Arsenal was having a grand time, tearing away at the two lackeys was just too invigorating for the villain as it felt as if he was invincible against Necro. Though, that was until in the corner of his eyes that the two recently shredded minions began to move once again, standing up after the impressive display of fire power. This new information startled the young man, even rattling his mind as behind him the two streams of bullets didn't hinder the charge of Derron at all! "God damnit!" Arsenal yelled, as Derron smashed into his body, its disgusting grubby hands trying to find its way to his throat. How degrading, getting his ass humped by some undead freak as his master stood their watching from a distance, disgusting pervert. As this unsightly scene was happening, Arsenal didn't seem to notice the now literally brainless Frank crawl towards him with the intent to bring him to the ground. This was starting to piss Arsenal off.

The two holes behind Arsenal's poncho were soon sprouting out two metal arms, not wasting any time, they clamped onto the destroyed chest of Derron, guts and blood spilling out of the various holes around his body. "Disgusting freak," Arsenal muttered, using his superior strength to tear the writhing zombie from off his back, and further crushing the rib cage of Derron to release the anger of being stood up by these mooks. He was about to look over to find Necro, the master between these two zombies, but suddenly felt a jolting pain towards his leg. Holding back the scream of pain, he looked towards the source of pain to find that Franky was still alive, his arm bashing at his legs trying to bring him to the ground. It sort of worked as it brought Arsenal to his knees, bringing his face closer to the ground with his further angered face. Staring vehemently at Franky, he brought his wrath upon the disgusting beast with more shotgun punches to the face and body. Wanting to mush the entire body into a flesh Purée, while the writhing Derron flailed against his two arms trying to strangulate the boy.

Getting a good eight punches on Franky, most of his blood and guts splattered either on the pavement or Arsenal himself, the distinct sound of a gun firing rung in the boy's ear. The bullet smashed into Arsenal's arm, pinging against the bullet proof weapon, but that was lucky due to the rest of his body still being flesh and blood. Not wasting any more time on these poor excuses of henchmen, he turned Derron towards the line of fire, using the body to take the bullets as Bill stood up with a raging passion to beat Necro up until every bone on his suit and inside his body was broken. "Die!" Arsenal yelled, turning himself to pitch the entire body of Derron towards the gunman. Using his entire body to hurl the zombie towards the gunman, the resulting momentum turning Arsenal from his back on Necro to his front, facing Necro directly. The two arms upon his back shrunk back into the destroyed poncho, though the two bulges on the shoulders of his poncho started to grow with his two front arms raising from his poncho to show the similar metal arms. They started to fire, not only were the two front arms firing its fill, the two bulges on the top started to fire that similar stream of bullets towards the same direction. Four arms firing down at the alleyway, shredding anything down its path hoping to destroy everything in his path including the two zombies and Necro himself. Bill had forgotten about Zach at this point, he would be caught up in the stream of bullets, but the lethal hail of death would find itself in a pickle as it would slam into the cape.

The crowbar hardly shook Zach’s arm as the head absorbed the pummeling readily. The gunfire continued, the firefight escalating rapidly with sirens in the distance. Zach stopped attacking the creature and started walked towards Necro; the cretin at his feet was not worthy of attention. Necro was backing away quickly, and he watched as the man began controlling a police officer with a touch. The police officer began firing at Arsenal, but was interrupted when a body landed on top of the man, followed by a hail of bullets. Those who were particularly perceptive would notice the pulverized bullets floating next to Zach momentarily. His power had made the executive decision that deflecting the bullets was too dangerous, and had stopped their momentum.

Zach’s attention momentarily returned to the brainless creature that had attacked him as it rushed him from behind; it lurched backwards again before its arm could impact Zach’s shoulder. Loud, purposeful footfalls filled the air as Zach put himself in the middle of the alley, clearly intending to take the fight to Necro head on. He strode forward, his confidence at an all time high. How could you be scared when you were invincible?

With a crazed look Zach rushed forward, his crowbar raised as he wordlessly closed the distance between him and Necro. Blood was still splattered across his face, the hair that framed his face presenting the image of psycho, not with nothing to lose. Instead he seemed to be unable to see himself losing. If this was poker Zach was all-in; however this was not poker, and Zach was actually just risking his life because of his fetish for being a hero.


A sudden flash of light filled the tight quarters, along with a guttural battle cry or two. Epsilon watched the proceedings carefully, shifting her eyes back to her leader intermittently. Sonar’s eyes shifted to her, and he nodded in understanding before throwing three sets of cuffs to her. She mouthed a thank you, barely above a whisper in volume, though that didn’t particularly matter. Her hand reached out, and she undid each cuff before clipping them onto her belt. Her eyes shifted back to Martyr and his combatants.

Epsilon leveled her gun again, watching the proceedings closely, before suddenly noticing Eyeblight’s shocking form. She instinctively covered her mouth, audibly gasping before she shook her head to focus. Knowing the effect Eyeblight’s power had on people, and witnessing it firsthand were very different.

Epsilon turned her attention back to the pack of Martyrs who were helping to defeat the henchmen while Eyeblight focused on Messiah and Tulpa. Her eyes fell on the last woman, and she took aim. Her first shot missed, but the woman’s luck didn’t let Epsilon miss the second shot.

The woman gasped as the bullet collided with her ribs, the breath leaving her lungs quickly. Epsilon adjusted her aim instinctively as the woman slowed, shooting again to nail the woman in the temple. This was nowhere near lethal, as rubber bullets almost never were, but it hurt like a bitch. Epsilon made the executive decision to ignore the threat from then on, and moved forward to cuff one of the thugs defeated by Martyr; her expression was grim. She lifted him as best she could, moving him next to the other thug, before going back to cuff another thug.

The small squad of soldiers immediately took notice of the now opened bunker entrance thanks to the flashing light. Ever the cautious, trained soldiers, they stood over the hatch first and inspected it. The pointman was about to fiddle with a flashlight before realizing there was no need, for the pathway had its own illumination. Slowly but surely the squad descended into the depths of the bunker. Upon reaching the bottom they continued moving forward, checking each door as they passed, systematically securing the small underground complex until they reached the main computer room.

"Hold up yours hands!" the squad leader commanded, keeping his weapon trained on Ruben. Once he saw that Ruben was both unarmed and single legged, he lowered his weapon and prompted the others to do the same. "Decoy," he spoke into a communications device. "We've secured the location. This place is some kind of Cold War nuclear bunker. We found someone."

He paused for a moment, clearly listening. "Are you sure? ... Yessir, understood." The soldier narrowed his eyes at Ruben, clearly a bit confused, but following his orders all the same. He then addressed the seated parahuman. "Decoy wants a private chat with you." He took hold of a circular object hanging from his belt, about half the diameter of a frisbee and four inches thick, then set it on the floor. Slowly, warily eyeing Ruben, he and his men left the room and shut the door behind them.

A second later the disc like object whirred to life, lights of all colors flashing and emanating around it. Then an image projected itself outward. A life size holographic projection of an overweight Asian man now stood before Ruben. The man adjusted his glasses then spoke in a pleasant, friendly voice thick with Japanese accent. "It is nice to speak to you face to face, or as much as I can at any rate. Pleased to make your acquaintance. I am Protectorate hero Decoy. I would offer to shake your hand, but that isn't feasible for obvious reasons, so I shall instead greet you in the custom of my own people." The holographic man gave a bow, then straightened up and readjusted his glasses.

---

---

Slow and uneventful. The only two words that could possibly have been used to describe the drive to the local precinct were slow and uneventful. Natasha saw a squirrel at one point, if that was even a little exciting. No. No it wasn't. What about that funeral home she passed along the way? Eh. Maybe. No, nevermind. Finally the Bratva commander arrived at her destination, an old building in a run down district clearly in need of some massive gentrification. In this area the cops were almost as bad as the gang members. Inside Natasha would find a single waiting room with two officers at a reception desk behind glass windows, like some kind of bank tellers. Off to the side sat a reinforced door leading deeper into the precinct, where no doubt the local officers were conducting their administrative duties and small time thugs sat in holding cells. Against the back wall were plenty of seats, a vending machine with a plethora of unhealthy snacks, and a water cooler.

"Good evening..." Was it morning? Ruben completely forgot what time it was, either way, it was 5 o'clock somewhere. Ruben sat there with what appeared to be a bottle of water while he spoke to the hologram. "Nice men you got there, especially considering they don't hurt the crippled man in the room. Enough about them though, what did you want to speak about face-to-face?" A small folder fell off stack of papers in the corner, however the standard person could not read it unless they actually picked it up and opened it. On the folder were the words 'To Hollywood'.

This precinct in particular never appealed much to Natasha, visually speaking. It was rather old and rundown. In a way it reminded her of the architecture in Russia: neglected. But the condition of the location was out of her control. All she could do was slip money to the Captain of the station and suggest a thing or two. She didn't particularly like the Captain much either. He must've been real friendly with Natasha's predecessor because he would act very casual whenever she talked with him. It was disrespectful, in her eyes, but her connections with the police were a privilege not to be so easily ruined. All it would take is one bad day to have the entire Colorado branch of the Bratva uncovered so having friends in law enforcement served as a good emergency counter-measure. She gave them money, they gave her legal protection. Evidence can disappear, witnesses can retract their testimonies, and first responders could be delayed.

Natasha has been liberal in using these tools at her disposal. It has served her well in her campaign to eliminate street crime that had been hindering the Bratva. The police, at least the ones in her pocket, were reliable allies that had been good at keeping their mouths shut and covering their tracks. Today it would be no different.

The entourage entered the station, with Natasha leading as her security followed behind. "Good day," she greeted the receptionists, approaching one of them. "Is Mark available right now? I was scheduled to meet with him in a few minutes, if there are no emergencies..." Natasha's entourage mostly seated themselves along the back wall with one going straight to the vending machine for a snack while the one carrying the sealed $100 bill remained at Natasha's side.

"Uh... Yeah, he's here right now. I'll buzz you in." The heavy door made a buzzing sound as the officer pressed the button under the counter, prompting a ka-klunk as it unlocked itself. Natasha and her bodyguard made their way through the station towards the offices in the back. The few people in the holding cells they passed by were pretty silent, indicating there were no drunks presently there, but the general hubbub of the rest of the department working made the station quite loud regardless. The Captain's office, as with most of the offices kept separate from the floor, was relatively soundproofed so it was a refreshing change of ambient volume as Natasha shut the door behind herself. The Captain, Mark Schmidt, was an older man. Quite possibly double Natasha's age. He was certainly overweight and always looked greasy but his eyes appeared worn as if he had seen many things throughout his life. It was only ironic that he looked like he had once been a good cop, considering that if the truth got out nobody would ever consider that opinion ever again.

"You're a bit early. You almost interrupted my lunch, Natasha," the Captain spoke up with a chuckle, leaning back in his rolling chair. Indeed there was the remains of some kind of take-out fast food on his desk, judging by the Styrofoam carry boxes and soft drink cup. All she could do was smile, as his unprofessional greeting didn't really leave much for Natasha to give a proper response without making herself seem unprofessional. "Who's this young man you've got with you? Someone to introduce?"

"This is Samuel, one of my assistants. But that isn't what I came to see you. I've got your payment and a task for your department," the aryan woman spoke up, nodding for her guard to approach the desk. The young man revealed the plastic zip-bag containing the $100 bill that Benito provided earlier. "I would like some forensic tests of this. Please do not ask why and give the results straight to me and no one else. It may be... cape related. There is another family coming to town and I met with one of their members today. Let's keep your men doing business as usual until further notice, but be wary of any new Italians that show up in the city. Now, as for your-" Natasha was interrupted by a simple ringtone coming from her purse. Her personal phone number was never given to anyone outside the Bratva and it was only to be used in emergencies, as non-emergency communications could go through her Blackberry. "My apologies. One moment..." The younger woman calmly withdrew her phone from her purse and flipped it open. "<Is there a problem?>"

The voice on the other line responded immediately, almost cutting her off. "<There is a very big problem!>"



The shipping warehouse owned by the Bratva was respectable in size, having over a dozen docking bays on each side of the shipping floor with plenty of room across to allow easy distribution of the various goods that went through on a daily basis. But whenever there was an important shipment from the Russian Mafia itself the warehouse would always be put on a temporary shutdown of the other drivers to allow all the workers to focus on moving the Bratva goods as quickly as possible. Be it drugs, money, weapons, or humans it had to go fast. Many of the drivers at the warehouse at any given time were not affiliated with the criminal underworld and the possibility of being found out made it a dangerous game. The workers of the shipping center itself had been doing this job for years, some of them decades, and gotten quite good at it. Despite the risk they worked efficiently and quickly, making sure that nobody that wasn't supposed to be on the shipping floor was there while they moved illegal goods between trucks.

Today was no different. The shipment today was humans, capes to be precise. The workers on the floor never knew precisely what they were transporting but the size of the containers was always the indicator. Whenever a shipment came with boxes bigger than they were, forcing them to use their forklifts to move them, they knew it was humans. The method of transporting humans was quite efficient, as the Bratva had a Tinker in the Motherland who created specific pods that were strong enough to contain humans and was capable of giving them oxygen while preventing parahumans from using their powers. None of these workers had ever seen these pods directly, as they were always sealed within a wooden crate, to which it was the crates they always worked with. All they knew was that they were heavy and supposedly quite sturdy, judging by the occasional small tumble not being able to break them.

It had taken a good thirty minutes or so but the crew was finally on the last crate. The man on the forklift maneuvered the vehicle into the back of the larger truck, expertly sliding the forks underneath the crate and hoisting it several inches off the ground. The trailer it was being moved to on the other side of the warehouse was almost filled completely, with just enough room to stack this last crate on top of another on the left side of the door. The lift came to a stop and began to raise the crate completely, lifting it six feet into the air to stack it vertically. But in the brief window of time between lifting the crate and when it would've been stored safely it suddenly began to rock side-to-side. The human inside was making a desperate attempt at freedom, prompting a brief chuckle from the forklift operator.

He didn't get to laugh for long. The concrete floor sloped at a downward angle towards the trailer and the forklift was not parallel, giving it a small tilt this whole time. Hardly noticeable, but the extra assistance from gravity was enough to make this day go far differently than was planned. The crate fell off the lift sideways, slamming into the ground with a mighty crash. The weight of the fall gave it enough impact to entirely shatter the corner of the crate that struck the ground first, sending splinters of wood flying for several meters. After a few shouts from the workers around, who had instinctively shielded themselves from the flying wood, they all began to gather around to broken crate. One of the panels had busted off wide, being only kept to the rest of the crate by a single bent nail. The lighting of the warehouse was perfectly vertical, obscuring the workers' view of the inside of the crate. Something felt very wrong, like something had happened that they couldn't see.

When one of the men finally grabbed the loose panel and pulled it back they were all shocked to see what was inside. The futuristic-looking metal pod inside had been busted along its central seam and it was completely empty. The immediate reaction was confusion. They were certain there was a person inside but they saw nobody escape from the crate. Likewise they didn't even see the busted panel on the crate move at all to indicate someone exited. Was it a teleporter that escaped? Someone that could shrink in size and turn invisible? As the rest of the floor workers began to gather around the busted crate the supervisor shoved his way to the front to see what happened. Immediately his face drained of color. This wasn't just a mistake; it was a very big mistake. This was the kind of mistake that would see people "disappear" over the next few days, possibly including himself. "сука блять!" he shouted in frustration as he jogged over to the phone by the exit and began to dial a number.



Natasha slowly closed her flip phone. The two men in the room with her couldn't hear the other end of the conversation but they both could detect a big change in her demeanor. The Bratva boss had always kept a calm persona, being very concise in her mannerisms and displaying a very professional tone. But while she didn't seem to have any outward changes following the phonecall it was strikingly apparent that Natasha was now very angry. The silent, calm rage that seemed almost as if it was the calm before the storm. "I'm sorry, but I must go now." In the same motion of placing her phone in her purse she withdrew a large envelope and placed it on the Captain's desk. She gave no further explanation as she marched out of the office with her guard in tow, leaving the Captain to feel concerned. Schmidt knew there was no reason to be confused by this behavior as obviously something had gone wrong. But now he was worried if there was going to be red tape in the near future.



The young girl in a red tracksuit had to stop and take a few breaths. It was the strangest sensation. She hadn't eaten or drank any water in almost two days now but only since she escaped from that crate did she begin to feel the effects of this. It was almost nauseating how suddenly she felt like she was starving and dehydrated. The device she was in must've been keeping her alive for the journey the trucks were taking, somehow. Cassidy wasn't sure. In fact, she wasn't sure about anything. She had no idea where she was, what exactly was going on, or what she should do. Her instinct to get away from those people served her well but she was still only a few blocks away from that warehouse. They would be coming for her soon, she assumed.

But the pain from her undernourishment was getting worse and worse. She couldn't continue running like this unless she wanted to risk passing out. Cassidy had to hide and find something to eat and drink. There were gunshots in the distance, opposite of the direction she came from, so Cassidy knew at least not to head that way. She was in some kind of industrial area. Lots of warehouses, a few factories, and busy roads with lots of trucks. It was unlikely that she would be able to find anything here so she steeled herself to continue on towards the heart of Denver. Of course she didn't know this was Denver yet, but as Cassidy began her attempt at a light jog towards what she thought was the center of the city she already had a feeling that she was pretty far away from Chicago.

Of all times for condescension, why in the heat of the moment? The Margrave cast a dubious glance at Messiah as she foolishly attempted to stretch her hand out in front of his view. As if he were some child that needed to be protected from the sight of violence! The sight of staggeringly bright light by his dark-adjusted eyes, however, almost sent him reeling. Yet, his growl of frustration caught in the striker's throat; he could not afford to reveal his exact location now that his general position had been compromised. With his ally's attack, the battle had become joined. You do realize this means war? he found himself wanting to ask, but sarcasm wouldn't do anyone any good at the moment. Any second now, the Margrave expected to hear the tramp of many footsteps down the tunnel, just begging for a good puncture on his caltrops.

First, he heard the distinctive bellowing of the the enemy boss—the big cheese, the head honcho, the number-one bad: Eyeblight. Before the villain even finished, the Margrave had already forfeited his composure to give a derisive smirk. Having little regard for subordinates totally befit a cruel ringleader, and the Margrave could -as an antihero- sympathize with the need to make sacrifices to get the job done, but did this foo truly believe he could capture the Wards? No bonds could ever dream to restrain him. He was the smoke to slip between the foe's fingers...or to choke their lungs. In the Margrave, this Eyeblight would find a formidable opponent indeed.

That said, he did not exactly anticipate the psychopath's unnerving transformation. Transfixed in fear and fascination, the Margrave witnessed his flesh become straw, his mouth become a jagged opening, and his eyes become portals into a world of nightmares. A sudden, inexplicable terror, different and far greater than his own surprise, washed over him, and instinctively he recoiled. The instant he did, he felt some of the horror drain away, but the cold sweat now making his pits, chest, and lower back clammy did not, unfortunately, disappear. Something clicked in the clever boy's head. Hypnotism? It must be! As long as I do not look into his eyes, I cannot be lulled into a trance. So thinking, he turned back and straightened up, but made sure to regard Eyeblight out of the corner of his eye rather than head-on. Some of the fear returned, but it paled in comparison to what Margrave genuinely felt when the scarecrow used Tulpa's evil spirit as a springboard to charge straight at him. He gulped, knowing that unfeeling straw would not care much about pointy spikes on the ground. Some of his horror stemmed also from his conviction that the array of tiny weapons currently in his palm wouldn't work, either. His only choice was to apply force—a lot of it.

The Margrave's adrenaline kicked in and time seemed to slow down. From his hand, the bundle of plastic pieces fell, and like a gopher into its hole the and dove into its owner's coat in a desperate quest. Eyeblight closed the distance at a frankly worrisome pace, and neither Tulpa nor Messiah appeared to be doing anything to help him despite the fact that he was clearly the scarecrow's target. Rage sparked in his mind. Trying to get me killed, are you? Well, I'll show you! His fingers closed around a single plastic toy pulled off an action figure, special enough to warrant its own pocket. A wild, near-maniacal grin spread across his features as he whipped it out. ”Yes!” he shouted. In his hands, the tiny armament grew to full-size in a flash, and Eyeblight would find himself staring down the barrel of a Military Armament Corporation Model 10. ”Victory to the swiftest!”

The tunnel lit up with muzzle flash, and over the loud whine of automatic gunfire the Margrave could barely be heard shouting, ”Ahahah! This MAC-10 fires a thousand two hundred rounds a minute, but without much penetrating power, you're gonna be blown back to the stone age even if it doesn't rip ya to stuffing! Consider it the last present you'll ever receive from the brilliant Margrave, Eyebliiiiiiiight!”

Love Craft: Icehouse Hideout

Frankie stared, confused for a second, as they thought they were being regarded even though the context made no sense. He stared at Sofia while he said "miss Stein." Was her last name Stein? The chances of two people with the same last name meeting must have been so small, Frankie was kind of happy about it. They briefly thought about having a sibling would be like. Growing up all alone certainly wasn't that fun. But that didn't matter, Lovely had seemingly succeeded in making the Broker uncomfortable, much faster than Chatterbox ever could. They smiled smugly in his direction before reclaiming a seat.

Broker wasted no time getting back on track, taking out a brown briefcase and revealing its contents. The thing that caught Lovely's attention the most was a photograph of an attractive young man. A rough ridin' cowboy, by the looks of it. Although they wouldn't be getting paid for the errand, the chance to meet a fellow super powered scientist excited Frankie. His handsome features excited them too, but that was for when they met.

Frankie grabbed the envelope and slipped it into their pocket as Sofia grabbed the manilla folder. It seemed she wouldn't be joining them, so Frankie turned to face the mercenary, asked asked him instead. "Mind coming with, Not-so Little Soldier Man? I'd like someone to keep me company" They propositioned, before realizing the corpse laying on the floor would begin to decay if it weren't put on ice. Whether or not Headhunter agreed, Frankie would excuse themselves, before traveling out back. They took out their disposable phone and dialed a familiar number.

"Father, this man seems like the real deal. I've already got a deceased specimen for us."

"Ahh, good, Frankie. Does he have a labratory of any kind?"

"I don't believe so, but he seems to be able to get whatever we'll need. He's provided us with a loft, I'm sure he could get us supplies."

"Excellent. I'll write up a list once I've inspected the loft. What's the address?"

"It's the old Icehouse place, near the stadium, Coors Field. I'll place the keys somewhere near the door, under the mat or in a plant or some such. I have an errand I need to run for him. Another parahuman just entered the city, Tinker."

"Mmmm. I'll begin making my way there soon."

"Love you, father."

"You too, Frankie."

With that, Frankie reentered the building. "I need to move the specimen, but I should be back in about five minutes. If anyone else wishes to accompany me in finding Arsenal, meet me out front then." They explained, uncharacteristically formal for the moment. Muscles began expanding all over Lovely's body, giving them a fairly impressive set of abs and much stronger arms and legs. With this new strength, Lovely easily lifted the cadaver of Everest in a style reminiscent of a bridal carry, and began making their way to their room. Once their, they wouldn't spend much time looking around, only placing Everest on a table before locking the door and hiding the keys in the dirt of a potted plant next to the door. With this, they began making their way towards the entrance of the Icehouse, eager to meet the new parahuman in town.

"Macavity, you sly dog," Rucker chuckled to himself, binoculars placed firmly upon his eyes as he was scanning the rather shady warehouse district. He had gotten very vague hints and clues about the operation at hand, and after staking the place out, he figured there was something important going on but didn't exactly know much about goods the Bratva were transporting. It was a mystery to the thief, but something this hush-hush had to be something very valuable to the syndicate. He had guesses, experimental drugs, dangerous weapons, priceless jewels, or maybe even something more than everything combined! It was tantalizing for the criminal, stealing from big names was always exhilarating even if those big names were infamous crime syndicates or PRT protected facilities. It was all the same to him, using his newfound powers to steal from people that he could've never imagined from stealing without his hands being lobbed off in the process. Though, it was just the waiting game at this point for Macavity, he was waiting for these members to pack up the cargo and leave for the drop-off point. He was going to hitch a ride on the transportation vehicle, make a huge commotion by using high-grade explosives at the drop-off, and then in the confusion steal as much as he could carry off into the night. It was a horribly thought out plan, but it was the only plan that Rucker could salvage with the very limited time after learning the location and time of the transaction. And, it was around the time to enact this horribly thought out plan.

Reaching the location of the transaction, walking plainly through the area as no one seemed to mind his hidden presence in the facility, a loud crash was heard among the cargo area. "Ouch, that is coming out of their paycheck," Rucker snarked, chuckling at his own joke. Picking up the pace, he was just about to reach the area before someone else opened the door to the outside before him! Stopping directly in his tracks, it took just a moment for his eyes to catch that the stranger was just some young girl. This confused him, was this some sort of bring your daughter to work day? Though, on closer inspection it seemed that the girl was physically exhausted by the sunken eyes and wobbly jog. Peaking his head through the closing door, Macavity saw the workers frozen in place with shattered wood and a rather strange looking pod in the middle of the mess. The door closed upon Macavity ending his view upon the strange situation, and he looked back to the girl escaping the frozen people. It didn't take long for Rucker to piece together that the girl was parahuman, and that she was the cargo that was supposed to be sold. "Huh... This makes things... Interesting," Macavity muttered to himself, scratching his chin as he followed the path of the runaway. His current plan scrapped all together and replaced with his curiosity of the business going on around the Bratva and little parahuman children.

It didn't take too long for Macavity to catch up, it was quite easy to reach a little girl with severe exhaustion and malnutrition. Though, he didn't seem to reveal himself right away. It could be some sort of convoluted trap to capture the curious thief, so Rucker silently followed the girl inspecting everything on the surface level. She would seem like an average cute little girl if it wasn't for the severe ailments that faced her, and the red track suit wasn't doing any good for her look as well. However, it seemed that she didn't have any sort of weapons or curious objects on her body, all she really had was that unappealing red tracksuit. Continuing his appraisal, her random movement led the two into an alleyway, he inspected her just a bit more before deciding that she was relatively safe. Though, he wasn't just going to materialize right before her and potentially be zapped by whatever freezing power that the girl possessed, he was going to play it cool. Reaching into his tote bag, he pulled out several things that would most likely calm her nerves. Sprinting ahead of the girl, he let go of his powers hiding the various objects in his hands, the items materializing in "mid-air", it would take a moment before her mind recognize these items, and it would help quite a bit in her condition. A peanut butter and jelly sandwich, 12 ounce Gatorade bottle, and a slightly mushed chocolate muffin appeared out of thin air. After recognizing the food, Macavity materialized into her vision as well, showing that he was the one holding all the "flying" objects in his hands. "Hello, pleased to meet you! I'm Macavity, and please don't kill me." Rucker said, politely smiling at the most likely bewildered girl.

The most dangerous weapon in the drain was easily destroyed. The second most dangerous weapon, not so much. And that wasn't even including powers... Messiah heard more combat occurring at the other end of the drainpipe, including at least a couple of gun discharges, and Tulpa's projection continued its rampage against the thugs before grabbing the hostages and running, but even that didn't quite grab her attention so much as the abrupt, strangling sense of fear she felt as Eyeblight transformed to his monstrous, scarecrow-esque state, enough to make her reflexively take a step back in spite of herself before regaining control, reminding herself that it was all in her head, and, taking a page from Margrave's book, averting her gaze slightly, just enough to keep Eyeblight in view without receiving the full effects of his unsettling aura.

Though she was only paralysed briefly, it was more than enough time for Eyeblight to draw his combat knife and begin moving toward Messiah and the rest of her group in probably the most physically awkward manner possible, even doing acrobatics over and around Tulpa's projection, and seeming to aim for Margrave specifically as he drew nearer. The caltrops were worthless against the straw man, of course, but then so were a lot of their other powers, so long as they wouldn't kill him... at best, another burst of light to the eyes might blind him long enough that they could disable him a bit more effectively. So long as that damn knife could be gotten off of him and his speed advantage was disabled, his lowered weight might actually work against him, since his physical strength was no higher than a normal human. He couldn't "lift more", as it were. Though that didn't negate his regular strength...

She was shaken out of her thought processes by Tulpa's question, about whether or not she could reabsorb heat once she'd expulsed it. 'If I touch it again, yeah,' she responded, moving into a fairly standard Krav Maga stance... there was a minor benefit of Eyeblight being made of straw, she admitted: raw physical force couldn't particularly kill him. At least not the sort she might put out. Even so, she figured she ought to go a bit hard on making sure he wasn't a threat; thus, as he passed Margrave's caltrops outright, the light shining from her eyes refocused into full-blown stadium light beams, aimed straight at Eyeblight's face even though she herself kept looking just to one side of him. If nothing else, that ought to render him unable to see the group particularly well, though she might start running low on visible juice if she kept that up for too long...

And then Margrave pulled out a machine gun, and blasted away at Eyeblight with it from near point-blank range. Over the noise of the weapon firing, and the sound of Margrave going on yet another overblown rant, all Messiah could really think was Who the hell brings a weapon like that to a cape fight? At best it's useless, at worst it's LETHAL! It seemed she had been wrong after all about who had the most dangerous weapon... and yet the second most lethal remained a threat, especially if the bullets did as little as she thought they might. With the various distractions in place, Messiah aimed another beam of intense heat toward Eyeblight's knife, this time firing additional beams as needed until she was sure the weapon was destroyed.

---

Raymond nodded and thanked the Broker as he walked over to the table, mission proposals in hand. He'd certainly be involved in the mission that involved payment, because why wouldn't he be? Sofia (last name Stein, he noted) immediately went for the envelope containing said mission, and Raymond moved to look over her shoulder as she opened it up and looked at whatever was inside. In the meantime, the androgynous person asked Headhunter- in a rather flirty fashion, evidently- if he'd like to accompany them on the other mission, the so-called "errand" to gather an actual fifth member, a man going by the cape name of "Arsenal"...

'That will be a maybe,' he stated bluntly, 'depending on what time the primary mission takes place.' And looking at the mission itself (rather a dangerous one at that... for anybody in the mission's vicinity, at least), it seemed like it'd be at 2PM... tomorrow. Well, fancy that. He continued reading over everything just to make sure the details were set up in his mind until Love Craft had returned to the room, then stated 'Make that a yes,' to the androgyne, noting the abrupt muscle growth they apparently needed to pick up and carry the body. Coincidentally, their need for five minutes to move the corpse was just enough for Headhunter himself to rush upstairs and dress down a bit - much as he was mildly uncomfortable showing his face in public, what with his reputation as an assassin, and especially to a number of capes who might not necessarily be trustworthy with keeping his appearance a secret, a full-blown army getup was sure to attract far too much suspicion for his liking. No, anonymity trumped disguise any day of the week, when the two couldn't be feasibly combined. That, and there were a few blood splatters on his outfit. Those could do with cleaning off after the fact.

So, with all said and done, and the Broker nowhere in sight, Raymond finally left the hideout, heading up the flights of stairs until he reached his designated room, and using his key to unlock the door into the place. Once he was inside with the door locked behind him, he removed his military gear, replacing it with far more inconspicuous civilian gear, and placed said military gear into the provided washing basket. He was absolutely going to buy a separate basket for that equipment... it needed specialised methods to clean, amongst other things hand washing rather than just throwing it into the washing machine, otherwise the kevlar and/or fabric might shrink (and incidentally, he was grateful that this particular set of body armour hadn't been in any severe fights yet; acquiring new pieces was hellishly difficult, and extraordinarily expensive even for his available funds). Oh, and it'd need to be hidden away somewhere that wouldn't be discovered in the event of a raid on his house, though if things had gotten to that stage, he'd want to have been gone for a very long time before then. Perhaps burn the room down behind him, to minimise DNA presence there. Shame about the rest of the building, if it came to that, but it hardly mattered anyway. Regardless, once he was redressed, he exited the flat again and locked the door behind him, then stowed the key away in a hidden inside pocket of his pants, before heading back downstairs and out the front of the building.

---

Listening with attention locked upon the Broker, Chatterbox nodded, then watched their boss go, smirking all the while. When he had left the room, he watched as Lovely made their proposition to HeadHunter, before hoisting the deceased cape out of the room. He glanced towards the table with the manilla envelope where Sofia sat, and the mercenary looked over her shoulder to read. When the assassin had left the room, he rose to his feet, walked over, glanced over Sofia's shoulder briefly, reading the mission briefing to gain some details before he turned to leave. However, as he reached the halfway point of the room he held up a finger, turned on his heel and lifted his chair, carrying it back to the table. The act was done for the moment, so the props ought to go back to their proper places.

Alone in the room aside from the quiet girl, he made a point of taking care of his beverage as well, speaking all the while. "You know, Sofia, you're curious one," he said frankly, no aggression or negativity in his tone. "Quiet, with a useful, but quite peculiar power to almost offset your demeanor." He glanced over his shoulder at her, flashing a winning smile before he finished cleaning his cup and setting it in the cupboard. He turned towards her, walking past as he headed for the door. He patted her on the back once, "I look forwards to working with you. I believe it will be...interesting. Ciao~" He then exited the building, headed up to his room, changed into civilian clothes, took the dye from his hair, and retrieved some sunglasses, which he donned.

No longer wearing his rather gaudy costume, Chatterbox had instead put on a blue and white shirt, with the colors alternating over a series of thin vertical lines. He was wearing similarly nice slacks, with his collar not at all popped, and his shoes fairly average. He had switched out his costume gloves for more inconspicuous ones that matched his shirt, their color a light gray. Looking himself over, Drake Vettman adjusted his blonde hair and retrieved a gray hoodie, tying it around his waist. He made a point to retrieve a bandanna that matched the hoodie's color, though he only tied it around his wrist...for the moment.

Not much caring for his civilian identity, Drake didn't particular mind if the others saw him out of costume. It wasn't a huge difference anyways, and if they targeted him later well...they'd have broken the rules now wouldn't they? He chuckled to himself before heading out, locking the door, before walking down a flight of stairs and exiting the building. He'd meet Lovely and Headhunter outside, saluting to them rather jokingly with two fingers, the gesture meant as a greeting. "I'd tag along if you don't mind, gentlemen," he said with a smile, glancing at Lovely almost pointedly, the action indicated more by a slight movement of his head, rather than his eyes, which were hidden behind shades. As per his usual, Drake had a smile stretched across his face.

It was one of several things that simply didn't change when the mask came off. Too bad for them.

Bullets tore down the alley way, Frank and Derron where destroyed beyond usefulness so he released them from his control. With his head cleared of the strain he thought frantically. Zach was coming at him now as well, this was becoming a serious danger it was time to go. He still had the officer's corpse at his disposal so he ordered the officer up again and began firing on Arsenal again. Necro, from behind his dumpster, held out a hand an forced his concentration to the limit, drawing up the bone of all his deceased minions. The bone snaked across the ground like liquid mostly coming towards Zach and Necro.

The liquid bone jutted up around Zach making a bone prison that solidified moments later. the remaining bone came to thickening his armor, in hopes that he would survive a few short dashes with less cover. With the officer up and shooting again Necro lept up, slightly slowed by the extra weight on his armor, and dashed across the alley out to the streets of Denver. He had only run a few yards into public when he dropped the officer as well, in hopes that the 'heroes' would try not to cause any collateral damage in chasing him. If they did however, he began running towards the nearest cemetery where he knew he would have enough bodies and bones to drag out a serious fight.

While running he noticed the bullet holes in his trench coat, revealing the skeletal armor underneath. "Son of a bitch" he muttered to himself, hoping that his outrageous costume would be largely ignored by the public. As he thought about it he did shift the skull face of the helmet into an open faced one like a motorcycle helmet, he knew he still looked like a madman but it was still better than looking like a villain right now.

Though it may have been in Zach's mind, it almost felt like Necro had begun panicking. Liquid snaked past Zach's leg, and he started in surprise. As a side effect of the delay, he was quickly trapped in a prison of bone, stopping his charge . A loud curse escaped his lips as he threw himself at the material, though the attempt was futile. He sighed as Necro fled, deciding to try another method. A loud crack sounded down the alley as he hit the base of a single bar with the crowbar It didn't shatter, but it fractured badly. Zach dropped the crowbar, wincing at pain at the pain. He fell to his knees, a long string of curses beginning to leave his lips after a large gasp. Distant sirens seemed to be growing less so, and Zach's escape seemed less and less likely. He glanced over at the now collapsed police officer, and the man who he had sided with.

”Do you mind-uh-helping out a bit?” He asked carefully, eyeing the man with a patient caution. He didn't expect to be attacked, but he wouldn't be surprised if Arsenal decided leaving was the more urgent task.

The blood lust had left Zach's eyes, replaced with a measured confidence. He felt something warm on his face, and wiped away the red sticky liquid away with his sleeve. It didn't particularly help, it mostly just smeared the blood.

Tulpa's decision to move the hostages out with her manifested projection was a fantastic move. The creature retrieved the bound and sacked group of eight, then trampled through the drain pipe to the exit, knocking aside the few remaining thugs in the process. Epsilon, Sonar, and the various Martyrs thankfully were not trampled by the tulpa, and had the prime opportunity to restrain and/or knock the remaining gang members on their side unconscious. Of course, that still left a total of seven thugs, not counting Eyeblight himself.

The horrific scarecrow carried forward even as Messiah blasted another glare of light directly at him and radiated herself in glorious illumination. Every shot of condensed heat energy missed as he expertly danced around it all. Almost as though he ignored physics entirely, Eyeblight appeared not to give even a single shit that flames came oh so close to igniting his straw body. Then Margrave performed in a completely unpredictable manner, reverting a toy machine gun into its true original form. Spouting another dramatic speech, the troubled teen opened fire upon the scarecrow villain with abandon. Eyeblight was fast, faster than any normal human even at their peak, but even he wasn't faster than automatic fire.

Many of the projectiles perforated Eyeblight's body. Most passed right through, blowing tiny slivers out of his form. Whether they struck true or missed the bullets kept right on going down the drain off, striking those still standing. Of the seven thugs remaining, two immediately went down as rubber bullets struck them with such repeated force that the pain alone was unbearable. Another collapsed thanks to a broken collar bone. The remaining four turned tail and ran, having absolutely no desire to stay in the literal line of fire. That put them at odds with Epsilon, the Martyrs, and Sonar, who also had a little problem with stray rubber shots coming their way.

As for the villain himself? Eyeblight ignored the assault for the most part. That is until he had reached Margrave with an outstretched knife-wielding hand, and the fire just happened to concentrate well enough that the scarecrow's arm severed at the shoulder. Instead of howling in pain or appearing worried Eyeblight merely ducked down and swept at Margrave's legs with a low kick, knocking the Ward on his ass. In the same motion Eyeblight grabbed his missing arm, then reattached it. A half second later he had both arms again, good as new.

"Little pissant! Now I'm going to need to stitch up this costume again!"

"Team, we have a problem," Sonar's voice was heard by all of the Wards, but nobody else. "Something happened the moment the hostages were moved. I'm hearing something new. Tick tick tick tick." The Ward leader smacked a goon across the face with his baton, dropping the total of mooks to three, then turned round to get to the hostages on the outside.

"Eeny meenie minie YOU!" With expert skill Eyeblight hurled his combat knife straight for Messiah's heart. HAHAHAHAHA! GAZE UPON ME AND TREMBLE!"

---

---

The manila envelope did indeed contain a set of specs for a mission. Sofia pulled from it a few photographs, a detailed schedule, and a set of typed instructions. According to all of the information there was to be a prison transport through the city, escorting a captured villain to the classified location of the Birdcage somewhere in the Rockies. According to the schedule, the transport would be heading north on Interstate 25 through the suburb of Lone Tree at around 2:00 PM. The transport truck would be escorted by two PRT combat vans, one in front and one in back, and would also be hosting one of the Protectorate heroes. Unfortunately which Protectorate hero was unknown, so the team would have to plan for any of them. The target was the prisoner being transported, one recently captured and sentenced villain cape known as Gamble. Gamble's power, as far as it was understood by the public, was as a thinker. The bigger and more audacious the risk he took, the more likely he was to manipulate the situation to coming out on top. The mission itself was stated quite clearly. Stop the prison transport, retrieve Gamble, and deliver him to The Broker alive and unharmed, if at all possible. As always they were not to kill anybody unless it became an absolute necessity, but of course they shouldn't allow themselves to be followed or tracked.

---

---

"Oh, I wish to speak with you about a great many things," the hologram replied, looking perhaps a little put off by Ruben's attitude. Decoy had, after all, given respect and bowed while the host only spoke back while holding water. Western or Eastern in culture, that could be seen as rude. Decoy paid no attention to the folder that had fallen from the desk. Either they simply did not care, or perhaps the machine projecting the hologram couldn't see it. "You know, this all could have been avoided if you had communicated with us through legal channels. We have a hotline, or there was the front door. Hmhmhmhmhm." Well that was an unusual sounding laugh.

"But I digress, I can tell that you are no real threat. You could be an ally and friend, though. Here is what I propose. I will file a formal report with the PRT director that I detected an unusual computer signature and investigated it, something these soldiers will corroborate. This report will state that we located a parahuman, but no illicit activities have been discovered. In return, you can fly your little drone to the front door and request a meeting with the director himself and see what he can do for you. Or perhaps he can arrange coming to see you in your home, who knows?" The hologram gave a shrug, its large belly of fat jiggling in the process.

---

---

Sirens could be heard approaching fast, from every direction. Cops no doubt were about to show up, but more than that those still around could hear the unique sirens of the PRT mixed in with the hulabaloo. Anybody with an arrest order or considered a danger had best flee, fast...

The teenager couldn't get very far after her little break before something had intercepted her. When food appeared out of thin air and began floating a few feet in front of her she came to an immediate halt in her jog. Cassidy was confident that she was hallucinating at this point and it was just another sign of how bad her condition was affecting her. But before she could start running again it was revealed that an invisible man had been holding the food, materializing in front of her and greeting her aloud.

"Hello, pleased to meet you! I'm Macavity, and please don't kill me."

Cassidy's first instinct was to assume he was working with the people who abducted her. He had a superpower just like she did, though his was clearly way different. Cassidy had never had to deal with another parahuman before, at least not to her knowledge, so she immediately figured he was more threatening than he looked. Why would this man be stopping her? Why did he have food? There were many questions and the confusion Cassidy was feeling was very apparent if Macavity had to judge by her expression and demeanor. "Who are you?" she snapped at him, making it extra clear how defensive she was. This was followed by a quick cough, her parched throat betraying her in the moment she was trying to seem tough. Cassidy was already considering using her power to stop this man and run away but she wanted to be conservative in her use. She had no idea how much "time" she had left, considering how many men were in that warehouse. She had estimated it was only a dozen but when she escaped it was very clear that it was far more than that.

With her "time" reserves so low it wouldn't be a good idea to freeze this man for any useful length of time. If it was only for a few seconds he could catch back up with ease, probably. If it was for a few minutes she might be putting herself dangerously low or even run out entirely. At the very least she had to see if he was going to be an actual threat. If he pulled out a weapon or made any sudden movements she would activate her power. She was feeling weak so if she wanted to incapacitate him she would have to freeze him for longer than she was willing to risk, so Cassidy decided her back-up plan was just to run. "Don't try anything funny..." Cassidy's desperation was getting the better of her and despite her caution she still didn't even wait for Macavity to offer the food in his hands. She gingerly reached for the Gatorade bottle first, prioritizing her thirst. But she moved slowly to see if he would stop her or react in some way. Cassidy briefly considering the idea of freezing him for a few seconds so she could safely grab the drink but she didn't want to reveal her power so quickly. After all he didn't seem to fully understand it right now judging by his comment. Or at least Cassidy hoped he didn't understand it, because the idea that he may have been sarcastic didn't even occur to her as she took the plastic bottle from his hand.



The blonde woman sat in the back of the limousine with most of her security detail seated around her with only two in the front of the vehicle. She was calmly going through her purse as the vehicle drove through Denver, away from the police department. "Pull onto Baker street," Natasha commanded as she withdrew a small white mask from the handbag. "After I leave take the detour to the warehouse and wait outside my office for me to return if I am not already there." She slipped the small eyemask onto her face before withdrawing a bandana from the bag as well. After fastening it to her face she was already much harder to recognize, unless one were to be very particular with hair. "Consider this an emergency. We don't know what power the cape has. Keep the standard damage control procedures. No cops are going to show up."

Though the limo wasn't of the particularly long variants it still had plenty of room and a sliding glass sun roof over the center of the passengers' section. Natasha unbuttoned her suit and began taking her clothes off, setting them aside in an empty seat in a messy pile. Her entourage was already aware of who she was, leaving none to be surprised by the uniform she was wearing underneath her clothes. Instead they gave a chorus of approval to her plan, understanding what their orders were. Now that Natasha had fully donned her costume she had become Sonika. The aryan supervillain got up from her seat just as the driver navigated the vehicle onto the designated street. There was only one other vehicle and it was an angle that the cameras from the previous intersection would not reach. "Прощай.

When the driver opened the sunroof she immediately launched straight into the air from within the cab, the sudden burst of wind blasting the security as if there had been a small gale inside the car. Not enough to shake the limo but enough to cause loose clothing to flap about uncontrollably for a brief few seconds. But now that Sonika was in the air she was free to move. The supervillain increased her altitude, hovering high above the ground to make it harder to see her from below. The coloration of her costume assisted in this. Once at about two hundred meters she began to move forward, making a straight line to the warehouse on the other side of Denver. Sonika was far faster than any car, accelerating through the sky at increasing speed. It wouldn't take her a full minute to reach her destination across the city, though she made sure not to go too fast. She was able to fly at great speed by entirely removing the air around her to negate all air resistance. Without friction there was no g-force that would harm her and she would be capable of accelerating to speeds rivaling the fastest aircraft with enough time. But the air outside her air-less space was still being moved and affected, so if she went too fast and broke the sound barrier it was likely that at her height someone would hear it below and look up. All she had to do now was hold her breath and move forward, paying no mind to any of the drama happening in the city below as she homed in on her target.

"Seriously? All you need to do is file a report and I can meet with the director?" Ruben was taken aback by this slightly, the process was that simple? If Ruben had known that before, he'd have made an effort to go so far as to crawl to the PRT headquarters to get a meeting with their director. He honestly didn't want that person to even come near the entrance of his home though, too many private documents and tapes and such. Ruben was excited then he realized he must've been rude at the start of this conversation, so he bowed back finally. "Sorry if I was rude there, I haven't exactly been around people in a long time. I'd be grateful if you did this for me."
This went from bad to good very quickly.

Sofia looked over the mission and frowned a little. She wasn't entirely sure of what help she would be. If it was something easy like stealing stuff she could do that, but this just seemed troublesome. Oh well, someone would probably think of something or her to do. Everybody began leaving the building, probably to go hunt for Arsenal, Headhunter and Chatter both read the mission details that she spread out on the table. Sofia was wondering what she should do when Chatterhead spoke up. His words were curious, he seemed to think her power was useful and also offsetting to her... demeanor? That probably meant something like personality. Did that mean he thought her personality was useless? Or perhaps just not useful. Still, his smile was charming and he said he wanted to work with her. He was quite nice and Sofia wasn't entirely sure how to feel about the man. "Bye." she said quietly as he left.

Sofia was left along in the warehouse and several empty cups of coffee, though not Chatterhead's cleaned one. Without thinking much about it Sofia began taking care of the rest of the cups and pondered what to do. Until tomorrow when they started planning for the mission, or whatever it is they were going to do, things were like they always were. She was alone. The only difference was this warehouse. It was rather nice, Sofia scanned the room again, eyes resting curiously on the firing range. She was used to the sight of guns but had never used one before. It could be interesting. Though odds were she would end up hurting herself more than learning anything. She knew little more than point and click. An experiment best left for another time. Perhaps she could ask Chatterhead to teach her how to shoot, or Headbunter. Sofia shrugged. She had a room here right? The Broker had mentioned there was a living space here for her. If nothing else she could sleep the day away and the refrigerator probably had food in it so she wouldn't need to steal anything else. Musing to herself Sofia began heading to her room, curious to see what it looked like, though not getting her hopes up. Odds were she'd simply end up going to bed.

Arsenal - Denver Alleyway

Arsenal wasn't going to lose his first battle against this parahuman, it would be outright embarrassing to be losing to some skeleton freak and his disgusting undead minions. He knew at this rate of constant fire, he had little amount of ammo to combat the amount of enemies coming this way as the sirens of the police and PRT sounded closer and closer. It was funny, his plan had worked to an extent, but sadly he didn't expect Necro to survive a two on one assault between two parahumans! It didn't matter at this point, he just needed to end this fight as soon as possible before ditching the two to escape from the encroaching enemy. Though, the stubborn guy just wouldn't budge against his sheer brute force, it seemed that his dream of taking down the entire PRT around the world alone was seeming impossible as he battled in the two versus one skirmish. Arsenal cursed himself, would his crusade end so early as on the first enemy!? Was his superior strength not good enough to defeat one person? He screamed over the hail of bullets, the standing police officer barely getting one shot off before being pelted with bullets from his superior rate of fire, though Arsenal didn't seem to notice the liquid bones slithering beneath his feet.

As suddenly as the liquid bones appeared, a living cage of bones erupted from the ground swallowing up someone else in the alleyway. Oh! The mystery kid, wait, how isn't he dead yet? He was sure that the position of the kid would have meant he was taking the full force of the bullet rain, how did he survive? For that second of lost thought, Necro had gotten away from the two as he dashed away using the bone cage as a distraction for the two. He was too late to notice this fact as he had left the two standing around like idiots, Arsenal cursed himself again for losing his target, though at least by technically he won by as the loser had run away from his soon to be death. Giving a sharp exhale of air, Arsenal tore off his shredded poncho revealing his true body to no one as Zach couldn't see through the bone cage, quickly hitting against one of his many metal arms, a brand new poncho was spat out by the machine through the some random opening within the machine. It was in this scenarios that Arsenal carried six extra costumes due to the fact of their constant use of being destroyed by his own weapon. Before donning the fresh clothing, he opened his palm on one of his arms, and a cleansing fire soon burst out burning the torn poncho and soon aimed at the destroyed bodies of the two thugs and the police man, destroying evidence was good enough when slowing down the police, but he needed to hurry and escape this burning alleyway.

”Do you mind-uh-helping out a bit?”

Sighing, Arsenal was hoping to just ditch the kid in the beginning, but he could prove to be a liability if the police catches him. Quickly pacing through the burning alleyway towards the bone cage, he knocked on the cage of bones. "Stand clear, I'm about to punch this thing open." Arsenal announced, pulling back his arm before punching a straight hole through the bone. Gripping the sides of the jagged hole, he tore away a good chunk of the cage allowing someone to pass through with ease such as the person trapped in said cage. "Kid, I don't want to be bogged down with the exuberant amount of paperwork and trouble in this alley here. So I'd rather keep it between the two of us as if we were never here in this alleyway. You got that? So you exit out one way, and I'll go the other as if the both of us were never involved in this little incident against the villain." Arsenal said, quickly discussing the matter with Zach. Suddenly, he grabbed his wrist before letting go a tiny bone shard into his hand revealing a scrapped on email address. "Keep it safe, contact me when you feel ready to do this little tango again, though I hope you will be more prepared for a fight next time," Arsenal soon calmly sped out of the alleyway, briskly walking away from the scene of the crime as if nothing had happen. Though, he wondered, it seemed that boy was immune to damage in some way or the other as he seemed to survive the fight against those thugs unharmed and with the parahuman fight as well. Arsenal could use that power of immunity to his advantage easily on that gullible boy, but that would have to wait as he was currently escaping from the torched scene of blood and violence.

Macavity - Random Alleyway

Well... He didn't seem to be dead for the moment. Macavity continued to calmly smile at the dangerous, defensive, and confused little girl, a powerful combination of emotions that could easily get out of hand if he makes the wrong move. He wondered why he had such a fascination over this brand new target, it seemed that even Macavity himself sometimes couldn't decipher his actions. Maybe he was feeling bad for the little girl. Her terrible appearance did remind him of someone else in the past, but maybe he was just being too sentimental at that fact. Though at the moment, he was feeling a bit of excitement and fun coming from this situation as well.

"Who are you?"

Yep, she was definitely being on the defensive side at the moment, but he couldn't really blame her as she had just escaped from one of the most powerful crime syndicates in the world. He would have to stay still with a calming and reassuring aura for her to stay her hand upon that power of hers, though it did seem that bringing out the snacks was a good idea as she lightly coughed exposing her desperation for only just that moment. He continued to smile, holding onto the snacks as he tried to be as unalarming as possible, it was almost as if he was holding his hand out in front of a deer hoping it would eat from his palm. "Who am I? Why, like I said, I'm Macavity! A master thief extraordinaire! Though, at the moment, it seems that I'm a benevolent figure who is wondering the same question that you have so bequeathed upon me," Macavity's smile soon turned into a playful grin, trying to sound overly eloquent in his words to soften the mood of the situation. However, as he was speaking, Macavity was doing something mischievous while speaking to the little girl. She started to fade from existence, her body completely disappearing to anybody that would look upon the situation. She wouldn't notice this abrupt change at all, the effect working behind the scene as Macavity and the food similarly started to disappear as well, though she wouldn't be able to see the difference between the two as the conversation continued beyond anyone's senses. The Bratva thugs would no longer danger or ruin the fun little event happening between the two.

"Don't try anything funny..."

He nodded with the same goofy grin, Cassidy reaching for the snacks as she would try to knack the food from his hands. This food was actually supposed to be his quick snacks while riding along the transportation vehicle to the drop off zone, but it was serving a different, but equally important service for the thief. She seemed to be reaching for the drink first, it was quite easy to predict after her little coughing fit from before, but it seemed that she wasn't too keen on the stranger just yet. "Don't hurt me now," Macavity said in a over exaggerated voice, unfurling his hand from the bottle allowing Cassidy to pull the drink away from his hand. He was pleased with himself, he managed to successfully feed a stray like in one of those inspirational videos on the internet that show people feeding mangy stray dogs and cats. "Now! I hope this token of goodwill will reach into your heart and bring out some sore needed faith that I'm not in cahoots with some nasty people. Now would you mind answering how you got in this doozy of a situation that you have found yourself in?"

Sirens. God damn it, this was looking more than a little bad, especially considering the prison he was trapped in. Arsenal’s deep voice called out a warning, and Zach complied, backing away from the side of the cage the voice had originated from. A less-than-human fist burst through the cage, and tore a good portion of the material off. The sombrero wearing vigilante explained the situation, as he saw it, and suggested immediate departure from the premises.

The man reached out, grabbing Zach’s wrist, and to Zach’s surprise his power didn’t activate. He was a bit more surprised when he looked into his hand and saw a bone with an email address scraped onto it. Zach nodded in response to the command to keep it safe, slipping it into his pocket. Though a repeat of today’s events didn’t sound that nice, an ally did.

Glancing down into his other hand as the man walked away, he took in the crowbar for a few seconds. He glanced at the roof above him, and sighed. He threw it into the air, aiming for the roof, but it instead bounced back into the alley. Zach walked over to it, picking it up again, before leaving the alley the opposite direction of Arsenal’s exit, and perpendicular to the direction the sirens seemed to be coming from. God damn. He was gonna have to find a place to hide the crowbar, mostly because of the fingerprints, blood and brain matter it had on it.

Martyr: Drainage Pipe

Dean's head snapped backwards as a gunshot rang out, coming from the girl behind him. Epsilon. Flicking his head back to where her pistol was pointing, Dean noticed the final gang member, now gasping on the floor from the shot to the head. Dean nodded and smiled at his teammate. Though he probably wouldn't have died from that, the help was appreciated. Dean again prepared to take on more goons, thinking of summoning another Martyr. If Dean had counted correctly, his time was almost up.

As the Martyr began to melt, Dean had no time to mope. At about the same time that happened, Someone, Dean was betting Margrave, opened fire. He doubted Messiah was stupid enough to use a full auto weapon in a storm drain, even if the bullets were rubber. Dean hunkered down and held his swords in a cross formation to deflect the fire, though the dying Martyr was not spared from the rubber assault. With that done, and with only a few more people left, Dean was prepared to gun for Eyeblight, but Sonar informed the group that, apparently when Tulpa had moved the hostages out of the drain, they still weren't safe. Dean huffed. Well, it wasn't like he could do much to Eyeblight but kill him, and he was sure the people would appreciate the help.

Pulling two more Martyrs to deal with the remaining leftovers and followed Sonar out of the drainage pipe. "What's going on with them, Sonar? More Community flunkies? Another high ranker? Did the new girl accidentally leave them in the street?"

Flashing light, the riotous noise of gunfire, and the jarring beat of of the gun in his hands from recoil got the blood pumping through the Margrave's veins. This feeling of elation, free of any hindrance the knowledge that his bullets were rubber might otherwise have provided, surged through his body like lightning right up until the sinking feeling began to set in. Anyone with half a brain could figure out that a being made of straw wouldn't be too bothered by bullets, but as Eyeblight closed in the Margrave began to comprehend the extent of their inefficiency. They're not even slowing him down! he wanted to wail, even as one of the monster's arms detached. Before he could say or do anything else, the world was spinning, and the MAC-10's stream of bullets ceased when the Margrave hit the floor. Instantly a spike of pain shot through his lower spine, tailbone, and hips. Gritting his teeth, the Margrave watched as his assailant repaired what little damage he'd managed to do. From prior experience he knew that while this injury didn't hurt too bad now, given his level of adrenaline, it would worsen as it lasted for days. In a single motion, the dastardly villain had effectively ruined his next half-week, but of course it wasn't like he'd stop there given the chance.

If Eyeblight pressed his advantage to bury his knife between the Margrave's ribs, the tragic tale of the young rogue would have likely ended then and there. No antihero could have asked for a more appropriate fate—to perish in the cold dark, unloved and unmourned, his ferocious spark extinguished with such ferocity that it would jolt the remaining do-gooders into coming together and turning the situation around. After the day had been won, he imagined, the heroes would think back to the stranger who allied himself with them, for better or worst, and died to give them the impetus they needed to win. Perhaps an unmarked grave would be erected for him in the woods somewhere...an anonymous monument, though small, and a testament to the spirit of the man who sacrificed himself.

Alas, it was not to be. Eyeblight changed targets, resigning the Margrave to live in pain for now. Naturally he would regret this decision. Disregarding his gun for now, the rogue scooted away across the floor, searching through his jacket. When he held up his hand again, it contained a bunch of Lego bricks. Hastily, as his crow-scaring nemesis went after his fellow Ward, the Margrave constructed his bricks into a wall a few inches high and across. A storm of dramatic words entered his mind, but he kept them to himself so as to secure the element of surprise. After getting to his feet, he waited for an opportune moment when Messiah was no longer entangled with Eyeblight, then lobbed the little construct in his direction. In midair it transformed into a wall of cinderblocks several feet wide and tall, ready to squash the Margrave's enemy against the tunnel wall.