Arsenal had finally been recruited, and safely brought to the Icehouse hideout, whereupon the rest of the Jacks showed him around the hidden basement headquarters. Although Broker had definitively been absent, he had left a single key with a room number for one of the upper lofts specifically for Arsenal's use. While there, the group was able to meet back with Sofia and learn a bit of their group dynamic, perform a little show and tell (for as much as each individual was willing to provide) and explore the resources available to them. Naturally, one of the items on the group's to do list was to go over the file for their assigned job the next day. On interstate 25, at approximately 3:00 p.m., a prison transport was to be moving North through the city of Lone Tree, Colorado, just a few miles South of Denver proper. Aboard the transport was a villain known to the public as Gamble, assumed to be a thinker with the ability to have an abnormally high rate of success the more risky an action was. Two PRT escorts were to flank the transport, and according to the information provided by Broker it was believed that one of the local Protectorate Heroes would be in one of the transport vehicles. Which one was unknown, so they had to prepare themselves for any potential threat.

The next day came and the Jacks had arrived to the location they could set themselves up. Interstate 25 was a long stretch of highway with four lanes southbound and three lanes northbound. The road's western edge hugged against large hills and the base of a mountain, curving to match the topography of the landscape. The eastern edge dropped off a short but steep hill leading into a wide and open plain with nothing resembling any measure of cover. A waist high median separated the opposite sides of the highway. At this point in the day, traffic was sporadic, but constant, both northbound and southbound. How the Jacks wanted to set themselves up, how they would strike, and what strategies they were to employ, was entirely up to the group.

In the company of real heroes, emotion-stricken teammates, and one furious director, Elliot maintained a grave silence. His first instinct was to say that none of the misfortune which transpired had been his fault, but Kens wasn't exactly blaming the Wards; he placed the fault squarely on Sonar. And, even if he didn't exact punishment, the young man's fate was severe. Condemned to exist in a coma to preserve him from the dire ramifications of an unchecked power, he would never again lead the band of super-powered teens. Even worse, he might never again see the light of day, or the face of a loved one. It made Elliot feel bad—guilty, even. How much he liked the kid didn't matter. He should have done more. At the very least, he felt less inclined to complain about his own less-than-ideal ability than ever before, even in the solitude of his own company. To not have a power that meant a lifetime asleep or insane was a blessing taken for granted, he realized.

Elliot did not receive the title of leader, but he hardly wanted it. Such a position asked far more than he felt he could contribute. If anything, he felt as though Messiah drew the short end of the stick. Now she was the inexperienced, unwilling individual responsible for a group of quarrelsome, unreliable teenagers. Even leaving the meeting, which Elliot might have delighted in any other day, failed to fill him with relief. The entire ordeal filled in him a sense of dread. No matter what powers he had, he -and the rest of the Wards- were not invincible, as many young men and women liked to believe. Some day, maybe as soon as tomorrow, he might run into a meta who might ruin his life just as ruthlessly and effortlessly as the deathly one ruined Collin's. It was with a bitter face and hands jammed into pockets that Elliot stalked from the conference chamber, bound for the privacy of his own little room. He intended to while away some time in an online MMO in an effort to immerse himself somewhere far away from this reality's troubles, but with the gloomy cloud that permeated the whole building, he wondered if he could even do that.

Overlooks Bunker

The leader of the squad said something curtly and rapid footsteps were heard above. Three soldiers descended, two of them holding a sort of stretcher with straps on it. They set it down and indicated he was to get in it. The third was clearly waiting for him to exit the wheelchair so he could carry it and likely carry what few things he planned on bringing. Given he got into the stretcher he would be strapped down and carried up; then assisted in re-entering his wheelchair and escorted to the truck that the soldiers had apparently come in, a ramp already deployed for him. Once he got in the truck would make its way back to the PRT building.

---

A Shipping Warehouse

Retcon laughed, still the odd mixture between womanly and manly, "Nope! You could steal this guy's pants if you really want to I suppose. Though I don't think we have time- oh no wait we- but hurry. Or don't." After this confusing statement was uttered Retcon began strut/skip/walking towards the side of the warehouse where a relativly small door was. "Don't forget what I said, follow me but also reverse, as soon as we step out this door. Or you could take your chances on your own, but you won't get far!" Retcon said cheerily now waiting by the door to see what decision the twins made. Heavy footsteps outside could be heard and indistinct orders were being shouted.

---

Furnace let out a barely audible sigh and began moving towards Sonika with quick, short footsteps, not leaving any openings and keeping a close eye on Sonika as he neared. He stopped just outside a range where Sonika could comfortably attack and stood there. For a moment it seemed as though he just planned on waiting but suddenly waves of heat began emitting from him. In just a few moments Sonika would be breaking into a sweat, the sensation slowly ramping up in intensity. It seemed Furnace planned to sweat her out. "Come on, don't make this harder than it has to be." He said impassively as he waited.

Zach heard a chink as something broke next to his neck and someone let out a grunt of surprise, his passenger had determined the needle filled with some of the good old sleepy stuff to be not safe and it had broken on impact with the shield. Some unintelligible muttering was heard and the foam beneath him was dissolved until he was only contained by the foam immediately around him. Then he was picked up and carried towards a truck, it was like being carried in an sponge. Only you were glued to the sponge. Anyway there was nothing he could about the situation so he was carted away in the truck towards what he could only assume was the PRT building. Whatever was going to happen when he got there probably wasn't good and involved a lot of questions.

Overlook was mostly silent through the long ride, opening a laptop he carried around and playing a bit more Morrowind on the ride. To be fair, he was feeling some extreme anxiety for this meeting with the director, and it was hopefully understood as this was the first time he'd been outside since... since... um...

...fuck.

Anyway, he wasn't really ready for this meeting with the director of the PRT, and how it wasn't really helpful to be wearing a hoodie to this sort of event, or at least something that was a bit more decent and presentable. In an effort to make some form of conversation between the individuals within the armored truck. "So... if you guys work for the PRT, doesn't that mean you guys are also parahumans?"

---

There was no time to be arguing about this and worrying about clothes, Gaia had to get out of here. This clown of a person was confusing as hell but he... she... it at least seemed to know what would be a good idea in this situation. With some haste, Gaia removed the very loose shirt off the thug man in the room and put it on over her frame as it draped past her hips and was large enough to cover her. Gaia adorned her sun mask and looked back to the clown in the room with her answer. "Are we really going through with this?" "Alright you friggin clown, let's do this." "Goddammit."

@Eklispe

When Wisp returned home she would see three burly men with pickaxes assaulting her apartment's door. The pickaxes combined with the overall miner aesthetic made it clear that these men were part of The Rockers, the joke gang of Denver. Joke gang or not however, the pickaxes were proving to be very effective against her door and they would soon make it inside unless they were hindered in some way. There was the question as to why they were assaulting her home in particular but there were no clues as to that tidbit of information. Perhaps a neighbor had noticed the amount of tech they'd slowly acquired and ratted. Perhaps it was a random hit. Or perhaps it was something more sinsiter... Well these were the Rockers we're talking about it, it was probably a random hit.

---

One of the soldiers turned to look at him and even with the helmet on Overlook could someone sense a large amount of disbelief emanating from the man. "Do we look like capes? Do you... even know what the PRT is? You know we have a website right? Would think a computer nerd like you would've tried breaking into it if not at least looking at it." He said in disbelief and leaned back against the wall. Though he hadn't directly answered the question it could be inferred to be a no. The rest of the trip would pass by relatively quickly and he would be escorted into the PRT building and into a waiting lobby. "The Director should be able to meet with you in an hour or so. You're not to leave before then." The captain said shortly before he and his squad continued deeper into the building. Looks like he'd be here for a bit. But hey! They had free guest wifi!

---

"Oh goody." Said the friggin clown with a grin. "Remember the instructions, Follow the leader in reverse!" With that the oddly outfitted oogler burst open the door and made a mad dash forward several feet before turning left into an alleyway. At the other end two police officers paused seemingly at the sight of the twins and Retcon: and the two were promptly covered in yellow containment foam and rendered unable to move. Retcon turned the corner, seemingly having no intent to wait for the officer to be freed.

---

_@Eklispe

It comforted her somewhat that, as a thief, she’d eventually be caught by one of the good guys. That meant she could explain her actions and they’d likely take care of her sister. She’d… rather they didn’t force any of them to join the Wards, or the Protectorate if they were at that age, but it was a comfort that whenever that happened they’d be taken care of, one way or anoth-

‘…!’ Wisp came to a full stop, staring with wide eyes at the gang before her. It was the Rockers, she knew, but did they know? Did they KNOW who they were attacking? All of her cautious personality said that she couldn’t possibly take the chance that it was at random. Viola was in there! U-unless Viola had left on some business Wisp knew nothing about. No matter. As much as Viola could easily outrun them, she couldn’t let them continue! They might see her real identity!

Wisp gently put down the box behind the corner she just passed, and turned to them. She’d remain invisible through the use of her power throughout this encounter, as always. She gathered light behind her, starting to charge for a blast if needed, and would keep charging it even as she did the rest. There was a sense of urgency that she had rarely felt before. This time was personal. While normally she moved slowly to avoid being heard, she was way too desperate to stop them quickly this time.

She dashed forward, and taking care not to run into any of their attacks at the door, she got as close to them as she could while also moving by them. Her thick socks would ensure that her run made a minimal amount of sound, but the sound of texture pressed against floor might still be heard by the observant. If successful, for the brief moment of a second they’d see a flash of light across their vision, the illusion of a white wall of flame between them and the door. A text in black threatening flame within the fire read a word of warning.



She then ran on past them, no intention of staying within a meter of such people for any lengthy period of time. The flames of their illusion fanned out into nothingness as she passed them, and she came to a stop on the other side of them, assuming her attempt had been successful. Of course, it had been but a bright illusion, nothing that could hurt them other than leave the annoying mark in one’s vision one gets from having stared directly at a bright light. But, Wisp would fish up a laser-pointer… She could make it worse if they persisted.

In the car before entering, Overlook responded to what the soldier said about the parahumanism. While it annoyed him, Overlook could figure that if you used parahumans as soldiers you might have a bit of conflict, but that was beside the point as the guard called him a nerd and said how he should've known there was a PRT website. "Jeez, aren't you a prickly pear. I might have known before my trigger event where I gained this amazing thing called amnesia and how I can't remember anything from before then." The guard didn't respond to that, and Overlook remained silent for the rest of the ride to the building.

Once actually at the PRT Building, Overlook simply pulled out the laptop and began to check the website. He knew it existed, but he never had any personal gain from the attempt to hack into it, nor did he really want to in any case. He didn't really find anything big on there, but he had a sneaking suspicion that something was up with the cape that he had met through the Eye prior to the backstab of what's-her-face and the meeting with Decoy. He noticed the group hastily left the scene from what he could hear, and Overlook wanted to get to the bottom of what was going on. Maybe the news held the answer...

Well... if there was anything, hopefully it would pop up soon. For the time being, Overlook played a bit more Morrowind until he was called for the meeting.

---

Gaia followed the clown as... it burst out the door and made the fast dash into the alleyway, being immediately halted by police foam when they turned right. Although the clown was busy dealing with the police, Gaia's head was filled with the numerous thoughts of her brother and her, it ultimately being cluttered with sheer confusion. "Wait, if Retcon said to do the opposite, were we supposed to turn down this alleyway, or are we supposed to turn left up here, or were we supposed to stay back there and wait, or -" "Look Dunn. Sometimes you gotta take life by the plug and wrestle it until it works out in your favor." "That made no sense." "Exactly." With a hasty parry, Gaia turned left at the split where Retcon turned right, and proceeded that way.

@Eklispe

Luckily for Wisp 'observant' was not a word used to describe the Rockers and her presence was un-noticed. The fiery illusion however, was certainly noticed, and caused them all to collectively recoil from it. "It's Wisp!" called out goon #2 with a distinct undertone of fear. Goon #1 however seemed to be somewhat more excited about it. "Told ya she hangs out around here." He said triumphantly. Then he put his pickaxe down and... Knocked and the door politely. "Ahem, Mr or Mrs Wisp. The Rockers would like you to join our gang to-" he paused for a moment and furrowed his brow in concentration as though he was trying very hard to remember something. Then it seemed he remembered in a moment so obvious one could expect the light in his helmet to turn on for a brief moment and he continued. "To be the light at the end of our tunnel." He seemed very proud of that. Whether he was proud of remembering what someone had told him to say or proud of thinking of it was unknown but both were reasonable guesses. Regardless it was so lame it could barely be called cliché, but a recruitment offer was what it was.




Zach felt the truck come to a stop and he was unloaded, carried into the PRT building as though he were on a stretcher. As he was carried in he might observe a scarred boy in a wheelchair clicking away on a laptop. Of course even if he said anything he'd be carried on further into the building and placed in a square glass box. The reason for this was clear as the foam was sprayed and melted off of him, draining into a grill in the floor. Zach was then escorted a cell-like room with a bed, sink, dark window, and thankfully enclosed toilet. He could resist of course but that would needlessly complicate things as there was no way he was getting out of here at this point in time.

He would be kept here for around an hour until the dark window suddenly brightened, revealing somebody in the PRT uniform standing there. The unknown man was about 5 feet and 8 inches tall, with a receding gray hairline, somewhat bushy mustache, and a stern face. "Zach Kozel. Known to some as Shielder. You've been doing vigilante work long enough to get something of a reputation. Today you're found fleeing a crime scene with several dead men, a police officer among them, a bloody crowbar in your wake." He paused for a moment to let his words sink in. His voice was gruff, draconian, and certainly no-nonsense. He continued speaking reciting in a monotone voice, " You have the right to remain silent; anything the you say can and may be used against you in a court of law; you have the right to have an attorney and you cannot afford the services of an attorney, to have one appointed." Before returning to his normal speech, "Keeping that in mind you want to explain to us what happened?"




Overlook, if he bothered to look up from his screen might observe a tall thin boy with green eyes that were a darker contrast to his own, encased in yellow containment foam being carried past him. Of course even he said anything the guards would simply carry on. That was the only event of note for the next 45 minutes or so. A 20 something pretty, sharply dressed women, then walked up to him and said politely, "The Director will see you now, please follow me." Assumed he followed her he would be lead through a few corridors before finally entering what could hardly be called an office. It was not much more than a desk, a computer, and a few chairs. The Director sat at the only desk in question, his gaze immediately being on Overlook and the attendant as they entered. "Thank you Eva, I'll call you back in when we're finished." Eva nodded and left quietly, leaving Overlook alone with the Director, who gave him a stern once-over with his eyes. "Ruben Manhattan, you call yourself Overlook. Decoy tells me you're the source and owner of our little visitor." The Director paused momentoraily on that word, though his tone was civil enough one could sense he seemed might displeased at that. He also seemed like a person you didn't want to be displeased with you. "Decoy was also kind enough to arrange for a direct meeting with me. So Ruben, what can I do for you, and what can you do for me?"

---

Retcon spoke up from around the corner just a few feet in front of the twins. "Nice, but we'd better hurry up if you want to make it out, these guys are everywhere." Once they got there Retcon would once again take off in a comical running motion that seemed to involve a lot of unnecessary arm flailing. In a few moments they burst out into a street homefre- nope, definitely not homefree. In fact they'd entered the street into just as no less than three police officers and a dog were about to enter the alley they'd come from. Retcon seemed prepared for this however and immediately charged the group. The dog immediately latched onto his leg and Retcon dove to the ground, though that didn't prevent him from receiving a taser. Despite this he managed to have enough momentum to crash into the feet of another officer, laughing manically the whole time. The last un-preoccupied officer took out a gun and fired at Gaia. Illegal? Probably, but they had bigger problems. Interpreting Retcon's actions or deciding to do their own thing, either way things were about to get messy.

Overlook was face to face with the Director of the PRT.
Overlook was face to face with the Director of the PRT.
Overlook was face to fuck it you know what's going on he can't believe it.

The teen still couldn't actually believe he was in the presence of one of the most powerful individuals in Denv- no not just Denver, the whole world. It was a rather breathtaking idea to behold, someone like Ruben talking to this man. That wasn't the point though, as the only action Ruben has done this entire time he was in the room with the Director is stare at him preparing to speak but no words actually coming out. With a final push, the voice of Ruben was released to the Director.

"S-Sorry Mr. Director. I just never thought I'd be talking to someone with so much power in my life..." This wasn't all the teen had to say, he just had to take a deep breath before he continued talking to the Director. It was still a lot to take in. "Director, to be completely honest, I have absolutely no idea what I can do for you at all. It was a bit of an enigma when my trigger event happened, and I can't remember anything before that day. All I knew from that point on is that I had something... I didn't know what at first, but then it started to click in while I began to start figuring out my past. I tried to remember with what I could dig up, but my memories just... they couldn't come back. Since that day, I stayed in the bunker where Decoy found the connection to my only way to see the outside... my Eye. I'm no tinker, but from what I could scrounge around and with what I could get, this Eye kept me sane throughout the years I was down in that hole... and... well, I felt relieved when Decoy said he arranged this. I'd finally get real human interaction for the first time since I can remember. Again, I can't tell you what I can do for you - hell I don't even know what I can do for myself - but I can tell you that I'm gonna try my damn hardest to do what I can. All you can do for me is to help me get over this amnesia... and give my life purpose."

The teen had a small tear track down the side of his face when he finished talking. It wasn't the kind of tears you'd cry when you are sad, these are the kind of tears some people cry when they're under quite the bit of stress. It was also rather interesting to note that only Ruben's right eye cried, which was very odd.

---

"FUCK ME SIDEWAYS!" shouted Gaia as she very quickly bolted away from the squad of cops. The bullet missed by about 6 inches, thank Christ, but it was still a bit of a traumatic experience. In Gaia's head, Dunn was panicking about what was going on. "Oh God oh God oh God we're so screwed. Why did you follow this... this... clown Gaia?! What do we do now?!" "How about we continue to do the opposite of what Retcon says?" "GAIA WHAT IS THE OPPOSITE OF THIS SITUATION?!" "Retcon charged at them, we're running the hell away from them." Gaia quickly ducked around the corner into another alleyway for cover as she continued her evasion of the cops.
_@Eklispe

---

As they'd been called, no ushered, into the meeting room she'd been oh so excited to be in earlier, Evelyn sat in her place and waited. Her face was angled down, her eyes looking at the floor, her hands in her lap, her posture not great but not entirely slouched either. The Director spoke, and with each realization she tensed. First her muscles became less relaxed, the cords of her neck standing out, her arms tensing and relaxing periodically. Then her fingers fidgeted and grabbed at one another, pulling enough on one another till it hurt a little, before she let go. Finally they clenched into fists and she found herself grinding her teeth and digging her nails into the palms of her hands.

She was fixated on the Director's words, essentialyl ignoring anyone else who spoke up, though she really ought to have been listening better, she didn't care. Then she heard 'Collin is done forever,' and looked up. She had liked their team leader, she had liked Sonar. He'd been so welcoming and she felt he'd led them well. Yet here the Director was removing him from the team, putting him down while he would probably be stuck in a fucking coma for the rest of his life, that or swiftly losing his mind.

A small part of her was in shock, but another part of her just felt things click into place. It all made sense. Then the Director just...moved on. She felt her knuckles crack a bit--heard them too--as she clenched her fists harder, knowing she was leaving deep marks in her palms from her nails.

She glanced at Messiah as she was elected team leader, but the look was brief before she--for the first time in the whole debriefing, as it were--looked directly at Director Kens. There was a glare in those eyes. Real, unrefined, barely controlled anger--enough to match his own, likely. This wasn't right.

This. wasn't. right.

The thought resonated in her head and her jaw clenched tighter. When they were dismissed, she sat for several moments longer, glaring at the Director. However, even if he did speak up, or if someone addressed her--a member of her team or not--all she'd give them was a harsh piercing glare, before getting up and stalking out of the room. Hopefully no one decided to touch her because they would quickly become aware of the faint silver light of her unmanifested projection, which had been spread throughout the meeting room the entire time.

Calling her mind state a "bad mood," would have been, well, a severe understatement.

The moment she was out of the room, she practically tore her mask off. Her teammates would have seen her face eventually, so she didn't care. Plus, she wasn't anywhere that tourists could see her. While she figured some of her teammates would go to their quarters or perhaps the team control room, she went to the gym. Her figuring out where it was could be summarized as her asking someone in a single three word order. "Directions. Gym. Now."

After being told where to go by what had been a very flustered, offput, and maybe disrespected individual, she made her way there, finding it quickly. Her projection helped her figure out the layout a bit--though parsing the information was annoying in its own right. Once she was there she stopped--doing so was a mistake.

The moment she wasn't moving, she realized she wasn't even sure what she had planned to do here. Playing a game wouldn't help. She didn't particularly want to lift weights or use any of the machines. What she wanted was a sparring match. Something to blow off steam. She could manifest her projection maybe and put it on autopilot, but the times she'd done that it hadn't felt very real since she could predict its movements through their shared senses.

So yeah, that wasn't going to work. Glancing around she found a place to sit down, her body slumping forwards as she set her mask down next to her and ran her hands over her face and then back through her hair. The anger was like a heat pulsating from her stomach outwards, twisting all her thoughts and clouding her judgement. She started forcing herself to take in deep breaths, despite knowing that calming down likely meant being numb or crying.

God this fucking sucked.

The loud sound of metal breaking near Zach's neck startled him, but, as he couldn't move any other part of his body, only his eyes showed his surprise. They sprayed some liquid on some of the foam encasing Zach and moved him, along with his prison, into some sort of PRT transport vehicle. As they moved Zach from the alleyway to the PRT headquarters, he had a little bit of time to reflect on what had happened so far.

He didn't lose his job-Wait, no, if this took more than a single night he had definitely lost his job. Okay, well he had gotten jumped by some assholes, beat the shit out of a couple of them. He was then approached by a man - Necro - with two men, and a nice fellow by the name of Arsenal. A short fight ensued, in which Kozel discovered that the goons Necro had arrived with were not normal humans, some sort of master power that he used twice more to summon two reinforcements with before fleeing the scene. In the process of fleeing he trapped Zach in a cage of some sort which Arsenal helped him escape from, before giving him an email address and the recommendation to contact him. They both fled, which led to Zach being ambushed.

Zach went through all of this in his head on his way to the PRT building, purposefully leaving out details just so he could get the information in his head. Okay that was a start, but now a different angle. A lense serial killers, professional thief, and the like had to always don. What did the police know?

One young black male, with fingerprints on a pistol nearby, and residue on the barrel and muzzle. One black male youth fled the scene, and another had his head splattered against concrete. However the body of that youth suffered heavy postmortem wounds, along with the man who had his fingerprints on a gun. Not to mention a police officer, or someone who dressed like one, suffered a similar fate. Two men who Zach didn't notice the race of, who were older with major bullet wounds. There had to be clear evidence of someone with an extensive arsenal on scene, obvious not only from plenty of bullets in the bricks and shells; But also the bullets that almost hit Zach.

Zach had that strange realization shortly after arriving in his cell. The world had become white noise around him as he became lost in thought. He looked around a bit, went to the bathroom, and then sat down on his bed staring at the ceiling. The most damning part of this is the crowbar wounds inflicted on that p.o.s. The fact that it has his fingerprints, my fingerprints, and his blood will needlessly complicate things for the forensics team, even if they do know stuff about my profile.

A gruff older man finally brightening the gloomy cell with light, but darkening it with his demeanor. The man said his full name, as well as a shitty PR term that Zach assumed was to be his hero name. The investigator asked for information, after reading him his rights, and Zach shook his head.

"I want an attorney, and I will not answer any questions, or make small talk, until I get one." He said, his voice strained. If there is one thing he knew, it was to never, ever talk to police. No matter guilty, innocent, or perceived as either; It was not a good idea. Unless he had an attorney present they probably wouldn't get much out of him besides rewording of that sentence.

---

_@Eklispe

That did make sense. Gangs want as many capes as possible on their side. That was a given. With all likelihood, it came with some form of payment or other. However, there was no way Wisp wanted to cooperate with them. They’d stab her in the back, ruin her reputation and use her in despicable ways. She did NOT want the PRT and Protectorate to suddenly start using anti-Wisp goggles, something she feared was all too likely if she started being openly villainous.

However, another truth rang clear as well. If they didn’t get a positive answer, they’d be back. Some way or another, she had to ensure that they were left satisfied enough to be gone for at least long enough that she could relocate Viola. She’d have to somehow play this cleverly. Wisp took care not to breathe loudly, despite how agitated she was, and she advanced forward to stand behind them and flash them visions again, dodge should any of them make sudden moves.



She gave the door giant black eyes, which opened and stared at them, while the flaming text showed up underneath them. She let that linger only precisely long enough for them to read it, before she blew it away, the eyes vanishing into thin air. She then wrote, with tiny letters in mid-air, in white little fire looking a lot less threatening.



She assumed they had some form of offer. She intended on hearing it first.

Maybe it was the shock of seeing Sonar- anybody, really- so badly injured, but everything seemed to happen in mere seconds. Sonar injured on the street. EMTs coming to take him to medical care. The Wards gathered into the conference room, Alessa shivering for some reason, the Director discussing his upset with Sonar, and so removing him from the team. The revelation that Sonar- Collin, only fifteen years old- would likely never recover - his helmet was almost certainly irreparably damaged, leaving him in a coma at best, or as a madman at worst. A swift death might almost be the more merciful option.

It was as the Director said, much as she hated to consider it so: seven hostages saved today wasn't worth the potential lives saved in the future where Sonar continued to lead the Wards. They'd messed up, and the very thought that they'd failed- that she had failed, and in doing so cost a dear ally their future- was beyond upsetting. Digging her nails into her hands helped distract her from the idea of curling up into a ball and weeping, and helped her focus enough to hear Directors Kens' announcement that, as of Sonar's untimely removal from the Wards, she was now their leader. She would handle the other Wards, including training and patrol schedules; she would lead in the absence of a senior Protectorate hero; she would report to Inkscape and the Director. And, most importantly, she would need to decide upon her second, by tomorrow.

She began to consider her options almost immediately, looking down the table at the people who were now officially her subordinates. From the offset, she was forced to disregard Tulpa, for valuable as she surely was, she was almost literally brand new with regards to heroism, or at least as far as being a member of the Wards. It'd be disingenuous to the other members of her team, should she declare an untested asset as her second, only for them to turn out to be less competent than believed. This was only confirmed with Lyn's angry glare at the Director, followed by her swiftly stalking out of the room. A cool head was needed for this sort of thing; for that same reason, Margrave's ostentatious nature and tendency to act before thinking, including his own swift transition out of the meeting, put him out of the running for second too. That left two options, Dean and Ira, and of those, Ira's nature as a Tinker was the less useful in a pinch, she was less experienced and less skilled in combat, she was physically less fit. Realistically, though, the experience alone would likely have swayed Alessa: if she needed to bounce ideas off of just one person, it'd end up being Dean almost consistently.

Dean it was, then. She could report to the Director the next morning. By the end of the night, however, she'd need to announce that to all the other Wards, and ideally make sure everybody was happy with the decision, or at least knew why they hadn't been picked for the role. In fact, she'd need to make sure Dean himself was okay with being the second-in-command, since the last thing the Wards needed was conflict between its most senior members, especially after today's events... and oh good, what a way to slam herself back into the reality of the situation, which was that a valuable member of society and acquaintance was as good as dead. Shit. Shit.

'I think it's fair to say the situation has been summed up,' she muttered into the room after a moment of contemplation. 'I'll need to speak with you all later on about who'll end up as my second, Wards. We’ll meet in the Ward’s common room in a couple of hours; if somebody could find and tell Tulpa, that’d be fantastic. And I’ll come to you with my decision tomorrow, Director Kens. Until then,' she concluded, standing from her chair and exiting the room; far from heading off to do her own thing, though, she instead leant against the wall next to the conference room’s door. She’d wait until Dean walked out, get him to walk and talk with her, and discuss his probable new position somewhere private. And, of course, hope he didn’t reject the proposal out of hand. Not that she expected him to, but the chance existed nonetheless.

@ProPro@yoshua171@solokolos@Kafka Komedy@Lugubrious

Dean couldn't help but stand there, simply staring at Sonar and the blood slowly leaking from his head. Why had he let his guard down so quickly? There was this guilt weighing down on him for his uselessness, and a heat in his cheeks. Ashamed, he simply watched the EMTs carry Sonar off, and followed the rest of his team to the conference room without a word.

Taking his seat, not beside Sonar anymore but by Messiah, Dean felt like he wasn't in control. Kens first point on the agenda after their leader's near death was to take him down a few pegs. Along with Inkscape's defense of Sonar, Dean made a snappy little comment that, thank god, Director Kens didn't hear or at the least acknowledge. It did little to make him feel better but it was something. No snap was made, however when Decoy revealed that no new helmet would be coming. Sonar possessed the only one in the world; The PRT would need to find someone completely different to make a helmet and that just wasn't in the cards. He would never truly recover, being at the best in a permanent coma.

Dean's inaction hadn't just hurt Sonar. He ruined his life.

He could have been a little too cheerful sometimes. He was a superior that was younger than him. But he was good at his job, and one of the nicest guys Dean knew. And he ruined him. Again the shame and guilt returned full force. Bile began rising up from his throat too, remembering what Sonar looked like with his skull crushed into the pavement, orifices leaking blood and brains. He swallowed it back down not to make a scene, instead settling for resting his head in his hands and grimacing.

The rest of the conversation, or more accurately speech, flew by. Messiah was to take up Sonar's place, since she was second in command, and she needed to pick someone else to replace her position. Dean had always been just a tiny bit sour on his position in the team but now he was sure he deserved it. As Tulpa, Elliot, and Alessa all walked out one after another, Dean followed, assumably to be followed by Ira. Alessa was waiting for him just outside the room, it seemed. "Hey, Alessa. Did you need anything that I could help out with?" He asked, eager to be in control, and of use to someone.

---

After last night's show and tell, The Jacks all gathered at the spot where their first jobs was to go down. Interstate 25, not technically in Denver but close. Along this highway there was to be a prison transport passing through. In one of the vehicles was their target, a new friend named Gamble. From what Lovely understood, the less likely an action was to succeed, the more likely Gamble was to succeed at it. A person who the universe bent over so willingly for would certainly be a great asset.

Lovely knew nothing of strategy though, they were a scientist first, so they'd leave the strategizing to Headhunter. Still, advice never hurt, right? "Ah, Little Soldier Man, I believe that hill over there would be a good vantage point." Lovely suggested, pointing to the hill that overlooked the area they were scoping out. "Of course, that's a simple suggestion. Anything you require me to do? You know I'd do anything.~"

The time didn't speed up. It stopped. Ira felt the time move sluggishly around her as she stared at the brick wall for hours on end, though the tears did stop flowing. She had checked out of this world, and found herself in one of stone and mortar. Made of real things, not the tangential reality her mind normally perceived. She could feel the weight of her armor, and the clothing scratching against her skin. The tears dried, but her eyes remained puffy, and red. She wanted to cry more, wanted to kick and scream but she didn't want to throw a temper tantrum at a time like this. She turned around and sat down, her back against the building, starting upward at the sky; Ira watched the clouds high above her. She glanced over to her right and watched the ambulance arrive, as she distantly thought about how she hadn't heard its sirens at all. With that realization the blaring slowly faded into her awareness, starting at the peripherals at a dull pain, before being fully resolved with her attention.

Ira slowly stood up her gaze shifting to her feet. A throbbing migraine started, and pulsed in time to the new, distant ,yet approaching sirens. She didn't want to think about what this accident meant, for her team or for her. She didn't want to talk to the therapist or Decoy right now, she just wanted to sleep. Her stomach was tied into knots that wouldn't go away. A firefighter approached her, and asked her if she was alright. She nodded in response, waving him away without a second thought. An ambulance drove away, with Sonar being treated in the back.

A PRT transport showed up, and Ira was the last to get in. She didn't look up from her feet once. The young 'hero' followed orders wordlessly upon arrival, and tuned in to the meeting in the conference room just long enough to be reminded about the importance of Sonar's helmet. She nodded, remembering what she had read what seemed like centuries ago. Messiah was promoted with little ceremony and even less cheer. Ira tuned out again, and only came back once Messiah talked about a meeting. She made the smallest of downward movements without eye contact, which could be taken to be a nod. After Messiah and Martyr left, she looked up to the ceiling.

Ira turned on her communicator, and switched it to the direct channel for contacting Decoy, mostly for emergencies. "I hope you don't expect me to fix this. I probably can't. You could give me access to the classified information about his training, testing, and his interactions with Hero. Are you that desperate?" Her voice was quiet, just loud enough to be heard through the microphone, and very strained. She listened carefully for a response, sad that she was taking advantage of the situation in this way.

"Well it was more of a mining metaphor." The apparent leader of them mumbled in his defense, "Told you it was stupid." Another one muttered. "Hey shutup Wisp said more." The last one said eagerly, pointing at the new white flaming letters. "Yes!" The leader said excitedly, seemingly pleased with the possibility of success. "Uh, you'll be third in command so you'll be given a squad of Rockers just for yourself, any money they make is yours to do with as you see fit. You'll get a big share of the profit for any crimes you help out the boss in. If you've got family Ceramix says he'll protect them if you want. Uhhh... Ceramix also said he'll give you a bunch of cash for the first job you help out with too, he didn't say how much though..." Protection and money. How much did Wisp value these and did she think she could get away with using the Rockers before casting them off? Or was it better to simply lie to these group of bozos and move across town? Of course the PRT might be willing to help if they knew the circumstances, maybe even be a double agent? This offer suddenly made Wisp's life a lot more complicated.




The uniformed man let out a grunt of something between anger and disappointment and the window darkened. Some indeterminate amount of time passed unless Zach felt like counting the seconds or doing something equally repetitious in which case he would find it had been around an hour. Suddenly a voice spoke from the window, without the benefit of the light this time. "You have enough money to appoint your own lawyer or will the government be handling it for you?" The voice was entirely neutral, definitely not the person from before.




The Director appeared to be unaffected by Ruben's emotional outcry. "Well if you want purpose and help we can give you that. If you sign on as a cape we'll put you to good use here in this building. Decoy tells me you've got some talent with tech, tinker or no, and we can give supplies. We also have experienced therapists as part of our staff who can help you with whatever is wrong with you as well as narrow down what exactly your para-human trait is. In return you'll help us however you can with keeping peace and order throughout Denver Sound like something you want to be a part of?" The Director's voice was gruff as ever and his offer sounded almost forced. But an offer it was, for Ruben to take or leave as he saw fit. Of course, what sane person would turn down such an offer in Ruben's position?

---

"I think that can wait for later don't you think?" Retcon asked with a grin as they ran away from the squad of cops, still in disarray, rounding a corner and making their way forward. "Hey there's our ride, reverse time is over." It was a...



Definitely a car, that certainly had to be Retcon's. Retcon stylishly slid across the hood and got into the driver's seat. Then it hotwired the car in an astounding 3 seconds. Whether this was he/she's car and they just liked to hotwire it or this was somebody else's pink neon lambrougaini was a question that probably needed to get asked and wouldn't be answered. The car screeched as Retcon put the pedal to the metal and soon they far and away from the crime scene. At a seemingly random spot Retcon pulled over and let out a sigh of happiness. "Ah well that was thrilling wasn't? Now somebody said something about fucking sideways?" He/She waited a moment before laughing, "Ha, just kidding. Unless you weren't, but I get a feeling three way isn't a 1st night thing for you two. Anyplace yall want to be dropped off?" Retcon asked cheerily enough. It seemed it was more interested in helping them for whatever reason than anything else, though the motives of this creature likely changed faster than a girl in a mall with her daddies credit card.

Ruben had a lot to take in, especially the offer to actually sign on as a cape. There was no way that he would turn this opportunity down in a million years. It was an insane offer, and one the hacker never would've thought he could have had offered to him like this. With a smile on his face, he began to speak again with a tone of confidence. "It does. I would love to be a part of this organization." Things looked up for the hacker, and it felt incredible to have these opportunities that he never would've imagined to actually take. It almost felt like... well... some sort of dream come true for him. There was only one question that he had now, and he had to ask it to the director. "Will I still be known as Overlook? I'd much like to keep that as my persona for this organization."

---

Gaia rushed into the car and watched as Retcon sped away from the warehouse that a whole lot of crazy shit happened in. From the sudden arrival of the cops, to the recovery of the information the twins needed and the finale of meeting Retcon and evading any persecution they could've been charged with, that warehouse had seen it all. The twins were both relieved that they did meet this strange clown and that he helped them get away, but they were both stumped on why he did it. Then he brought up the fact that Gaia said 'fuck me sideways' and he asked if the two had anywhere they needed to go. "Yeah actually... drop us off at the apartments on the westernmost side of Denver please... and... if you don't mind me asking, why did you help us back there?" Dunn stayed silent in Gaia's mind, as he was curious why Retcon helped the twins in the first place.

'Yes, I did. Please follow me.' She was being unusually formal with Dean, she was well aware, but she'd need formality for a decision like this. And, well... it helped her to keep her composure. She turned and began to walk, moving for about a minute before dipping into the nearest empty conference room, her fellow Ward in tow. Once in, she closed the door behind them, then took a seat at the table and motioned for Dean to sit by her.

'So, Dean,' she began calmly, reminding herself to be objective about her fellow team members for this explanation, 'I've brought you in here to discuss a few things in private, before any official announcements are made. Long story short, yes, I'm considering you for the role of second-in-command within the Wards. Of my other options,' she continued, counting each one off on her fingers, 'Evelyn's ability seems very strong, but she's untested, she lacks field experience as it were; Elliot's power is also useful, but not enough to counteract a general tendency towards brashness that would hinder tactical thinking; and Ira, whilst great for preparation, is not helpful in an immediate situation beyond any devices she's created for herself and the team. I'm not going to pretend you're a perfect fit either, Dean- amongst other things, you're a bit reckless with how you approach situations at times, and we'll need to sort that out at some point- but your power is generally helpful in a combat situation, and you are behind me the most experienced of the group by far. That is, of course, extremely valuable, it means we can discuss strategies with similar levels of expertise from different angles, bounce ideas off one another... assuming we don't discuss them as a full team, of course.

'Realistically, all I need from you is an agreement to take the position, and the decision is as good as made,' she concluded with a small smile. 'And of course, if there's anything else you want to say about yourself or any of the other Wards as far as suitability goes, good or bad, now's the time.' She'd of course stop him if he started going on unnecessary rants about how he'd always secretly hated one or more of thir fellow team members, but any additional information she could get was vital for gauging how to arrange the team's activities.

---

'I noticed,' Headhunter stated quietly. Frankly, none of the positions were brilliant, in his mind. Far, far too close to the target for him to be comfortable with, and getting up close and personal was exactly why Chatterbox now had his hands on his FN P90 and some of its ammunition, with the promise that it wouldn't be broken or otherwise lost. He reminded himself that other snipers would need relatively little range to remain accurate... and, on the off-chance that his aim would somehow be misdirected, it'd be immensely helpful for him to shoot from that short a distance, given that he was much more likely to hit a vehicle moving at seventy miles an hour from a hundred meters away than from a thousand.

Either way, Love Craft wasn't wrong, per se. The nearest hill would be a good vantage point, and it'd make a harsh climb up for anybody attempting to reach him... and at the same time prove useless against a flying foe. Still better than nothing, and he did have a good weapon to deal with something like that, but even so. He'd need to be quick on the trigger if he noticed a flying Cape; they'd almost certainly be fast enough or have enough range to take him out within seconds if they realised he was there... though ideally, he'd take them out first, and long before they figured out where he was.

Speaking of Capes, Love Craft was flirting with him again. And asking questions about placement, as well. There were plenty of placement options, clearly. Were any of them any good? Possibly not, at least as far as cover went. Maybe one of the hills on the Western side of the road? There might be trees they could hide behind... he wasn't sure at a glance. He'd need to scout the area more effectively, and he didn't really have time for that if he wanted to set up properly.

'I'll let you sort yourself out,' he stated vaguely. 'If anybody needs me, I'll be on that hill.' He promptly began striding toward his chosen sniping spot, already laying out in his mind the sort of position he'd need, the elevation and wind speed and countless other variables, as if on autopilot.

At first the noise of the city had been frustrating and distracting, the loud footfalls all around Celia drew constant inquiry, every single voice had to be listened to, and every cough registered. Fortunately, she had been able to slowly adjust herself to her surroundings. She covered ground quickly, part of her attention on the various communications between police forces. She had started intercepting the signals not long after getting to Denver, and began unencrypting them within the day. Recent concerns with local police stations assisting each other had led them to abandon Police 10 code, and so she didn't even have to commit that to long term memory. The PRT's higher level communication system was proving a lot harder to crack, which was unexpected. Obviously the encryption system they had in place was hundreds of times more secure than anything standard law enforcement were equipped with. Intercepting any type of law enforcement communications was actually illegal, but when the law wasn't advantageous Celia treated it like the footsteps around her.

Voices over the police broadband communicated simply and swiftly, informing each other of pertinent information, or just providing updates. Celia was particularly interested in an officer who reported sightings of a supervillain, referred to as Sonika. The location last seen wasn't too far from the inquisitive android, so she set to work. The first step was to better understand the target, so Celia set some of her processors a whirring looking for more information about the supervillain. Few pictures were available, and the various cape forums provided minimal information. She was linked to a bunch of murders, with a common theme of asphyxiation without bruising on the neck. The current working theory developed by the community was some sort of manipulation of the air. Pictures of the masked cape were plentiful, but not of a particularly high quality. For her own benefit, she generated a 3D model, filling in details as more pictures were found.

Celia tried to ascertain vulnerabilities in the PRT's databases, but found that they operated on a very strict closed network. It would be impossible to access without being on site; discovering the PRT's theory was going to be impossible for now. Her feet carried her quickly, as her eyes scanned the alley in front of her. She was close enough now to the last sighting to consider getting high ground, so Celia considered the fire escape not even a story above her. The young woman jumped with little effort, easily grabbing the metal around the ladder; where you would dismount if the ladder was down. She pulled herself up carefully, making sure to be as quiet as possible. Celia lifted her legs over the lip, and stood gracefully. She walked slowly up the stairs of the fire escape, going faster as she got nearer the top. The top of the fire escape wasn't connected to the roof, but an adjacent building sat just above the edge of the railing.

Celia hopped up onto the railing, taking a second to balance herself, before jumping onto the top of the building. She scanned the area around her, eager to find the ne'er do well. Celia didn't quite know what she would do when she did, but she doubted it would be particularly violent. In a noticeably human fashion, Celia moved one hand over the butt of her .44 and the the other over her knife to confirm their position. Their familiar presence was the slightest bit reassuring. Celia moved her hand down to the pocket embedded in her leg, and pulled out the domino mask within. She carefully put it on over her eyes, while reviewing the last thirty minutes of police communications. She turned eastward at another reported sighting. Her eyes caught sight of Furnace at the same time as his presence was confirmed by a PRT official to the standard law enforcement personnel nearby. Celia almost instantly lost sight of him as he landed on a large office building a few blocks away.

Sonika is probably up there as well Celia's inner voice concluded as she sprung into action. She sprinted at the building she had summitted's edge, leaping to one of the nearby buildings roof with a refined grace. Celia lost almost no momentum, and put her processors to work resolving the fastest path using satellite data. She jumped to the next building easily, as she finished resolving the quickest route. She stopped herself at the last second, her hand grabbing the edge of the building as she made sure her landing space three stories down was clear. Celia dropped like a rock, landing with a roll to redirect her downward momentum into a speed boost. She slowed down to round a corner, and blend into the crowd ignoring the odd looks she was given. Celia entered the office building naturally, walking towards the elevators with a practiced stride that spoke of confidence. One of the elevators opened to let some people out. She slipped past the people exiting the elevator, and into the stairwell. She took the stairs as quickly as possible, often taking five at a time, optimizing her climbing as best she could.

Upon reaching the very top she paused momentarily, considering how she could approach this. A super villain and vigilante were probably battling it out with PRT almost certainly dispatching backup. Police had started securing the area, so it was going to be difficult to escape. Celia confirmed that her mask was still over her eyes, and slowly opened the door, peeking out to see Sonika and Furnace at a stand off. Sonika's back was to Celia. An intimidating heat was radiating from Furnace that could be felt from Celia's position ten feet behind Sonika.