Rain drizzled down across the city on the night of the first victim.

He was found hanging from a wall with his intestines trailing onto the floor. Despite the particularly gruesome display, the police finding dead drug dealers was a fairly common occurrence. So much so that it didn’t even make the 5 o’clock news. What was out of the ordinary, however, was the message found alongside the corpse. It was written in the victim’s blood and should have washed away long before the body was discovered. The lettering seemed to be stuck to the wall, the blood congealed and crystallised as soon as it had been written.

It simply read “This is the first of many.”

True enough, a spate of murders sprung up across Boston. Each time, the victim was someone known to the authorities as someone who supplied drugs or weapons to gangs, or operated prostitution or smuggling rings. It quickly became clear that not only were these people being actively targeted, but that the person - or people - doing so were highly capable. This led to growing concerns among the underworld that a crusade was being orchestrated against them. People started pointing fingers, and tensions began to soar.

The media painted the murderer as a deliverer of vigilante justice. Some went as far to say that this was exactly what the city had been needing for so long. The authorities did nothing to quash these comments, at first, perhaps thankful for catching a break and being able to relax slightly.

And then, on New Year’s Eve, a warehouse exploded.

A mere few hundred feet from a massive Protectorate-sponsored event, a number of tinker-tech bombs were used to level an entire warehouse in a hurricane of fire and plasma. The attack had been planned to not leave a trace of evidence - not just of the attack itself, but of the entire warehouse. It was reported that the cause was unknown, but within several hours of the attack a video was posted online.

It featured a man, sitting alone in a cosy, dimly-lit room. A softly crackling fire was the only illumination, and he sat between it and the camera, painting him as little more than a silhouette. His mask glinted in the soft light. Resembling the ancient egyptian God Thoth, it covered only half his face and left his mouth visible.

“People of Boston,” he began to speak, “we are told to start the year as we mean to go on. Well, you will be pleased to know this is exactly what we - The Covenant - have done. The explosion tonight was not an isolated incident, but rather, the first step towards this city’s absolution. More people are going to die,” he stated, matter-of-factly, “and let me tell you why.”

“The warehouse tonight was not some storage shed for all those amazon orders you will buy and never use, but a staging ground for drugs and weapons owned by Gladius - the gang operating out of Brookline. Purchasing enormous quantities of both, they made huge profits by placing them in the hands of your brothers, your sisters and your children. Despite knowing for months about this warehouse, the police and Protectorate had yet to act, even though we had given them ample time to. We got tired of waiting.”

“Consider this act a formal declaration of war from The Covenant to the following: Gladius, The Consortium, Wonderland and the so-called Boston ‘Protectorate’. You have been allowed to run free for too long, profiting from the suffering of others. This year brings a new dawn for us all and you can no longer escape your sins.”

“We are coming.”

With that, the feed went dead.

By next morning, martial law had been declared across Boston under the direct order of Praetor himself. The poster’s IP address had been tracked to somewhere in the Allston district, leading to a number of door-to-door raids across the district - all of which turned up nothing. The gangs who had been shoring up resources for months began doubling up their efforts to come out on top, as well as track down members of this illusive Covenant.

A week later, on January 7th, the martial law was forcibly rescinded by the PRT Director, and the city returned to its new ‘normal’. After procuring CCTV evidence of before the attack, a list of the suspects has been released to the public in attempts to locate them. No-one has made a move since that, almost as if they fear doing so will trigger and all-out war for control of the city.

And they may be right.

---

Gladius Captain

As the car bumped along the road, we checked our weapons and prepared to move. A Wonderland drug deal was supposed to be going down just after sun-up, and Whetstone is getting cranky about our lack of progress. Which is why several groups of us have been sent out to claim some territory back from the mass-murdering freaks - armed with little more than a couple of beat-up guns and a baseball bat.

The bitch wanted us to head out, but couldn’t even spare us a parahuman.

Pulling up at the side of the road, we could see the targets just inside the alley up ahead. With a deep breath and a kick of the door, we piled out, and opened fired.

---

Maxwell

When the phone rang on my desk, I instinctively reached for it. Just before answering it, though, my eyes caught sight of the caller ID. Taking a moment, I straightened my posture, adjusted my tie and slightly slicked my hair. Lifting the receiver, I held it to my ear. “Maxwell,” I answered. “What can I do for you today?”

“Gladius is finally making a play,” the silvery voice said from the other end of the line. “Yet we have done nothing.” A pause, to allow his displeasure to sink in. “Have you at least tracked down The Covenant?”

“I have not,” I said, trying to keep my own tone measured. “You made it clear to keep a low profile.”

A condescending chuckle drifted from the handset. “That means to act quietly, as you damn well know. Have you at least contacted Happenstance?”

Flicking through the documents on my desk, I found the dossier on our agent. “He’s in California, on vacation.”

“I am not paying him to be on vacation. Get him back to Boston.” The voice on the other end was suddenly muffled, as though a separate conversation was going on in the room. “And call in Anonymous. I’m sending a babysitter to take him to Allston.”

My eyes narrowed. “Very well. May I ask what our plans a-”

A click told me the line had been cut.

The plastic phone groaned under the pressure of my grip. Knowing that little shit had heard every word made the situation that much worse. To calm myself, I wandered to my window, looking down over the bustling city below. Taking a breath, my eyes closed.

“You heard him, Anonymous.” My teeth gritted. “Get up here.”

@ProPro

---

Praetor

A tv feed had been directed to my office, and was displaying a number of recent murders around the city. Capes, and Wonderland crooks. The Covenant’s usual MO. Of course, that was entirely without basis, but it doesn’t truly matter. Soon enough, they’d all be dealt with.

My ruminations were disturbed by an urgent message. Some kind of gang battle between Gladius and Wonderland was getting out of hand.

Paging a message out, I called Knight, Anomaly, Septima and Gestalt to my office. A number of new Wards had been sent to us - all the reinforcements we were likely to get to combat the hellspawn in the city - and it would make sense to send the newest Protectorate hero along with them.

@PlatinumSkink@Banana

---

Robby

When Pipeline told me he wanted to talk about something, I thought he was sending me into the meatgrinder downtown.

However, when he asked me if I was still in touch with a friend of mine, it took me by surprise.

“Tony? Sure, why?”

Cracking his knuckles, the tall man turned to me. “He was pretty good at running the gambling rings, and not too bad with his hands. I’m thinking it’s high time we host another Circus. I’m needing someone to hand out a few invites in a rather… direct manner.”

My face must have been a picture. “You aren’t normally that bold when it comes to approaching people. What gives?”

“Honestly? I want to make sure as many gang leaders show up this time as possible.” He began to pace around the room. “The money we can make from gambling will be negligible. Tell Tony he can keep the lot. I want to get intel on who is betting on who. I wanna find out what alliances are forming under the city. I want to find out exactly where to strike to send this beautiful little firecracker off.”

He handed me a bundle of envelopes, with names and address on them. “I leave these in your very capable hands,” he said, before leaving the room.

“Where are you off to now?” I called after him.

A laugh echoed down the decaying hallway. “I have some insolent little Gladius fuckweeds to sort out.”

Well. I’m not going through Dorchester.

@Duoya

Anomaly

---

The armless Ward was the first to enter the office, wearing her hoodie like always. A single snap of a purple ghost hand served as her way of saying "hello" to Praetor. It wasn't uncommon for her to do this, as she did it to most everyone she met. From complete strangers to people as high up as Praetor... well... maybe not someone like the US President, but probably to the vice president. Depends on how the teen was feeling.

"You called for me, sir?" The teen asked, her hand disappearing from the room. It would return, sure, but the teen didn't really need it at the moment. At least, she didn't think that she would need it.

@PlatinumSkink@Sickle-Cell

Like, can't believe she would do that to me, y'know?

$2,300 in printer ink, $600 in paper, $145 in paperclips-

How about a number two with mustard, no onions, fries and a Dr. Pepper. If you put onions on that thing, I swear I'll-

Fucking bitch don't know your place! I'll carve you like Thanksgiving turkey!

Yes! Yes! Yes! Oh god yeeeeeeeEEEEEESSSSSS!

Sweep the floor sweep the floor sweep the floor...

You heard him, Anonymous. Get up here.

So many interesting conversations. So many sounds flooding in. The heartbeats, the breathing, the snapping, the clapping and the walking. Singing, dancing, sneezing, ringing, texting, whistling, everything everything EVERYTHING! So much going on all at once, it would be maddening if his power hadn't allowed him to understand and perceive them all distinctly and separately. But one called his attention as priority above the others.

"I don't believe I will," Anonymous spoke. He sat in the front lobby of the Alverton Building, wearing his mask in public. It was fine, nothing he needed to worry about. The public, the PRT, nobody knew about his existence. Not unless they were already a client. To anybody else Anonymous would be exactly that: a weird anonymous stranger wearing a mask.

"There is no benefit to my physical presence, Mr. Puppet." His words would be heard clear as day, despite the distance and barriers, but only by Hugo Maxwell. None of the others in the area could even hope to take notice of the young adult speaking in a pleasant business tone. "You are aware that I can gather all I need from here, just as we can hold this conversation."

Anonymous produced a small carving knife from his pocket, along with a small block of wood, and began widdling. "I understand your boss is not entirely pleasant, but do you think it would be possible to show a little more respect? 'Escort' rather than 'babysit' for instance? Just because I'm a part time independent your organization contracts does not mean I am not deserving of the basic pleasantries."

-just got to level 24! Oh yeah!

-schedule my flight to Cambodia on the 24th?

I can't believe the toilet backed up again! Mother fucker!

"Ah, it seems that Michael Lord on floor 9 is currently using company resources to play an online video game. You can have that one for free, Mr. Puppet."

The street never seemed to get completely washed. Between the rocks and asphalt, ash still painted grey streams of memory toward the sewers. Or perhaps it was just Mary’s imagination. Mother had always admired how vividly she could imagine things.

They were watching the old tube TV that sat high on the old mixing machines. There had once been an LCD there, but when that got melted away, an older cathode ray tube had just felt right. It went with the blue, red, white tiles, now blackened and greyed by heat, and with the silly little paper hat that the parlorman had insisted on wearing, like some historical relic teleported across the decades from the 30s. The bunny ears were bent and homely-looking, though mostly useless when Dragon didn’t have a metal claw gripped around one, using her shining scales as an extension. As it was, nothing pleasant was broadcast over air anymore. All the better, since Mary and Dragon weren’t in the business of attending pleasant business.

“We interrupt your program to bring you this breaking news alert,” Bill O’Doley said, suddenly sliding in from the right like some default powerpoint transition. “Police forces are cautioning residents to stay clear of West Dorchester and South Palminelo Street, where ‘armed forces’ appear to currently be engaging ‘parahuman thugs.’” Dragon smirked, and the reception faded before buzzing back to life. She loved the dry humor that the BPD showed in such circumstances. “Once again, civilians are being urged to stay clear of the fire zone, and to stay indoors if at all possible.”

The previously-scheduled program resumed, though neither of them cared any more now than they had for the past hour. Mary stared out across the street and Dragon pushed a bit of wallpaper into place, letting it spring up when she removed her finger and pressing it down once more. “Well?” Mary finally asked, turning her attention to the older one.

“Not my kind of scene. We know anybody that way?”

“Carlson’s in Gladius, right? You think he’d be in there?”

“Naw, I don’t think he even knows which side the bullets come from.”

“Hmmm.” Silence lapsed, but for Mary tapping her empty spoon against her empty ice cream glass, one of those classic ones that the sundays came in. They’d never gotten to have a sunday glass, Mother had said there was no point paying extra for a cherry if no one was going to eat it. Mary hated cherries then. “Anything else on the radar?”

“I got nothin’.”

“I’m tired of sitting around.” Mary got up, and Dragon moved to the door, which she politely opened for the little girl. “You think anyone’s gonna come find us?”

“Eventually… though we could go give them a few more hints. I hear there are still a few people alive in Wonderland!”

“Dragon,” Mary sighed, and Dragon smirked again at the way she drew out her name, with a long “a” that rose and then fell as she crumpled into a melodramatic pile on the sidewalk. “Not until we know who Covenant is after! We can’t help anyone if we’re dead!”

“That would put a damper on things, I suppose.”

Dragon kicked away some of the dust, and sat. She placed an arm around Mary as she sat up, and the two stared down the lonely street, an exasperated sigh coming from them both at the same time.

^{‘One day, I’d like to be known by a different name. Maybe… “Paragon”, or “Paladin”. Something awe-inspiring. But, I’m not sure I deserve such a name yet. So, for now, I’m simply Knight. A Knight in your service. Command me as you see fit.’}

---

Two months had gone since Knight had come into the employ of the Protectorate. Just long enough for them to start treating her as a proper comrade and not just the new girl. Okay, so she was still the new girl, but at the very least she didn’t have to deliver coffee to anyone anymore. And during this time… she had been a bit stunned by the extra things being a hero actually involved. Public appearances, extra volunteer work, overtime hours… Still. It was for the safety of the people. She could patrol through the air with her power, she’d use it as well as she could.

It had also stunned her when the Covenant had declared war on the Protectorate right alongside the other organizations. She had initially taken them for people just so fed up with villainy that they’d take things into their own hands to blow them up. Subconsciously, Knight considered it an… understandable venture, but one that could easily go too far. But then they went and accused the Protectorate as well? Now she was really confused. What caused this? Did she need to fear that her life might end with the Protectorate building suddenly going up in smoke by one of Gubbins explosions…? The thought was terrifying.

Nevertheless. Knight answered the call when Praetor called for her.

She stepped into the office, clad in her suit of armor, that had taken a pretty penny to have arranged for her. On her side was her sword, which was actually more of a baton due to how dull it was, and this was intentional. On her head she wore a helmet in the same theme as her armor, hiding her identity while giving her a view forward through a visor.

She saw no need to announce her arrival, Praetor could see her. She took a few steps aside, as she usually did, then turned to face him, and stood silently. She had been called in with a few Wards, huh. Knight stood dutifully, and awaited being spoken to.

@Banana@Sickle-cell

With all their organisation, you'd think Gladius would give me a few days' notice.

But judging by the fact that a hooded, masked, synthetic skin-less Robin was currently sprinting through back alleys like a bat out of hell, that guess would be way off the mark. Dropped in at the deep end, with very little idea of who she was up against - other than that they were part of that 'Wonderland' freak-show. Which meant that whoever they were fighting, they wouldn't be the pinnacle of fair play and mental stability.

Of course, it was completely possible that she didn't get that intel because they didn't care whether she lived or died. As far as most people were concerned, Automaton had nothing much to do with Gladius, so they no doubt wanted her to take a fall if this went belly-up, but she didn't care too much. When it came to stopping needless, purposeless violence, taking on Wonderland could only be a good thing. It made siding with Gladius the lesser of two evils, at least.

The very real possibility that she could die didn't seem to occur to her. Not that it mattered either way; if she broke her agreement with Gladius she didn't exactly think they'd invite her to their Christmas party. Robin was smart enough to know when something was basically suicide, and if she dumped them in the middle of an operation she'd be as well cutting her own head off to save them the trouble. Besides, working alone as she did, there was no hope of actually beating them in a fight.

So for now, all she could do was deal with it. If her estimation was right, she wouldn't be too far from the location she'd been ordered to attend. As if to confirm the thought, gunfire rang out just around the corner, leaving her thankful she hadn't been a little faster. Somehow she doubted they'd have held back on shooting just 'cause she was there, and catching a bullet to the brain wasn't what she'd call a good health decision.

Robin smiled to herself, not too bothered by the prospect of the upcoming fight. At least I got the right alley, huh? At least the directions had been good, if nothing else. While the noise confirmed she was in the right place, the fact that it was regular gunfire also left her pretty sure she was the only cape on Gladius' side right now. Not good odds, but perfect for testing herself.

As she approached the corner, she stopped. The moment bullets stopped flying, she planned to switch on her cloaking device and take down the nearest Wonderland psychopath. If she was, as she expected, outnumbered, then she wasn't above a sneak attack or two; though there wouldn't be a chance for much more before the camouflage wore off.

For now she extended her blades, listened, and waited for her chance to strike.

Maxwell

There is only so far deep breathing can get you in life.

That is precisely why the rhythmic clack clack of a Newton’s Cradle filled my office. Far too many upstarts had found their way into the city, lately. Knowing who was the cause of it all riled me far more than some freak of a Thinker. Faxing off an email to what would surely be a rather upset Happenstance, I spoke to my empty office once again.

“Remain outside, then. I’d much rather the cleaners didn’t come bursting in here to sweep the floors again, anyway. I’ll simply send the babysitters down to collect you when they arrive.” I allowed myself a smirk. It’s the little things that get you through the day. “A friendly word of advice, however. You may wish to hold your tongue around your betters - especially in Allston. I have better things to do than informing the higher-ups that one of their Thinkers had been turned into a fine, red mist.”

@ProPro@FancyHats@hagroden

---

Whetstone

The reports coming in from the soldiers weren’t good. Our first squad had completely ballsed up their operation and brought a hive of aggravated Wonderland mooks crashing down around them. Now the number of bodies - dead or otherwise - littering the street continued to grow as both side refused to back down. I wanted as little backlash from this as possible, though. Sending Vulcan or Arms Race to clean up the mess would be the logical thing to do.

But I’d be fucked if I was giving Sickle-Cell any more reason to come knocking.

Instead, i began calling in a few favour from unaffiliated capes to bolster our ranks in the hopes of salvaging something out of the carnage before the Protectorate or PRT showed up and ruined all the fun.

Leaning against the table, I massaged the temples of my head. It wasn’t even sunrise and I already had a headache.

That’ll teach me to hire lackluster lackeys.

---

Praetor

Anomaly appeared first, but I didn’t bother turning to greet her. From the full-wall window, I could see a plume of smoke drifting up from some of the smaller buildings. Christ knows what those idiots were doing down there. Muffled laughter echoed from just outside the door before it slid open to reveal Gestalt and Septima - both already in costume. They had continued to joke until the last second, and now looked awkwardly around the pristine room.

“Are you both quite finished?” I barked. “You aren’t here to mess around.”

The Ward’s eyes went wide. Gestalt shifted nervously from foot to foot, while Septima recovered slightly quicker. “Y...Yes, sir.”

Knight clunked through the door a half-second later.

“Good, you’re all here.” Turning from the window, the sun chose that exact moment to appear over the horizon. The room was suddenly turned into a bright orange fireball - light glaring off every possible surface - before the automatic shades kicked in and darkened the room. My hand swiped through the air and brought up a holographic screen currently showing a battle from a variety of different angles.

The fighting was relatively fierce, but both sides hand entrenched themselves behind vehicles or in alleyways, so neither side was making any advance. “A Wonderland drug run came under fire by a number of Gladius soldiers. Despite ostensibly having the element of surprise, Gladius dropped the ball and all-out war has kicked off in a contained block in the Dorchester district.”

“Since these animals have decided to pick rush-hour as the time for their little dominance conflict, the impact on the city is higher than normal. I want this situation to remain contained - and I want you to bring an end to it as fast as possible. Apprehend as many gangbangers in as you can. A VTOL is fueled and waiting in the hanger, and i’m requisitioning an PRT APC for support, with the usual armaments.”

“Knight,” I said, turning my attention to the young woman. “We can’t spare any more resources than this. You are in charge. Keep the Wards out of trouble.”

Swiping my hand through the air, the screen disappeared, and the room darkened somewhat. “Now, go,” I said, overriding the shades and letting the room be bathed in orange light once more.

@Banana@PlatinumSkink

---

Gladius Captain

Nothing much had happened for several hours. We’d been firing a few rounds back and forward, rationing the ammo. One Wonderland goon had been killed and another badly injured, because the drugged up psychopaths continue to think that crowbars can deflect bullets.

Things were steadily getting out of hand, however. A number of Wonderland capes showed up and made life hell for us. Ball bearings came screaming through the cars we had been using for cover, piercing them like paper. That cut into our numbers bad enough, but then a group of rabid bloody human-things started tearing my fallen men to pieces. Askaryan and Freakshow.

A thunderous crack split the ground beneath our previous position, sending the first wave of clones skyward with pillars of earth rising from the ground. Once at full height, these began to settle back into the street. The man standing there wore a browny-leather jacket with a basic earth-coloured mask showing a large fissure. Next to him was a girl clad from head-to-toe in biker leathers; a large metal chain hanging from each arm. Independant capes. Curbstomp and… Sidestep, I think.

The car caught up in the fissure exploded, sending blazing-hot shards of shrapnel scattering across the street.

And then the fight really kicked off.

@Kiddo@Lasrever

Anomaly

---

"Let's move, peeps! We gotta go bust up some drug operations!" Anomaly said as she rushed out the door, almost tripping. She could easily pick herself back up, but that'd ruin the totally awesome mood she was in. Drug busting was always something she enjoyed, and today was no different... hopefully. Rush hour wasn't the best time to keep people from dying, but it was a good time to have an operation going on.

Anomaly made it to the hangar and ran up to the VTOL, prepared for the heroes that would be attending the mission. It was a bit awkward, beng the only one there at the moment, but hey, she'd be joined shortly. Unless people lollygagged, which she hoped they didn't. People were dying and precious drug-busting cargo was not being busted, dammit!

G-gangbangers… Praetor, you’re in the presence of underage girls, here! In fact, the whole team gathered here are girls under 20! … Too insecure to actually speak out against him, and sort of understanding the anger, Knight merely nodded as she heard the rundown and steeled herself. She had seen this coming when she realized she was the oldest of those summoned, but she was actually going to be in charge of an operation of this scale.

‘Affirmative, sir. We’ll be on our way.’ She said, turning towards the Wards. Okay. Now to not make it apparent that this was her first time ever in charge and that she was feeling massive pressure from this and hopefully wouldn’t make a fool out of herself. She had Wards that relied on her now! Rosaline took a deep breath. Before they left… Oh, Anomaly was already…

‘Hold on, Anomaly.’ There was something she wanted, first.

‘Gestalt.’ A girl with a power vastly more useful than her own… ‘What powers do you house currently?’ If the answer was any other than Praetor’s… ‘I believe Praetor’s would be extremely useful for dealing with a crowd.’ She’d look to Praetor, to of course ensure he was okay with this, but she could see no reason why this would be any trouble. ‘In addition, I believe mine would be useful, for your own protection and for the defense of those around you.’ Assumingly, Gestalt knew what Knight’s power was, and Knight made ready to tilt her helmet a bit to show her throat, which was the only actual place on her that currently showed skin for Gestalt to touch.

Gestalt opened her mouth to speak, but was immediately cut off by Praetor's booming voice. "Not possible. Gestalt's power only copies the active aspects of a power. If she were to take my ability, it was drive her insane the instant she used it." He looked over his shoulder at the girl. "Summoning the clones would work - her mind wouldn't cope with the mental overload that comes with filtering all of the incoming signals."

"I thought I made it clear that you were the only resources we can spare. Time is wasting. Life might get a tad more difficult for you if civilians start dying on your watch." The comment hung in the air, the implications perfectly clear. "Just a bit of friendly advice."

The young Ward turned to Knight with a smile. "I don't actually have any powers at the moment. I was hoping to borrow yours, if you wouldn't mind. I'll grab Septima's too, although I'd really rather not."

Her friend gave a cagey laugh. "Yea. Sorry about that. It's not exactly all butterflies and rainbows."

"Beggars can't be choosers," she said, touching Septima's bare shoulder. "I need skin-to-skin contact for my power to work, though, Knight. Would you mind taking your helmet off?"

Anomaly

---

A ghost hand appeared in the room with the rest of Anomaly's partners for this mission, pointing towards the door. Anomaly didn't know where the hand would end up, so it pretty much knocked a small portrait over onto a cushioned chair, but it did point towards the door. She was growing ever impatient, and more people were dying as the crew wasted time.

@Sickle-Cell@PlatinumSkink

Knight blinked a little in surprise. Oh. So Gestalt only copied the most notable parts of any power, and skipped any sub-powers that came with it. That was… a severe limitation, that was potentially self-harming. Knight had failed to understand this.

‘A-ah.’ She staggered a bit from the weight of Praetor’s next words. Oh. Brilliant. She had started out her first time in charge by making a complete fool out of herself. Wonderful.

‘I-I’m sorry. I didn’t know. Let’s go.’ She said, nodding to the Wards and heading off, desperate to get out of Praetor’s sight. On the way, based on what Gestalt had said, she started undoing the clasps that were holding her helmet in place, pulling it off for just a moment while they were still in the base to let Gestalt touch her throat or face. After she had done so, Knight quickly put her helmet back, sighing.

‘A note of caution. With my power, it’s possible to stretch what you think you should be able to do. But, this comes at the expense of grave pain, and perhaps something more should it be stretched too far. Don’t tease it unless you absolutely have to.’ She knew this too well. She could always push her shapes to be a bit bigger, move a bit faster, shape a bit more detail a bit quicker… but all of that put pressure on her head, and past a certain limit was pain. Past that, who knows what, she predicted potential paralyzing migraines or, her more pessimistic side of her brain theorized, complete brain-death. She didn’t know how it would be to someone who wasn’t used to her power.

‘If pressured, focus on defending yourselves, your allies or civilians. Besides that, take out our enemies, but stick together in at least pairs of two. Watch out for each other.’ She tried to all the Wards as they headed for their ride, or in it, Knight not willing to waste another second as she made her way there as quickly as possible. But also, the Wards were her responsibility, she did not want them to be reckless. So, yes.

@Sickle-cell@Banana

---

"K- Katya!" Stepan loudly stammered as he threw the door open, sucking in great breaths of air as he stumbled into the decrepit apartment he had provided for her. Had she not known any better, Katya might have believed that he had actually run up the three flights of stairs.

Still breathing heavily, the older man took a seat across from her, frowned, and reached for the bottle of vodka that stood on the table,"Katya, enough drinking. Things are finally happening! I've got a job for you, the Consortium wants-"

In a swift, well-practiced motion Katya moved the bottle out of his reach and raised it to her lips with a mischievous grin. Savoring the last bit of vodka that remained, she relished the warmth the liquid spread throughout her body. Slamming the empty bottle onto the table, she flashed a mischievous grin in the Captain's direction. What was life after all, without some small measure of rebellion?

"A job? What sort of job?"

"They didn't say. They just asked for someone capable."

"So? What does that have to do with me? I don't recall being employed by the Consortium..."

"Listen, girl, don't be difficult. I already told them we'd do it."

"I see," Katya replied, forcing a smile to her lips. She had already grown tired of the old man bossing her around, "How much are they paying?"

"Enough...More than enough."

"More than enough?" Katya said, rising to her feet with a sudden grin, and reaching for the large canvas duffle bag that lay next to the table. Well-worn, army surplus, and stuffed to the brim. It held her costume and all the tools of her trade. "Ah well, that changes everything. Doesn't it?

The captain laughed, nodded, and handed her a business card. "Head to the Mad Monk, an old friend will be there to meet you. They call him the Tailor. Short, fat, with glasses...wearing a, ah...what are those called again? That's right! a bowler hat, wearing a bowler hat and an ill-fitting suit...he looks like someone's father, like an accountant, like no one important. Don't underestimate him though, he's like you, very much like you."

"Don't worry, you know me, I'm always friendly."

---

Katya found the Consortium operative within the depths of the tavern easily enough. He looked exactly like Stepan had told her. A stubby, middle-aged man, wearing a three piece suit and a bowler hat. American, given his accent, and unremarkable, in almost every way.

"Tailor," he said, offering her his hat, with a polite nod.

"Taser," Katya replied, countering with a sarcastic wave of her hand. He frowned and Katya sensed a surge of electrical activity within him, fingers gripping tightly around the umbrella he carried and muscles readying for a strike. Smiling was pointless when wearing her mask, but Katya couldn't help but grin, things were finally getting interesting.

"This way," the Tailor finally said, letting out a loud sigh, and gesturing for her to follow.

Neither of them spoke as they walked outside of the tavern, but Katya could feel the Tailor watching her, sizing her up, even as he lead her to the headquarters of the Consortium. She couldn't quite place it, but there was something very wrong with the Tailor, something familiar, something very distinctly three letter agency, and it filled Katya with a sense of disgust.

"Alverton Building," the Tailor finally said, breaking the silence as he ushered her in through the back door of some looming skyscraper. Like some common criminal she thought, appropriate, but somehow it still felt like an insult.

Leading her through a maze of doors and rooms, the Tailor stopped at an elevator marked clearly " Maintenance Use Only." He swiped a key card and gestured for her to enter, "Maxwell is waiting for you on the top floor."

As she passed him and stepped into the elevator, he handed her a set of car keys, "For your driver. Volkswagen, Black Golf, Level B3. Tell him to bring it back in one piece."

"Sure thing, портной, see you around," Katya replied, nodding in his direction, and not missing the threat that lurked beneath his words.

---

*(портной - Russian: tailor)

@Sickle-cell@FancyHats@hagroden

Screeeeeeeech-CRASH!

LOOK OUT!

-really mean it, if there's even a single onion on that burger, I'll-

Break break break breakdance!

Stupid pikachu, just get in the damn ball!

A friendly word of advice, however. You may wish to hold your tongue around your betters - especially in Allston. I have better things to do than informing the higher-ups that one of their Thinkers had been turned into a fine, red mist.

Collin would have smiled, if he had a mouth. Hugo Maxwell just didn't get it. He never did. He might not ever. Oh well. That wasn't Collin's problem. Yet it could be his opportunity. Nevertheless, the thinker stood up, then guided himself out the door of the building using a cane. His power provided him unprecedented environmental awareness to be sure, but it didn't operate the same was as echolocation. If an object didn't make sound, it was invisible to him.

"Mr. Puppet, I would sincerely like to know how you would even accomplish such a thing. We've never met face to face, you still do not know what I look like, my identity, or have any way to locate me. It would be impossible to discover your target in the Anonymous crowd, would it not? I have never broken my number one rule: never ever meet the client. And that is what you and your organization are to me, Mr. Puppet. Clients. Please do not speak as though you own me. I am now as I've ever been, an independent force in Boston. It is out of professional courtesy that your own secrets have not been provided to the highest bidder. Specifically because you are my highest bidder. I have no betters, Mr. Puppet. Everyone is equal in my eyes." Collin allowed himself to chuckle, silently, at his own joke. Even if he had allowed Maxwell to hear the laughter, the man wouldn't be able to tell what exactly was so humorous.

Is that a mirror in your pants, or are you just happy to- Stop, that line has never worked. Ever. Go fuck yourself.

A whole new woooorld! A new fantastic point of view!

You catch the Lakers game? Oomph, man, they really need to work on that defense.

Sure thing, портной, see you around.

"Continue business as usual, boss," the thinker said, using a respectful term for the first time in their entire interaction. "I will be listening, and I will join your 'babysitters' the same way I always do. Anonymously."

With that, Collin ceased his discussion with Hugo Maxwell, sliding into the back seat of an expensive car. Once inside, he secured his seatbelt, then continued his widdling project. It took time and dedication to carve using only touch and sound, but he had become quite familiar with the activity. "We're not leaving yet, Marco," he spoke, projecting the words to his personal assistant already in the driver seat.

"No prob, boss man. Just let me know when and where to go."

"Don't worry, my faithful employee. I will... As soon as Hugo gets his head out of his ass."

---

My eyes opened slowly to the sound of knocking on the wooden door to my loft, located directly above the bar Quindecim. Glancing to my right, I looked at the gentle neon blue of my Alarm clock, which read 7:15 AM. I sat up in my bed slowly, and turned my body so that my feet could rest on the cold hardwood floor as I pressed a small intercom button embedded in the wall next to my bed's headboard.

"Mathias Park speaking, can I help you?" I asked in a monotonous tone as I ran my fingers through my snow white hair, immediately calming the mess done to it by sleeping.

"Mr. Park, It's Jason, Maxwell wants you at the Alverton Building ASAP." The man stated through the intercom.

"Come in." I responded quickly, pressing a second button to unlock the door, allowing him to enter.

Standing up, I quickly made my way to the wardrobe across the room from my bed and began to dress myself in the guise of Fodem. Within moments, I was dressed in my uniform and walking out the door silently with Jason. Making my way down the wooden stairs in the side-alley, I used my key-fob to unlock and start my car. Getting in, I verified that my "uniform" was immaculate, and began driving.

---

After parking in my designated spot behind the Alverton Building, I silently entered through the back door and made my way to an elevator marked "Out of Order." Removing the glove on my right hand, I placed my thumb on the discreet finger-print scanner and the doors slid open. However, to my surprise, the Elevator was already occupied by a feminine looking cape in nearly all-black, save for her golden gas-mask. My mind rummaged through a mental encyclopedia of active capes in the Boston area, particularly those associated with the Consortium, before I remembered a description given to me by a less than willing informant, may he rest in piece.

"Taser, Correct?" I asked, although in a manner more similar to a statement than a question, before stepping into the Elevator and watching the doors slide shut.

---

Alice walked up to the backdoor of the building, casually and confidently as if she owned the place.

Because, hell, she would own the place within the hour.

With a flick of her hair, it turned from black to a natural redhead, and her eyes changed to a dull blue. She dropped about four inches and gained 20 pounds, her nails growing longer and turning a sparkling blue.

Between her administration attire, briefcase, and looks, she easily passed for a higher up in the building.

Specifically the highest up on the building, a certain Lauren Kite, whom had just entered the building from the front doors.

Alice grinned as she knocked on the door. Hard, sharp raps. Quickly a face off a portly security guard appeared, his face bored and then contused and finally anxious as he looked at her. The door speaker buzzed a second later.

"Miss Kite! Is there a problem?"

Pressing the button languidly, Alice shifted her vocal cords in an instant. She'd done her research over the last week. "No, Mr. Davis. I merely wished to enter through the rear as to inspect the morning procedures in Zone 11. If you would kindly release the door...?"

The face grew worried. "I'm sorry, Ma'am, but I have to see a badge..." His reply came with the sound of strain.

"I would happily, if I hadn't left it in my office as I left in a hurry last night. It was my anniversary, I'm sure you heard."

"Ah, yes, Ma'am, but procedure -"

She waved to cut him off. "I am trumping procedure, Mr. Davis. Just this once I would like to add."

The door buzzed and swung open, and Alice walked right in with a Curt nod at the embarrassed guard.

Moving forward, she walked through several hallways before arriving at Zone 11. Looking through the bulletproof, shatterproof glass she observed the various employees going about business as usual. Tubes full of mysteries substances were moved, put into machines, tested...

And she knew what each of them were.
Bubonic Plague. Measles. Yellow Fever. E. Coli. And many more.

She could feel them calling to her. She smiled. Yes, this was the perfect place for her.

She turned around and walked to the elevator, pressing 3N to head for the administrator's office. It was time she met with Miss Kite in person.

As she excited the lift, she entered the bathroom briefly. Just long enough to swap back to her preferred form. Hazel eyes and Raven black hair were do much prettier when combined with a slender, yet curvy, figure. She left the nails, however, as they were pretty.

Walking up to the secretary, Alice flashed a bright smile.
"I have a meeting with Miss Kite, 9:45."

The secretary looked up from the computer, nodding slightly as she looked over a clipboard. Pressing a button, the man spoke into a walkie talkie type of device.
"Miss Kite, your 9:45 is here. Yes, I'll send her in."

He nodded towards Alice, motioning at the elaborate wooden doors to his left, surreptitiously locking the door behind her.

---

Alice sat with her feet on a small glass coffee table near a window, looking out towards Boston. Being a bit set apart from the main City really had it's safety perks... And it helped Alice get what she wanted easily.

Reflecting on her plan, Alice had to admit she'd outdone herself this time. It had taken the whole week to create the little virus she'd been releasing throughout the building with every touch of a surface, particularly on physical contact with Miss Kite.

Anyone picking up the virus in the building would have their neural receptors primed to be almost fanatical towards Alice's voice. Almost like a synthetic obsessive love drug.

And within a few hours, the entire facility would be at get beck and call, and she'd have easy access to some of the most dangerous diseases, bacteria, and viruses known to mankind for her to experiment with.

Ah, today was a good day.

Maxwell

I couldn’t stop the pitying smirk from spreading across my lips.

No cape was immune to delusions of grandeur, but it seemed so much more common in Thinkers. Still, most of the Consortium’s operatives believed themselves to be beyond the organisations reach. The new ones, anyway. After a few months, even the most stubborn usually realised how tight a leash they were kept on.

The city below looked so small from the top of the building. Dots scurried below, beginning to start a new day in their endless routine. Pawns in other people’s games. I checked my watch. Quarter past seven. Our operatives were due shortly. With a flutter in my heart, I allowed a small hope that it wouldn’t be just another pointless exercise. Finding the Covenant would make putting up with distasteful company entirely worth it. With a bit of luck, we can wipe out a number of inconveniences in one fell swoop.

Early thought it made be, that thought led me to pouring a glass of brandy.

@ProPro@FancyHats@hagroden

---

Gestalt

As my fingers brushed Knight’s cheek, a ripple of static energy passed over both of us, causing my hand to go numb. A faint throb of power pulsed deep inside, as my eyes flared and changed to a pale blue - before returning to their natural brown. A wash of images flicked through my mind like a superfast slideshow. Armour, swords, cages, restrains … vials? Giving me a quick primer of the power and how to use it, a dull-blue sword appeared, hovering in front of me.

I grinned.

“Thanks, Knight,” I said, beaming at her. “You certainly have an interesting powerset. Should be fun to see what two Knights can do, huh?”

Septima tapped me lightly on the shoulder. “We should get moving before Praetor yells again.”

Sheepishly looking tos ee if he’d heard, I nodded, and we made our way towards the hanger.

Nowhere was the sheer size of the protectorate flying pyramid fortress more noticeable than here. Rows upon rows of VTOLs stood ready to be fueled and deployed at a moment's notice. A runway large enough to support 4 simultaneous take offs or landings punctuated the scale of the base. Each of the aircraft were equipped with specialised armour plating to allow them to pass through the electromagnetic shield engulfing the air around the base, too, without the need for a manual deactivation every time a squad needed to be despatched.

The handbook on this place was like a bible, and I’d never bothered to read half the stuff.

Piling into the VTOL preparing for takeoff, I sat ready to make polite conversation with the people who - very soon - I’d be knocking heads together with.

@Banana@PlatinumSkink

---

"Taser, correct?"

"Yes," Katya replied, her mouth forming into a frown beneath her mask. There was power in knowing a name, even an alias, and she was at a disadvantage. She didn't recognize the cape that had joined her or his white mask, he was another unknown factor, and another potential threat. "And you are? The driver?"

“Rise and shine! We’ve got a big day ahead of us!”

Before Holly could open her eyes, she was assaulted by a searing light. Groaning, she rolled over and promptly fell on a hard wood floor. She sat up and opened her eyes, giving the criminal who woke her up her most exhausted glare.

“You know I’m immune to that, right?” Her sister looked at her with a smug grin, fully pulling back the curtains from the big window that illuminated the whole room. Holly pulled herself up to sit on the couch, rubbing at her eyes. Mandy sat next to her, patting her shoulder, “How’d you sleep, Hol?”

“I… didn’t,” she croaked, her throat scratchy. Holly didn’t sleep very much to begin with, and being in a new place and on an unfamiliar couch really didn’t help. Looking at the clock on the wall, she had only slept for about two hours.

“So, what do you say we go out for breakfast before we deal with this mess,” motioning to the boxes of Holly’s stuff piled on the other side of the room, “I know this really nice diner around Dorchester.”

Holly thought about it for a second. The idea of going outside in general was unsettling to her, let alone in a completely new city, but if Mandy was with her, maybe she would be okay? And she was hungry… She nodded, “Yeah, sounds like a plan.”

Half an hour later, Holly had showered and dressed and was finally something close to awake. She was a little bit on edge; just deciding off the cuff to go out somewhere wasn’t something she ever did, so her guts were doing somersaults. She just kept telling herself, I’m gonna be with Mandy. She has social skills. I’ll be fine.



Holly didn’t even feel that bad once they left the apartment, thankfully. Mandy kept her occupied with conversation, holding her hand the whole way. Holly was amazed; she felt better in the last ten minutes they’d been walking than she had the whole time she was living by herself.

“Whoa…” Mandy had stopped walking and was staring at a commotion ahead. There were screams, crashes, gunshots. Holly took a step back, ready to retreat back to the safety of the apartment, but her sister started cautiously moving forward, her phone out in front of her.

Holly grabbed onto the sleeve of Mandy’s jacket, “What are you doing?!”

“I’m gonna see what’s going on,” she said, as if that was the obvious course of action. She kept moving towards the fray, leaving a bewildered Holly no choice but to follow her. Holly honestly shouldn’t have been surprised; this had been happening ever since they were kids, just never with a situation like this.

She could see blood and debris and these… monsters or something. Fuck. These were parahumans. This was a superpowered gang-war.

She ran to catch up to Mandy, who was filming the fight. They were too close. They could get hurt or—

“We have to get out of here, now!”

Before Holly could get another word out, the ground rumbled and erupted. Out of the chaos, she could see fire and metal— coming towards her!

A car door came flying at the sisters, and suddenly stopped short of hitting them. Mandy snapped out of journalist-mode and noticed the near-miss, glad that Holly had been paying more attention. She was holding the piece of metal in the air, and moved it quickly to deflect a piece of concrete that flew at them. Mandy’s phone screen was flickering, a tell-tale sign of Holly using her powers.

Despite Holly’s quick thinking, she was terrified; her whole body was shaking and she could feel her heartbeat in her ears. Taking fast, shallow breaths, she looked around for an escape. Nothing. They were blocked in.

They were stuck in the middle of a gang fight.

Fuck.

Yeah, this whole thing was a mess, but Robin kinda liked it. Or at the very least, she wasn't nearly as worried as she should have been, watching things begin to escalate. She'd managed to keep her head down as more capes appeared, but sooner or later she'd have to make a move. The faster she made an impact, the better her chances of being gone before the town's glorified babysitters turned up to stick them all in time-out.

Not that she was against the idea of shutting down the violence per se, she just didn't want to be there when it happened. So, 'efficiency' would have to the word of the day. Fine by Robin - a time trial was as good a test as any. Speaking of which, she'd have to pick a target. At first she glanced towards the other independents... couldn't be sure if they were on Gladius' side or Wonderland's until they started trying to murder her, which meant the Wonderland targets were priority.

And that leaves us with two.

Or two that she could see, anyway. Freakshow's creatures were something she didn't know if she could deal with, but they seemed to be making close-range attacks for now. Askaryan, on the other hand, seemed to be going for longer-ranged attacks. It was a simple decision - if nothing else, she knew which one she needed to surprise if she wanted a chance at this.

Taking advantage of the distraction provided by the exploding car, Robin grinned to herself.

ᴄʟᴏᴀᴋɪɴɢ : ᴀᴄᴛɪᴠᴇ

Sixty seconds, give or take. No more time for hesitation.

Of course, there were unwritten rules to obey - rules that would keep her from using the element of surprise to decapitate anybody, even if it'd probably mean one less person wanting to murder her in future. Wasn't as if she ever planned on inviting Wonderland's pet psychos to a dinner party, so she was okay with burning that particular bridge. Really, she was being pretty damn reasonable about this, all things considered. Live and let live, as much as this situation would allow.

Not that she expected Askaryan to see it the same way, as she sprinted towards the other cape - strength letting her move faster than any normal human would - and lunged. One arm aiming to slice a blade across the back of their legs and remove any mobility, the other launching an armour-clad punch at the back of their skull to hopefully knock the parahuman out.

Had to hope it worked, though - she could already feel the cloaking device starting to heat up already, and knew whether her attack succeeded or not, she was about to become a whole lot more visible.

Man, I really need to fix this thing.