"Don't sweat it, it's not a major secret." She raised her good hand, waving away his concern. "Besides, I don't think either of us are up for an encore right now. You've kinda got two left feet, so to speak." Slightly cruel jokes aside, she paused, looking over her cybernetics briefly before glancing back to Askaryan.

"It's kind of a fifty-fifty thing. Technically, I'm pretty sure I could add whatever the hell I come up with - haven't found a way to upgrade my vitals without killing myself, so it won't let me do that." She shrugged. "But if I add every single thing I think of, then I'll run out of space. Plus, the more I add, the harder it gets to hide it when I'm doing the whole 'good little civilian' routine."

It was true that she could potentially be a much bigger threat than she was right now, but there was a point where there'd be no turning back. She didn't really fancy being a complete bucket of bolts quite yet. "So I try not to add anything too big until I have a reason to need it. Like, take today. I had trouble keeping track of everything, and closing distance. Especially when you started floating me."

She glanced down at her slightly ruined clothing, wincing. Yeah, that scenario would be one to avoid in the future. "So that gives me things to work on. Movement system, for one. Short-ranged teleport or something would've been helpful. Spatial awareness and reaction time, as well. Plus I've still gotta fix my cloaking system. Not sure perfect invisibility's possible, but I've been thinking, if I just alter it slightly--"

Okay, she'd been rambling a little, but hey - don't ask if you don't want an answer, especially with this particular subject. There was a whole encyclopedia of ideas she could have brought up, but Askaryan probably wouldn't want to deal with two hours of Tinker rambling. Sensing that she'd probably go off on even more of a tangent if she continued, she stopped with a light laugh. "Uh, what I'm saying is I try to wait for inspiration."

The man smirked slightly and began to speak, Tony barely able to hear the words over his pounding heart.

“Professional. Not like your friend, there. I’m almost impressed. Might be a future in this city for you - not like the majority of Wonderland’s goons. Forgive the handgun. It’s nothing personal. You tend not to survive very long in this line of work without taking precautions... And yes. We did know, but not coming along regardless is impolite. Be seeing ya, kid.”

The man began to leave, and it wasn't until the door to the cafe had closed completely that Tony allowed his tense muscles to relax, releasing a sigh of relief as he did so. The feel of the metal still clung to his skin, and Tony shivered slightly. He had experienced far worse in the Wonderland, but he never planned on going through anything like that again.

"Man, what a prick."

"A smart prick. A smart prick, with a gun. Jesus..."

"Well, his gun wasn't pointed at me, so he was just a prick."

Tony just shook his head silently, doing his best not to laugh. That was a just what Robby would say - he had been in the Wonderland for who-knows-how long, this was probably just like every time he had handed out invitations before. Tony was again reminded how thankful he was that he got the hell out of the Wonderland when he could.

"So... What next?"

"I'm headed back to the Safe house, you don't have anything to do. Just remember to show up to the circus tonight - we all missed you man!"

"Yeah right."

The pair shared a laugh at that, and silently, they exited the cafe, before parting ways. Tony knew the general time the circus started, so he'd show up when he had to... Still, the thought of returning after a few weeks of peace was a little intimidating. When he left, most in the Wonderland were on generally good terms with him, but good terms means jack shit when you're in a den of crazies. Still, despite the fact he wasn't looking forwards to it... Getting to meet some of the guys again seemed like it would be pretty fun. And the promise of the bets made it all the sweeter. Tony made his way home, planning on preparing for the circus.

---

Not much kept his time, in all honesty - Tony still had the mask from when he used to be an announcer for the circus, and he had only been gone for a few weeks. Still, a few weeks is a long time when you used to sleep with one eye open. Other than that... he was honestly ready. He was too poor back when he joined the Wonderland to afford a good costume, and Tony really never felt the need to get a new one. After all, he sure as hell would never get in the ring.

All that was left was to wait... Tony normally would be too anxious to breathe in this situation - hell, if he knew that the final invitation would end up with a gun against his knee, he probably wouldn't have gone in the first place. But in this case, he really didn't feel too worried - he was going in with insurance this time. The power he had was incredible for a guy like him, the kind of guy that stayed out of things. It would let him get out of a situation if things got sour... hopefully.

Tony laid down on the couch, turned on the television, and began to wait until the circus began.

Replicant beamed as the receptionist got on a line with the director to announce his presence, as she had done so many times before. Wait wait wait, ma'am? The director wasn't a woman, what was going on here? The issue further compounded when a woman's voice replied agreed to let the two of them enter together. He felt the need to open his mouth in confusion and pseudo-protest, but quickly shut it. This was far too interesting and bizarre. If there was a change in the position, then he was supposed to have heard about it... Wasn't he? Or was this some assistant woman he'd never met that was filling in for the usual director?

The very second the hero entered Alice's office alongside the girl, he had to prevent himself from doing a double take. She was... Fascinating, to say the very least. So very intriguing. He needed her in his lab. Like, now! She offered a drink, which he had to politely decline, before bringing up the issue of who would speak first.

"I do apologize little lady, it must be very troubling to have your business cut in front of like this, but I'm afraid that REPLICANT is here on official Protectorate business! The kind which concerns life and death, heroes and villains! Out of the necessity of the greater good, you will have to stand aside like a good citizen and wait your turn. My deepest and humblest of apologies, little Phoenix girl." The hero put emphasis on nearly every other word, and produced a small jar and cotton swab with which to take a quick sample from the young girl. After which he turned to "director" Alice.

"You will find that our business is... Exceptionally important, miss." He gave a friendly wink, not too flirty but definitely more than platonic. "It concerns your friends, the ones closest to you."

@Old Amsterdam@Sickle-cell

---

Alice grinned at the man. He was a bit enthusiastic, to say the least. And that unique mixture running through his veins....

She couldn't help it, she purred under her breath.

Looking at the Healer that had been sent, she considered for a moment. "Why don't you go on down to the labs' break room. It's full of food and drink. I'll be along momentarily too discuss our... Arrangement." she said as she removed her feet from the desk.

Once the young woman was out of the room, she turned her gaze back at Replicant.

"Now, business. I'd heard something about the PRT having a hand here, which is why I sent a letter to your director, as you may or may not be aware. The CDC is releasing a cure to the common cold as we speak, as well as the common strains of the Flu. These will eradicate the viruses from this City, and grant immunity to those with my cure in their system. But, alas, I do not know what friends you speak of," Alice said quickly, walking around Replicant slowly. A finger lazily reached out and ran across his shoulders. "And I am very curious about you, my friend. What is that inside you?" she asked in an almost seductive voice.

Knight found that the fighting had largely ended with the Covenant’s arrival, so she ran over to seek for survivors among those that lay bleeding. She started ripping their clothes to try to use the patches to close the wounds, making a mental note to bring bandages or so with her in future trips.

Sickle-Cell followed her. She hadn’t expected that. She frowned as he recommended her to leave the city. While she thought about what could have brought him to say this, she didn’t reply. Then she was startled as Vector’s voice came through the communicator, but the message was nice and clear. Anomaly followed after with a more… sensitive line. While listening to what Sickle-Cell was saying after, Knight took the communicator to her mouth and spoke silently. It was to the Wards she spoke.

‘You might have brought it out, but it was always in him.’ She said first to Anomaly, speaking silently due to not wanting Sickle-Cell to overhear the next part. ‘Wards, get out of here. I won’t be able to protect you.’ She said, hoping they’d listen. Then, she answered Sickle-Cell.

‘I trust Praetor’s words more than yours, but your reasoning has been noted.’ Knight answered Sickle-Cell on the part about believing in that they were all the Protectorate could spare. There had to be some reasoning behind if they didn’t spare more, like being ready in case greater dangers appeared, or so.

She sighed out at his question if she was going to let him leave. Knight stood, turned, and glared at him, sword in her right hand pointing at the ground, not raised. ‘… The hell are you still here for? The situation has changed. The answer is no.’

Knight manifested her armor. At point-blank range, it was far easier to manifest a shaped body, and she had been preparing to manifest it ever since it became clear she might be ending up in close combat with him, shaping it in her mind. A thin layer of paused time, it froze all over her already armored body, and extended out over her sword as well. Like this she was basically invulnerable. However, there were consequences.

Neither light nor sound nor radio-waves could travel through her armor of frozen time. Nothing could. Meaning if she wanted to speak, listen or see she had to open holes in the armor, which would be weak points Sickle-Cell was perfectly suitable to abuse. The only sense she had was touch, which took the form of a pressure against her mind where anything pressed against her barriers. The only way she could fight Sickle-Cell was to make herself completely invulnerable, but this was in exchange of her senses. She couldn’t protect ANYONE from in here. Only attack.

Which she did. If nothing else happened, she propelled herself directly at Sickle-Cell with her telekinetic power over her barriers which gave her the rating of Mover 2, shaping the armor to accommodate her movements. It put a heavy pressure on her mind, she couldn’t use her powers to do anything else while like this in addition to the loss of her senses, but in exchange for all this she’d be invulnerable, at least for now. Like this, not even Sickle-Cell could harm her… she thought. She was under the impression there was no blood on her right now. If there were, then she had just locked herself into a torture-chamber.

She attempted to tackle Sickle-Cell. In case of impact she’d try to grab onto him, hold him in place, pursue where she felt that she hit him. If she missed (which she considered likely) she’d continue a bit before spinning around and opening a hole in the frozen armor to her eyes so she could see and confirm the current situation, ready to quickly close it again if she had attacks heading for her. She did keep in mind how far it was to the next building, invulnerable armor or not it would still hurt to fly into a building.

immediately concerned: @Sickle-cell@Banana
locally concerned: @DracoLunaris@Kiddo@knifeman

A young girl lay in the arms of a much older man, her dirty, blond hair sprawling across his lap. Her eyes tightly closed, she wrestled lightly as though in an intense dream. Carefully, he ran his hand over the cracked black skin of her forehead, giving a reassuring presence. The pair stayed like this for several minutes, on the scabby, second-hand couch - one of only two pieces of furniture in the otherwise abandoned apartment. By a rickety table, another woman stood watching the bustle of the city from out the window.

Suddenly, the girl’s back arched as her eyes flew open wide. “The Kings have each sent their pawns to war. The Controller watches from his glass house as his children do battle with the Budded Sculptor. The Architect in his Ivory Tower plots and schemes with The Historian to win - while each plots again behind the other’s back to secure their own destiny. The Queen of Potential borrows out her keystone to secure a petty personal victory she dares not to use, while fighting The Plenty for a slice of heaven. Throughout it all, the Dead Arbiter searches for The Arbiter to claim back all that was taken.”

“So to does the man without a face follow his orders while the man with many faces awaits his next and the man who lifts faces prowls for another victim in the night. In the wings, the ants scurry, unaware that Ziz shall descend soon. But where? The list shortens with each passing second. Soon, they will all be ash and dust and ash and dust and everywhere and all at once and -” Her rambling abated as the man applied a little more pressure, comforting her as pain caused her body to jolt and shiver.

The room fell silent, save for a few pathetic whimpers.

It was the man who finally spoke. “Seems things are finally moving. Is this the opportune moment for us?”

A voice, heavily modified by a robotic twinge from her mask’s audio modulator, replied. “I believe it is. You can finally see your daughter again.” Unseen to anyone, her vulpine grin stretched from ear-to-ear. “And I, my darling son.”

---

The parahuman pair nodded, as Taser made for the door. “We’ll be in touch,” Fodem assured Maxwell, swinging the keys around his finger as he slide into the lift.

Making their way to the provided company car - an inconspicuous, old Vauxhall - they started the engine and pulled out into the street.

“Uhh, right,” Fodem said. “Tell us where to go, I guess, since we have no idea where you are.”

Taser chuckled. “And if you find your arse in the fire, we’ll be there to pull it out again. Hopefully. I got the feeling that Maxwell doesn’t really care either way.”

@ProPro

---

“You didn’t ask for my advice,” Askaryan noted, “but if I were you, I’d throw my hat into the ring at the Circus tonight.”

He got up, stretching his healed leg which felt awkward due to the lack of pain. A strong sign of a Wonderland cape was one who found normality to be stranger than carnage. “Think about it, right, you have an absolute horde of capes from all different factions duking it out in a single little arena. Not all at once, sure, but if you enter, you’ll get into tons of situations you’d never have thought of and probably never will again outside of those metal bars.”

“But I don’t believe that everything you could learn from there would be useless. Last year was insane. That bloodbender, Sickle-Cell? Pipeline invited him for a laugh. This little upstart making threats to the big factions no-one thought he could back up. His odds were… 57-1, I think.” Askaryan chuckled. “So they put him against four regular goons. He took them down without breaking a sweat - without even using his powers.”

“That was half the reason we brought him in. Everyone wanted to know what he could do. Not satisfied with that, we sent out Juggernaut to finish him off.” Using his arms, he gave the general impression that he was much larger than he actually was. “Juggernaut is this huge guy - scary as fuck, even before you consider he has powers. And he can do what I do, put things in motion and lock them in, but whereas my power completely negates resisting forces, his just makes it less and only works on biological matter.”

Askaryan coughed, realising he’d went off track. “Anyway, so this fucking six-foot-six, muscle-bounded, super-powered nutcase comes out the gate, and what does Sickle-Cell do? Insults him, gets the shit knocked out of him, and then wins the fucking fight still without using his powers. No-one could believe it. He didn’t just win, either, Juggernaut nearly died due to internal bleeding. We still don’t know for sure what the hell he did. People think we rigged the bloody match.”

“We sent out invites to every faction. Anyone can send champions. You’ll be up against some of the most colourful capes in the city. If you’ll ever get an opportunity better than this, I can’t guess what it’ll be.”

@Lasrever

---

Pipeline limped through the door, while Planck tutted and got to work repairing the ridiculous amount of damage he’d suffered. His rage was barely controlled, but it was mostly inward facing. He hadn’t got his ass kicked because the metal thing was stronger than him, but because he’s taken his eye off the ball thanks to the Protectorate and their inability to listen to basic instructions.

He hoped the wrecked VTOL would help them get the message.

Before him, people were getting to work setting up the cages, the betting boxes, and the faction seating for what promised to be the most crucial Circus ever held. Planck remained centralised in the ring for the time being, allowing her power bubble to grow until it encompassed the whole building. Once everyone was assembled, a single word to her could be used to kill every single person in attendance.

But where was the fun in that?

No. Selling the information gathered tonight to the highest bidder and sparking conflict between the other factions would prove far more entertaining.

@Duoya

---

Asclepius was having a weird day.

Some Protectorate hero had come bounding through the door, greeted her, came with her to see the Director, and then left with her. Given what she assumed she was here to do, it was rather strange that the Protectorate had a presence here. Or was it? She had no idea. This was the first time she’d ever tried to develop a bioweapon.

And it would be used against Sickle-Cell.

She headed down to the break room at the Director’s behest. Sitting there with the other members of the CDC, she noticed something… strange about them. Something had been altered within them to change how they thought. It was unnatural. Curious as to what would happen, she pulsed out her power gently and began to repair the alteration.

She’d heard of capes who had direct control over biological mutations. She just had to activate hers, and it would begin trying to restore anyone nearby to the image of health. What actually provided her with that image was entirely alien to her, but there it was.

Within the first few minutes, the first of the staff had been changed back, so she patiently waited to see any difference in behaviour.

@ProPro@Old Amsterdam

---

The Egyptian sat and watched the battle from the CCTV cameras nearby. The Covenant were performing admirably in making a statement and stopping the fighting, but were now the cause of far more. Sickle had engaged the Wards. He’d fully expected him to do so - while he was fighting them, no-one else would dare engage them. They’d be relatively safe, ironically.

One of the heroes, though, was almost adorably naive. She held a strong sense of justice alongside her misplaced faith. With her utility powerset, she’d make a fine ally - and she probably wouldn’t be opposed to working for him, if he explained the situation. He made a mental note to recruit her.

While watching her, a single sentence kept playing over and over again in his head. So, how is your father?

But why? he thought. Who is her father?

Curiosity getting the better of him, he rose from the lavish couch and crossed the room, opening a laptop and sitting. Fingers gracefully striking the keyboard, he input his PRT credentials and gained quick access to their personnel files. There, under K, he found the dossier on Knight. 19 years old, a few month’s service at the Boston Protectorate… He skimmed the unimportant details, looking for the classified information on her unmasked identity. There it was. Rosaline Buck-

Rosaline Bucker.

He blinked.

The daughter of Retribution? Harold Buckner? It seemed like too much of a coincidence. And now, why she’d been sent into the firing line today made perfect sense. The man laughed. “You sneaky bastard, Praetor.” It was impressive. However, if the girl really was the daughter of Retribution, then that changed things. He bumped up her recruitment to the top of his list.

Although, she was facing down Sickle-Cell. While he didn’t expect Sickle to kill her, he couldn’t afford to take any chances. He picked up the phone.

“It’s me.”

---

The man Sickle had threatened was no fool. The element of surprise was blown. He had tried to attack one of the city’s most dangerous capes and failed. To make matters worse, he had at least three allies, and two were unaccounted for. Hired by the Consortium or no, he didn’t like those odds. So he did the only smart thing.

He gave a single nod.

And left.

---

“Sickle. Orders from the top,” came a young, female voice over his earpiece. “Do not harm Knight. Not even lightly.”

“What? Vector’s on the way. If she wants to, she can stop me running. Then how am I supposed to get out of her without Vector turning me into a goddamn pincushion?” He barked back, careful to not be overheard.

The girl took on an all-too-haughty attitude. “You really wanna know what he’d say? ‘I wouldn’t have hired an idiot, figure something out.’” She chuckled.

He sighed.

“Gubbins, Backdoor. Circle round. Take Vegas and run.”

“What about you?” Gubbins asked.

Sickle grinned. “I’ll figure something out.”

---

A orangey portal opened on the wall beside Vegas, and a hobo and a jester came barreling through. With a small girl holding a knife above, and a large Dragon stumbling ahead, and dead ends on all sides, only one way out seemed viable.

Gubbins gave a dramatic bow. “And now, ladies and gentlemen, for my next trick! My glamourous assistant and I shall make us all, disappear. Taking a metal soup can - labelled as ‘Gubbin’s E-Cigarette’ - he lobbed the canister at his feet. With a pop and hiss, the entire alley was suddenly covered in a thick, cloying smoke.

Which then began to choke and suffocate all inside it.

“Ah shit,” he said, trying to gasp for air. Backdoor clicked his fingers and opened a portal downwards, through the ground and into the sewer network below. Gubbins hopped down first.

Vegas turned to the two girls. “You two! Come with me if you want to live.” She half-coughed, half-laughed. “And forgive the accidental cheesy-movie lines.” With that, she too disappeared into the ground.

Backdoor flipped in, too, leaving the portal open for the pair to follow.

@knifeman@Kiddo@DracoLunaris

---

’The situation has changed. The answer is no.’

He didn’t have time for a snarky reaction. She blasted forward, coated in blue. It looked like her attack was designed to grab, but with his contorted attempt at a last-minute escape, it ended up as something a little different. The hero bodychecked Sickle backwards - the two a tangled mass of limbs held together by gravitational force - until he managed to get enough control of his power to slide free from her.

The velocity continued to propel him, though, and he couldn’t stop it. The wall of a building was fast approaching, so he changed tack. Instead of trying to stop the impact, he focused on softening it, gathering the blood coating his entire body to a singular point on his back. Sheer force drove him straight through the concrete wall, hurting like hell, but thankfully not breaking his back.

As soon as he was through the wall, the blood spindled off, becoming more like liquid limbs. Grabbing the edges of the wall he’d just knocked through, he gave it an elasticity, rebounding in a soft cradle of blood. Tumbling out of the debris, he breathed in and out, before turning the blood back to liquid.

His heart pounded. Vector would be here any second. If he was still here when she did, he was dead. Either right away, or within a few minutes. She could beat him in a war of attrition. Adrenaline flooded his system. This was what he lived for these days.

The only thing he was capable of feeling that wasn’t fear.

He was scared of death - no sane man isn’t - but he could accept it. It was the Covenant he was worried about, and they should be clear. Normally that would let him fight with impunity, but he bloody couldn’t because he couldn’t hurt her. Plus, the Wards were still here. It was a catch-22.

His opponent twirled, opening a chink in her armour. Why? It made no sense to do so, unless she was incapable of doing something while encased that she couldn’t do normally. Presented with the opening, he did the one thing she would never expect.

He simply stood.

“I’m not going to fight you,” he said. “It’s clear you’ve come to a decision. It may be the wrong one, but clashing with you won’t prove that. I’ll show you the error of your way some other day, some other way.”

“What I am doing, however, is leaving.” Reforming his blood armour tight against his skin, he stared at her. Taking a moment, he micromanaged a huge number of individual puddles of blood and fashioned them into weapons, pointing them not at Knight.

But at the remaining injured gang members on the ground.

“You think they deserve justice? I’m giving you the chance to choose.” Holding his hand with his fingers posed to click, he stared her down. “I walk without any further intervention from the heroes, and they’ll survive to be taken into custody and be subjected to your ‘Justice’. Disagree to my terms, I give them mine.”

[@PlantinumSkink]@Banana

Bryson Green (Ifrit)

---

Although it is true tinkers aren’t scientists, they still must “experiment”, that is part of the reason they are so easily confused since in many ways, a tinker lab would look just like a scientist’s lab. There methodology is completely different though. A scientist does experiments that disprove possibilities, they use the scientific method to make and test predictions, so they can improve their model of the universe. Tinkers, once again, aren’t limited by this exhaustively slow process. A tinker already has access to the information, he just needs to bring it to the forefront.

In my case, my chemistry lab looked like every other chemistry lab. There were formulas and elements stored in piles of shelves, various reagents with properties more diverse and numerous than the stars in the sky. There were various instruments and machinery for measuring these properties, and devices by which I might manipulate them. As a specialist in polymers one of the most important of these devices was called a spinner, when a polymer is formed the chemical side of the reaction must occur but then be either followed up or performed simultaneously with the process called spinning, where the physical form of the polymer would be determined, as would many of its characteristics. Take for example polyethylene, the most common polymer used by man, it was often used for packaging and the cheapest of plastic wrapping, but by using a method called gel-spinning the fibrous form of this polymer could form much longer chains of molecules, that would give it such unique properties it is one of the strongest materials used by man, called High Molecular Weight Polyethylene, or Spectra as the military calls it, since it is stronger than Kevlar.

Naturally, I had needed to devise my own methods of spinning, often specific to the material I was making. At that moment, I was using something called “electrospinning,” it would allow me to form almost single molecule thick Nano-threads of the polymer I was creating, with incredibly unique and powerful properties. In this case, electroconductivity, high tensile strength to weight ratio, and radiation resistance. The final product would be very different, a composite of multiple such materials woven together using nanotechnology and sealed using my own high-grade resin. In my specialty the key was to get lots of automated processes going, and keep them going, to make the most effective use of my knowledge.

Once the electro-spinner I had set up for this particular job was set up and working its way at thousands of meters per second, (It sounds fast, and it is fast, but when your material is one molecule thick this is only a tiny amount of volume.) I turned my eyes to my primary project for the day, the massive 3D printer I had set up, working away at what I hoped was the real symbol of this new period in my life.

I could still remember when the first Endbringer attack, since I had gotten my powers, happened. It was the terrible Seamurgh attack on Madison, Wisconsin. In the end the United States had been forced to put up a wall around the city, a quarantine zone which still to this day contained an unknown number of survivors. They were cursed, could never be allowed to leave or be trusted. All interactions were to be kept to a minimum, some people believed the kinder choice would be to kill them all. The Seamurgh had turned every person there into a weapon, whether by corruption or some other means, each one was a perfectly aimed explosive, targeted to do the most damage. That was one of the less devastating attacks the Endbringers had wrought.

At the time, I had been both too young, to inexperienced with my abilities, and even all that aside to immobile to be any help. I would have been a liability rather than a help. It had bothered me, especially back then when I had such a desire to be the perfect hero, to excel and help and be what I had though all the great heroes were. Since then, I had met a lot of “heroes,” and I knew better then to believe that the title meant something. My goals were different, I had learned. Despite this, despite all the change in my views I could never let go of the idea that my responsibility was to fight the Endbringers. I suspected it was my sense of hope, the fact that I knew that if I didn’t fight them, if I wasn’t willing to step in then nobody else would, or few anyhow. That if there was to be any prevailing hope for the future, a possibility that any of the ideals I held for humanity were true, we would have to find a way to fight the Endbringers. So I had.

Near the end of last year, Behemoth had launched an attack on Karachi, Pakistan. It was the 8th most populated city in the world. The PRT usually only went to the aid of countries who requested it, but in the case of this attack there had not been time for pleasantries. The PRT as always offered to bring anyone who volunteered. I myself volunteered to go help, but by the time we arrived Behemoth had already vanished back into the depths of the earth. I was there only for the aftermath, to attempt to help survivors, and do my best to help. Although the population had yet to stabilize, the loss in life by itself, let alone the people forced out of their homes, was enough to force Karachi off of the list of world’s largest cities. Many wondered if the city would recover, or if it was another lost cause like so many other cities.

Each Endbringer had its own challenges, strengths, and well, not exactly weaknesses, not that we were aware of, but they weren’t quite gods, they had their own limitations. It had been consistently demonstrated that brute-forcing the Endbringers would not work. Even the Seamurgh, the least brutish of the things, seemed almost invulnerable to our very best weapons. Being slowed down by being stronger usually just resulted in being more easily pinned down and destroyed by the Endbringers. No, ones best hope in both survival, and attempting to slow them down was to be mobile. As a tinker, sadly there is nothing that makes me inherently mobile, but as a tinker there were ways to change that. Both my suit, and my drone Griffin were testaments to that philosophy; My power-suit made me more durable but also made me faster, more versatile, generally better at getting around. Griffin had been my effort to really increase my mobility, it was big enough to carry a standard sized person in addition to its typical load. This had allowed me to quickly get around places, and even help move individuals to safety in the past, but it was not very fast and its insecure nature limited the speed with which I could use it. With me hanging off the bottom I carried a significant portion of our inertia and maneuverability was drastically reduced for it. Griffin had been great, but I needed the ability to move myself and others fast.

The space, the massive 3D printer I had built, and the convenient bay doors into the laboratory all made it possible for me to, for the first time in my life, build a true vehicle. A device designed with transport in mind. What I wanted to build was a fast moving transport capable of carrying dozens of people, I could use it as a mobile base of operations and for search and rescue operations. Unfortunately, I didn’t have any designs prepared for that project and I still had a lot of thinking, designing, prototyping, and more before such a craft could be completed. It would take time.

For now however, as soon as I had my new 3D printer running I had started it on a project I had designed a long time ago. If I was honest, I spent a lot of time daydreaming about this project, because despite all the limitations of reality, I still wanted to fly a spaceship. Sadly, this was not a spaceship. In fact, not only was the craft not designed to be pressurized but its engines were essentially turbofans, very, very sophisticated turbofans, but still all they did was suck in air the one side and shoot it out the other. It would not operate even at too high of an altitude, but I sure as hell made it look like a spaceship. The craft in the process of being built before me looked like a futuristic fighter get, all curves and sweeps, with minimalist wings and smooth surfaces. It had a single-seater cockpit in the front, with a compartment enter-able via the bottom to carry a max of 3 passengers. It would not be a pleasant trip for said passengers since it was designed to be fast, agile, and fundamentally for getting in and out of places where powerful entities did not appreciate my presence. I had learned a lot about aeronautical engineering in the course of creating my specialized suit that allowed me to fly, but that suit made me feel just a little bit like an extremely fragile flying squirrel, it looked ridiculous, and I hated to use it.

It would still take days for me to finish, there was tons of finishing, adjusting, installation of non-polymer components, and so much more before the thing would be even remotely usable, but it was the next step beyond my Griffin drone. This would have all the same capabilities, combined with that of a jet fighter. My ultra light, ultra durable materials allowed it to be lighter and more effective then probably any other plane designed by non-cape humanity, and it definitely looked cooler. I was going to call it Thunderbird, since the phoenix angle was a little overdone these days. It actually flew more like a hovercraft, using powerful engines it could VTOL its way all over the place and change directions as fast as possible without killing its passengers via G-forces. When I flew it in drone mode, it would resemble mounting miniature jet engines on a leaf.

It was first and foremost designed to deal with class A or S threats, and would be designed with both lethal and non-lethal measures, although it would need to be adjusted in shop beforehand. I had long ago designed the equivalent of paintballs, filled with modified containment foam which would expand after the capsule burst. This would allow long range containment foam use, were they loaded into, say, twin machine Gatling guns on the front of a spaceship. If only it was a spaceship. I would also include foam missile launchers like the ones that Pallas used, a bottom mounted “harpoon” with an interchangeable head, and of course all the measures would be interchangeable with lethal variants. I had also considered outfitting it with a variable EMP device although that was hardly my specialty, I would have to talk to Pallas about that one. Embarrassingly I hadn’t actually though of using EMP until after I named it Thunderbird, but it fit didn’t it?

Nobody knew when the Endbringers would attack, but if the standard cycle continued, the Seamurgh was next for an attack, and that was precisely what this craft was built for. Although I wasn’t so hubris-tic to believe this would actually help defeat her, but I had to keep trying. I had to try and prepare. Otherwise, what was the point?

Anomaly

---

Anomaly put the kid she was carrying down as she stared back at the scene in progress. Sickle threatened to murder all the gang members on the ground unless he walked free. Oh shit, this was not a good situation. Not at all.

Immediately, Anomaly's mind went into a sort of hyperfocus as she began to think quickly.

"OK OK OK GOTTA THINK GOTTA THINK REAL QUICK OK LETS SEE HERE There are a ton of gang members on the ground and despite what Knight would do there's a good chance Sickle will still kill them because he's an insane asshole but in that case there's still the chance that Knight can save the victims if she's given an opportunity to switch defending herself to defending th-- GOT IT"

Her hyperfocus ended as Anomaly spoke to Knight over her communicator. "Defend the downed people, I'll give you an opening."

Anomaly's ghost hand appeared behind Sickle and approached his ankle slowly, going in to tap it to steal an emotion that wasn't fear. It was his current feelings of rage, brought on by the adrenaline rush in his body. Should it be successful, Anomaly would keel over into a severe headache, her other hand holding her head tightly.

[+1 ENRAGEMENT, if successful]

@Sickle-Cell@PlatinumSkink

Listening to his two bodyguards, Collin couldn't help but give a small chuckle, one he allowed nobody to hear. That was just for himself, and breaking the image he had cultivated amongst others was a big nono in his book. "Your feeling is accurate, Taser," he said, speaking only to the two capes. "Mr. Puppet regularly disrespects me and believes that I am a minion of his esteemed group, when in reality I am an independent information broker. The Consortium simply pays me best. Still, he continues to refer to me with a lack of respect, and so I show equal displeasure. That being said, whilst I am certain he'd be relieved to have me spirited away for good, his superiors likely would not share the sentiment."

Lousy Coke machine stole my dollar. Won't anything go right today?

I'll bet you $20 you can't beat me two out of three in the latest Smash game!

Call an ambulance! This man's been shot! Someone help!

Collin twirled the wooden fork around his fingers, now more out of habit than to get an understanding of the tactile feeling. He was growing bored of the environment. He needed new voices, new secrets. "Marco," he began, speaking directly to his personal assistant. "Begin heading toward Allston. Take whichever route you find most pleasing to the eye for your own sake, and feel free to wander aimlessly once we reach the area. If I catch wind of anything important you'll know when and how to change course."

"Certainly, sir!" Marco gave a salute to the rearview mirror, not that his employer could tell, and took the nearest street toward their destination.

"Miss Taser, Mr. Fodem, I shall be relaying directions for you in order to keep you within reasonable distance. I appreciate your professionalism in this matter, and understand how difficult it is to work under my special circumstances. Please, take your next left."

So it began. Information gathering on the most dangerous villain terror group Boston had ever known. It wouldn't be out of the question to suggest that the Slaughterhouse Nine would love to recruit some of these psychos. Collin could hear his blood pumping faster. No, he could feel it. Bump. Bump. Bump. Bump. Bump. His heart rate accelerated. This was exciting. Even if he weren't being paid top dollar by the Consortium, he'd have been on his way to the exact same thing. He needed to keep himself safe from these capes too, after all. Plus with absolutely everyone and their mother looking for Sickle Cell's organization, the opportunity for the biggest pay day yet was too good to pass up.

A diamond ring? Oh Johnny, this is too good to be true!

@Sickle-cell

---

---

"A cure to the common cold? That's positively miraculous!" Replicant feigned excitement, but it looked the same as his normal excitement. After all, he was always excited, so why should now be any different? "But there's one small problem, miss. The CDC doesn't work with Director Underwood. They work with me. Personally."

The hero shivered as the woman ran her hand along his skin. He got goosebumps from the experience. Not because he was uncomfortable, far from it. This was far too intoxicating. Trembling slightly, he pulled out a syringe from his tattered lab coat. She was so perfect. So beautiful. He needed a sample! "You know what friends as well as I do, you gorgeous hive of microbes. I've never seen something so... Enthralling!"

Forgetting her own question for him, Replicant carefully extended the syringe toward this magnificent specimen, this mind numbing courtesan of a hive queen. He intended to draw blood from her for analysis. "I... I think I need you..."

@Old Amsterdam

---

Alice, so entranced by the man, reached forward herself and took the syringe, filling it and handing it back once it was full.

And then suddenly the joy in her face turned to rage, and she pulled the phone from the desk with force.

She could feel her precious children being affected.

"Security, attend to our visitor in the lab break room. Inform her to quit the shenanigans. She is interfering with my precious samples. I will forgive her if she stops immediately," she said in a heated voice, practically slamming the phone back onto the receiver. She turned back to Replicant, a smile forming on her face.

"There's no point in skirting the matter any longer. I control bacteria and viruses within, and around, my body. I have a nice little range, besides my own manipulations," she said quietly, turning into an exact copy of Replicant briefly. "You... You have cancer eating things in you. I can feel them. I can evolve them. Make them better. You say you need me? I don't need you. I want you. Tell me what I need to do. The things we can do together..." she said, faster and faster. Her chest was rising and falling rapidly as her face flushed. "That girl is on loan to me. Resets people. I was so excited. But you... You excite me more."

While Greed was trying his damndest to clamp down on the iron dragon thing the mad bomber and his jester companion reappeared, presumably done with whatever they had been running around the back alleys doing. Seth waved at them.

”Hi, I’m helping”

Operation: “get the Covenant to leave us alone as we bail”, looked like it was going poorly as Gubbins performed some theatrics and produced a bomb. Seth’s backing off in the brief moment between the bomb’s appearance and explosion caused Avarice to lose grip of the dragon. They only saw Gubins disappear into the ground, after which the cloud obscured their sight of all the capes in the alley. Seth, thankful of the gasmask he was using to hid his face sparing him forms the immediate effects of the gas, blundered out of the smoke cloud and back out into the street.

”Least we know they’re leaving. I suggest we do the same”

”No shit. This was a complete blowout”

Seth muttered to himself as he emerged into what would be best described as a hostage situation going on outside to which he had missed all the nuance and moral debating that had brought it to this point.

“I walk without any further intervention from the heroes, and they’ll survive to be taken into custody and be subjected to your ‘Justice’. Disagree to my terms, I give them mine.”

Seth wanted absolutely no part of this, but with the angry metal thing now obscured somewhere in the smoke cloud, making the way back a massive “here be dragons” no go zone, the only real course of action was to go through the confrontation.

”Greed! Stairs!”

Or rather, over it. Adverice, as commanded, swung the golden coins out of the smoke cloud towards the 3 wards. Instead of soaring onwards as an attack however, the formed a short golden stairway in front of Seth, which he promptly ran up. Adverice masterfully deconstructed the steps Seth had used and then moved those coins up to form the ones further up before the punk’s footfalls reached thin air, allowing the pair to rise into the air born by both of their power. Once the golden platform reached about 3 meters above the road, greed began to run the golden platform to parallel to the surface and Seth ran onwards, aiming to go right over the heads of the wards and over the crashed vtol craft to use it as cover as he made his escape.

”Random independant cape passing by, just ignore me”

This maneuver was extremely taxing on Avarice’s stamina and Seth was really hoping that The ward’s would be to inexperienced, confused and occupied with Cell to react in time. If they did react then it would be a fight with only 2 of his friends in fighting condition.

around: @PlatinumSkink@Sickle-cell@knifeman@Banana

She actually impacted Sickle-Cell. That was more than she expected. Able to feel where she hit him, Knight pursued him, unable to get a grip on him but regardless carried him forth towards the building. Had she not been with him, she’d have stopped before impact. However, with him? She could take the hit for whatever damage he’d take.

The impact came, and with a sudden stop the force of the rapid stop shook her body, tightly locked inside the armor as she was. She grunted, pain radiating both from her skin at the impact and from her mind, complaining about being opposed. She knew if she flew into something at too high a speed, she’d squash herself inside her armor. Let’s not do that.

She felt that Sickle-Cell had slipped out of her grip. With no other senses, she didn’t know where he was, as such she propelled herself away from the wall to then open a hole to see out, and confirm the situation. Sickle-Cell… looked fine, despite having just been smashed into a building. He also simply stood, and didn’t seem to move after her or flee…

Blood armor.

Knight shivered as she realized, reminded again that their powers were similar in application. This meant she basically couldn’t defeat him unless she ran him through, and she didn’t want to do that. It’d take a lot of her to defeat him, and she couldn’t maintain her own armor for all that long… That said, Vector only needed him to not leave, and-

- And then he spoke his ultimatum. Let him leave, or they die. Damn. She could see the puddles of blood around making weapons, there was no way she could stop him. Damn him. It was for reasons like this that villains always had the upper hand. How can he claim she’s wrong when he’s the one threatening lives? That aside, she had no choice…

Anomaly’s voice came through the communicator. Knight cursed a little internally. The girl was going to be putting herself in danger. That’s twice Anomaly’s gone after an enemy that could so easily kill her. Knight had to but hope the girl knew what she was doing.

‘… It’d be perfectly reasonable for me to assume defeating you would save more people in the long run.’ Knight sighed, letting her blue paused-time armor vanish, meaning she was no longer a threat to Sickle-Cell. Yet, I wouldn’t accept letting them die like this. She walked to place herself in-between Sickle-Cell and the injured, ready to raise her barriers, but otherwise showing what her decision was.

At least until Anomaly does whatever she planned.

… Then there was the sudden spray of gold coins heading for the Wards. If Knight was in a position to see it and perhaps react, she’d immediately reach out while startled to raise a blue barrier between the gold and the wards, only for the gold to curve upwards becoming a stair over for an unknown cape to run up while calling that he was a random independent… huh. Knight had to take him at his word, turning to look at Sickle-Cell again, hoping not to miss whatever Anomaly was going to do to give her an opening, or whatever she had said.

immediately concerned: @Sickle-cell@Banana
semi-immediately concerned?: @DracoLunaris
concerned as far as that they previously were on this battlefield: @Kiddo@knifeman

"Tonight, huh? You really could give a girl some more warning, you know." Robin frowned. "Sounds like one hell of a first impression, though. Where is it?" As she waited for an answer, she thought it over.

The circus. Something she'd heard of, vaguely, in harsh whispers and darkened alleys. One of those rumours that everyone knew - at least, if you were a less than law-abiding citizen. Certainly not a risk of death, but there were still things to think about. Mostly because it was tonight, and the alterations she had in mind were major. Recovery for those wouldn't be finished in time, but it was a perfect situation to test new equipment...

A teleportation matrix, nervous enhancements, improving her cloaking - those things took time, time that she didn't quite have. Especially since most of them would have to run off of some kind of full-body system; a base on which such dramatic upgrades could be built. A process of several days before she could even think about adding features. Though she supposed it would be possible to merge that with the nervous system - otherwise it would be completely redundant, seeing as she'd end up altering the entire thing anyway.

Yes, that worked. But for tonight, she wanted something to test. New tricks. A simple addition.

She glanced at her arm. Projectiles. Ranged. That had been the issue - she'd had to close distance. But a gun was out of the question. She had no interest in mass murder, and even if she did, bullets would be a waste of storage space. Energy, then. Her eyes lit up. Deflection. A weapon that could be defensive and offensive. More importantly, her arm was already set up to accommodate such a thing, and she'd be recovered for the Circus' beginning.

As soon as Askaryan gave her a location, Automaton would stand with a small grin. "I'd better get going. Do me a favour and sign me up - I've got a little surprise to go work on." Turning to run out of the door, she called over her shoulder. "Just tell 'em I'm the one with all the good looks and talent." Or, more realistically, the one with robotic limbs, but that one wasn't nearly as smug. She had a quota to fill, after all.

Without waiting for a response, on the off chance that he'd tell her to go sign herself up - a task that she really didn't have time for - Robin waved and practically shot out of the door. No time to waste. Of course, she really couldn't hang around once she was outside even if she wanted to. All things considered, her current state of 'visible cybernetics' wasn't exactly inconspicuous.

Hopefully the ongoing gang war would be enough distraction that she wouldn't catch anyone's attention. Not that she could do anything about it if it did; her only option was to run as fast as she possibly could and hope she didn't come across anything too time-consuming.

---

[Location: Undisclosed Warehouse]
[Time: Some few days before current setting]

'dnk'
'dnk' The slow ring of metal reverberated in the air, followed by the incessant groaning immediately after.

A cold yet soothing voice hissed among the fog. "Where did you hide them~?" The pinkette towered over the seated captive. His body already bled through the steel chair, dripping down and mixing with the gasoline he was drenched with: a modified water torture from earlier. "Oh won't you please say~~~?" It was clear that Mystral enjoyed what she was doing, running a gloved hand from the side of his face; a slender rubber finger coursed downward up to his chest. She poked it to mark where she would hit next.

'dnk!' A rather loud smack this time; she had used the metal pipe in her hands to bluntly bash the guy. He actually coughed blood this time!

"I'm losing my patience here. Talk or else." No more pleasantries. She had an order to interrogate, and interrogate she will.

This was the consequence of her second life. Was it even a consequence at this point? She enjoyed putting people in their place after all. The abilities helped her tremendously. Although she also loved doing things without the help of those she had snaked into betting their powers.

The leaking fixings on the cieling only added to the suspense. Every drip of the tap felt like an hour. How long have they been there? "Last chance, dear." She flicked the Zippo lighter playfully with her idle hand. 'click'

'click' "Do you know how long someone stays alive while they're burning?" She flicked the sparker, letting a small flame dance as she dangled it closer to him. There was just enough gasoline to coat him, but not enough to have the vapor combust as she flicked the lighter.

This move was for intimidation than actual execution.

"Alright! I'll talk. I'll talk! Just.. please no more!" He croaked. Mystral closed the lighter and straddled him. She could smell his stench. Blood sweat and gasoline formed into a sickeningly satisfying brew for the woman.

Mystral wasn't crazy-- just very very very thorough.

Cauldron knew this. She made it perfectly clear that her targets had to deserve her 'special treatment' as much as possible. This man in particular has been trafficking children for money. Her motive was to extract those children to safety-- and cauldron's was to stop this man's rise in power. Where there was money, there was bribery. It was only a matter of time before he had officials in his pocket.

In the end, she was still doing the job. Albeit going lengths to make sure he doesn't--can't do it anymore.

Mystral dug her finger deep into one of his wounds and made a hooking motion as she pulled it out. She coated the man's lips with.. whatever chunk it was that stuck to her finger. "Where were the kids again~? I promise I'll set you free once you tell me. " She couldn't help but squeak with glee.

At this point, any promise of being let go felt like something to cling to. He was humiliated beyond degree. A second of respite felt like mercy.

He gladly smacks the location of the children on the map help up by Mystral. "N--now let me go!" The man groaned and bobbed his head limply. He was breathing much more slowly with labor.

"Free." She corrected as she pocketed the map.

Mystral got off him and stepped away to where her 'tools' were. She reaches for another gas canister, this time graciously sprinkling the liquid all over the man. "I said I'd set you free, darling~"

As a final disrespect, she tosses the empty container at his head 'dnk

ting ting ting' As the canister rolls from the floor, Mystral flips and ignites the lighter "Free from this horrible life you made for yourself~ People like you don't deserve to live~~"

Mystral tosses the lighter onto the puddle, at the same time opening a portal to get out of the general vicinity. It was just a blue haze, the exact size for a woman of her stature to pass through with ease.

Nothing identifiable was left of the man when officers arrived, and even if they tracked who did it, Mystral would be too far to get to. This will most likely be another 'unsolved mystery'

---

[Time: Current Day]

Her next calling was towards Boston. She had just gotten word that the next mission was there, 'favors' she would dub them. The go signal would come soon. For now, she would belie and see what little snippets she could gain from her surroundings.

Askaryan gave the woman a smirk as he watched her dash out the door. Tonight promised to be interesting, with her there. For the first time in a while, he actually felt lucky enough to consider putting on a bet.

Stripping off his costume after being the only one left, he snuck out the back door and headed for Victory Road.

@Lasrever

---

Several large men surrounded her before he even knew what was happening. They ‘informed’ her to stop. The threat in their words was clear. For the first time since arriving, she was worried. She didn't trust the mental state of the person Whetstone had lent her powers too.

She only prayed she wouldn’t be here long.

@ProPro@Old Amsterdam

---

Knight matched his threat with bravado, but was smart enough to back down. Her armour shimmered once before vanishing completely. Breathing a small sigh of relief to no-one but himself, Sickle began taking small steps backwards, into the building with the hole in the wall.

“Good choice,” he replied. “Normally, I’d have killed them anyway - but i’ll allow you this small victory to report. Maybe they’ll let you off for losing me.”

A hand grabbed his ankle.

A quick look confirmed it was one of Anomaly’s ghostly appendages. It didn’t have the same violent effect as the previous ones had - but he suddenly lost the will to fight anymore. Despite his best efforts to click his fingers, to kill the goons for the heroes defying his threat, he physically couldn’t.

From above, a parahuman crossed the sky, golden coins tinkling down. To protect the Wards from a newly-perceived threat, she turned and prepared a shield.

That was all the opening he needed.

Instead of clicking his fingers, he raised a flat palm. The weapons hurtled towards himself at wicked speed, each one moving at a different pace to ensure they all arrived at once. As they impacted his open hand, they splattered back to being liquid again causing a huge, several-foot wide blood wall to form across the entire opening of the wall.

The barrier was several feet thick, and made of crystallized blood - slightly shiny and reflecting light. Behind it, Sickle wasted no time making a break for freedom. Away from the Protectorate, and away from Vector.

He had intervened in the conflict. Brought an end to the violence - mostly. Protected the Wards. Overall, the mission had been a complete success. Even if they’d barely made it out before Vector arrived. Today made something perfectly clear.

Praetor really wanted him dead.

@PlatinumSkink@Banana

---

All across Boston, a number of capes received an email. Each read the same, and came from the same source, although how someone had collected this much data on the civilian identities of parahumans was anyones guess. Perhaps even more worrying, the message came through official Protectorate channels for capes who had work-related emails.

It left very little to the imagination.

---

//PSA: ALL CAULDRON CAPES OPERATING IN BOSTON

A particularly capable Cauldron operative - codenamed Conflux - has gone rogue and absconded from one of our facilities with a resource of immense value - codenamed Oracle. Our agents had tracked Conflux to Brockton Bay and surrounded her, but she has slipped the net. Intel suggests she is headed to Boston.

We are calling in the favours you owe us.

You are to hereby make the recovery of the resource your top priority. Failure to do so will result in termination. The resource must be apprehended and returned to Cauldron control before it is allowed to leave Boston. Failure to do so will result in termination. Under no circumstances must our rogue agent - or any other third-party - be aided in an attempt to flee Boston with the resource. Doing so will result in termination.

The Boston Protectorate are aware and have sanctioned our attempt to reacquire our resource. No hero will be allowed to interfere in the reacquisition of our resource.

This is a matter of utmost importance to not only our entire organisation, but the human race as a whole. Conflux may be dealt with in whatever way you see fit - but be advised, she is highly dangerous and is has a PRT Rating of Master 8. All direct interactions with her should be subject to suitable Master protocols.

You owe us. We expect results.

Failure to deliver will result in termination.

@PlatinumSkink @Migyudon

Holly’s attempt at preventing disaster had actually sort of worked, apparently. They were still stuck between a wall and a huge fucking dragon, though. So the situation was still pretty dire.

When a portal opened up in the wall, Holly jumped back and let out an incredibly embarrassing squeak. She immediately covered her mouth and blushed, glaring at Mandy, who was laughing at her. At least these people were on the same side as the woman protecting them, so Holly could assume they weren’t going to be hostile.

They brought a way out. Holly almost couldn’t believe it.

Struggling to breathe through the smoke, the sisters didn’t spare a moment to think about it before jumping through the portal into the sewers.

Mandy broke the silence between them, “So… welcome to Boston?”

Holly laughed, and just kept laughing.

While she was turned away from Sickle-Cell, he had called all the weapons to him.

Knight flinched and spun to face him, worried she had lost the opening Anomaly had said she’d create, and found that… it didn’t entirely matter anymore. A wall of blood had formed. It had more volume than she could pause. Was there really this much blood on the battle-field? Damn. Knight could but admit that she couldn’t get through this wall without it turning into a deadly weapon, conceding that she couldn’t catch Sickle-Cell like this.

‘Don’t pursue. We’ve lost him. Focus on this scene. Confiscate weapons, arrest the surviving thugs and help the injured. We need to clean this up. Vector will be here momentarily.’ Knight commanded, turning to move to do the very same. Still, one thing first. She tapped the communicator to make a note.

‘Log for later review. Sickle-Cell confirmed wide-range haemokinetic with no confirmed limit to volume assuming availability outside bodies. He can harden it into deadly weapons even with miniscule amounts of blood, and can also mold it around himself as a blood armor. He has some form of self-propulsion, probably blood under his clothes. With the havoc he’s been able to cause, I recommend increasing his potential rating to Shaker 8, Mover 1 and Brute 2, assuming availability of blood. Knight out.’ She finished, sighing out and continuing what she was doing.

Soon enough, she’d probably need to face both Vector and then Praetor to explain what had happened. She shuddered at the thought.

_{Knight didn’t yet know that she had received a specific email.}

concerned: @Sickle-cell@Banana

Anomaly

---

Okay. This wasn't the best idea.

Definitely not.

My head is pounding into oblivion right now, it makes me want to just end these people. End them right before my eyes. My hands can do it, I know they're capable, but I don't want to do it. Sickle's mind was fucked. I swear to god that's what's causing this unease and extreme feelings... but they feel so... right. It's cloudy in my head right now. Clouded with the thoughts of killing helpless people.

Huh? Sickle is running? Did he become a chicken? We don't tech that here. Someone go get him. Nobody will be getting him. How do you know?! Because I do. That is, for the time being. Loser. Someone should get him and put him in an electrical chair.

Man. The world is turning dark... I think it's time for a nap.

Anomaly kept on the ground, unconscious and in a fetal position. Likely due to being overwhelmed by the sudden burst of a pungent emotion like that one. How'd you figure that shit out, wise guy? Enough. You're supposed to be asleep.

(Concerned...?:@PlatinumSkink@Sickle-Cell)

---

---

@Sickle-Cell

'bzt''dinglingling~''bzt'

Her phone dings, a tune reserved just for special instances. It imitated a metal banging-- a cauldron calling her attention. She could barely hear it from the height she went to. Her feet dangled from a local high rise, to and fro it went as she read the message.

Mystral was used to the usual threats, from her enemies, from her allies-- whoever. The threat of termination almost felt like an endearment to her. She even hummed as she typed her response.

["On it ;) <3"] Favors such as these excited her. She gets to have someone to play with! The more challenging the better; she loves playing against the odds from time to time.

Her instincts told her to check local bridges connecting Brockton Bay and Boston, if in case this target wanted to leave the vicinity. She intends look for anything suspicious such as armored trucks, or unusually inconspicuous people-- but then again, there wasn't much info on this Level 8 Master.

["Actually, could I get more info on him? A photo maybe?"] She emailed the Protectorate informant, but also did her own side of investigating.

Mystral goes to Brockton Bay, almost instantaneously. She liked being flashy with her portals whenever possible. She grabs her main tool: a titanium parasol, then jumped off the building. She could feel the wind in her face as she fell. The slow blur of the cars and noise mixed together into a climactic tune as she conjured the portal to Brockton Bay. Mystral opened her titanium umbrella in the air to act like a parachute for a smooth entry to her destination.

(Now to look..)

Robin's garage wasn't exactly the fanciest place in Boston, but it at least had character.

If 'character' was another word for 'a complete mess', anyway. But hey, things to do, people to see, murderers to befriend! Being a cape had never left her much time for interior decoration, or even basic maintenance. It wasn't like the whole place was covered in dust, anyway - just 90% of it. She glanced over towards the car resting inside. Thing was a complete rust-bucket, really, but she'd mostly fixed it up. Somehow. It'd probably hold together if nothing else.

One of these days, she'd have to learn how cars actually worked. But today was not that day.

Hey, it ran, didn't it? As for herself... she grinned as she caught sight of her own vehicle. It was, without a doubt, one of the crappiest motorcycles she'd ever laid eyes on. Thing had barely worked when she got a hold of it - hadn't even had to pay the dude to take it off his hands, seeing as it was on the way to the scrapheap anyway. After replacing all the important parts, it ran like a dream, and while it wasn't huge, it was manoeuvrable. Besides, the chipped exterior worked for her; there were upsides to having a bike that looked too crappy for people to want to steal.

Gotta hurry.

Oh yeah, the Circus. Man, this was gonna be a long day. Particularly considering how she was gonna spend the next few hours.

After making sure the doors were all locked, and scribbling 'CLOSED' on a note in the window for good measure, she nodded to herself. A hidden compartment at the bottom of her desk revealed a small key, and she turned to the door at the back of the shop. Her workshop, so to speak.

She wrinkled her nose as she entered, the smell of disinfectant hitting her. It beat the smell of blood, at least, which lingered no matter how much effort she put into scrubbing the floor. Not the kind of thing you could bring a cleaner in for, either. The bed in the centre of the room was clean - she wasn't dumb enough not to sterilise everything whenever she got the chance. As much as anything else, Automaton dreaded a hospital visit, considering how obvious her cape status would be to anyone looking deeper. Infections were a no-go.

It took a few minutes of getting materials together before she locked the door behind her. Twirling a small scalpel in her hand, she took a deep breath and sat down on the bed, resting her right arm on the table. A strip of fabric in her mouth to bite down on, if only to keep her from biting into her own tongue, and preparations were done. No time to put it off any longer.

The first part was always the worst, as the blade dug into her flesh, blood welling up. Deep, and then cutting, slowly and carefully, in a small rectangle - the tug of her flesh as it resisted the blade only forcing her to keep focus. It wouldn't to do have her hand slip, and straight lines were important. She bit down on the fabric, hard. This was so much worse than the morning had been, blinking stinging tears out of her eyes. Cold. It was cold, but the pain flashed hot.

And then removal. A chunk of flesh from the palm of her hand hitting the floor with a dull squelch. Hollowing out one's own flesh was never a pleasant experience, certainly not when there was bone to think about. Eurgh. Yeah, that wasn't a fun thing to look at. It was lucky she hadn't eaten anything recently. But she couldn't exactly stop, either, even if the sight of her own tendons was completely stomach-churning - god, why did they keep moving?

Involuntary twitching aside, the procedure itself was going fairly well. All she had to do was keep going, ignore the metallic stench of blood and hot-cold strikes of pain that assaulted her senses, then it'd all work out. She knew what she was doing. It was fine.

This is gonna be a long afternoon.

---

Robin woke with a burning in her throat, the bitter taste of bile in her mouth as she spat out the makeshift gag. Ew. She hated that part. A glance at her hand, experimentally opening and closing it, at least confirmed the procedure had taken. Standing up, she walked out of the workshop, making her way through to the bathroom. Scrubbing off the blood was a pain, but the wounds themselves had healed perfectly. A glass of water helped with getting the foul taste out of her mouth, though she grabbed a breath mint for good measure. No point in feeling disgusting; she'd need confidence tonight.

It was getting dark by the time she cleaned herself up properly, so Robin donned her mask once more, a jacket and gloves pulled on to cover her arms, and trousers for her legs. Normally she didn't bother hiding anything for cape work, but there was no point in giving the game away too early this time. Looking relatively normal, except for the mask, would at least grant her the element of surprise.

That, and she wanted to make her first impressions in the ring, grinning as she looked at the open palm of her right hand. Speaking of the ring, it was time for her to get going - for once, she really didn't wanna be late. After all, it'd really suck if she got there too late to even participate. She could already feel anticipation building as she began to run, smiling to herself.

I always did wanna visit the circus.