept an intimidating glare into his eyes. The tense silence felt like a thousand years to the man as he stared into the blue eyes of a woman who's killed men for less than what he gave her. "That is the point," she said first, initially making the man flinch before realizing that she was actually answering his question. "They will be bringing new business. New people to work with. If they don't try anything funny then everyone can stand to benefit. But even if they do get out of line and start hurting our industry... then we can initiate a hostile takeover and seize their assets. It would be a fight they cannot win, even when they import their capes. Our capes are stronger."

"Like Sonika?" the man behind the bar mentioned with a chuckle, sealing the $100 bill within the plastic bag.

"Yes, like Sonika." Natasha motioned for one of her guards to take the bag. The bald man promptly placed it within a hidden pocket on the inside of his jacket and stood to the side. It seemed that Natasha's entourage expected to be leaving shortly. "Tell Alexander to call Nick when he finishes with the restroom. I have an important shipment coming today and I don't want any of the kids going to the warehouse. Tell him to tell Nick to send them home." The man behind the counter briefly wondered why she couldn't just call him herself but it wasn't a question worth bringing up. Instead he just sighed.

"Da. I'll call him myself instead. Alexander takes too long anyways," he responded, already pulling out the wired phone receiver from under the counter. He set it on the bar and picked up the phone, taking a brief moment to remember the order of buttons he had to press to get Nick's number.

For the first time since she entered the bar, Natasha had a brief smile on her face. The key word being brief. Her stern expression returned as she walked away from the employees at the bar. The moment her heels began clicking against the floor the rest of her armed guards stood up and began walking with her. "Goodbye." Her farewells were also short and to the point, giving the members of the bar a sort of wave of dismissal with the back of her hand as she walked out the front doors. By this point Benito had been long gone, so Natasha did not get to see what kind of vehicle he was using. It didn't matter much as the security cameras probably got it, depending on how they were set up. Natasha was yet to use them and didn't know what kinds of angles they covered but she hoped they were placed properly. "Alright. Let's go to the station before we go back to the warehouse."

Martyr: Outside PRT ==> Drainage Pipe

Dean shook his head and gritted his teeth. That was definitely a poor move on his part. First of all, there were people possibly close enough to hear them, and being rude to another hero was generally not cool. Secondly, they were on a mission. Lives were at stake, not just Dean's but his team's, and the citizens he fought for. As Margrave threw his fairly mundane insult out, and Epsilon attempted to educate him like he was a child, he wanted to tell them "Sorry my super power isn't 'literally scientist'" or "Sorry I can't remember everything about your crappy power" he bit his tongue. He was being petty, and he'd have time for that back at home.

As the team got ready to move out, an epiphany came in the form of Sonar. Apparently, these people were being taken to the Patriarch, the big bad of Denver. With that, all teams moved out, Assault Team B leaving while Dean and Sonar (and presumably Epsilon, though he was running too fast to check) made their way to the riverbed. Once everyone was in position, Sonar gave the signal, and Dean rushed in.

Firstly, Dean threw his boomerang at the slow mook who had happened to be looking in their direction, accidentally knocking his chin upwards, though Dean was aiming for the chest. Luckily, this seemed to knock him unconscious, allowing Dean a couple of seconds to follow Sonar's orders. He cleared his mind, focused on himself, or all the other versions of himself, and 'pulled' as he liked to call it, giving him the command "block the exit, but don't kill anyone." In a split second, another Dean was summoned too, all three Deans looking exactly the same, and drawing their blades, blunt edge first. This was the unspoken agreement between almost all versions of himself. When one has nothing to lose, they ought to follow the leader.

With that done, Dean began focusing on how best to get to the hostages. All... 8? Dean wouldn't be able to tell unless Tulpa told him but he knew he saw some people bound near the right wall, so he would aim there. Unfortunately, there were some goons coming his way, including one who had picked up his boomerang. The goon threw it back to him, but seemingly had no experience, and the thing veered to the left, hit a wall, and bounced right next to Dean's feet. "Thanks, it's really hard for that one too actually come back because it's made of aluminum," Dean quipped, kicking the weapon back to a Dean behind him, who so helpfully tossed it into Dean's open palm. "So any help is really appreciated."

Martyr holstered his boomerang and began combating the three goons who were near him, blocking a strike from a pipe with one and summoning a Dean to get stabbed for him. Luckily, the stabbed Dean seemed to have enough willpower to punch his assailant in the face before collapsing, removing a combatant from the fight. Dean then swatted away the weapon of the pipe goon, leaving both of the two left defenseless. With a few simple swings, both were groaning on the floor, unable to get up due to broken ribs. Dean again charged forward, bent on saving the hostages.

At Sonar's command, Epsilon followed their group leader, arriving at the mouth of the drain soon after him. She followed his lead last, squeezing through after Martyr and Sonar had started. They came out into a wider area, less cramped but not very open regardless. As Epsilon came out, last of all, Sonar gave out the command to begin the conflict. Martyr hit a mook upside the head with his boomerang immediately, his aim admittedly quite impressive. He then summoned three other versions of himself as a thug tried to throw a boomerang at them.

Dean talked trash about the man's aim, and Epsilon groaned quietly, before shifting to the left side of the space, while pulling her gun out of its holster. She couldn't easily move past Dean, Dean, Dean, or Dean so she instead hung back a bit, looking for any hostiles trying to slip past their first line of defense. As planned, after a few seconds one of the grunts slipped past a mook who was fighting one of the Deans, who were quickly becoming indistinguishable. Epsilon raised her gun quickly, firing at his shin with a steady aim. Her ears rung as the sound echoed in the tight quarters, and the young Ward winced in pain.

Despite the small target, Epsilon got lucky and nailed him right where she aimed. He fell forward crying out in pain and unable to catch himself. He was far enough from his allies that Epsilon felt confident in running forward to pin his arms behind his back. She slipped her hand back to her belt, quickly removing the cuffs stored there, and incapacitated the man with ease. Epsilon struggled with the weight, but managed to drag him to the position they had entered from. As she finished she noticed that those were the only cuffs she had on her, and that was the last man she was gonna be able to 'permanently' restrain. She shifted her eyes to Sonar helplessly.


"I have to agree with the young spark here, there ain't no point in using the resources to save these common thugs, 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."

Again Zach nodded without thinking, after all that did make a lot of sense. Necro was quite the imposing figure, and didn't seem especially heroic. Zach shifted back slightly, taking a step backwards and shifting the crowbar into a more secure grip. However, before he could comment, gun shots sounded from the crusader's direction, and quickly collided with the group across from him. A few bullets reflected off of the armor Necro wore. He ducked behind one of the hulking abominations which held the thug. The bullets tore through the man's body, and he quickly died, causing the creature to drop him. Necro shouted something and the thug shifted.

"The names Arsenal, the newest addition to the heroes! Let's take down this villain together."

The two abominations suddenly rushed at the gunman, while the clearly recently deceased man suddenly lunged at Zach's legs. His arms wrapped around, but were aggressively deflected away from Zach's lower half right before colliding. If the creature didn't have enhanced durability it probably would have had both of its arms dislocated. Zach stepped back out of reach, clearly unsure how to proceed, before drawing back to try and further splatter the thugs brains across the alley.

---

At the mention of Patriarch Evelyn narrowed her eyes. She'd heard of him, it was hard not to really, but she had a particular dislike of the man...even if she couldn't point to the exact reason why. Still, this was a problem, their opponents could not under any circumstances be allowed to leave--at least that's what she had decided in her head. Nodding to their leader as he headed off with Martyr and Epsilon she let Messiah take the lead, and followed directly after. As they descended she found out just how claustrophobic the ladder into the drain pipe was--annoyingly so. Luckily she didn't have claustrophobia. Her mind running over the plan and keeping tabs on her inert projection, she almost missed a step of the ladder before she brought more of her awareness back to her body. 'Whew, almost slipped,' she thought, '...that would've been bad....' With that near mistake out of the way she soon found her way to Messiah. Initially it was rather difficult for her to really see much in the flood drain, but after a bit her eyes adjusted so even when the light from the ladder they'd used to descended began to dissipate she found that she could still see fairly well.

Still, if there was any sense that was notable within the flood drain, it was her hearing, as the sounds of water dripping, her feet on the ground--though she walked as quietly as she could--and her companions all mingled and echoed. If this hadn't been such a serious situation, she might have called out and had a bit of fun. However, in making that observation she realized something else, Sonar's power was going to be a nightmare in here. That and they could use sound to distract and terrify their opponents. She smiled beneath her mask and then, as they got close enough to see the flashlights of their quarry, she got the signal.

Only one thought went through her head as Sonar's voice reached her, and it was 'MANIFEST!' Immediately the projection rose out from the ground, its silver light amidst the group of thugs, shining brighter than it otherwise would in the dark drain pipe. There were startled sounds and flashlights that shot over to the projection's spot, before suddenly the light winked out of existence and an eight foot long creature materialized. Its entire body was a mottled grey, with silver pulsating lines of light, and darker streaks of black over its body. It had a vaguely humanoid build, but stood on all fours. It had a tail that reached 3 feet in length, its torso at 4 and its neck and head giving an additional foot. It had a mouth that took up most of its face, but no teeth, with the four flaps of the orifice having curved hook like barbs. Oddly, the mouth looked wide enough to clamp around a very thin woman's waist. Its patterned body was covered in scales that glistened slightly as they refracted the light shined upon it. Its four limbs were clawed. Its front limbs had four fingers and a thumb-like appendages while its rear legs had five fingers, pads, and small claw-like hooks that extended from its fingers, not so blunt.

Around its torso were two separate rings of tentacles, numbering 12 and all being four feet in length. At its pelvis extended 8 more tentacles, these thinner, and tapering off, though the extended back past the tail, their length about 8 feet. For only a split second there was no sound, no movement. The thugs, aside from those engaging the other team, just stared. Evelyn smiled, and as she did the lights on her projection's form revealed small slits in its body opening and as they did it found its environment revealed to it.

Tulpa spoke up to her teammates before it moved in earnest "Keep me safe, please. Someone touch my shoulder and say my name if they get too close." With that she promptly sat down and focused the entirety of her attention into her projection, losing much of her bodily awareness in the process.

Then her projection moved, she moved...without her body moving. She'd chosen her cape name as Tulpa for a reason.

The tulpa sprung into action, tuning its echolocation to several frequencies, one ultra sonic(very high frequency) and one sub sonic(very low frequency). The two wouldn't do much immediately, but in the space of thirty seconds the thugs would be feeling...uncomfortable to say the least. With that done, Evelyn's tulpa moved, its tentacles springing outwards as it bounded forwards, toppling two men, and striking two others around it. It had made a path to the hostages, where it stood. It began releasing a sound that was something like a hiss, but also something like a scream...except slowed down and not as loud as one normally heard such an utterance. It was grating to listen to. She imagined it would be sufficiently unnerving.

Bringing some of her awareness back to her body, she pondered what exactly to do. First would be to observe the reaction of Eyeblight and his thugs, then hopefully release the hostages...actually that was probably a bad idea. She was quite aware of the fact that she hadn't really put any thought into how her projection would look. She had only made sure it would act and form in a way that allowed it to be non-lethal, but also fight effectively, she hadn't put any thought into it being...well, not terrifying, hideous, or ugly. If she let the hostages go, they might just flee from the projection, putting them in further danger. Thus, she decided that she'd use her projection's multitude of limbs and its strength, to take advantage of the fact that all the hostages were tied to eachother and thus close to one another.

Provided she could cause some of the thugs to run towards Messiah and Margrave, she would have the projection move the hostages towards and eventually past them. However, she wouldn't put her plan into motion yet. Instead, she would wait for the thugs to react, because what they did would shape how she did this.

It was a delicate balance, and she had no intention to make any foolhardy mistakes now.

In his anticipation for the action sure to come, Elliot deadened himself to the words of anyone bu Sonar. The final few moments of chatter passed by quickly, and in their wake the team leader began to pronounce his command. Elliot's nerves had almost caused him to spring forward before the sudden cut-off stopped him in his tracks. Evidently the boy wonder's keen hearing picked up something that distressed him. Unhappy with the hold-up, Elliot nevertheless focused his attention on Sonar, half-expecting a total change in strategy. When the news came, no bells rang for the Wards' tragic antihero. Patriarch? Community? What, did the Protectorate pass out booklets for the city's lore and miss me? I'll just go with the flow. A grave nod issued from him, acknowledging the direly raised stakes. The Margrave, outfitted with the knowledge that the Patriarch was involved, would hold nothing back in this critical battle. The kid gloves were off.

Without further ado the mission began. Divided as evenly as they could, the Wards scattered to their respective positions. Intrepid as always, the fearsome Margrave moved past first Tulpa and then Messiah, who the former seemed to be consciously staying behind. They could think whatever they wanted about his rush to the front, if they found the capacity; to decide the fight before it even began, the Margrave needed time and space. Deftly he descended the storm drain's ladder into the close-quarters, underground, soon-to-be battlefield, his shoulders brushing constantly off one wall or another. A distinct lack of room to move made him uneasy, but he knew that his heinous foes would be even more disadvantaged. Luckily the area outside the ladder opened up somewhat, but until the Margrave's eyes adjusted he was obliged to feel his way along the walls. Messiah and Tulpa began to situate themselves defensively, but as soon as he found out which way the tunnel extended, the Margrave sent a hand foraging through his pockets to find what he needed. As he withdrew them, his weapons glinted slightly in the poor light: a handful of small metal jacks. The Margrave tossed them underhand, scattering the jacks across the floor of the passage, Extremely lightweight, they made only the slightest tinkling noises as they dispersed far and wide. Grinning in the shadows, the Margrave needed to wait only a moment before his jacks began to change. All of them grew several times in size and changed shape, becoming full-sized, nastily sharp caltrops just waiting to pierce straight through the shoes and feet of anyone foolish enough to charge at Team B through the darkness.

After this, the Margrave took his time sorting through his pockets for his next magic trick. He watched with adjusted eyes as Tulpa seated herself and a bizarre, nightmarish creature began to form farther down the tunnel, practically among the thugs and far beyond the reach of the caltrops. Her request did not go unnoticed, but it elicited from the Margrave a dismissive smirk. “Would they be so lucky,” he whispered, more to himself than to his allies and softly enough that they might not be able to hear, anyway. “The instant anyone even thinks about getting in melee range, they're gonna have other stuff to worry about. Any bozos with big ideas about how much pain they can withstand will get another dose of my wrath shortly thereafter.” He folded his arms, both hands now loaded with more portions of his hidden 'harmless arsenal'. Before long the game began, and the ensuing sounds of chaos washed over him, but never did he waver in his unyielding vigil.

Arsenal continued to fire down the alleyway, the two minions taking the impossible brunt of the bullets as they continued to charge through the hail of fire. Interesting, are they invulnerable to physical damage? No, they are obviously taking massive damage to their bodies, but maybe they have increased durability? Maybe enough adrenaline moving through their bodies to ignore death? The ideas flew through Arsenal's mind, but in the end, Bill had formulated one solid plan against these durable minions. Shifting his stream of fire to the legs rather than the center of the bodies, Arsenal was hoping this would cause their lower= half to be completely shredded or at the most unable to use their legs from the amount of damage they would be taking from the hail of bullets. Franky was slow, tough and slow, he would take the hit harder than the rather faster Derron, but increased durability didn't mean enhanced reflexes in the crowded alleyway. As their movement slowed down, or stopped completely at this point, another mechanical whir sounded under his shredded poncho, it was time to bring the pain.

Arsenal, from the spot that he had been standing during the fight, was suddenly running towards the two minions. The minions had already covered most of the ground between the two, but it was still impressive for the sudden charge to gain so much speed without little charge-up. Though, as he approached closer to the two minions, he balled up his fist with a look of determination. Under the poncho, an arm suddenly flew out from the confines of the cloth, and was trying to meet with the face of the brute Franky. Turning his back of Derron, using the full momentum of his punch and extreme durability of his arm, he tried to break any defense that the brute tried to pull up. Though, a regular old punch wouldn't do at all! Tightening his fist further, a loud shotgun blast echoed through the alleyway instead of the rapid fire of bullets, the shotgun blast emanating from the fist of Arsenal. Shotgun fist, in close combat having a shotgun placed onto someone's skin and then firing usually did some damage to the enemy. Though, that wasn't all that Bill had stored in for Franky, another arm straight after the blast tried to hook into Franky's head, after meeting any kind of resistance or freely landing the hook would activate another shotgun blast causing a second arm. It was time to focus on Derron now.

Derron, the enemy to his back was obviously going to attack his vulnerable spot. Though, it wasn't so vulnerable than everyone would think of a regular human. Trying to use the surprise at his advantage, he waited until the second goon was close enough to for sure be annihilated by his rate of fire. When close enough, suddenly two streams of concentrated bullets tore through the back of the poncho, hoping to truly strike at the frail body from such a close range of fire. Though, at this point, Arsenal was getting ahead of himself, having a little bit too much fun as he tore away at the two mooks, and turned his head over to the still nameless kid. Trying to watch whatever minion that he was facing, it seemed that his opponent was a person with their brain matter flinging around the alleyway. After a second, a thought appeared in his mind about the durability of these minions, "Oh... Zombies?"

Love Craft: Icehouse Hideout

Frankie listened to Everest's dying breaths closely, deeply confused by them. They said... These powers... Could kill... My... Enemy... Why... Cal... They made no sense. Broker's description offered little light on the situation, though the mention of him buying the property out from under Mr. Dahl made Frankie think he got his powers the same way they did. Well, she'd have to ask about it later, though she doubted she could get much information out of Broker himself, and Everest was dead... Maybe father could ask his friend for information?

Frankie stepped away from the cadaver, allowing Sofia to get rid of the evidence. Reverting their hand back to normal, they watched the girl work. Apparently she hadn't done something like this before, but it went through the floor without issue, but to where, no one knew. Once she asked if she ought to get rid of the corpse, Frankie cut in with an odd noise. "Ehh! No, no, I require the victim for... research purposes. I believe you wanted to take a look as well, Mister Broker?"

Mispost

---

Eyes trained on the others, flickering over the scene, he pondered what would come next, and what the man had said--it had been too quiet for him to properly hear from where he'd been. Still, he had to admit that Everest's attack on the Broker had been surprising, though he hadn't stood to act in response. Not his power nor his skillset would have made him terribly useful to the Broker and provided the man had invited the fellow, he had figured that he had something in place to deal with him if things went south--as they had. His thoughts shifting course, Chatterbox glanced over to Headhunter and smiled a moment even as Sofia, like a good little employee, did as the Broker bid her to. It was interesting seeing the blood suddenly shift through the ground. He wondered where it had gone, not that it mattered much.

"Well, that was quite eventful," he said, his power touching none of them as he again tuned it to ignore the group. It was too bad he hadn't been able to stretch the interaction further. Perhaps with several minutes things wouldn't have gotten so...messy. He smiled and glanced towards Lovecraft, listening to the fellow's words. Following their utterance he glanced to the Broker, noticing his incredible shift back to normal if that was his base demeanor. It was hard to say, the two instances of interaction were almost separate people, so different were they in behavior. Then again, people tended not to be so simple, so he'd wait, watch, and play along--profiting all the while.

"Speaking of your intentions, Broker. Do you have anything else in mind for us now that this little...event is over?" He leaned forwards as he said it, the same small smile ever present on his lips. With that, he waited, his attention locked on their boss. What would he say next?

At Sonar's command, and the understanding that failure would mean eight more minions of the Patriarch to contend with, Messiah headed down into the storm drain in between Margrave, who seemed eager to do his bit, and Tulpa, who remained slightly behind her for the time being. Certainly, the drain was rather cramped, but the assault team could at least move around reasonably well. At the other end of the drain, Assault Team A would arrive shortly, just on the other side of a small army of human bodies, including eight innocents. It seemed, at least, that they were mostly minions armed with close-range weapons, and in no way paying attention even to Alessa's own facial glow, though she reduced it slightly just in case it was obvious.

The exception, of course, was Eyeblight, armed with what appeared to be higher quality weaponry than his troops, a gun and a knife. Currently in human form, it seemed, but at the present time inspecting his captives... and damn it all, the way they seemed to be angled from the occasional flashes of light meant cutting the bonds round their neck with a laser or seven wouldn't be plausible. With that in mind, she focused next on Eyeblight himself... in an ideal world, he was the very first person to be disabled out of the gang, and the best way to start that off would be to destroy his weapons. Though if she could ensure he couldn't stop her doing that first, that'd be just grand...

In that moment, Sonar warned them to prepare themselves, and the moment after that, Tulpa's projection revealed itself - some reptilian monstrosity which appeared in a flash of light, at which point Tulpa asked Messiah to tell her if anything was coming. Oh, but there was a perfect idea! All but a few gangers, Eyeblight himself included, were now staring in Team B's direction, so if she hit them with a sufficient burst of visible light, chances are they'd all be sent blind for long enough that they could be dealt with. She just needed the right moment - at the other end of the tunnel, Team A was obviously doing work, and she was sure she heard a gunshot from over there, whilst on this end of things, the projection was clearing a path to the hostages, whilst Margrave threw down some metal jacks which then grew into full-size caltrops... nasty things, those. Worse than Lego, anyway.

As he uttered something about luck to himself, Messiah saw her opportunity, and roughly shielding the Margrave's eyes with one hand (not that it was all that necessary), she held out her other hand. In the next moment, the majority of the drain flooded with bright light, as the visible wavelengths (and only visible; briefly blinding people was one thing, irradiating them at all was quite another) extended through the entire drain almost instantly, conveniently dispersing just enough to leave her teammates at the other end able to see well enough to fight (though if only she could make the light stop outright at the appropriate moment), and certainly moreso than the minions that had just been blinded. Just as importantly, as the light began to dim down, it gave her a perfect view of each and every still-blinded ganger in the drain - and a clear shot at both of Eyeblight's weapons. Switching her hand to a pointed index finger (more as a guide than out of any actual need to use her hands to shoot heat), she aimed toward Eyeblight's gun holster, and sent forth a concentrated, invisible beam of heat at a couple of thousand degrees Celsius, strong enough to reasonably melt and disable the weapon at the point of contact (and probably a fair amount of metal around the damage point), though focused enough that aside from the holster itself possibly setting alight, no extra heat would emanate from the beam. She tried the same thing with the knife too, aiming as best she could toward the point just below the hilt instead, in an effort to sever the blade in a way that would render it least useful, if she couldn't simply melt the whole thing into unusable slag.

Beyond that, it seemed there wasn't much else she could do. The caltrops would likely defend Team B as well as anything from the minions - almost surprising, given what she assumed was Margrave's distinct lack of defensive abilities from a distance. And, if she'd succeeded- the distance made it hard to tell- Eyeblight would probably be at his weakest now that he was disarmed. Which didn't particularly help much, given what he could do, but it was better than his having two lethal weapons on him, surely? She'd have to wait and see.

---

"They said." Clearly, then, his powers were somehow donated to him, rather than merely acquired the way most others got them. Thinking about it, Raymond did seem to recall hearing of a group which could grant people powers without the receiver needing to endure a trigger event, though not the group's name, if it even had one. Was that what the target had been about to say? It didn't particularly matter, at this point. The man had bled out quickly, and his blood was now... gone. Sent to oblivion, for all that it mattered, though it seemed the girl couldn't quite figure out precisely where it was, and when asking if the exsanguinated body wanted to vanish too, the androgynous creature objected, apparently needing it for "research purposes". A scientist, then. Or perhaps a pervert hiding their activities. Either way, Raymond didn't feel any particular need to stop them.

And on the other hand, he'd not yet gotten a response from the Broker about his commission request. And Chatterbox's question about what came next would, presumably, take precedence over his own. Still, he was nothing if not patient. At the very least, he could always repeat his prior statement before going anywhere, even if the man who had hired them forgot or otherwise chose not to address the point. He assumed the Broker was the sort of man who could "get" things people needed, a mob boss at the very least; after all, who else would hire (at great expense to themselves) four people, two of whom were teenagers, to become a street gang with hidden motives?

The Wards jumped into action in a most spectacular way, coordinating their strategies as though they had been a team far longer than they truly had been. The moment Tulpa's projection manifested it gained immediate attention from the gang members. "What the fuck is that?!" cried out one. "Shoot it, shoot it!" another yelled. Alas, only one of their group had any guns. "Attack it, you idiots!" bellowed Eyeblight himself, pulling his gun free from its holster and pointing the weapon directly at the creature suddenly accosting them. The scarecrow themed supervillain got off two shots on the manifestation before he, and everyone else looking in that direction, became overcome by a dazzling sensation as Messiah's beam of light blasted through the tunnels.

"Argh!"

"My eyes!"

"MOTHER FUCKER!"

A number of the gang members had charged directly towards the manifestation only to be thrown off balance by the sudden blindness that had stricken them. One fell forward, promptly trampled by his peers. Another accidentally bypassed Tulpa's minion altogether, only to pierce his left foot on a caltrop left by Margrave. The gangbanger let out a howl of pain that echoed throughout the entire storm drain. Another nearby, attempting to stab his knife into Tulpa's creation, called to the others in the Community. "I see others! There's people, but I can't tell how many! Ah, fucking light!"

Meanwhile, Messiah's first shot of fire struck its target immediately. The pistol in Eyeblight's hand super heated to a red hot state, causing the villain to drop it in pain. The useless hunk of now melted metal collided with the concrete floor not with a loud "ptang!" but with a soft "thud" as it hit some leftover mud and dirt. Eyeblight immediately recoiled, holding his injured hand with his free digits. This movement caused Messiah's second attack, aimed for the villain's knife, to fall off target and strike harmlessly against the concrete. Well, not entirely harmlessly. Eyeblight followed the trail of flame to its source. He knew where they were now.

On the other side of the tunnel, what few gang members had taken notice of the second prong attack were engaged in a potentially lethal battle against the front line Martyrs. One gang member successfully stabbed one of the extradimensional doppelgangers in the gut with a broken bottle, but he was quickly felled by Sonar. The leader of the Wards nearly cracked the man's skull with his stainless steel baton, and the man nearly cracked the pavement as his body struck it. The ganger was in no danger of losing his life, but that was one mother of a concussion for sure. With that gangster down and the others held back by the various Martyrs, Sonar took the opportunity to gauge his team's status. So far so good, everyone seemed to be in an advantageous position. Everyone except for Epsilon, that was, presently eyeing him like a deer caught in the headlights.

Sonar instinctively understood. He had gotten pretty good at that. Of course the fact that he heard everything, down to the friction of individual clothing fibers, meant that he sort of cheated a bit. The young teen unclipped three sets of restraints from his belt and tossed them to Epsilon, then returned his gaze to the battlefield that was the storm drain. So many people, in such a tight area. He couldn't use his sonic scream without harming his own team as well as the eight hostages, so that was right out. Apart from that, the only one that it wouldn't be potentially lethal against was Eyeblight himself, while the villain would remain by and large totally unharmed as the sound waves would pass through his individual fibers. Not liking the situation, Sonar felt a bit useless himself now that the info gathering stage had passed. Then five more of the Community gang members shifted position to focus on attacking Sonar, Martyr, and Epsilon, and the leader of the Wards prepared himself to fight back.

Back on the other side of things, the majority of the gang members attempted to gang up on Tulpa's manifested projection. Only a couple could assault it at a time, but they did so with reckless abandon. With every blow it was as though these gang delinquents pushed their bodies beyond normal limits to smack, stab, cut, and smash the projected being with absolutely everything they had. Through all the chaos one figure stood near the hostages. Eyeblight performed a double take, shifting his focus between the attackers from deeper down the tunnel, to the onslaught from the exit, and back again. "Hahahahaha! Wards! Capes will be a far greater prize for our Patriarch than these street lowlifes! YOU WILL ALL WEAR THEM DOWN SO I CAN TAKE THEM BACK TO PATRIARCH! THROW YOUR LIVES AWAY IF YOU HAVE TO EVEN IF IT SLOWS THEM DOWN JUST A LITTLE!"

The villain dressed in the gaudy burlap costume called out loudly with the slightest hint of a Hispanic accent, clearly maniacal and deranged. His form altered in his speech, his flesh vanishing from sight, his size altering, becoming much skinnier, lankier, and did he sprout tons of thick hair? No, Eyeblight's powers were well known and well documented. Everyone in the Protectorate and the PRT had been given at least a rudimentary briefing on the Community lieutenants, and Eyeblight was no different. The man had become living, breathing straw. A monster in appearance, just glancing in his general direction somehow caused a deep rooted feeling of something... Unsettling. Locking eyes to his form for a prolonged period of time had driven at least one man insane with terror. Now this avatar of shivers and goosebumps turned his attention to the Wards attacking from deep within the storm drain.

Eyeblight abandoned the hostages, charging as straight as he could toward his prey. Incredible speed, agility, and flexibility completely nullified the obstacles in his way as the being of straw and nightmares weaved around, between, beneath, and up over his own men. When faced with Tulpa's projection Eyeblight went the extra mile for that bit of flair, dodging straight through the mass of tentacles around the beast's torso by contorting his back at a hundred seventy degree angle, then used the creature's neck as a launch pad to kick off toward his first target: Margrave. The unnerving villain charged straight through the caltrops, unhindered, drawing his combat knife.

---

---

The Broker smiled, his eyes curling just a small bit in genuine surprise, as Sofia took care of the blood as requested. The composed man stood up, circled around the scene, then stood in one place. As he made his motions the Broker observed, taking careful note and approving of the situation. "Most excellent. Thank you very much, miss Stein. I must say, this has been an incredibly educational test to the limits of your powers." He continued to smile in a knowing fashion, then addressed the various questions he had been asked. "Please do refrain from ignoring the cadaver. I did already promise it to... Lovely... For their studies." The Broker hesitated a moment before referring to Love Craft by the androgynous being's preferred pronoun. His eyes and lips quivered, just a hair, before he finally was able to utter the word. Clearly this made him uncomfortable, but not nearly enough to interrupt their proceedings.

The building's owner then turned to Headhunter. "Yes, of course. Please, forgive me for my tardiness in addressing your request. In all the excitement, some details are bound to slip by the wayside. I shall be agreeable to this arrangement and put in the order with the expedience I can muster. But for now," the man turned to face the entire group as a whole, though his eyes first locked with Chatterbox as if to answer the man's own question. "We have more business for this evening."

The Broker strode back to the table with purpose in his steps. Once he had reached his seat, the man crouched down, rather than sitting, only to rise again with a briefcase. The case itself appeared ordinary, just your standard brown briefcase with a standard flip-latch. The Broker placed the briefcase upon the table, then opened it for everyone's viewing pleasure. Inside sat a manila envelope, a standard white letter envelope, and a picture of a young man wearing a poncho and sombrero. The Broker placed the picture at the center of the table for all to see clearly.

"I have two missions for you before tomorrow evening. The first is less a mission, and more of an errand, really. As always, you may feel free to accept or reject any job offered. This man is known as Arsenal, and I intend him to be the fifth member of this little team I have established." Almost lazily he waved his left arm in a sweeping motion, gesturing for the entire group. "Arsenal is a tinker, and though my information has yet to provide me with his specialty, I believe his talents could prove to be invaluable. According to certain sources that are to remain confidential, Arsenal has arrived in this city very recently. I would appreciate it if you would track him down, then present him with this invitation."

The Broker held up the white letter envelope, then set it down on the table next to the picture of the tinker. "There's no payment for this, beyond the ability to make a new friend and establish a good first impression. As I said, it's more of an errand, and I can easily ensure it's completed if you deny any participation. The real job, you will find detailed here." The Englishman gestured to the manila envelope, unsealed it, and left it on the table. He then latched up the briefcase once more, straightened his suit blazer, produced a gray newsboy cap from someplace, and strode toward the exit. He stopped only momentarily, just before ascending the stairs out, to turn back around. "If there are no further questions, then I shall be taking my leave. I have many pet projects to oversee."

Sofia shrugged and went back to her seat, hardly noticing Lovely's strangeled sound of protest at her suggestion. She looked at the picture of this 'Arsenal' breifly. Who even wore somberors? Maybe it was part of his 'thing'. Eh. Seemed like a thing Chatterbox or Lovely would handle. Besides she had no interest in tracking someone down or the ability to do so. Dismissing the task as someone else's problem Sofia grabbed the other evolope and opened it, curious as to what their first mission was, and not at all focused on The Broker leaving. If nothing else it should be interesting to see what The Broker thought them capable of.

---

The bloom of light was helpful, the thugs were stunned, but when they managed to recover somewhat they struck, or at least attempted to. In similar time, Eyeblight managed to escape the grasp of her projection. Evelyn frowned, but she kept her focus dedicated primarily to the projection. As thugs moved towards it, attempting to stab and strike it, well, it let them hit. The blades did nothing, the blunt force didn't seem to phase it either, with its form either bending inwards and rippling, a physical show for the kinetic energy being dispersed over a wider surface area. It's flexibility, in both movement and in its make-up, combined with its durability, made their attempts effectively fruitless. That wasn't to say that the tulpa ignored them.

Moving as soon as they'd all gathered around it, the beast suddenly shifted its position, moving forwards and then twisting around, its body almost forming a complete circle, likely knocking all of the thugs attacking it on their asses in one fell swoop. Its echolocation continued to fire out, causing an unpleasant sensation to ring through the bodies of those near it, likely resonating through Eyeblight as well. The longer the thugs remained exposed, the less able to coordinate and focus they would become, and the more apprehensive and uncomfortable they would become.

With the thugs on their asses, the projection moved to the hostages, wrapped some of its tentacles around them, one per hostage, and gently lifted them all up at once. Then it leaned shifted its grip to the tentacles on top of its form. Its remaining tentacles balling up at their ends, the projection struck out, slamming the fist-like ends of the tentacles into the heads of the downed thugs. It had used Eyeblight's breaker ability to temporarily harden the ends just before they hit. The impact would knock the thugs out, reducing the numbers they'd all have to deal with significantly. Following the action the projection's echolocation notified Evelyn of Eyeblight's impending arrival. Focusing, she bid it to move, its body springing swiftly into action, the hostages now fastened to its back via tentacles, with many of the limbs still capable of moving, it ran full tilt, not jostling its passengers at all, towards Sonar's group. Evelyn gave it some final directives, instructing it to circumvent the thugs attacking the group and bound behind them, out of the storm drain where it would deposit the hostages on a sidewalk, unbind their hands, legs, and necks using its claws, before promptly demanifesting. It had been active for about a minute and thirty seconds. The moment it de-manifested, Evelyn started counting down in her head.

As it carried out those actions, she made sure it would attend to its own well-being to a degree and return to her side as soon as it could.

Unbidden, she opened her eyes, abruptly stood up, took her bo staff from its place on her person, and swiftly extended it to its full 5.5 foot length. She narrowed her eyes at Eyeblight as he approached and took a defensive stance, bo staff at an angle, body sideways, one foot back, the other forwards, knee bent slightly. The bo staff's leading end was pointed forwards and upwards, its other end following the angle.

“Messiah, can you absorb heat energy you've applied after you release it?” She asked, taking a stance beside the glowing heroine. Once her projection had de-manifested, it would recall to her person, its form sifting over all of her teammates, the thugs, until its dull silver light focused around her person, and then shifted into a spherical form, its radius being 5 feet. She'd practiced this, it would be alright.

It would be alright, she told herself again as her gaze reached Eyeblight. Involuntarily, she shuddered, swallowing hard. She had to make a conscious effort to steady her breathing, but she made do, instead deciding not to look directly at him, but instead partially unfocus her eyes. The effect lessened slightly. With that, she kept her breathing steady and deep, focusing her senses and attention on her immediate vicinity as well as her own body and the position of her teammates. Her heartbeat slowed down and her breathing stilled. They had 1 minute and 15 seconds till she could manifest her projection again, but she had a feeling they could last at least that long. Hopefully her intuition was correct.

Martyr: Drainage Pipe

Dean winced as the sound of a gun firing ricocheted through the pipe, not deafening him per say, but still hurting his ears. He was able to shake it off fairly quickly though, quick enough to notice the giant translucent silver bear octopus.... thing that erupted from the bottom of the tunnel. It took him a second to realize that was Tulpa's projection again, though her voice reminding them all to keep her safe jogged his memory. Margrave said something too, but Dean couldn't hear him that well, and put no effort into trying. He had goons to disable, and-

Suddenly, a bright flash of light came from the other end of the tunnel, blinding most of the goons but also visually impairing him a bit. He was the farthest up, after all. But he could still fight decently, unlike those ahead of him. Any leg up was helpful, so he'd let the annoyance slide for now. As many cries and noises echoed through the drain, Martyr refocused himself. A thug slipped through and killed a Dean. Even if Sonar had taken care of him quickly, there were still 5 more to deal with. Dean backed up for a second, grabbing the dead Martyr's blade and signaling the Martyr to follow him. They were gonna move up and deal with the five mooks charging at Assault Team A.

The two stood near each other, forming another blockade as the goons rushed them. One wielding a knife was whacked upside the head before he even had a chance to get close, his head being knocked into the side of the drain. Dean performed a wide sweeping attack with both blades, hitting two goons in the stomach, before knocking one in the neck and presumably fracturing something. The other man was blocked with the spare blade Dean had, and a Martyr took care of him with a strike to the back of the knees, than the back of the neck. Unfortunately, this left both of the Deans open to attack from the last man charging at them. A full force strike from the metal bat in the woman's hands would, at best, knock them unconcious. Hopefully she aimed for the Martyr, or someone could help him.

Necro turned to watch the attack from his zombies, somewhat discouraged by the impressive hail of bullets coming from this Arsenal. Frank was the first obvious target, absorbing plenty of damage before the guns shifted and began tearing through the zombie’s legs. Frank stumbled and collapsed very near the gunman, and then received a punch to the head… or shotgun blast. “Son of a bitch” necro swore. Zach was preoccupied with the other goon, bashing him with that crowbar but he wasn’t the dangerous one here by comparison.

Derron was equally shredded by the hail of bullets, tearing through his thinner frame and wreaking havoc on his innards. Firing backwards through the coat was less accurate and did far less damage to Derron than had been done to Frank. He jumped at the gunman even while bullets tore through and reaching for Arsenal’s throat. While Frank, brain matter and gore falling from his body pushed himself up and crawled towards Arsenal as well, aiming to sweep his legs and bring the fight to the ground.

Necro began backing away and out towards where he entered the alley from, he was about to turn and run when he heard the police sirens. He turned to look for them just as an officer rounded the corner right in front of Necro. The officer hesitated in surprise, not expecting a costumed Parahuman. Necro acted quicker and grabbed the officer’s left arm “Im sorry” he muttered at the officer as he sent the corruption up his arm and stopping the officer’s heart. The moment it did Necro forced the officer back to life, feeling a farther strain on his concentration. ‘I can’t keep this up’ he thought, “Kill him” Necro said to the dead officer, who drew his .45 and began firing at arsenal. Necro moved himself behind a dumpster focusing on the battle and his zombies and having difficulty focusing on much else.