The PRT and Protectorate can be split into two separate entities in terms of territory held in the city. In the area of Fenway, the PRT have set up a foothold in the beating heart of Boston. Fenway consists of a number of highly important government buildings, and is the governmental centre of the city. A concentration of regular law enforcement officers bolstered by the large base of the Parahuman Response Team on Mission Hill means that this area sees less combat than most - since few parahumans are stupid enough to attempt to take on the full might of the PRT. A small group of Wards are often stationed within Mission Hill, sometimes overseen by a senior Protectorate member, for fast dispatch.

While the PRT holds the fort down at Fenway, the Protectorate’s base allows for fast access to the most affluent areas of the city - covering Charlestown, East Boston, Downtown and the Seaport. Their base is a mighty site and a tourist attraction in its own right, a massive pyramid-esque monstrosity equipped with almighty warheads, intense shielding and anti-gravity propulsion technology allowing it to hover above the harbour in the centre of the three channels. The tech was designed by a tinker by the name of Foucault, who was killed in an attack on a Protectorate Stronghold in the city. Its official name has long since been lost, referred to by the masses as the Zenith. The main Ward base is located within, nicknamed the Den.




The leader of the Boston Protectorate, Praetor is fiercely defensive of his home turf and will exercise his full power whenever he views that it is in jeopardy. His power allows him to summon armies of spectral clones based off images in his head. This doesn’t allow him to summon one or two helping hands, but a minimum of 25 at a time, controlling hundreds at peak focus. Anything from roman phalanxes to squadrons of dive-bombing hawks, Praetor is a force to be reckon with when pissed off.



A fatalistic outlook is nearly imperative when you are the Director of PRT Operations in a city like Boston. Luckily, Alexis stopped being able to see the positive side of things a long time ago. Working alongside Praetor to clamp down on illicit parahuman activity all over, she is a face rarely seen outside of press conferences.



The de facto ‘den mother’ for the Boston Wards - against her wishes. For some reason, the budding young heroes attached themselves to her outwardly cold exterior, revealing a softer side. Villains tend not to get to see that, as she’s usually dealt with them from several blocks away. She is a tinker specialising in bows and projectile technology, such as different arrow types and targeting software.

Underneath the vigilant gaze of the Zenith, The Consortium operate their highly successful business, with shipping and stock brokering is their trade of choice. The very embodiment of working smart, they are what the mafia wished they could be. Extortion, smuggling, black marketeering, human trafficking - there isn’t a thing in the world The Consortium can’t get their hands on and won’t sell through their extensive control of the Seaport district. With countless warehouses across the mainland and the various islands beyond, they are almost untouchable, and can afford to pay or threaten most people to silence. If you need dirt on a major player in the Boston scene, The Consortium can get their hands on it - whether it exists or not.

Their corporate headquarters are located in Beacon Hill - in the Alverton Building - and is surrounded by various banks and businesses acting as fronts for them, where the legitimate business site of The Consortium operate from. Despite everyone knowing where their headquarters is located - including the law enforcement - not a soul in the city is stupid enough to launch a full-scale attack at them, as it would be suicide, both literal and legal. From the money they have and the contacts they can leverage, even a small squad of Consortium footsoldiers can be a match for an unprepared combatant. If you ever piss them off, don’t expect a bunch of gangbangers with crowbars and shotguns. They have their own private militia.

No-one knows who actually pulls the strings at the top of the Consortium - or even whether it is one person, or several. Rumours also abound of a pair of extremely dangerous hitmen on their payroll…




The public face of the Consortium’s operations in Boston, Hugo Maxwell is a wealthy and influential businessman, who takes great care to separate the legal and illegal activities of the group. With a finger in almost every pie within a fifty mile radius of the city, he is someone who very quickly develops grudges - and can hold them for an eternity.

It might be unfair to call Wonderland a group of violent lunatics. Unfair, but correct. A group of united gangs, they are led by a mass murder, have several mass murderers in their ranks, and if you plan to stay long in Wonderland, then you’ll soon follow right on down that rabbit hole too. Living for violence, they will often send out invites to capes from every faction to join them for a night of raucous fighting in the ‘Circus Maximus’, a super-powered MMA-style contest of superiority held in an abandoned sports arena in the heart of Dorchester. It’s an old and rickety building, the electricity doesn’t always work and it almost certainly doesn’t meet health and safety standards, but it hasn’t had an inspection in years.

For a headquarters, they have taken over a group of buildings out by Victory Road. It’s a rough neighbourhood at the best of times, and with a gang of superpowered thugs there, the sane people stay well enough away. People wandering into the area who aren’t part of Wonderland usually get picked up pretty quickly, and you do not want that to happen.





Put simply, Pipeline is a psychopath who seeks to do nothing but have a good time regardless of the damage to the city or himself. Wonderland is a twisted freakshow that isn’t under his control as much as he is king of the pile. His ability allows him to produce liquids of any kind from his hands and temporarily control them - making corrosive or molten whips, among other, even more horrifying, things.

Gladius operate in a strict military fashion, not dissimilar from the old roman legions. Squads of 10 men drilled to fight together in 60-80 man cohorts overseen by a handful of parahuman lieutenants. They were formed by Whetstone in relation to rising anti-jewish discrimination from immigrants to the country. Many of their powers have a close-range reliance, which means as the numbers of parahumans under the control of the other factions have gone up, their ruthless and efficient expansion has been halted. While not as violent as Wonderland, they still use extortion and drug dealing as means of raising funds to expand outwards, hoping to crush other factions under a tide of highly-trained and well-equipped soldiers. They are almost impossible to remove when they get properly dug in, however they lost control of Sommerville after the rise of several vigilante groups in the Allston/Brighton area, making it harder to transport troops through that area.

For a base, Gladius has forcibly taken over a Country Club in the middle of an enormous park. The sightlines granted by the raised ground at the centre allow them to spot large-scale invasions with lots of time to spare, and they have used various powers in conjunction to make the area a veritable fortress of stone and granite. Should someone be able to slip a small fireteam into the structure, however, one might have a better chance than going in all guns blazing. Depends on the kind of guns you use.





Whetstone is the charismatic leader of Gladius, with a simple but effective power allowing her to sharpen or blunt bladed objects she has recently touched. Giving synergy with most other members of the gang, she rules with an iron fist and was instrumental in the takeover of several key sections of the city.



Operating as the second-in-command of Gladius, Vulcan is one of the single most powerful capes in Boston. Capable of generating metal from metal and bending it in whatever way he sees fit, he can create vicious weapons and structures on the fly. In addition to this, he can support several autonomous constructs to act on his behalf.

In a city where everyone is out for themselves, it’s often the case that those without powers are trampled over by those with. To counteract that flow somewhat, the Covenant was born. A group of like-minded individuals out to change the face of Boston city no matter the cost. Led by the entirely ruthless vigilante/villain Sickle-Cell, the Covenant have been known to bomb warehouses full of drugs, PRT and Protectorate strongholds and all manner of other targets across the city. They seem to have no main target, but instead put up violent resistance to every single other faction in the city - with the exception of The Funeral Parlour, who they have a ‘live and let live’ relationship with.

In terms of notable buildings, the Covenant own several, but none that could be pinned down as a full time base given the level of raids that the law enforcement throw at them. Instead, it can be said that the entire district of Allston acts as a headquarters. The main problem that they have is simply spreading themselves too thin. In an attempt to ‘police’ the whole of the city, they have attracted a number of powerful enemies.






One part vigilante, defending the weak, one part mentally deranged killer out for blood, Sickle-Cell is a dangerous enigma. Capable of bending blood outside the body, his combat effectiveness varies wildly depending on how many people he is against, and how long a fight continues on for.

In a great many ways, The Funeral Parlour is indistinguishable from Sickle’s Covenant, and it is for this very reason that both groups exist separately as opposed to pooling resources. Switchboard is too bone-headed to ask for help when he needs it, and Sickle feels it beneath him to turn to the Parlour for assistance. In the time that they have -rarely- cooperated, it has usually been as a direct result of a major power turning all its guns in an attempt to quash one of the two groups.

Brighton is a stronghold of the Parlour, however where Sickle-Cell quests out across an entire city, Switchboard tends to focus more on home-turf threats and will fiercely defend the territory against all unwelcomed intruders. If you find yourself in Brighton unannounced, you had better hope Switchboard is in a good mood.






Enjoying the sight of scum in pain, Switchboard takes a healthy amount of pleasure in his work as a vigilante. Able to trigger and switch human neural receptors, his power enables him to do a plethora of things, from switch on and off pain receptors until his target dies of a heart attack, to switching their vision upside down and laughing as they stumble around.