The trip itself was fairly simple - just had to go down Victory Lane, and it was the creepy, abandoned looking building. It was this road where Robby found him. The memory was foul - Tony was a wreck, covered in scratches and bruises, and hadn't eaten for a few days. Some people were nice enough to offer money, but the majority just wrote him off as some kid that was just another homeless in a big city. The guys at the taverns and bars were far different than usual - they didn't want Tony to just hang around. He was there as entertainment, to have some new guy lose a paycheck in some card game. They didn't want to risk their necks supporting Tony in case the law got involved - honestly, Tony understood their sentiments. But they could have at least offered him some food! Tony just spent his days back then wandering around, roaming until the cold night air bit into him and he eventually fainted for the next day.

That's when Robby found him. To be honest, the shit that Tony gave the Wonderland was deserved. but at least they gave him a place to sleep and a few meals a day. They were more family then his father was, and some of his closest friends were a part of the place.

That still didn't make it any easier to walk inside though. Just cause some of these guys were alright didn't mean that everyone wasn't out for themselves. Tony made sure to not bring his wallet in case he got mugged, and was already wearing the Ski mask he had bought a little over a year ago. The thing was tattered around the edges, but it sure lasted longer then you would expect for a $5 mask. Other than that, he had one last thing - a pistol, holstered on his belt, hidden by his suit jacket. This had been Tony's first big purchase after landing an apartment with Daniel, solely to protect himself. Even with his power, he didn't want to get killed by some thug who needed his next fix. The metal was cool, chilled by the night air, and Tony prayed he never had to use it. After all, he had never fired it, or any gun for that matter. If he was lucky, it would be able to scare any angry betters. He gave a knock on the shoddy door, being sure to raise the mask and allow the door man to see his face. Tony didn't know if the Wonderland put in some new password or something for the Circuses, but most of the gang knew who he was from face alone.

---

Everything was just as Tony remembered - but that was probably cause it was only a few weeks since he left. The preparations were already completed, and several people had already arrived. Tony quickly made his way to the small area next to the ring, where he usually conduted the bets. As he did so, he looked around, searching for a familiar face - unfortunately, he was unable to find Robby, arguably the nicest (or least aggressive) person he'd be able to meet. He was probably going to show up in time for the first fight, which Tony still needed to figure out. Several people were invited, but out of them, the only one who seemed like he'd come was Sickle-cell. His fight last year was so incredible it earned the Wonderland a decent chunk of change from bets alone... Poor Juggernaut though. Guy was big, but was decent by Wonderland standards.

Tony sighed slightly. Most people probably remember that match, and when he comes into the ring, it may require some bribery to make sure he doesn't kill his opponent. Even without a power the guy is deadly, and Tony has no clue if he even has a power. If he did, Tony felt bad for whoever had to go against the guy... But hey, the Wonderland would probably save that guy for the finale or something. Maybe Pipeline would even make an appearance? That would make a shitstorm...

Tony sat into his small folding chair, which was one of his few possessions while in the Wonderland, and looked forwards. The betting area was almost comically similar to a lemonade stand, with a small desk in front of Tony containing papers and notes on the bets and who made them. On top was a simple envelope, which Tony reluctantly opened. The first thing that met his eyes was the first match - Sickle-Cell Vs. Automaton...

Who the hell was Automaton? Their was nothing describing either side, other than a small amount of writing under Automaton's name that simply read "Tinker". Tony knew Sickle-Cell, so and his last match would provide an excellent introduction, but what was he going to say about this Automaton? Whatever - Tony would just do what he always did in these situations.

Pray no one like Pipeline comes near him, and do whatever he needed to do to keep himself from pissing someone like Pipeline off.

Then suddenly Knight realized something as she looked over the Wards.

‘Where’s Anomaly?’ She asked (with the assumption that Anomaly was still over by or near that car she had picked up that kid behind), and hopefully had that location pointed out. Regardless of if they knew or not, Knight would quickly start searching and eventually find her.

‘Anomaly! What’s wrong? Are you hurt? Are you-’ … She was in a fetal position and… unconscious. Damn. Okay. She was alive and Knight couldn’t find any signs of injury, but… Ngh. Knight picked her up carefully before manifesting a wall of frozen time under her that she then shaped to cradle Anomaly’s form. She then sent that and Anomaly to the VTOL (with the assumption it wasn’t on fire or so), placing her gently down inside it.

‘Check her, make sure she’s alright.’ She’d say to any PTR pilots that maybe still were in there, or not if there weren’t. She’d then turn back to the injured and dead remaining on the scene, intending to continue going through her previous orders. Now in a significantly worse mood. How had she become injured? Had she tried something with her power and it backfired? Had Sickle-Cell noticed that she was doing something and-

Knight shook her head, and continued what she was doing.

concerned: @Sickle-cell@Banana

“Oh, you’re new here?” Vegas asked, gasping for breath. “Well, you survived. That’s more than some manage around here. Congratulations!”

Backdoor - the parahuman jester - chuckled frantically. “Your prize is more of the same.”

The woman half-laughed, half-scoffed. “Yea, it’s basically like this all over, now. Bloody city is a warzone.”

“Speaking of,” Gubbins butted in, “shouldn’t we be getting out of here?”

Vegas shrugged. “Fair point. You two should come with us. We’ll drop you off somewhere after we flee the Protectorate’s assassin.”

The gang of renegades bounded through the underground tunnels like they’d been there before, moving to the nearest exit and heading topside. There, parked and waiting for them, was a silver van. Nothing special, and nothing that would stand out. As they approached, the door opened from the inside, revealing two figures.

The first was a man - dressed quite formally, and looking professional. A girl sat on one of the couches lining the back of the van, buried underneath a hoodie and frantically battering a keyboard. Only the man spoke. “Hop in. We’re looping round for Sickle.”

Gubbins smirked. “He’s still kickin’ then.”

“For now.” The hooded girl spoke. “But we have less than a minute before Vector arrives.”

@knifeman

---

From the highest rooftop surrounding the chaos below, a blue haze rippled through the air.

Each inch it passed over revealed another piece of metal. Strangely, the light didn’t cause it to glint like it should have. A few seconds later, standing silhouetted against the rising dawn sun, was Vector. Bow in hand, her other one was touching her ear.

Over Knight’s communicator, several harsh crackles rang out, followed by another set a few seconds later. Only after the third time did they finally begin to form words. “Knight! Respond, goddamn it! I’ve been trying to raise you for the last two minutes. What the fuck is the situation?”

She asked, but a quick battlefield scan revealed that her target had fled the scene. Cursing under her breath, she accessed the satellite feeds via her optics. Providing her with a bird’s-eye view of the whole of Boston, she zoomed in on her current location. Then she widened the search area, and switched to thermals. Then she activated the x-ray function. And then she ran all current matches through the PRT database.

And found a match.

He’d made it to transport, and was hoofing it in a straight a line as possible. He knew she was coming.

@PlatinumSkink@Banana

---

Sickle ran like hell through the shop. The blood wall would definitely buy him time - it would probably put them off following him altogether - but he still had to move. Even if the heroes backed off, Vector would not.

The back of the shop was completely wall, and he didn't feel like trying to chisel through. Instead, he headed to the second floor and dived out the window. Using his power, he slowed his fall and took off at full pelt down the street. People watched him from the windows - he wasn’t exactly subtle, dressed as he was.

A street or so away, he found a van. Inside was the entire Covenant - plus two extras, but he didn’t have time to argue.

“Donovan! Floor it!” he barked at the driver.

The man nodded sharply. “Buckle up, boyos. It’s gonna be one hell of a ride.”

---

She smirked. He was still in range. Although, only just. He’d made surprisingly good progress with his escape attempt.

His current speed and position meant she’d get a single shot.

She was confident that was all she’d need.

Her targeting software took all the known factors into account. From this range, she probably could hit the van. Assuming she did, even with Sickle and Vegas’s shielding potential, it would probably blow the vehicle to smithereens.

Probably.

She didn’t like leaving anything to chance, so she changed tact. Instead of aiming for the van, in front of where the car would be by the time the arrow caught up. The blast would shatter the concrete, sending a torrent of stone chunks into the van, through the windscreen and any occupants.

On her viser HUD, a large green reticule appeared. It grew smaller and smaller the more calculations it took into account. The speed of the car, the direction of travel, windspeed, potential traffic concerns, removal of potential collateral damage. Hundreds of calculations all dealt with in the blink of an eyes, leaving a pinprick green dot exactly where she had to aim.

Raising her bow to the sky, she pulled the string. As it moved, a swell of energy formed between the string and the bow, swirling around a central core. The blue energy grew brighter and brighter, constantly swirling, until the string was pulled taut. Then it settled into a single, arrow-shaped mass of brilliant energy. Aiming at the dot, it flared brilliant green.

“Death from above,” she said, smirking. “Motherfuckers.”

Releasing the string loosed the arrow with complete silence. It soared over the battlefield like a shooting star, up and up into the sky, vanishing over the rooftops.

---

The hooded girl in the van began panicking. “We’ve got a pretty big problem!”

Turning the screen round, it was a garbled map of the city covered with all sorts of complex information. Including a tracker for an inbound energy-based projectile weapon aiming right at the van.

Sickle sighed. Today was proving to be one of those days.

Donovan looked over his shoulder. “We need to speed up and outrun it.”

“No,” Sickle replied. “That’s what she’ll expect us to do. You need to slow down.”

“What?” Donovan asked, incredulously. “We slow down, we’ll give her another chance to fire!”

The masked man growled. “Slow down, Donovan!”

Rubbing his face in almost disbelief, the driver said nothing. But complied.

The entire back of the van suddenly shifted, taking a lot of effort to stay upright. After two seconds or so, Sickle shouted back. “Good, now floor it again.”

Donovan didn’t bother arguing.

“What are you planning?” Vegas asked almost reluctantly.

“I’ve gambled. That arrow is going to either sail over us and blow up the road. If it does, we survive. If she’s aiming for us, though,” he chuckled. “Then I’ve just killed us all.”

“Vegas. When the arrow hits ahead of us, I want you to use your power to create a bridge of light over the hole. Don’t be put off by the fancy wording. It’s basically just a shield over the opening.” He turned to the two newcomers. “One of you is a telekinetic, right? Good. When the debris comes flying at us, I need you to stop it shredding us. After that, you either come with us, or we drop you off somewhere. Your choice.”

Seconds after he spoke those last words, a bright flash lit up the street ahead. Vegas lept forward and extended her power over the gaping hole in the road, giving them a surface to drive on. Large bowling-ball-sized chunks of concrete scattered in all directions - several heading right for them.

@knifeman

Replicant began breathing more heavily as Alice went on and on. His finger slipped on the needle, dribbling out small droplets of her blood. He had to literally shake his head to get himself back in the moment, to find the words he needed to address this woman properly. Wait, no, not a woman. Him. She was him now. She could manipulate microbes by will and was a shifter to boot? That's just plain unfair. He felt a hint of jealousy mixing into his infatuation. He had to actively work at manipulating the world's smallest living organisms, and here she was able to do some by instinct with more on top of that. Well, she couldn't possibly have the same depth of understanding that he did. At least that remasculated him, in his mind.

"I'm surprised you haven't heard of me. As I said in my introduction, I'm Replicant, tinker hero of the Protectorate. Every tinker has a focus, and mine is microbiology. I can see micro organisms with my naked eyes, which is how I could immediately spot how beautiful you are. The possibilities if we put our minds together, designing together, with my tinkering perfection and you duplicating and growing them exponentially... The breakthroughs we could accomplish. The milestones we could achieve, unimagined by science before this day!" Replicant stood up so fast his chair fell over, and thrust his fist into the air. "... It's a shame you've committed some serious crimes. I saw what you planted on the employees here. You supplanted the director and took control of this government establishment using your powers. You and I? We've got the kind of abilities that could easily get a kill order in situations like this."

Replicant appeared somber, saddened, and disheartened. Yes, all three, for just as with everything else this was acted out with intense drama. He had such a flair for putting on airs. "I'd be happy to discuss everything I've made. I would love nothing more than to collude together. But... You'll have to come with me. Either as a prisoner... Or seeking redemption as a HERO!" The tinker kicked up his fallen chair, flipping the piece of furniture through the air as it spun around no less than three times. With his left hand he clutched the top of the back support and swung it up as though it were some sort of bizarre four pronged polearm. Truly if this pose and that speech did not inspire the wom-er, man?-in front of him, than nothing would!

@Old Amsterdam

---

Alice cocked her head to the side, biting her lip. "I fail to see how making the City better is a crime. It's not like I'm making these people my slaves. They just work more efficient if they adore me," she said a huff. She stepped closer, trailing a finger along Replicant's chest. "But okay, beautiful. I'll let you be the first guy to put me in cuffs. If you want," she added with a wink.

She took a moment for that to sink in before continuing. "But hero? Sure, we can try that can't we? So in a show of good faith, lovely... I've been requested by a certain villain to develop a blood based disease that causes horrible pain. And that's where the little pretty girl downstairs comes in. She's on loan to me. From that rude bitch. I was really looking forward to what she and I could do together, the joy she could bring me. The things I could do and she could replace! But you..." a hint of seduction entered her voice, ]"You are much more fun."

Anomaly

---

So now I'm unconscious? Great. Probably for the best.

How the hell are you talking? You're supposed to be knocked out.

Probably because my mind's still racing. Still can't get these damn feelings out of my head.

I'm just gonna try my best to ignore you and hope that works.

Ok.

...

...

... have you ever considered killing someone? I haven't, at least, I don't think I have. These feelings are making it foggier and foggier by the second. I've been told that it feels terrible at first--like you need to end your own life after--but every time after feels more and more normal until it's just that. Normal. Like you've done it forever. I think I see what they mean now, with how killing gets easier. Or what they feel, anyhow. I shouldn't be relaxed right now, but it feels like I've just been encompassed by normal feelings of bloodlust. Of pain. Of... killing in general, really. It feels like I've done it so much that I don't even care anymore. I haven't even killed anyone and I feel it.

Speaking of feelings, I'm still feeling that headache. Damn, does it ring.

I wonder what's happening outside. Is Knight going through the carcasses on the roads, figuring out who they were and waiting for their families to come running up, screaming about how the deceased was super important to the family. I wonder what she'd tell them... probably something along the lines of "Ma'am, we are deeply sorry for your loss, and we are working to make sure that Sickle-Cell is brought to justice," Hah. Right. The whole 'sorry for your loss' schtick. She won't be sorry. She's been in situations like this before. People only say that to reassure the public that shit's gonna be okay, when in reality, it really isn't. I've been blinding myself from the negativity, but I can't deny that it still exists out there. I wonder if that person was the breadwinner for their family, maybe a busy father, trying to come home to his loving family from the job he loves. He probably was looking forward to doing some... well... let's just say 'naughtiness' with his wife because of his recent promotion. Too bad for him. Didn't even die after that last good experience.

I wonder if anyone at the PRT needs to burn off these emotions for me? I feel like if I wake up I'll try to kill the first hamster I see. Not that I'd mind, but Vector definitely would. Has Vector ever seen me like this? I can't remember if they have. Ah well, I'll figure that out later.

... hey! Other guy! What do you want? Has my body moved? I can't tell you much other than you did move. Well screw you too, buddy.

Ehh... @PlatinumSkink@Sickle-Cell

Knight took note of the strange sound in the communicator, then froze upon hearing Vector’s voice. She quickly took the communicator and spoke.

‘We held him up as long as we could. He fled down <road name> in <cardinal direction>.’ She kept herself short, knowing Vector might aim on. This message of hers would be while Vector was widening her search area.

… She had been attempting to contact them for two minutes? Knight knew of nothing like that. Was it possible long-range communications were being jammed? It worked on close-range. Hm. She made a note about that and then kept doing what she was doing with the clean-up, assuming Vector would tell her otherwise if she had better things to do.

concerned: @Sickle-cell
near but unconscious: @Banana

“Heh, yeah. Just got here yesterday. This is way more exciting than anything that ever happened in Ipswitch.”

Holly was quiet as the group made their way through the sewers and back to the surface. She was a bit too lost to question getting into a van with a bunch of strangers. Then, the final occupant entered and the van was flying.

Holly nearly relaxed, but the girl in the hoodie showed the group a projectile heading towards them.

Great. Awesome.

It looked like Holly had been tasked with protecting the van from debris.

Wonderful. Yay.

“Okay. I’ll d-do my best.”

Holly closed her eyes and covered her ears in order to focus on her task. She tried to feel out the edges of her range and found them well outside the vehicle. Apparently the van didn’t count as a “room.” She had no idea how that distinction was made, but at least the Powers That Be were on her side this time.

She pushed all irrelevant thoughts out of her mind and sent a powerful STOP out as far as her power could reach.

Holly braced herself and hoped she would be enough.

My life was boring, before it all happened. Tame

A waste.

I frittered time away with useless endeavours - mostly studying for exams - and yet wasn’t even a very academic person. Coasting through school, college and university, the only redeeming feature I had was my ability to play up a crowd.

The only guilty pleasure I had was the debating club. Tearing people apart in front of an audience was exhilarating. Listening to an argument and picking holes in the finer details, the insignificant pieces of information that the speaker didn’t realise contained a hundred different weaknesses, was the only thing I lived for.

At least, until I stupidly tried drugs.

It didn’t take long for me to be in huge amounts of debt to the local dealers. What was worse, they had a union. Well, it was more of a gang. The Wolfpack. The longer I hobbled on, crippled by debt and desperately trying to stop, the more addicted I became.

Then came the offer. Join the gang, they’d waive the debt. Supply me for free. I hated the idea of being a puppet for a bunch of scumbags, but there was no other choice. They had my number.

So I agreed.

At no point during the time I spent working for the Wolfpack did I ever expect to look back on it fondly. As I sat here with a bag over my head, though, it did seem increasingly appealing.

Somewhere around me, a voice boomed. Kidnapped by Imperium after being assimilated from Wolfpack gang. “Tonight, ladies and gentlemen, we have a battle between two members of The Imperium’s latest conquest - The Wolfpack!”

“Here for one night only - for one of them, anyway - we shall see if there really was any honour amongst these thieves as they attempt to murder one another for your entertainment!” The crowd roared in cheer, so much so that I could feel the vibrations. The bag was removed. Light burned my eyes, as I found myself kicked forward into a caged arena.

Across from me was someone I recognised. A complete asshole, who had made my life a misery, despite being pretty pathetic himself. Scattered around the arena was various tools of conflict, ranging from baseball bats to metal pipes. Between us, neither had ever been in a situation quite like this before. It came down to wits, rather than physical strength.

So when I stood over his body, watching him gasp and crawl along with a broken leg, I wasn’t particularly surprised. It wasn’t even a shock that it felt damn good. The same principles applied here to debating club, except with actual tearing apart, rather than verbal hyperbole. Someone rose in the crowd and held a hand out, hovering between a thumbs up and down. The crowd reacted, and it was deemed that my competitor would die by my hand.

Without hesitation, I brought the pipe down hard on his skull.

Afterwards, once the adrenaline had faded, I felt sick.

This cycle continued. For how long, I’m not sure. Days? Weeks? Months? Time lost all meaning to me, through the haze of adrenaline addiction and drug withdrawal. In the midst of it all, deep within a red mist of battle rage, something inside me changed. It flushed the drugs from my system, made my grasp on reality much stronger.

And, I could make liquid.

People in the crowd noticed too, cheering me on even harder. I oiled the floor, causing my opponent to slip, and killed him then and there. The leader of the gang that had kidnapped me came down from his metal throne. Octavian grabbed my hand, pulled me close, and showed me off to the crowd.

“Well done, my boy. You lived.” He chuckled. “And now, life will be so much better.”

He was passing all my suffering off as a joke with that laugh. Promising me comfort and relief from here on out. My blood boiled. I swallowed my rage causing my words to have an icy-cold edge.

“Yes,” I replied. “I couldn’t agree more.”

A swipe of my hand scarred his face with acid. He screamed and staggered back, slipping in the oil on the floor. He reached out a hand to use his power - on me, on his bodyguards, on anyone to try and keep himself alive. Instead, I scraped two metal pipes together. The faintest little spark drifted off.

And hit the oil.

The entire centre of the arena went alight. People watched in silence, as Octavian howled in pain. No-one moved. Not even his elite bodyguards. Not out of fear, either. Octavian had ruled all with an iron fist, making everyone constantly fear him and his power. Now that he was helpless, and them out of his reach, none would come to his side. Slowly, his screams faded to silence once more.

“As of today,” I bellowed out to the congregated masses, “the Imperium is no more. Octavian’s passing will mark the end of this farce. Everyone in this room has killed in order to survive. This is a basic fact of life. We are murderers, and society will not accept you back into their fold after breaking their cardinal tenants.”

“I offer an alternative. From the ashes of the Imperium ruled by a single man, I will create a new society where the only rule is freedom of choice. A place - the only place- where we can truly fit in. A wonderland for the everyman. Everything will be permitted without arbitrary rules to hold you back. Consequences will mean nothing within these walls, and each and every man will be on equal footing.”

“However, that does not mean you will run free. When the heroes realise what we are - a freelance gang of murderers - they will come for us. As each of you have killed before, the price for keeping your freedom may well be to kill again. To counteract this, we’ll set up boundaries for our collective as a whole to follow - which will be the only thing standing between us and complete annihilation at the hands of the Protectorate.”

“This is where you decide how much freedom means to you. My offer is open to all. Accept it, and join me in making something we can be proud to call home. Or do not, and wander aimlessly around in the wastes, until a hero claims your bounty. Under my new banner will be your only hope for amnesty.”

Each person in the room shiftily looked at one another, considering the words. I could tell that I’d hooked a great many of them. They needed somewhere to stay now that the Imperium had crumbled around them in the course of a single act. Reading people was easy and getting them to do something you want them to is even more so. As for this decision, it had to be their own.

So he’d simply given them the facts.

All but 7 of the Imperium’s members transferred over to my new Wonderland. Which worked out perfectly. The raw power we possessed was the only way to rival the Protectorate in Boston. As such, we had enough threat that the heroes couldn’t lay siege and kill us all. Since then, we’ve grown as an independent city-state in our own right, attracting the world’s worst scum to stay in a place with relatively few rules and plenty of likeminded individuals.

It seems strange to look back on that day and consider that we were the only viable threat in the city.

So much has changed in these last twenty years.

---

As the concrete blocks were knocked clear of the van, it sped forward across the bridge of light and straight through the junction ahead.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, the Covenant could breath a sigh of relief.

“I’m not going to admit you were right, but I am damn glad that worked,” Donovan said, unable to hide his grin. “Where to?”

The empty black eyes of Sickle’s mask fell upon the two girls. “That all depends. I trust you know who we are, what we’ve done and roughly what we plan to keep doing. You interfered in the conflict today for a reason, I’d hope, rather than as some morbid death wish.”

He laughed, slightly. “Not that it would matter either way, I guess.”

“My point is than my little group is recruiting heavily. My offer to you is simply. Lend us your help for a little while longer, and in return, you can rest easy knowing you did all you could to support a city buckling under the weight of the filth infesting it.” Reaching under the secondhand couch, he pulled out a box. From inside, a roll of notes were produced. “That is, providing you work for the good of the people. If the alternative interests you more…”

The money - roughly $5000 - hit Holly’s lap.

“I have plenty more where that came from. So,” he said, relaxing on the sofa. “What’d ya say?”

@knifeman

---

The concrete chunks didn’t even go near the van. They didn’t even have to swerve. Something wasn’t right. A missing factor. The Covenant didn’t have any powers capable of doing that without being obvious.

Or at least, they didn’t before. Did she have to update her parameters?

More to the point, they’d escaped.

“Fuck!” she screamed, as the little green marker on her HUD vanished. They were out of range.

Taking a running jump, she dived off the building. Twisting in mid-air, a grappling rope bit into the lip of the roof from a gauntlet-mounted device, and she repelled down to the ground. She strode up to Knight, her voice had an audible edge. “I gave you a single order, and yet we just lost our single biggest chance to kill Boston’s most wanted.”

PRT cleanup vans were beginning to appear, along with the local authorities, who had been waiting in the wings for all the parahumans to clear off. “If I were you,” she warned, “I’d start coming up with excuses now.”

@PlatinumSkink@Banana

---

Praetor sat at his desk, face barely hiding his fury. “We lost a VTOL, a Ward is in the medical bay and we have literally nothing to show for it but a couple of unpowered junkies.”

“When I heard we’d be welcoming the daughter of Retribution into our fold, I expected that it might just be possible to turn this city around. But as of then, I thought you might be capable of delivering results!”

Taking a deep breath or two, he shook his head. “You know what? We don’t have time for this. While you were allowing the most dangerous cape in the city to escape, Wonderland extended an invite to the Circus. And for once, I’m not declining.”

“I have too many untested newcomers on my force. I need to know what you’re all capable of so that a farce like this doesn’t happen again.” He pressed a button on his desk. “Send Ifrit to my office, now.”

“I’ve already sent your name to Pipeline. And Ifrit’s. Unfortunately, capturing or killing everyone who shows up isn’t going to be possible, so i’m giving you a much simpler task.” The tone of his voice lowered, but remained as powerful. “Don’t make a fool of my heroes again.”

He rose and walked to the window. “You won’t win. I don’t need you to. Make an example of anyone you face. Show them what happens when you cross the Protectorate. Meanwhile, I’ll see if the medical team can’t fix your mistakes.”

@PlatinumSkink@Banana@SkinnyTy[@OldAmsterdam]

---

“My point is than my little group is recruiting heavily. My offer to you is simply. Lend us your help for a little while longer.”

The Covenant were recruiting. Useful information to know. A phone bleeped somewhere nearby with a message from Maxwell. Change of plans. Head nearby the Circus tonight. Report on everything said. M.

@ProPro

---

A message came back in seconds. Pictures unavailable. Data frequently wiped by outside sources. Suggest looking at Circus, Victory Road, Boston, tonight. Target is vain. May make appearance.

@Migyudon

---

The crowd was slowly beginning to filter into the arena through the various doors. Most people headed for the betting booth first to look at the first round matches and see who was actually competing. Maybe even buy a program, or some tacky, knock-off merch whipped up in a hurry by budding Wonderland ‘entrepreneurs’.

For the evening’s entertainment, the battles were:-

(Ind. tags are used for both Independent Capes and Faction Capes that are not entered as the official faction entries)

Automation(Ind.) vs Sickle-Cell(Cov.)
Vegas(Cov.) vs Arms Race(Gla.)
Geryon(Ind.) vs Nightlight(Con.) vs Askaryan(Won.) vs Vector(Ind.)
Switchboard(Fun.) vs Caustic(Won.) vs Fodem(Con.) vs Singularity(Gla.)
Knight(Pro.) & Ifrit(Pro.) vs Black Kaze(Ind.) & Talion(Ind.)
Funhouse(Fun.) & Pain-Killer(Ind.) vs Achlys(Ind.) & Pipeline(Ind.)

@Duoya@Lasrever@PlatinumSkink@Banana@SkinnyTy

Anomaly

---

At last, Anomaly awoke in the medical bay of the PRT. Too bad the emotions weren't all gone. Hush you.

As the Ward awoke in the hospital bed, she realized that she was no longer in her costume, meaning she didn't have to continue being referred to as Anomaly for the moment. Good point.

"Aw jeez... did I get knocked out?" Xoxi's ghost hand rubbed the side of her head, feeling for any injuries along the side of it. There weren't any, meaning she wasn't hit with anything forceful that could knock her out. Out of anything, she might have just tuckered herself out. What a wimp. The teen stood up from the bed as she looked around the bay, trying to find her hoodie. It was stripped off of her somewhere between the ride from the battlefield and the arrival into the medbay, so it had to be around here somewhere. It was too damn cold in the medical bay without it.

The teen walked a step or two before holding her head again. The headache was still there! What the crap shit? She had to have been out for enough time for it to go away, but it was still there! Why was it still there?!

A few moments passed before the wimp finally realized why it was there. "Oh yeaaaaahhhh, powers. Wait... what did I steal?" The teen couldn't remember what she stole, but she did feel something in her. Something gruesome. It was quite disorientingly great. She enjoyed feeling what she was feeling right then, and that would only continue.

Regardless of how she was feeling, Xoxi desperately wanted to find Vector right now... or Knight. Either one would be nice.

@Sickle-Cell

Ifrit (Bryson Green)

---

Note, I thought to myself with a sigh, Li-Po batteries are not temperature tolerant enough to power turbofans in subzero weather. It was clearly going to be quite an adjustment to the relative cold of Boston, after serving the Phoenix wards for so long. Second note. I thought as I felt something cold beginning to pool at feet. Cockpit version 0.3 is not, in fact, waterproof. Aaaaand neither was the battery compartment, judging by the fact that the prototype craft was clearly sinking.

The ugly part of tinker development, was of course the prototyping, the dozens of failed attempts, the disastrous screw ups. I had been testing a basic chassis for my new “hovercraft,” the vehicle I had been working on to improve my long-distance mobility. Unfortunately, in my hurry to test the engines I had cut corners so I could test my thruster placement. One of those corners had been using batteries I could produce quickly and easily, which turned out to be kind of important when they were the sole power source for the thing holding you up in the sky.

The cockpit was really starting to fill with water now, and my sense of claustrophobia was finally overwhelming my apathetic disdain for failure. I turned off my power-suit’s sensory simulator so I wouldn’t have to feel the cold water, the suit was actually a near perfect thermal insulator, a plus when it came to comfort, a negative when it came to actually displacing the heat during design. I steeled my nerves and reached between my legs for the ejection handle. Fortunately, I had the wisdom not to make that battery powered.

All at once, the canopy for the cockpit literally exploded forward, and in the same moment I too was exploded, except backward. Water simultaneously rushed into the vacant space in a cacophony of noise. A loud FWOOSH blasted my ear drums as me, and the seat, were sent literally flying in a majestic spray of water, just narrowly avoiding the bay’s Icy clutches. Immediately, the auditory sensors in my suit automatically adjusted and suddenly everything was deafeningly quiet.

The craft had been sinking in Boston Bay, still within the shadow of the almighty Zenith. Sadly, it had only made it a few hundred meters from the Zenith hangar before beginning to drop like a dying butterfly. The Zenith was still barely visible, even through the light snow drifting between the sea and the sky. It’s features obscured, it looked like a ginormous diamond overshadowing me. It would certainly be intimidating, but unfortunately, I had no time to appreciate its intimidating image as my stupid hovercraft had been sinking at an angle. This resulted in the ejection not launching me into the sky, but instead almost parallel to the surface.

I had a second, as the water glided swiftly behind my head in a grey blur, to think how much this was about to hurt. WHAM! THUMP! Thump! Thud. It turned out my strong, but light power armor made for an excellent skipping stone with me inside it. The back of my head hit the water first, resulting in my body doing a flip, hitting again with my legs, spinning me faster, doing a couple more flips, (not that I could tell what was flipping or hitting at this point) before finally coming to a not-so-majestic rest, my chest and mask facing up. “Ungh….” I moaned to absolutely nobody.

I was fortunate my suit was air/water tight, otherwise I would have hypothermia from freezing water to deal with on top of getting my bell rung. Nothing was damaged, the suit was quite durable, and while I got knocked around I didn’t feel damaged in any way. I still did not feel like moving, so I lay there since my suit was just slightly buoyant, bobbing with the waves. Fortunately, I didn’t have to. I used my HUD built into my helmet to take control of my drone Griffin, and flew out of the hangar of the Zenith to look for my bobbing body. Griffin was designed with proper graphene capacitors for its power source, which would actually be made more efficient from the cold.

The drone swooped down upon me, looking to me like a shadowy, giant 4 point snowflake as it descended through the snow above me. Griffin was large and strong enough to carry at least one normal sized person, on top of a standard compliment of supplies. At this point more out of stubbornness and principal then anything, I still didn’t move. As Griffin came in close, I took control of a robot arm on the side of the drone, and used the arm to grab my own hand and attach it to the bottom of the drone, which locked in place. I then gingerly lifted myself, carrying my body, via the drone, out of and above the water looking like a stubborn child being lifted by his parent.

I surveyed the sea below me, watching as the craft sunk below the waves. The name of the final product would be Thunderbird, but I would be calling that one penguin. It would have to be recovered later, not because I needed the parts, but because everyone was too afraid of tinker tech to live with the fact that some unknown, broken tinker device was lurking in the water below. Even if it was a piece of junk. The loss wouldn’t hurt me really, it honestly only cost me maybe 2 hours of work, since most everything I did was automated I only did the design and final touches with the construction. I had the information however, and that was what mattered to me. It had actually been a pretty successful test on the whole, I thought as I began moving my legs to break the ice which was forming there.

As I approached the Zenith, I radioed the Zenith Air traffic control, “Zenith-Alpha, this is Ifrit approaching from south-east, permission to enter bay three requested, over.” I could tell straight away from her voice, that the controller was 100% aware who I was, as I had left only 2 minutes before, and she had watched as I fell, ejected, became a human frisbee, and dragged myself back like a sack of potatoes. Despite the distance being obscured by snow, I was sure that a fortress as advanced as the Zenith had a thousand ways of watching me from that distance, it wouldn’t matter if there was a brick wall in the way. She couldn’t quite hide her amusement as she answered, “Ifrit, you are granted permission provided you can submit to standard entrance protocol. We warn you we are short on hangar space for flying dog toys. Over.” At that I smiled, but was still too wobbly to come up with something clever in response. I gave the standard passwords which were dependent on the current time, date, my condition, and the exit from which I left the Zenith last.

Once I was safely landed, I took a moment to steady myself and literally defrost my limbs. Once I felt fully operational I finally used my helmets HUD to check the notification that had blipped up on my way in. It was from Praetor’s secretary, it read Praetor requests you in his office immediately. No media prep necessary. The last part referred to not needing to worry about looking particularly heroic for any cameras. Some how-do-you-do, but I knew the situation in Boston was getting as serious as it was complicated. There would be time for team building later, now was apparently time to get down to business. I headed straight for the office.

---

It was really quite astonishing that Boston managed to have so many tinkers, most teams were desperate to have at least one tinker to help them better equip themselves and deal with villain tinker threats, they were a valuable resource for the PRT. I had heard the usual explanations, Boston had a history of Tinker’s, the population was inclined to favor them, etc. but it didn’t seem to explain how exceptional the situation was. There were rumors among the Wards of Praetor and Director Underwood using less than ethical means to ensure their team had so many tinkers, but I had heard similar rumors about many PRT leaders ranging from collaboration with city war-lords to conspiracies about the Triumvirate, ridiculous, I know. They couldn’t all be true, so I dismissed these as mere conspiracy theorist BS like the rest.

I made my way into Praetor’s office, I was still in my power-suit from testing my hovercraft as I had come directly there. The polymer armor was thick but wasn’t too bulky, making it look like glorified body-armor rather than a mobility-enhancing, extremely durable power suit. Today I had the outside colored shades of deep red, with blue light shining from the chinks in the armor. It was dimmed to be polite, and the smoke that usually would be emanating from the same orifices was non-existent at the moment. Still, it made me about an entire foot taller when you included the armor of the helmet/mask, and it could be imposing to have a faceless, 7 foot, armored demon walk into the room. As I walked in I carefully removed the helmet portion of my armor and placed it under my arm, revealing a plain but young face, brown hair, and blue eyes. I was clean shaven, and my hair left longer then a crew cut, but not so long that I couldn’t put it up and sweep it back as I liked to. Unfortunately, my helmet didn’t accommodate said tastes and at the moment it was complete chaos.

Praetor looked stern, angry even. He had been having a conversation with Knight, the other young member of the Protectorate. Knight was a bit older than I was, and she looked like it too. Right now, she had her helmet off, and she looked quite stunning with vibrant red hair streaming down about her shoulders and armor. Her armor looked like it had been used recently, she had likely been on assignment this morning and by the look of Praetor it hadn’t gone well. Her father had been a character in the stories I was told as a child, and from what I had heard of her abilities, at least from a power perspective, she was no less impressive. I had no doubt that she would become one of the pillars of the PRT given time, her only struggle now seemed to be her inexperience. Even though she was older than me, I had been a cape for much longer. Still, I looked forward to working with her, our abilities would complement each other nicely.

I offered a smile as I walked in, and gave a brief nod to both Praetor and Knight. I offered my hand as well, but sensing the tension in the room I got to the point “It is an honor to meet and work with both of you, Praetor, Knight. I was told to report here immediately, what can I do to help?”

Immediately concerned:@Sickle-cell@PlatinumSkink

---

Mystral was casually strolling on the bridge's walkway. She wanted to sight see for a second, look where she was before heading off to her mission. Her hair fluttered against the wind as she took in Boston. Her eyes shone brightly against the lights. Each one of them were so caught up with whatever it is people did nowadays.

She breathed in deep to get that city air, the now-familiar smell of smoke and food that came as wisps. This contrasted the green meadows and fair fields of her youth. Boston was so unlike her homestead. She liked it that way.

After that moment, she turned back to see the passing cars. A quick look at everything around her said that nothing was going to be there.. unless this Conflux person was adept at hiding in plain sight. Her two-tone eyes saw nothing unusual, and it kind of slightly annoyed her, like accidentally cutting herself when she flays someone.

---

'bzzt' 'dinglingling' 'bzzt' Mystral's silent fit was disrupted by the sweet sound of Cauldron. She made no delay in reading it.

(Guess I'm going to the circus.. Now to find Victory Road..) Mystral casually brought her phone out once she's on solid land.

'V I C T O R Y

R O A D' It was worth a shot to check the obvious source first. (There we go!) She pinned the place and goes there. She only used the portal to reach a certain distance. The remaining third would be on foot. Casually, she tried to get a seat in the crowd.

She quickly scanned the area for someone who didn't look like they belonged-- but the sheer number of attendees made this difficult, impossible even. It would be less time consuming and entertaining to not try so hard. So, she leaves the crowd and come back after visiting this lemonade-stand of a betting booth.

She had put a nice sum on Vector, just because his name sounded cool. Betting didn't have to make sense all the time.

---

Mystral held her ticket firmly in her hand, once again giving Conflux a chance to reveal himself

"C'mon then Conflux~ Show yourself~~ Promise not to hurt you." Mystral sing-songed under her breath (Much~)

Knight was a bit taken aback at Vector coming up to her and spoke like it had been Knight’s fault. Still, she steeled herself and replied.

‘Oh, I have them.’ Excuses, that is. ‘I did what I could in the situation presented to me. If I hadn’t held him up, Sickle-Cell would have been gone far sooner. I’ll write a report detailing my considerations of the encounter.’ She said, trying to not sound defensive. She believed that, all things considered, she had done a fairly good job. All the Wards were alive, and we had gotten Sickle-Cell to retreat which showed that we didn’t fear him, he feared us.

With luck, Praetor should be hearing her debriefing before judging her.

---

Or not.

Knight frowned deeply as Praetor spoke as if it had been a disaster. That wasn’t it. They really had done pretty well, considering what they were up against and what could have happened. But… natural insecurity within Knight made it hard for her to speak up against him. Praetor was the person in the world she had the most respect for since the loss of her father, and it was painful hearing him speak like this to her. … “Daughter of Retribution would turn this city around“, huh. I’m so sorry for not being Scion-like.

She blinked a bit in surprise at the mention of being sent to the Circus, raising her head. But… that would give all the villains a chance to see her abilities, to develop counters to her. … … … As if she could speak out against him. She bit together, nodding slightly, looking down into the floor. “Don’t make fool of my heroes again”, huh. But… she hadn’t…? Ngh, it was so hard to say. Currently Knight stood in armor, but held her helmet under her left arm, her head revealed when Ifrit came in.

She turned and looked at him as he took off his helmet, her own expression still slightly frowning in pain from the conversation taking place. He was… really tall, and she could only guess how much of that was the suit he was currently wearing. He looked alright. Younger than her, although not by much. Knight noted she couldn’t use her age as an excuse with so many kids in the Protectorate. He lifted a hand and… oh, he meant well. Knight got a small smile on her otherwise pained face, nodding to him albeit not taking the hand or answering. She’d speak to him later.

‘Sir, may I… explain?’ She turned and asked Praetor with a withdrawn tone, but hoping for a chance to detail her reasoning and perhaps, maybe, have Praetor not be quite as angry with her. Or, if nothing else, have it explained to her what exactly she did wrong. … Had she been braver, then perhaps she would have just started talking. But as it was, she felt she’d be going over some line if she didn’t ask, first.

Praetor's eyebrows furrowed. The girl clearly wasn't going to let this drop. "You have two minutes," he replied, scowling. "Although I still suggest the time may be better spent preparing to make up for your failings."

Knight hesitated for a few seconds, eyes widened, due to the later sentence. Did her words not mean anything? … Two minutes. Knight swallowed, then refocused and started talking quickly.

‘When we arrived, Sickle-Cell had already slaughtered many of the thugs, taking their blood for his own. He doesn’t seem to have a limit on how much blood he can manipulate, he had a storm of blood surrounding him, and even a little could be used to harden and kill. I could probably handle that, with my armor, but I had the Wards with me. They were defenseless to his power, and he could kill them easily. I couldn’t fight him and protect them at the same time. In the light of this, I changed my objective from defeating Sickle-Cell to making him leave, which I did by talking to him. After Vector’s command to hold him there, I told the Wards to leave the scene as I took on Sickle-Cell on my own, but frankly, I can’t do much when he’s at full strength. I hit him into a building, but his blood armor protected him. He threatened to kill everyone present if I kept pursuing him, and at that point I had to let him go to avoid further losses.’ She said, not knowing how long she had taken.

‘Despite my command, Anomaly tried something, I’m not sure what. Now she’s in the medical bay. I feel that’s proof my instinct not to fight him was correct. _{Don’t be too hard on her, she was doing her best,} but we needed more firepower than a single hero and three Wards to take on the Covenant. That’s what I felt. … Shaker 5 is way too low for Sickle-Cell, Shaker 8 feels more appropriate.’ She said, and then shut up. She didn’t know if she had taken more than two minutes or not. But that was her defense. She now looked very nervous, looking towards Praetor. Would he say her reasoning was wrong…? … Or just plainly that she had just wasted his time?

concerned: @Sickle-cell@SkinnyTy
if she for some reason wanders into Praetor’s office: @Banana

Arriving at the Circus, Automaton's first priority had been grabbing a program - if only to figure out who she'd be fighting. Not that it was particularly good news once she opened it, either. There were two things that jumped out at her about the billing. First, her opponent. Sickle-cell. Leader of the Covenant, blood-bender, and the guy who'd almost killed Juggernaut last time. The same one Askaryan had been telling her about this morning - what had been an interesting anecdote transformed into a warning of what she was about to deal with.

And with that realisation, was the second one. First fight in this type of thing tended to be a warm-up. A prologue to the main event, so to speak... basically, they were expecting her to get her ass handed to her. A nice little beat-down to get the crowd hyped up for the real fights later on. Which kind of annoyed her on a personal level. Written off, again. Inconsequential.

Then again, everyone loves an underdog story, right?

Would she be able to win against Sickle? Maybe. Probably not, but she at least had the advantage of knowing what he could do - for example, she knew the blades would have to stay well out of this fight. Not that the idea of losing bothered her; winning wasn't something she was too concerned about, but she'd be damned if she wasn't going to make one hell of an impression. Glancing down at her right arm, she experimentally opened and closed a gloved fist. When she thought about it, Sickle was an ideal challenge to test out that new trick.

As for her, her tech wouldn't be visible at all until she got rid of the jacket and gloves - for now, there was no sign of her even being a tinker at all. So, she had the element of surprise. And... yeah, that was about it. Maybe there was still time to go pick out some nice flowers for her funeral? Dwelling on it won't do any good anyway, right?

Glancing up from her program, she looked over to the guy running the betting stand. Wonderland, presumably, but she didn't exactly know all of her new allies at this point. "Up against Sickle, huh... guess that's one way to do a first encounter." She chuckled, seeming quite relaxed about her imminent near-death experience. You got used to that kind of thing after spending a while in Boston. "So, how bad are my odds?"

Praetor’s face didn’t show any hint of change throughout Knight’s entire speech. “One of the most important aspects in cape combat is the ability to adapt to rapidly changing situations on the fly. To think outside the box. There was a single opponent in front of you, with four staring him down.”

“If that really was not enough, there were a number of other villains around for most of the fight - members of factions that Sickle-Cell has openly threatened. A temporary alliance may have been enough to turn the tide of the battle.” An almost vulpine smirk cross Praetor’s lips. “And then you would have had a perfect opening to drag the other capes into custody as well.”

He straightened his posture. “I do hope you’ll make more of an effort with your next task.”

Turning to the newcomer, he gave a single, sharp nod. “Welcome Ifrit. I’ll keep this as brief as I can. With the sheer number of new capes in this city, I cannot guarantee the effectiveness of them all without first seeing them in action. Wonderland has asked us if we’d like to participate in their little sponsored parahuman cage fight.”

“And I’ve said yes.”

“I needed two members to enter as the official entries for the Protectorate. I have chosen the two of you. Also in attendance will be Gamble, another newcomer, and Vector who is entering out of a sense of injured pride after missing her shot this morning.”

Eyes glancing over a number of papers in the desk, he returned focus to the two capes. “My paperwork is stacking up horrifically after the incident earlier today, so this’ll about have to do in terms of briefings. You won’t win - I don’t expect you to - but I want to see how you cope under extreme circumstances to allow me to better plan deployment strategies for the future.”

“I wish you both the best of luck. Is there any questions?”

@PlatinumSkink@SkinnyTy

---

One of the PRT grunts was flicking through a number of files on a computer in an attempt to find a contact number to pass on Praetor’s orders. Finding confidential information on Protectorate capes could be a nightmare, even on their own systems. At last, he came up with something.

“Gamble? You have been requested to attend the Circus tonight by Praetor as an independent entry. He’s going to be watching closely to gauge your abilities to figure out where you slot into team dynamics for future missions in the city. Will you be requiring transport, or can you organise your own?”

[@OldAmsterdam]

---

Stumbling towards the door - one of the automatic sliding doors which are a staple of the Zenith - it refused to open in your presence. It was then that a number of things became clear.

Firstly, the medical ward you were in only had a single bed. It was clearly an isolation ward. Secondly, it also only had one door, doubled up in a secure airlock-style barrier between you and the rest of the Zenith. Finally, it only had one window as well, behind which a row of scientists looked at your every move while scribbling on their clipboards and making notes.

Rather more worrying, though, were the row of heavily-armed soldiers behind them.

Catching your eyes, the leader’s voice came through the intercom with that harsh crackly quality you can only get via radio. “Don’t even think about trying anything to escape. So much as look at that door funny and i’ll-”

“Don’t threaten her!” A voice barked from somewhere behind the glass as a middle-aged woman strode into the lab. “She’s probably scared, no doubt confused and instead of explaining the situation, you threatenher? It’s no wonder you need outside help to handle problems like this if that’s how you treat people.”

“Let me in,” she demanded.

The PRT soldier hesitated. “Ma’am, it’s no-”

The woman raised a hand. “Believe me, Captain. I have heard what you are about to say repeated hundreds of different ways, thousands of times. Let’s save us both the hassle and just open the door.”

He sighed, and gave his subordinate a nod.

She stepped through into the airlock compartment before the door leading to it opened into the medical room. Entering, she gave the brightest smile she possibly could. “Good afternoon. Let me introduce myself. My name is Dr Jessica Yamada, and I’m a Parahuman Response Team consultant and therapist working out of Brockton Bay. I primarily deal in young people - like yourself - and I’ve been called in to speak to you in order to put minds at rest.”

“Your name is Xoxi, correct? Or would you prefer Anomaly?”

@Banana

---

The Circus was operating out of a large, rundown building which had floodlights set up in the corridors attached to generators rather than an actual lighting system. Nor did it have any plumbing. The main room was sizable, and with rows of tiered seating centered around a single, large, octagonal metal cage. Rows of concrete ran from four of the sides, creating channels for fighters to walk out of.

Situated higher than the rest of the crowd were a number of elaborate seating boxes, decked out with a single, even fancier chair. These served as viewing platforms for the leaders of the major factions and their cabal of close lieutenants.

Passing through the surroundings leading up to the Circus - before even entering - would cause any parahuman to be met with a single, extremely uncomfortable feeling. The loss of their power. An almost empty void where that reassuring weight used to be. A result of Wonderland’s policy of keeping those within it’s walls safe.

The betting booth was at the door into the main arena, within sight of the metal cage. It was the only place to see their full listings of matches, since the posters around the arena were usually stolen by spectators wanting a souvenir. The place was already packed, although none of the faction leaders had yet made an entrance.

@Migyudon@Duoya@Lasrever

Anomaly

---

Xoxi's mind cleared as she responded to the trash in front of her. "X-Xoxi is fine..." Xoxi sat back down on the bed as she spoke to the therapist, her psychic hands falling back to her side and gripping the bed callously. The teen shivered slightly as she spoke again to the therapist. "W-why am I in here? This hasn't happened before..." It has. You've just never been so comfortable about it.

Xoxi's mind raced as her headache continued, one of her hands nervously rubbing the back of her head in attempts to ease her headache off. "D-did I do something wrong?" Yes.

@Sickle-Cell

---

Gamble had been relaxing on a park bench, watching the pedestrians walking and ignoring everyday opportunities. It was... Interesting. If he had to guess, and he was a gambling man after all, the majority of these people preferred to ignore the chaos around them whenever possible. They were scared like rabbits facing a wolf, and he couldn't really blame them.

His musings were interrupted by his phone vibrating. With a frown he answered, not even looking at the number.

"Gamble? You have been requested to attend the Circus tonight by Praetor as an independent entry. He’s going to be watching closely to gauge your abilities to figure out where you slot into team dynamics for future missions in the city. Will you be requiring transport, or can you organise your own?”

"Understood. Sounds like real good fun. I'll get there on my own, though. Can't imagine I'm far away as is anyways," he replied easily, hanging up the phone before a reply could be made.

"Wonder what the odds of me winning the whole thing are?"
0.000000000000000001%

He grinned to himself. Those were his kind of odds.

---

Later that day...

Gamble looked up at the building. Brought back memories he didn't care to remember, of a time before he was Gamble. Of thugs and losses. He shook his head, frowning, as he stepped into the edge of the lot.

...
"Well, those really ain't good odds now, are they?" He muttered to himself as his power faded into Oblivion. He scratched his head, walking towards the entrance and the betting both.

"Hey there, compadre," he said brightly to the attendant. "I'm here to enter. Name's Gamble. Independent entry. Just one question... This nullification field thingy stay active during the fights? Cause if not, I'd like to place a couple wagers."

---

Involved by being near:
Shit, basically everyone at this point.

Ifrit (Bryson Green)

---

I listened carefully, but politely tried to not show too much interest in Knight’s report. It had been an eventful morning indeed, apparently. Knight seemed quite earnest, she spoke with confidence while she presented, she knew how important that was, but after she stopped speaking that seemed to give way to insecurity. It was like someone who had been taught what to do, how to do it, and she executed those instruction to a T, but she lacked the real experience to know for herself that what she had done was right. In this case, she knew to speak with confidence, she didn’t back down from her stance that she had done the right thing, but that didn’t stop her from feeling insecure about it. She clearly cared about Praetor’s opinion a great deal, and he knew it.

Praetor had a great deal of confidence, a crushing degree of self-expectation. He acted like he knew how powerful he was, and he expected others to be as exceptional as he believed himself to be. Failure would be met with dismissal, loss of his attention, since he wouldn’t even trouble himself with something he saw as below him. To be honest, I didn’t like it. The pragmatic side of myself knew how valuable those traits were in a leader, how it could push a team to perform better, but I didn’t trust the sort of person it stemmed from. In a lot of ways I could see it in myself, because those sorts of traits stemmed from ambition, an expectation of the ability to shape reality a certain way. I had been raised on that concept, the idea that I could and should bend the future into submission and form it in my own image. In weak people, it was an annoying tendency, in the powerful… it was dangerous.

Turning to me, he gave a single, sharp nod. “Welcome Ifrit. I’ll keep this as brief as I can. With the sheer number of new capes in this city, I cannot guarantee the effectiveness of them all without first seeing them in action. Wonderland has asked us if we’d like to participate in their little sponsored parahuman cage fight.”

That is crazy, do they honestly expect that the PRT, let alone one of the most powerful branche…

“And I’ve said yes.”

Ummmm…. What? Why?

“I needed two members to enter as the official entries for the Protectorate. I have chosen the two of you. Also in attendance will be Gamble, another newcomer, and Vector who is entering out of a sense of injured pride after missing her shot this morning.”

So, this isn’t exactly exceptional, is it?

“My paperwork is stacking up horrifically after the incident earlier today, so this’ll about have to do in terms of briefings. You won’t win - I don’t expect you to - but I want to see how you cope under extreme circumstances to allow me to better plan deployment strategies for the future.”

This didn’t make any sense. What would be the purpose of such a use of our thinly spread resources? Hell, that would put a huge chunk of the Boston protectorate on deployment, out of reach, why take the risk when the city was at war?
I had, of course, heard of the circus, but primarily from rumors. Crazy stories usually told in conjunction with the worst of parahumanity. It was not something that I viewed as a good thing, Hell I didn’t see the point. Why should the PRT care about their perception? The saying in war was to always appear as you are not, appear strong when weak, appear weak when strong. I doubted Praetor actually cared about the cape worlds perception of the protectorate, their had to be a greater purpose to such a strange maneuver. Perhaps he was trying to signal the gangs that he was willing to work on their level to restore order, a truce of some sort. Either way, given the fact I was already feeling suspicious of Praetor this did not help at all.

“I wish you both the best of luck. Is there any questions?”

I also knew better then to openly voice such a sentiment. On the one hand, if there was a greater purpose to this and Praetor was trustworthy, there was a reason he had not told me and Knight. If it was as he said it was, then stating suspicions would only foster further suspicions within the team, and clearly Knight trusted the man. It would not put me in her good books if I showed a distrustful attitude in front of her. If he wasn’t trustworthy, then it would do no good to alert him to my suspicions. I made a slightly quizzical face, it would be suspicious not to, and said “If that is what you deem necessary sir. How much time do we have?” I then turned to Knight, “Also, does that helmet have a chemical filter built in? If we are going to be fighting in close quarters that would significantly expand my options…. If not, would you mind if I modified it for you? It would take me only a few minutes and might help you against other threats as well.” Hopefully the shift in conversation wouldn’t be too jarring.

I would be lying if I said that entering the circus didn't sound the least bit exciting... I had a strong desire to show what I was capable of in this new environment. A fight of this sort would be incredibly difficult no doubt, in reality the heroes were far from guaranteed, or even likely to win their fights. The thing about being a tinker though, is that it was all about cheating. Finding ways to change the equation, changing your approach and adapting to the situation.

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@Sickle-cell@Duoya@Lasrever

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Mystral had one leg over the other. Her hands were over the titanium umbrella that served now as a cane, and her back was straight. She would definitely stand out just by her posture, if her features hadn't already. Nonetheless, she sat with the regular crowd of visitors: a low profile.

Besides, she hadn't made a name here; people might not even know who she was. Databases might not say the same thing, but she hadn't done anything recently to spike some sort of infamy. Not that she could do anything about it anyway. Upon entering, she could feel her 'grip' loosen. Her metal umbrella seemed heavier, and her hands trembled slightly. Mystral rubbed her palms silently. Nothing. Whatever it is that's in this place made her weaker, she would assume-- yet it was much greater than that.

She shoved the thought at the back of her head and went back into the circus. The woman looked around from the octagon and then to the conspicuous stage-like furniture above the common rabble.

(The fancy chairs at the top.. I wonder what I need to do to get there?) Always the grandiose achiever, she was. (Would you be there perhaps, my darling~?)

Knight’s expression twitched towards a frown, but she returned it at Praetor’s words. She couldn’t see how that would have been a functional strategy at the time. But was it true? Was she not imaginative enough? She did like to consider herself low-key intelligent. But… … … Knight stood and considered that maybe she’s not quick-witted enough, her expression unsure.

‘No questions.’ She simply said in a quiet, slightly submissive tone, as she intended to go out there and do her best in the Circus, now. She turned to Ifrit when he spoke to her. Oh, her helmet. She lifted and absent-mindedly looked at it. Drawing from her fortune, it was among the best that could be made… but it wasn’t tinker-made.

‘It does not.’ She said, giving a small, grateful smile and handing over the helmet to Ifrit. ‘I’d be thankful if you could modify it. Just don’t erase the air-pocket. I… need that.’ To be able to be invulnerable for longer when she couldn’t get her own air. She could describe her powers to him later if he didn’t already know.

concerned: @Sickle-cell@SkinnyTy