As Protean jumped over the two of them, Ira side stepped him as best she could, keeping to a sprint while Alessa kicked Protean in the snout. Ira's eyes widened, but she focused on running instead. Suddenly Protean announced three riddles, and Ira felt like she was being targeted. She didn't understand the intricacies of the English language quite well enough to solve riddles. Hell, she was bad at Japanese riddles, as problem solving like that wasn't her forte.

Her three teammates quickly announced the answers to the riddles, one after the other. Two of them made absolutely no sense to her, but the nickel one was reasonable enough. A play on phrasing, as far as she could tell. Protean announced she could stop running, and it took all Ira's strength to not collapse then and there. She turned as Protean began to change, bubbling and broiling until it was in the shape of a. . . Part bull part human? It seemed almost like an Ushi-oni but more human than bull. Regardless, it was quite intimidating. It seemed very familiar, like it was from an ancient culture.

Ira eyed Protean carefully as it announced that they were going to box. "What are you supposed to be? Not an Ushi-oni I'm guessing, unless Decoy had input. A Lamassu?" She said, uncertain. She was half hoping it would distract Protean long enough for her to catch her breath a little bit. Right now she desperately wished she had a more combat oriented power.

Purge's eyes flicked over Exhale critically, showing just a flicker of displeasure before resuming a stale politeness. "Exhale. As you may have heard by now the Bratva has put a bounty on a girl that has escaped from them. They are offering a substantial reward and finding her will give us an opportunity to deal them a significant blow. To some extent this is a wild goose chase as we have very little information on the girl, however I trust that you are more than capable of handling the situation. If you have need of additional resources or manpower you may speak to Benito. That is all." Having said his part, Purge scanned his office again, eyes searching for any source of contamination. Of course it was impossible for everything to stay perfectly clean, especially with people coming in and out, but ever so vexing when it wasn't.

Overlook watched the boxing tapes alongside Jackson, not really speaking aside from the occasional wince at a nasty punch. It wasn't before long that he found himself actually seeing the fight in a different sense... he could see something that he wasn't able to notice before. Overlook watched the film and payed incredible attention to the way the fighters actually boxed, and he could faintly see a shadow form of each boxer... however the shadow depicted future events. It was only about a second into the future, but he could see the shadows perfectly. Just to make sure he wasn't being fooled or anything, he looked over at Jackson and spoke up. "Do you see the shadows...or is that just me?"

---

"Yeah, I can get you there." Kyoshi understood why Outsider would want to keep his Endbringer form hidden, as it could just cause a bunch of ruckus and drive the Rockers away. There was also the concern that a giant snake flying over Denver would probably get the group in a fair amount of media. Kyoshi walked over to where Outsider was standing and crouched down in front of him, waiting for him to get on her back. She could carry him in her arms, but piggyback was a bit easier for Kyoshi to manage.

---

And there she was.

Standing right behind him. Knife in hand. He didn’t know about her. She was within his stationary whirlwind, inside his protection. It took all her effort to stay calm and continue breathing silently, her free hand in front of her mouth so she didn’t breathe onto his neck. What… what now?

Stab him? It was way too easy to imagine him wearing body-armor under the suit. In fact, that was almost a given if he was a villain on the rise. The places that remained, was his head and neck. That would kill him, wouldn’t it? Did she really want to kill him? Become… a murderer? Get blood on her hands? It was becoming increasingly harder to stay composed for the teenage girl.

She could show him an illusion. But… what did that actually achieve? It wouldn’t stop him using his powers. Even if she showed him a bunch of goons aiming their guns at him, it said nothing about that he might be confident enough to handle them all. And then they were all illusions. It made no sense to show a known villain or hero, because Wisp couldn’t make them talk, only show them. It was all too risky.

As was trying to hold the knife to his throat and make him surrender. Way too easy to imagine him just claiming the knife like the objects floating around them and then Wisp would be powerless. That wouldn’t work.

There was no beating around the bush, huh. Her only option was to stab him in the back of his head or neck. But, she felt now, she wasn’t mentally prepared for such an action. It… it had to be done. This was a villain! He could take over the entire city with a power as powerful as this! She had to do it. She had to…

… She realized something she could do. Wisp blinked a bit as she considered it. It was… pretty simple, and didn’t necessarily involve stabbing. Perhaps, was this the way of Creep? It wasn’t as easy to identify as Wisp’s power. As she considered it, she liked the idea more and more. It was far, FAR easier than committing to stabbing him in the back of the head.

_@Spiffy

To Swarm, it would have been like it came out of nowhere. He was speaking to Shatterpoint, listening to his replies, when suddenly the world broke. She made the world shatter, all the pieces of it suddenly spinning into his whirlwind and flying like a tornado around his head. In addition, in the vision his own head spun with it, as if his eyes also were slung into the whirlwind along with the thousands of small fragments that should be building how the world looked around him. It would not help to close his eyes, the vision remained unchanged. No sound accompanied this vision, and his body wouldn’t feel anything else. Yet, this soundless vision of everything breaking and spinning with unfathomable speed was still translated directly into his brain, so unless he was completely immune to motion sickness…

Wisp created her own whirlwind around him, most particularly around his head. Light spun around his head so much faster than he could spin objects, and Wisp was picking bits and pieces to show him here and there, connecting just enough to make it all look like it was spinning. She was also moving the point from where his eyes were seeing, taking all the vision from a spinning point in space and directing it to his eyes so he saw it like his eyes were that quickly rotating object spinning around his head. This would hopefully do so much more than just get rid of his vision, as his balance, orientation and calm would hopefully take a sincere blow. Wisp had to have a hand within a meter of his eyes for the effect to continue, and she’d try to pursue him if he tried to run. She was also using her own powers to give her 360 degree vision to try to identify any danger she might be in to dodge whatever might happen, her knife ready if worst came to worst.

Hopefully, he thought the danger came from much further away, and he’d try to shoot it, in which case she was safe. Otherwise… … … Wisp hadn’t thought that far. She had just been desperate to do SOMETHING, and this was easier to do than to stab him. But… she was ready to do that too, maybe…

_@Eklispe

Shatterpoint and any other goons around Swarm and Wisp saw NOTHING of what Wisp was doing. Whatever reaction Swarm had to what Wisp was doing, would seem like he had it out of nowhere for no apparent reason. Wisp was just showing them the scene completely without her and her power.

"Eh, shadows?" Jackson asked with a puzzled voice as he examined the screen closer. He squinted and even gave the TV a light bap. "I don't see any weird shadows there bucko. Mind telling me what they look like?" Though Jackson didn't say it was probably rather clear he thought it might have something to do with Ruben's power. Of course it might also be something silly like sleep deprivation so he wasn't getting too excited about it, besides he didn't want to make Ruben nervous about it.

The world broke around Swarm. What was once solid and stable seemingly shattered and shook around him. His first thought after experiencing the whirlwind was that of confusion. He took a knee to stabilize himself as his cigarette fell to the ground. He could not see. Was there another cape here? Even when he closed his eyes the world spun. It must be another being. He was vulnerable and he knew Shatterpoint would be only seconds away from turning him into bloody paste. He had to go defensive and find the source of this..problem. He began moving the objects that were suspended in the air and they started to pick up speed. If Wisp remained stationary she would be brushed up against by the objects; dust, dirt, splinters, and some bigger objects. As the objects spun faster and faster she would be hit harder and be unable to remain without becoming seriously injured. @Eklispe@PlatinumSkink

The minotaur-like form of Protean gave a mighty snort, warm nasal air blowing into Epsilon's hair from above. It was... Disturbingly moist. He flexed his muscles like a body builder posing for a competition, then answered the tinker's question with a throaty, booming voice. "This is a minotaur. Greek legend, guardian of the Labyrinth of Crete. Now, little one, prepare yourself for my six adam's apples, pecs on my abs, and fists for nipples!" His boast came with a deep shout which shook the floor they stood upon. He flexed more, then took a pose associated with traditional English pugilism. He was ready to box the non-combatant into submission for failing a test of wit reliant on a language with which she had only secondhand knowledge. Nobody said that being good meant being nice, or easy.

Protean gave pause, as if waiting for something. Would Epsilon attack him first? Would he go on the offensive? Or would something else happen?

"You've all failed." Protean dropped his guard. His skin bubbled and melted into ooze, which reformed into that of a normal human, though he looked nothing like what he had when they first entered the room. Now he was black, with a shaved head, and brown eyes. Clothing, thankfully, shifted with his body, so the kids' eyes were spared that affront. "Everyone failed the test. How sad. Messiah, you will need to rethink how best to support your team."

The senior hero proceeded to let out a massive yawn, one which would have been more associated with the mighty animals he became, rather than a human being. He lifted a hand to scratch his head, then began to stroll toward the door. "Think about it for a while. If any of you realize the answer, come find me. Maybe I'll give you a reward or something? How about ice cream? Yeah, ice cream sounds good."

Just then, the loudspeakers wired into the gym's ceiling jumped to life. A quarter second of static heralded Decoy's voice. "Sorry to interrupt training time, babe, but we've got an all hands on deck situation. The prison transport went awry. Both Noble and Captain Morales have been injured."

"What? How?!" Protean's normal lackadaisical attitude had taken a complete 180. Suddenly he was deadly serious.

"We're still getting the reports in, but the equipment I monitor them with went crazy a few minutes ago. By the looks of things, the transport caravan was attacked by multiple villains, one of which has been detained. They're being brought in for questioning now, while our own are being transported for medical treatment."

Protean frowned, then turned to address the Wards directly. "Alright, forget everything else. Meet in the lobby outside the interrogation room. If I know the old man as well as I think I do, he'll want you all to watch the interrogation then view the camera feeds of the incident. Get moving!"

---

---

Everyone piled on into Chatterbox's car, moving quickly as they could to avoid being caught by any reinforcements on the way. Hoo boy would there ever be reinforcements on the way, too. Three vehicles upended on the interstate? A dangerous prisoner sprung lose? Two Protectorate capes down for the count? Yeah, it'd be insane to stick around any longer at this point. Once inside, Gamble breathed a heavy sigh of relief. "Woo! I really need to thank you guys for getting me out of there. I take it you've heard of how awesome I am and want me for your gang? Yeah, I think I can swing that. I'll just need my old costume back. You can't get out there and Gamble without the style, y'know? Who goes out on the cape scene without the proper dressings? Heh, even I'm not crazy enough to bet against those odds!"

He quickly shutup, as sirens had gone off in the distance. A number of police response vehicles shot right passed the car, having been unable to tell that the passengers inside were exactly who they were looking for. It was a good thing for the Jacks, too. Not only did they not need to heat, but their presence managed to shut Gamble up for a few brief moments. The rest of the trip back to the Icehouse was... Difficult. The man wouldn't be quiet. Chatterbox's name felt underplayed and ironic when they had Gamble to compare him to. "-Didn't even lock the doors to my prison truck, can you believe that? Those dumbasses probably thought that locking it would make it harder to escape, so I'd be even better at getting out, but clearly they were wrong, thanks to you guys. I mean, I could have gotten out myself you know, I was just waiting for the right opportunity, but who needs to wait when you've got yourself a kickass team on your side, am I right? I had estimated the odds somebody would come to my aid to be 1,360,546 to 1, so of course that meant it was a sure thing, and what do you know? Here you guys are! So anyway, not only did they not lock the door, but I wasn't even in handcuffs! And I had one guard who didn't even have a gun on him-"

It went on like this. And on. And on. If anybody were to be polite and hint at his annoyance, it went completely over the man's head. If anybody actually asked him to stop talking, he'd just go off on another tangent about how that reminded him of a time when this or that or the other thing. However, the journey finally, finally came to an end. After being stuck in traffic for nearly an hour, the Jacks had arrived back to the Icehouse.

The ground floor had been closed, but each member of the gang had their own key. Upon entering, they found their employer, the mysterious Broker, enjoying a glass of Brandy at the bar. Nearby was another man they had not seen before, someone wearing the costume of a cape. This man wore all black, an ensemble consisting of a leather jacket, jeans, and a motorcycle helmet with strange glowing eyes.

"Oy! You're all back, good on you!" called out the Broker in his Northern English accent. He lifted his glass as a toast to their return, then downed the rest. "And I see you've brought along my acquisition, just as requested. Fantastic! I had heard that Love Craft was apprehended, though. Very unfortunate. Good thing I thought ahead enough to have an understudy ready, eh?"

---

---

The file only took a few milliseconds to send, and a few seconds after that Celia received another message from the user that had locked her out of the PRT systems.

TheRe@lD3c0y: Interesting. We've gotten reports of a bounty on a girl matching this description, but nothing so first hand. You're clearly exceptionally skilled to get into my system like this, and all you want to do is pass along a file? That could have been accomplished much more simply to leave an anonymous call, drop off, or email. Not to mention much less illegally.

TheRe@lD3c0y: I like your style, but I don't trust you. I've already uploaded a virus to your system to keep tabs on your work. I tell you this because you're far too skilled not to notice it. Don't try to get rid of it, though. You will fail. Switching to a different computer will also prove fruitless, just so you know.

TheRe@lD3c0y: Is there anything else?

With everyone now having their own form of transportation, or sharing with someone else, the Minutemen, now bolstered by two more, began moving. G4M3R had been keeping tabs on Rocker activities, so it wasn't that difficult to get a general idea of where they had to go. Once they had actually arrived in the proper district though, that was another issue altogether. He signaled for Artificer to take them down on his fly, adjusting his mechanized ears. The tinker was listening in for any kind of signal that might have indication as to the whereabouts of the Rockers in the area. He flipped through signal after signal, picking up radio shows, private phone calls, and... Wait, what was that? Some kind of static, like he was really close to the source. G4M3R had to soften the volume so as not to blow out his own ear drums. Once that was done, he looked around. They were still moving, so he should have moved away from the source. He tuned back in, but hte static was still present. What was that? It had to be moving with them!

The leader of the Minutemen focused his ears, attempting to locate the source of that signal, and came to a startling conclusion. The source was the second passenger, the other one sharing a seat aboard Artificer's fly. It was Celia. The signal was coming directly from her. Realization set in. She had displayed inhuman speed, but he had assumed her to be a mover at first. She was also quite sturdy and strong, but that only meant she was also a bruiser. She seemed to show very little in the way of emotion, which just meant she was damaged in some way. Maybe. Or maybe all of that meant something... Very different. G4M3R turned back to face Celia, and gave her a wink before refocusing on the task at hand.

After nearly an hour of scouring, G4M3R directed Artificer to land atop a nearby warehouse. "I've got an internet signal coming from over there. Sounds like there's a video feed patching through to somewhere in Boulder, where the Rockers are headquartered. Sounds like the right place to me!"

Celia joined the two (boys?) on the fly as she read the responses from Decoy. As he responded a nudging thought at the end of her consciousness appeared. It was a nagging voice, a small will. It was a- a program. A little malicious virus, built in machine. He-Decoy, Decoy thought her base systems read machine. The safer assumption, that her system was in binary was very fair. She wasn't, that's how she broke encryption so fast to begin with, but regardless he had used a day zero exploit on her. It was almost touching. Touching enough that she designated the interface protocol used by that secondary system "Decoy" and reserved it for the time being. She would tunnel relevant but not incriminating queries through that system, and even slow it down to human speeds.

Visible to Decoy's virus, she opened a file structure and sent him two pictures. They were grainy, poor quality pictures of a woman in a black suit. In one her hair was tied up in a loose ponytail, and she wasn't looking at the camera. She was walking through a city with a definite urgency about her. The metadata of the picture showed it had been cropped, and listed the original resolution as being much higher. The second picture was of what could be safely assumed to be the same woman, this time with her hair down. It was a picture of the woman with her hand on her bowler hat, kicking a gun from a mobster's hand in the opposite direction of the camera. Her foot was a blur, and her eyes weren't visible on the picture, though the suit was the same. This picture hadn't been cropped, and was slightly high quality because of it. If Decoy was in the know, which he almost certainly was in Celia's mind, he would recognize her as Contessa. After sending the pictures, Celia followed it up with another message.

c17: I helped you with this because I wanted you to help me identify someone. Who is the person in the picture? It should have been easy to find out, but it's been near impossible.

As Celia responded she studied the "Minutemen" she was riding with. She was leaning back a bit, keeping her balance by keeping her hands on the back of the fly. As she watched their progress, suddenly G4M3R turned back to her and winked. She tilted her head in confusion, wondering what had happened. She remembered he had been jiggling with his ear things, and recalled they could read signals. She started to ramp down the electrical signals she was emitting, slowing them until she went into receive only mode. She was basically just waiting for a response from Decoy at this point. She moved one of her primary systems into analyzing the building, making a 3D model and trying her best to create realistic guesses about its internal layout. As they began their descent Celia wrapped her arms around G4M3R, and spoke into his ear device. "Are we going to come in at different angles, or just all attack from the top floor?"

"I-I can't really explain it." Ruben kept watching the film as the shadows became more prevalent with time, although the shadows only were able to tell about a second into the future. It was really weird watching the fight at this point, to be perfectly honest. "I can tell what the fighters are going to do... before they do it... I think. Like a right hook now." As if seemingly on cue, Ruben finished saying the word 'now' as a right hook was thrown. It was really trippy for Ruben to watch this, and it gave him a slight headache at first. It was either that or he was remembering something in some kind of bulk.

Rocker Warehouse

Shatterpoint moved as soon as Swarm fell to the ground, ripping off a piece of metal railing for the stairs and hurling it at him. Shatterpoint had of course thrown it with such force and precision that it collided with only one of the objects around Swarm before they could pick up any speed, which helped the railing spin and smack into the side of Swarm's head with brutal force, knocking the man unconscious immediately. Shatterpoint waited a moment or two to see the result of his throw as his minions watched in awe. "Tie him up, I'll get something to keep him asleep. Good job Creep." He said confidently, issuing orders to them and acknowledging Creep's work. He wasn't sure what she did but he didn't really need to know. He moved upstairs to remove a needle from a suitcase full of the same. Some parahumans were too dangerous to leave awake, as was the case with Swarm. As such it was good to carry something around to make sure they stayed asleep.

---

He kept up the charade until,

The drive back was absolutely exhausting, in fact it might have been almost more tiring than the mission itself. God did this bastard talk a lot, he was giving him a bad name. It was a little late to change it though—he figured—trying to drown his mind in thought so that he could numb himself to the almost constant droning of the rescued villain.

Eventually, FINALLY, they arrived back at headquarters. He'd made a call a bit before hand and so it was that once they'd exited the vehicle, that it was taken away by someone that wasn't its owner, after which they would take it to two others, one of which who would finally return it to its owner. Meanwhile, Chatterbox and the rest of the Jacks made their way into the building, with Gamble in tow—likely still yammering on about something totally inane and pointless like he'd been doing for...how long now?

He'd lost track of time, but it had honestly felt like eternity.

Entering the space where they'd met their boss they found themselves greeted by him and, if Drake was being honest, this did not please him. At the same time, it was kind of nice because it meant they could immediately hand Gamble over to him.

“Yes, quite thoughtful,” Chatterbox said in response, attempting a small smile even as he nodded back at Gamble, “If I may be so frank, please find a way to shut him up...or I will.” There was an edge to his voice that was not directed at Broker in the least and the implication was that he'd use his power on Gamble, probably while yelling, so as to maximize the effect and save himself the time.

It appeared that the man's constant droning had worn through all but one of Chatterbox's nerves.

---

---

Nervous while she awaited the first move in the fight between their senior and her teammate, she'd been running to help work it off—also because it was good exercise—and then they failed. Her heart sunk and she opened her mouth, anger flashing through her, before it was swiftly replaced by frustration, and then disappointment.

That had been the lesson? He'd felt it was necessary to make her—and maybe the others—feel shame at taking orders from a superior rather than just telling them. The muscles in her jaw tensed and she clenched her hands into fists, even as Protean began walking away she had been gearing up to unleash her own little corner of hell...and then she heard Decoy and her eyes widened and all the anger and frustration fell away. She was worried and devastated, her image of her perfect heroes now properly shattered in more ways than one. Of course, it wasn't like she'd thought they were completely invincible...just mostly.

So it was that when Protean told them to forget everything else, that she had absolutely no problem following orders, as a bit of her earlier anger had switched targets now. As it did, a tiny tendril of her projection's shadow had already extended through the floor and briefly moved through Protean's foot. Due to it having been expanded around her and already touching the ground it probably wouldn't be noticed in the well lit room with everyone likely varying levels of distracted and shocked.

She began following Protean to the interrogation room. She wanted to see who had done this to her childhood idol, to her heroes. To the city's heroes. She wished to know the face of evil so that she might one day wipe it out.

---

---

Enjoying the ride—though it was somewhat bumpy, as he had gone with Kyoshi—Jake was quite relieved when they finally arrived. When Kyoshi decided to let him off the ride, so to speak, he would step onto the sidewalk and then—having gotten directions from G4M3R—would start on his way towards the building. He was itching to use his power again if only because the emotional high had worn off and he had been dropped once more into the emotionally dull state that he typically resided in.

It sucked. It had always sucked.

However, rather suddenly it occurred to him that he was with a team, and so he ought to act like. So it was that he stopped in his tracks, turned back around, and waited for the rest of them to catch up. Once they had, he spoke, “So, how exactly do we want to approach this? We don't know how many parahumans are in there, so...I'd say enter from different angles if possible. Though, I don't know how easy it will be to do that...since we don't know the layout of the building. Or, I figure we don't at least. Unless any of you can figure that sort of thing out or something,” after all, it wasn't as if he was terribly familiar with any of their powers if he was being entirely honest.

With that said, he waited a moment before adding something else. “Oh yeah, and...in this form I don't have any other powers. You ought to know that. I'm kinda...normal in my human body and my Second Vessel is likely to be too large to fit in any sort of particularly enclosed space. So yeah...maybe we can lure them out into the open somehow?” Then, waiting for their responses, he fell silent.

---

Things started spinning around her again. That was fine, she had assumed it would, hence why she was this close to him. This did not mean she did not feel absolutely terrified that something would suddenly come crashing into her. She knelt after him on the side of the raised knee, taking care to be as silent as possible with one hand over her mouth, keeping herself slightly behind him with her head low in case he swiped with his arm. But, despite her 360 degree vision, she definitely wouldn’t be able to avoid an object on a collision-course with her, only see it. Small particles of dust were already hitting her due to sheer unavoidable spread, she really hoped that didn’t tip him off to her presence. She needed to make this a little less dangerous, if she could.

Okay, she had a plan for this. Short-term plan, but a plan nonetheless. She would make it a bit easier for him to see by connecting the pieces into spinning puzzle-pieces flying around his head in random directions, and in one of them she’d subtly insert the illusion of a goon behind him lifting a hand as if effecting him with a power. This would hopefully make him shoot out his arsenal in hope of destroying the cape, and then-

-Then suddenly a huge piece of metal railing came flying. Wisp was forewarned by her omnisight gained by taking light from all around her to direct to her eyes, but that didn’t mean it didn’t take a second before she could make her body react. She placed her hands on the floor and threw herself sideways, hopefully under the spinning whirlwind of things and let herself roll away covered in dust and small parts of items from the whirlwind, which all became invisible as it touched her from an outside perspective. Someone very attentive could have noticed some dust vanishing as she rolled off, perhaps heard the sound of her rolling on the floor, if it could be heard above the sound of metal railing clanging around or all Swarm’s debris hitting things.

The moment she threw herself Swarm’s vision would return as she left the range. Meaning maybe half a second or a third of a second before the railing came impacting.

She was quick to get up on her feet and move away from where she had been standing, inspecting the results of the thrown metal object. Seeing the result… wow. She may have underestimated Shatterpoint. She stepped back into a corner, somewhat scared and still invisible. She couldn’t reply to his comment. What she just had experienced left her scared and unsure, the violence of the close impact shaking her.

D-don’t falter now!, she thought to herself, getting a little smile. You’ve helped him… this is progress! Necessary experience! You’re one step into the game now! Don’t stop so soon! You can’t be jaded by a single encounter! This is you, now! You’re CREEP!

‘… Teh-heh…’ Wisp swiftly gripped a hand over her mouth when she realized she had inadvertently let out a giggle. She then also swiftly relocated, just in case someone had heard her, her eyes wide with panic while she made her way across while still invisible. She was still a bit drunk from way too much excitement, the giggle had been in result of realizing she had survived, succeeded and been helpful. That was a potentially catastrophic mistake, don’t do that again, she mentally told herself.

She was still asking herself how far she’d go. She’d stop herself if it went too far, of course. But, for now… she followed after Shatterpoint. At some point, she might have sneaked closer to him to display a message, for his eyes only.

He really did talk quite a lot. Gamble didn't even seem to need to stop to talk breathes, it was rather impressive to be honest. Sophia didn't really mind, as she put on her headphones once they got in the car. Luckily the police didn't know what they were driving so they were able to make it back safely and the Jacks walked into the Warehouse to meet Broker already there, with a newmate no less. Sophia waved a little when she saw him but otherwise simply waited for him to introduce the new member. She wondered if they'd get paid any extra because they had to deal with two heroes. Of course they had lost Lovecraft during the mission which was probably a bad thing. Oh well.



Jackson nodded, "Don't worry too much about explaining it." Obviously it was something to do with his parahumanism. Was it something about seeing the future? "Very interesting..." Jackson said to himself as he pondered it. It worked through a recording, perhaps only through a recording? Hm. Jackson paused the tape and stood up. "Well how about this, can you tell what I'm going to do next?" Jackson asked and began shadow boxing. Ducking and weaving imaginary attacks while launching rapid attacks of his own at the empty air. Though he wasn't terribly serious about it there was a hint of experience with his movements that indicated he was perhaps rather good at this.

Epsilon waited tensely, ready to fight back the second the Minotaur wanted to begin the pugilistic engagement. That didn't come though, and Protean instead declared they failed. Although it took a while to end, Epsilon was suddenly very worried that the reason they failed was because she didn't know what a Minotaur was. To be fair, she remembered very little of her schooling, mainly because of how poorly she did. The public school she went to wasn't prepared to handle the sudden surge of Japanese students immigrating to America, and at the time she hadn't even started learning English.

To her surprise her team didn't really seem disappointment in her, but it could've been that they were being nice. As she rejoined her compatriots, and Protean finished talking about the reward for finding out what they did wrong, Decoy's voice came on over the radio. He declared there was a serious situation in progress. She eyed her teammates carefully, looking for Alessa to guide them through this one. At times she felt a bit too much like a follower. She reflected on the fact that her schooling would begin again soon, but this time her teacher would be Decoy. She was ecstatic at the thought, hardly able to remember the last time she was taught by someone also fluent in Japanese. Any language confusion could immediately be cleared up, if their lessons were even in English.

Overlook watched as two Jacksons, a shadowy one and the real one, boxed at an imaginary figure. Just like the tapes, Overlook saw that the real one was mimicking the movements of the shadow exactly, which wasn't too surprising considering that they were. Before Jackson could notice, Ruben began to silently mouth what Jackson's shadow was doing, and his voice slowly began to emerge from the silence. "... left left right... block... block right... this is really trippy." Ruben didn't know exactly what each move was, but he did know his lefts and rights... and blocks.

---

Kyoshi let Jake down and quickly went to cross her arms tightly. She didn't change her stance to indicate any sass, but her arms conveyed some slight sense of it. In actuality, her arms were still sore (and likely bruised) from catching Celia. Kyoshi felt like she was made of metal or something, because she shouldn't have felt so hard in her arms. Regardless, Kyoshi spoke up when Jake brought up his 'Second Vessel'.

"If I may propose, nobody knows what your 'Second Vessel' is yet, but people think that it's some sort of Endbringer. Even Furnace thought it was. In the very least, what you could do is act as some sort of distraction while someone sneaks in and grabs Wisp," Kyoshi started, before continuing on her tangent. "Alternatively, we could destroy the warehouse everyone is in, although that'd make G4M3R pretty damn pissed considering we don't have any sort of funding for such things."

As Protean explained his form, showed himself off, and generally gave himself over to intimidating Epsilon as much as he could, Alessa became more and more uncomfortable with what she was doing. But, it would be best for Ira to learn how to fight a superior foe now rather than in a more dangerous situation, and it would certainly do Alessa some good to try and learn how to ignore the nagging voice in her head that said "hurry up and go save her, you monster!" If she followed it, she could get herself killed trying to save a life, which may or may not do some short-term good, but in the long run... no, Ira had to learn how to defend herself, or in a real situation like this-

'You've all failed.'

-wait, what?

'Everyone failed the test. How sad. Messiah, you will need to rethink how best to support your team.'

At first, Alessa was just confused, slowing to a halt at Protean's words. What was... what was the test? Should they... should they not have let Ira try to face Protean on her own? Were they supposed- was that the goal the whole time? To help her despite being told not to? What was the lesson there, to not leave teammates out to dry? What if Ira had really been on her own, and Protean was a legitimate threat to her life? That was an equally important lesson, surely, to be able to rely on your own skills when nobody else can assist you! And what about, say, not charging headlong into an unknown situation? What if-

Before she could get herself any more internally worked up, Decoy's voice began blaring out of the loudspeakers in the gym, declaring that a prisoner transport had gone awry, and two of the heroes had been injured in the process. Immediately, Alessa's mood was down, for yet again, a situation had turned nasty that she couldn't intervene in, that she couldn't possibly have gotten involved in, and it sucked that she couldn't be everywhere at once. If she could, she'd have been able to help. Why, oh why couldn't that be her ability, like... well, she supposed like an advanced form of Dean's ability, now that she thought about it. Something to let multiple versions of herself exist at once, fight foes at once, and so on and so forth. And yet that'd leave her without the power that made her so effective, and...

And there really was no point continuing to think about it, was there? That was what had gotten her worked up about Ira's case to begin with, and it was what made her fall into cycles of negativity like that. At least the injured heroes are being taken in for treatment, is the thought she tried to stick with as she began to hurry on after Protean, toward the interrogation room. If it was rethinking how her team was organised Protean wanted, figuring out exactly who these people were would be a good start.

---

Raymond liked to think of himself as a patient man. However, it seemed Gamble was giving Chatterbox a run for his money, as far as who deserved the name in question... and he'd assumed Chatterbox might quietly suggest to Gamble that his constant chatter was, in fact, annoying everybody. He assumed incorrectly, and so continued to be as subjected to the man's mindless blathering for the drive as everybody else. He'd have to have words with James- "James", he reminded himself- once they had a quiet moment together.

By the time they got back to the safehouse, he was about ready to crack Gamble's head against the nearest wall to make him shut up. However, it was surely unnecessary at this point, since they'd only need to put up with it for a few more minutes, at most. Which rather made him envy the man in the room next to the Broker - what seemed to be an all-black motorcyclist's outfit, of course, save the stylised heart over his chest, and the odd glow in the helmet where his eyes would likely be. He'd only need to listen to Gamble for a short time, lucky bastard that he was. Apparently, this was to be Love Craft's replacement, an understudy of the Broker's.

'I can't help but agree with Chatterbox here,' Raymond muttered, only to find he was being somewhat drowned out by Gamble's continuing utterances. Not that it mattered, since he assumed everybody else in the car felt the same way by now. Instead, he forced himself to raise his voice to "normal" levels, asking 'And who exactly are you, "understudy"? Do you have a cape name yet?'

Quick wits, once again, saved the day! And good thing, too. No matter what form the insipid changeling took, Elliot hated the idea of having to put up with his self-assured tomfoolery any more than was absolutely necessary to maintain the premise of being a good little Ward. He did not relish Ira falling short –though when matched against him in a battle of the minds, it was inevitable- but he did relish freedom from Protean’s bothersome games. He did really wonder if he planned to punish her severely for such an insignificant error, which would be fittingly monstrous and expected of the ‘hero’, but in the back of his mind he felt sure that in her failing she deserved what came her way.

In fact, nothing came her way, and Protean turned to try and sting the rest of the Wards instead. With a heroic effort, Elliot managed to suppress the curl of his lip. Congratulations, Einstein. You’ve outsmarted us poor saps by giving every indication that we were supposed to do something on pain of actual physical trauma and then turned around to tell us what failures we were for doing as we were told. By your leadership, is my character built! Of course, Elliot knew the moral of the story. Teammates were supposed to watch out and stand up for one another—apparently, against a senior hero, if this lesson was something to go on. Idly Elliot wondered if the director would respond favorably to a Ward enacting today’s lesson. Of course, an outcast despised by his comrades did not need to play along with this nonsense; he only needed their backs as stepping stones. Protean’s ‘reward’ made Elliot cringe. Did the amorphous idiot really think that would incentivize him? Not all of us are five-year-olds, big shot. He crossed his arms and waited to be dismissed, preparing to put on a sorry face to show he’d learned his lesson.

Instead, breaking news came out of nowhere. Or rather, it came from a radio in the form of Decoy, bearing the latest happenings. Evidently a gaggle of goonish villains had appeared and taken a couple heroes to task, but one of the despicable ne’er-do-wells had been heroically apprehended and would soon be squeezed for information. For a moment, while the information was still being delivered, Elliot considered with some consternation that the Wards would be tasked with stepping in where their seniors failed, which would be –to put it succinctly- moronic if not suicidal. Protean decided to make them watch the interrogation, however, which sat well enough with Elliot. Any goody two-shoes worth his salt would use a magic lasso or truth serum to get the goods, but he suspected that things might get a little more real. Such an eventuality would help de-sensitize him a touch more, for the ordeal with Collin had demonstrated that Elliot’s nerve was still lacking, and perhaps also serve as a rude awakening for the more idealistic of his fellow Wards. Putting on a more interested face, Elliot stepped forward to join the movement. “An interrogation, in the flesh! Not every novice is afforded such a valuable educational experience. I shall train my eyes on this vandal, and the excision of his knowledge.”

Tap. Tap. Tap. He tapped his fingers on the counter as he awaited his new team. Tap. Tap. Tap. Sip. He had taken off his helmet for a second as he had a drink of root beer, his soft drink of choice. He was never one for alcohol, dulled the mind and senses for momentary pleasure. If he was gonna make stupid decisions he would make those decisions uninhibited. He glanced over at his boss, interesting man to say the least. A practically unspoken signal passed between the two if them. Time to meet his new co-workers. He put on his helmet and touched a certain area on the back of the helmet. After sliding down his visor the areas where his eyes were supposed to be began to glow yellow, while leaving his own vision unobstructed. Neat piece of work, definitely worth the money he paid for it.

The door opened and an interesting set of people walked in. You had a young girl, little taller than him annoyingly, a taller gentleman dressed in full military clothing, Ryan tensed up on instinct even though he knew that was a member of the team, a fancy boy dressed in fancy clothes, Ryan immediately felt a little disgusted by the extravagance of it, and to top it all off a guy in a poncho and sombrero. There was an actual cowboy on the team, he honestly thought the Broker was joking. There was also a dude who was talking a lot, Ryan smiled at that. Pretty boy was annoyed which automatically put Ryan in a good mood.

The girl, Sophia, waved to him slightly and he smiled and waved back. Not that she could see the smile behind the helmet, covering his whole face and stuff. Pretty boy, Chatterbox, straight up ignored him which was a little irritating. The Broker mentioned how Lovecraft was arrested, terrible stuff. Thankfully that opened up a slot for Ryan quite neatly. The Broker introduced Ryan as am understudy which was a strange term to use but he would roll with it nonetheless.

Headhunter was mumbling something under his breath, but Ryan couldn't quite hear it over the sound of Gamble just talking and talking and talking. It was actually starting to get on his nerves a bit. "Alright buddy, if you don't shut up in the next ten seconds I'm gonna punch you really hard." He said as he got out of his chair and cracked his knuckles. Just after he said this Headhunter decided to speak up and ask what his cape name was. "Ah, my bad guys. Totally forgot to introduce myself, so rude of me. The name is Heartless, it's a reference to a game on the other Earth. And I am a living breathing shadow."

Protean could sense the unease contained within multiple members of the Wards. He wanted to further explain his lesson, to turn it into an actual learning experience instead of a surprise failure that seemed like nothing but being chastised, but fate held a different priority. The senior hero guided his four Wards through the PRT building, across the floor and up two stories. The group stopped in front of one way glass which allowed them to gaze into a prisoner processing room. The room was positively Spartan in how sparse the resources were. A single bed sat near the corner, while not too far off was a combination shower/toilet barely a foot and a half in diameter, with no curtains for privacy. A door stood strong against the far wall, strong and sturdy. It had been constructed by one of the Protectorate's tinkers using a form of metal that did not exist on the Periodic Table. All in all the room was only ten feet by ten feet.

Director Kens was already standing in front of the viewing window, along with one of Decoy's projected holograms. The director, predictably, wore a scowl that showed incredible displeasure. "-nacceptable that he's not here. As the Protectorate captain of this city, Inkscape is necessary to participate in this interrogation."

"I understand," Decoy's hologram replied, speaking in a thick Japanese accent. "But Noble was injured. It's only natural to want to be by his fiance's side while she's treated. I couldn't imagine being anywhere else if Protean were..." Decoy trailed off, then ceased speaking. The image did not react to Protean and the Wards' approach, but the tinker no doubt was aware. With all the cameras, microphones, and other surveillance equipment he had installed in the building, it was more rare to find something Decoy wasn't aware of.

"All the more reason for Inkscape to be present, so he can help get information out of one of her attackers." Director Kens turned to greet the new arrivals. "Glad you came in such a rush, Protean. Wards." He did not appear glad. "I assume Decoy has briefed you as to the situation?"

"Just the brief summary," Protean replied, anxiety tracing through his voice.

"Then I suppose I should give you the details as we wait for the prisoner to arrive. Earlier today, Noble and Captain Morales were charged with escorting a prisoner transport. The prisoner in question is a dangerous parahuman by the name of Gamble. Thinker class, rank 8. As far as we've been able to ascertain, his power guides him through unlikely and near-impossible tasks. The less likely he would be to do something himself, the more likely his power would let him achieve it."

Protean nods. "I remember the reports about Gamble hacking into the Pentagon. If I recall, in his interrogation he said he was just pushing random buttons with no idea what he was doing?"

"Yes." The director spoke curtly, as if attempting to regain control of the conversation. He did not like to be interrupted. "The transport was ambushed. The initial reports suggest there were five assailants on scene, with four confirmed parahumans. They took out the entire squad of PRT soldiers as well as Noble and Captain Morales. Though they escaped with Gamble, Noble was able to detain one of their own with that new containment foam weapon. That individual is being brought in now."

As if right on cue, the security door on the far end of the room opened up and a young teenager of ambiguous gender wearing a full body straight jacket, repurposed to be free moving and comfortable, along with a lab coat, was forcibly marched into the processing chamber with a PRT soldier accompanying them. The soldier began to order the prisoner to remove their clothing. The prisoner did not look offended, but actually appeared excited by the idea. "Normally I like dinner first, but we can make an exception for you, cutie."

"Clothing off. Now." The soldier was in no mood to be messed with.

"Only if you say please." The prisoner winked at their escort in an exaggerated manner. A normal human face couldn't possibly be able to make a motion like that, so they had to be a shifter of some variety. Regardless, their attitude did not last long as the soldier pressed a button on a handheld remote. The result was the prisoner writhing in pain as electricity coursed through their body. It only lasted a moment, leaving them breathing heavily. "Right to the foreplay I see. I get the message, hon." The parahuman began stripping as commanded.

"For the moment we are operating on the assumption that this one is a shifter and a brute, but we cannot be certain until more data is confirmed. He... She... Goes by the name 'Lovecraft.' It's a disgrace what some children become in this day and age."

Once Lovecraft had completely stripped down (which did not help confirm their gender, as they had seemingly shifted away their genitals for a "Barbie doll" look), the soldier escort ordered them to stand in the shower and "decontaminate." Without much fussing, Lovecraft did as told. A stream of some liquid that appeared to be water rushed down over their body, stripping away the last bits of containment foam that had enveloped their body in the fight. Other particulates also washed away in the twenty second shower. "Looks like you got me all clean, but I think I'd rather be dirty."

"Put this on." The soldier tossed Lovecraft a prison uniform in a no nonsense manner. The parahuman held it up, comparing the size to their own body.

"Oh hon, this is too large for me... If you don't carry my size, I'm fine how we are."

"You'll grow into it," the soldier replied, keeping his eyes straight. "Put it on and wait. We have questions."

The soldier backed out of the room, keeping his eyes focused on Lovecraft until they had cleared the door, which then shut automatically with a loud thunk. Lovecraft shrugged and began to dress themself. Meanwhile, Director Kens turned to face the two Protectorate heroes and the four Wards. "Since Inkscape is attending to your injured peers, interrogation is up to each of you. Times like this I wish we had a dedicated thinker in our branch. Washington says thinkers are spread thin, but I doubt that."

"What about that thinker that Decoy found in the bomb shelter?" Protean inquired.

Director Kens shook his head. "He's still receiving therapy from Dr. Jackson, and we're still unsure as to the extent of his abilities. At the very least." he turned his gaze to Tulpa for a moment. "We can at least confirm Lovecraft's abilities. In any case, we need to find out who they are, who their team is, why they broke Gamble out, and what their bigger plan is. Decoy, how is the lie detection software?"

The hologram, which had been completely motionless until addressed, suddenly spoke up. "Online and fully functional. It rates any statement 1-10 in how truthful they are being. So long as they are actively lying, at any rate. If they believe in their falsehood then my software cannot detect that."

"Very good. Well then, Protean, you're in charge. I have other matters to attend." Without waiting for the heroes to respond, the director took his leave. An eerie silence fell over the group as Protean was visibly confused.

"Me? Huh. Um, ok then. Uh... Well I guess I am the most senior hero here. Huh. Alright, so we'll go ahead and find out what he... She... It? Find out what that person knows. Tulpa, probe them with your projection to get anything you can, while we all see what we can get them to say. I suppose you can go one at a time or in teams, all at once.. Whatever you want." It couldn't have been more clear that Protean was incredibly uncomfortable with a leadership role. Training the kids he could handle. Hell, he practically was a kid himself, mentally if not physically. Taking legitimate command of a situation? Why couldn't Ink have been here...

---

---

"I can't believe how rude you're all being. I mean really, I saved your asses from Noble! Without my interven... Internen... Without me doing my thing you'd have been toast. Come on. So why did you hire these mooks to spring me anyway, dude?" Gamble strolled toward the Broker and extended his hand. The Broker shook Gamble's hand, keeping his drink in the other. He slowly sipped the alcohol, savoring its taste. The man's eyes rolled up in the back of his head showing off just how much he really enjoyed the experience.

"Uh, not to interrupt you, I mean I know booze is the shit and all, but you want to answer my question? Did you hear about how great Gamble is and wanted to hire me for some stupidly impossible job?" Gamble tried to pull his hand away from Broker, which took some difficulty, but he managed it after a second or two of tugging.

"Not in the least. I have no use for an imbecile of your caliber. Your brain is made of sod and your head is among the thickest I have seen in all my days. I have gotten what I need from you." The Broker continued to sip his drink, ignoring the now fuming villain standing before him.

"What? The fuck is that, you bad-teeth using, tea-drinking sonuva bitch? I've got a wager for you! I'll beat the shit out of everyone in this building, then you'll all work for me!" Gamble took a defensive stance, but any trained fighter could tell it was full of holes. This man had absolutely no idea what he was doing when it came to a fight.

"You're certainly welcome to try, mate." The Broker set his glass down on the bar, glass on wood echoing slightly throughout the room. "However I am afraid you will find your luck has run out." If the Broker's attitude could be summed up in a single word, it would be "disinterested."

"Oh, it is on now!" Gamble reached for a bar stool, hefted it up, then declared, "I'm gonna beat the tar outta every single one of you without breaking this stool!" He began to spin around, swinging the stool with him in a circle as he went. Then Gamble released the stool, or rather he lost his grip, and it went flying over the side of the bar and crashed into a few bottles of liquor. It had missed everyone, the closest being Heartless, and even then it had only come within six feet of his head. "Wait... What the hell happened? That should have... Should have..."

"Oh deary me. That was nearly $500 of good drink. Now I'll need to have that cleaned up." The Englishman sighed in a not-too-serious manner, folding his fingers together over his lap and looking down as if to give all that alcohol a moment of silence. A couple seconds later he looked up and spoke again. "Well then, I have what I hired you for today. Gamble is yours to do with whatever you wish. You will find your accounts a little fatter, and your next assignment is posted in the basement. Other matters call my attention now. Cheers."

Decoy did not immediately respond to Celia's inquiry. Presumably the hero had to actually open the files and observe them before being able to react. To the android, such speeds were beyond slow, despite taking place over only a few moments. Still, she got her reply before the Minutemen had concocted a plan to move forward with.

TheRe@lD3c0y: I have no information in my databases for someone with this appearance. Why do you want to find this person?

Meanwhile, the group was trying to come up with a plan of attack. Artificer had gotten off of his giant wooden fly, but otherwise didn't have anything to add to the exchange. Outsider suggested going in from different angles, a multi-pronged attack as it were, under the logic that they didn't know how many parahumans would be inside the building. "Well unless something has changed, all information suggests the Rockers only have two parahumans. Their leader, Ceramix, and his second in command Shatterpoint. They're based in Boulder so their numbers have got to be spread thin if they came here to Denver. That's only two parahumans if they both came together. Three at most, if Wisp is going to act hostile."

Kyoshi threw out a couple options, including letting Outsider distract everyone with his giant serpent form, or just destroying the whole warehouse. G4M3R wanted to slap her on the spot. "Are you insane? We'd probably kill a ton of people doing that! Not only would we suddenly find ourselves public enemy number one for all kinds of murder, the PR would be a nightmare and nobody would want to donate to our cause!" He shook his head. "I think that Artificer can open up a hole for us in the roof with his explosive beads, since Kyoshi can't move metal or non-rock material. Then we can swarm inside, beat up some bad guys, and if anybody tries to get out then Outsider can scare the crap out of them back inside. Thoughts?"