The wait didn't take too long - people began coming in faster now, and the number of attendees rapidly began to increase. Tony noted that, while the circus always received a fairly large audience, the numbers were significantly bigger tonight. perhaps Pipeline said something in the invitations about Sickle-cell being invited again? That would surely bring quite a few people. This thought was interrupted, however, as the first betters came up. A line quickly formed, as not only was the betting area the place where bets were placed, but it also was the area to head to in order to find out the fights going on tonight. In fact, at least several people came up solely to ask when Sickle-Cell was fighting, and were delighted to find out he was the first fight of the night. A majority of betters simply began to place bets after Tony listed off the fights, and he quickly began to feel bad for this "Automaton" person. Even if they won, the only people who'd be happy were the people who bet for her - a fairly small number, mostly of people who thought the Wonderland rigged the fight last year.

One of the flashier betters, a girl with pink and brown hair with matching eye colors, placed a decent sum on Vector - a cape from the protectorate who was a tinker for archery. Normally, Tony would tense up when someone bet on a protectorate cape - It just creeps you out, you know? Most people who came to these things were criminals, and you rarely expect some thug to place money on a person who would toss him into the slammer without a second thought. Then again, Tony's power had given him a good deal of confidence (perhaps too much...), and the girl placing the bet didn't seem threatining. At least, she didn't look like she was - parahumans can look like anything, and act far worse than they look.

After the girl left, a couple minutes of betting passed, before another person showed up to engage in conversation. Normally this wasn't weird, but most nights, Tony's circus conversations were with drunk gang members. Instead, two somewhat relatively well adjusted girls were doing the talking.

"Up against Sickle, huh... guess that's one way to do a first encounter. So, how bad are my odds?"

Tony quickly realized this was the mysterious Automaton, and immediately felt a pang of regret. Even if she was a tinker, she didn't look like she had any gear on her, and unless she could teleport it to her, she was horribly unprepared. Tony sighed slightly, the ski mask muffling his voice slightly.

"You're Automaton, right? Just know this - there's no shame in calling out of a fight. Audience might get pissed, but tapping out is better than ending up like Juggernaut..."

Tony quickly reached underneath the booth, pulling out a small binder. He flipped it open, turning towards the folder labelled "Round 1" and, while his face was covered, his eyes noticeably crinkled.

"16 to 1 against you beating Sickle. Good luck - your fight is coming on soon."

The two talked for awhile, before Tony had to continue taking bets. After another few minutes, another person striked up conversation - pretty impressive since the first match hasn't started yet and no one was trying to get their money back.

"Hey there, compadre, 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."

Tony scratched his head slightly, making sure his mask didn't rise with his fingers. People occasionally wnated to enter when they weren't already in the matches, but they didn't often make it in - not many people do so, and it's hard to find a fighter just out of nowhere.

"I can try and get you in, but I'm not really sure who would fight you. Plus, you'd probably be near the end of the night if I can get you one. That alright? Oh, and the field is taken down during matches, so place any bets you want."

Tony pointed towards the board containing the fights, before cringing slightly. He felt the chill down his spine the second he entered the circus - he knew about the field for awhile, but never felt it until today. It was disgusting, but Tony appreciated it greatly. It had saved him from numerous individuals who wanted to start trouble in the past.

The lines had thinned heavily by this point, and the first match was going to begin soon. Tony Pulled open the binder once more, thinking about that girl, 'Automaton.' He hoped she wasn't going to end up getting destroyed. Silently, he prepared himself, getting ready to introduce the first two fighters.

---

Gamble chuckled lightly as the man scratched his head and gave his answers.
"I believe Pipeline specifically requested that certain individuals, myself included, make an appearance if at all possible," he said calmly and confidently. He was taking a guess here about Pipeline, mostly because he didn't want to make it known he was with the PRT just yet, and pulling talk out of his arse. "And I'm sure you'll get me in somehow someway. I got faith in ya, friend. But, uh," he stopped to scratch his chin and reach into his pocket, "I got a nice bet on me. A grand saying I beat my first batch. And another five hundred saying I win every match I get."

His pulse quickened and he got a slight gleam in his eyes. This was what he lived for, the bet. He'd win that Grand back, at the least. And if the odds before his powers had disappeared still held, he'd be making a killing before the night ended.

"Do I, uh, need to give you the cash down? Some places do that. Wouldn't be a problem. Fuck, this is awesome," Gamble added in a rush.

The woman smiled sweetly, despite the look of concern on her face. “Of course not, sweetheart. Let me explain.”

“The PRT are worried about the state of your mental health after coming into contact with…” she paused, reading the next few words repeatedly. “Extremist dissident elements?” It was more of a question than a statement, and she looked at you with an eyeroll and a head shake before tossing the clipboard away. “Well that’s useless.”

Sitting down on a chair next to the bed, she gestured towards it. “Take a seat. Essentially, they are worried that because of your power, absorbing aspects of Sickle-Cell may have had a profound impact on your mental state.” Holding her hands up, she smiled again. “Now that is nonsense, we both know that, but they want to ensure you won’t run around sabotaging the Zenith in your spare time.”

“But forgot about why I’m supposed to be here. I don’t care what they’ve told me to look for or discuss with you.” Dr Yamada crossed her legs and met your gaze, earnestly. “I want you to tell me exactly how you feel. Not about this, unless you want to, just start somewhere. Talk to me. Let me understand just what makes you you.”

“For instance, Xoxi is an interesting name. Is there a story behind it?”

@Banana

---

The crowd’s reckless cheers grew to a fever pitch, as out onto one of the platforms, Whetstone appeared with Vulcan in tow. The throne atop this dais looked like a carefully-made replica of The Iron Throne, forged with countless real swords.

A fitting seat for the Queen of Blades, herself.

With Vulcan at her side, the first of a number of enormous threats had just strode casually up and took a seat in pride-of-place above the sea of bodies below. Even without their powers, the two armour-clad-compadres were an intimidating sight to behold.

@Migyudon@Duoya@Lasrever@Old Amsterdam

Anomaly

---

She's lying to you.

"There's not really a story behind it. My dad always said if he had a boy, he would've gotten to name them..." Xoxi started before just flopping onto the bed without much care about it. "Mom named me that because she wanted me to be unique or something, or so I've been told. She said it came to her in a dream once, and that's all she said about it..." Because she hated you. C'mon! Get up! You can easily get out of here with the right mentality!

Xoxi thought through the headache as she recalled her love of gaming in general. It was her favorite pastime and something that helped her get through times like this. Times like that. "I used video games when I was young to sort of... ignore my mother's absence, I guess. I never really got to know her, and the one time I thought she'd actually step into my life -" A psychic hand appeared right over the pillow beside Xoxi, grabbing it tightly, "- she used me for her own gain!" The pillow split open, a good chunk of it's feathers poofing out of the fabric. YES! MORE!

Xoxi looked over at what she did before dismissing her hand and looking down to her feet. WAIT NO NO NO DON'T QUIT! ANGER IS GOOD! "... sorry, I-I got a little..." More free.

@Sickle-Cell

The woman’s brow furrowed, but she didn’t flinch. “First time in while you’ve had the chance to vent?”

“We’ve all got our vices,” she said. “The little things that help us through the worst of it. Gaming isn’t the worst I’ve heard, believe me.” Dr Yamada chuckled. “As for me, mine is this. Helping people like you come to terms with their past and work through it.”

“Being a parahuman therapist is a unique experience. Everyone you deal with is damaged in some form - it’s the price you pay to do what you do.” She began offering pieces of information about herself, to seem more human and hopefully put the girl at ease. “What is important, is how you use those events and that power. Some go off the rails and hurt others for fun, like the people you met today. Others actually take a stand and put themselves in harm’s way over and over again with the end goal of making this world a little brighter.”

“No matter what, don’t forget that you are part of the latter group. Times were hard, sure, but you’ve soldiered on through it. That’s commendable, but you don’t have to keep carrying the emotional baggage around by yourself. The other Wards here are nice. Gestalt was referred to me in much the same state you are now, and although it took some work, I think she’s finally making some progress.”

“So, your mother. Do you want to talk about her?”

@Banana

---

Into the room strode the king of the scrap heap - Pipeline himself. The crowd cheered almost unanimously, since he was their host and they were terrified of what he’d do if they didn’t. His platform was arguably the most basic of the lot, with his throne being a second-hand armchair.

At his feet, Planck sat on the edge and kicked her feet back and forth, dangling them downwards as she usually did. Caustic and Black Kaze stood in the darkness at the top of the stairs behind them, watching the crowd and sizing up competitors.

And then the room fell silent.

Sickle-Cell strode in, and forced his way through the crowd. Wherever he went, they parted like the red sea, as the Covenant snaked through them. The chair on the podium was made of solid blood - although how it was made without his power was a mystery. Vegas sat on the arm, next to him, while Backdoor copied Planck, grinning like a buffoon underneath the porcelain mask. Gubbins leaned against the back of the chair, fiddling with some metal contraption, causing the crowd nearby to scatter.

The atmosphere was suddenly that much heavier. Most spectators were gang members, and most gang members had lost at least a friend to the Covenant’s crusade into the underworld. Each and every person would have given their left arm for a viable shot at Sickle-Cell, but even without powers, he’d proven to be more than a match for most.

Two empty thrones remained. The Consortium’s seat, and a new, pristine white one that had been an extra addition from the last time.

@Migyudon@Duoya@Lasrever@Old Amsterdam@SkinnyTy@PlatinumSkink

Anomaly

---

What the fuck? '... you don’t have to keep carrying the emotional baggage around by yourself...?' Does she not know how your power works?

Xoxi calmly took a minute before talking, trying not to just start damning her mother to hell and that being the bulk of what she said. "My mother... she left my dad for this rich guy. My dad said he had a punchable face, but he also said that he wasn't the same guy my mom was with when... this happened," Xoxi paused as her psychic hands flew around her sides. "I looked a lot like her, apparently. Even had her personality, but none of the disloyalty and shit she did when I was growing up. When I heard that she was arrested for what she did to me, I-I didn't know how to respond. I was happy she was getting what she deserved, but I was sad still because it was my mom, as heartless of a... b-bitch as she was." Xoxi swore, something she did only when she was troubled. Either that or angry. It felt good.

"... I-I remember what my dad did at her trial. He went off. The last time I saw him that mad was when the Gamestop clerk sold me a faulty game and refused to let me trade it in. He shouted at her, not stopping until she was in tears. Police had to restrain her horrible boyfriend from punching him in the face. I... I was happy to be defended. It was awkward being there, my entire side bandaged up and my arms missing, but seeing my dad shout swear after swear into my asshole mom felt fantastic." Xoxi smiled as she shivered again. It was cold in that room, and she didn't have her hoodie on over her tanktop. It sucked. Yeah it did.

---

Praetor already seemed to be focused on other things. "The Circus is supposed to start in 2 hours. You have access to the VTOL's if you think you need it."

Ifrit nodded at Knight's response, and took the helmet. He was grateful that she was open to the tinker modification, as it would open a lot of options to him when it came to combat. "An air pocket? In that case I could do one better. Include Co2 scrubbers, a compressed Nitrogen supply, etc. You could basically use it as a scuba mask for 5-10 minutes depending on the situation. Same tech I use in my suit, it would probably take me 5 minutes." He stopped and thought for a moment, "Although it would require regular maintenance to keep it functional, you know how tinker tech is. Maybe I will just make it a discreet attachment so that you aren't dependent on my attention." He said with a grin. "Too long without being cured properly, my materials can get... messy. They decompose quickly."

Knight winced a little. Oh, dear. If she was opening the door to tinker modifications... she swallowed a little.

‘I don't necessarily need to hold my breath for that long. I can just open a hole in my armor to let me breathe. That said, there could be times when... I can... describe it in more detail on the way.’ She ended that on, because of where they currently were.

Ifrit suddenly became aware of Praetor's passively urgent aura, and nodded toward the Protectorate leader, "We will prepare and be sure to arrive early, Sir, the next report from us will not disappoint you." So long as the next report isn't about my hovercraft test... Ifrit thought in an exasperated mental tone.

With that, Knight also nodded to Praetor, and then headed to leave with Ifrit.

‘So, um.’ Knight said as soon as they were outside, turning her attention to Ifrit. ‘I'm open to the possibility of having tinker-made additions. It could make me all the more effective on the field. But, I do want to not be entirely dependent on them. So, either if it could be a separate suit entirely, or if the additions are fairly easy to remove, or so. Do you know my power?’ She asked, yet continued without waiting for an answer.

‘I freeze air or other physical items in time. When an area is frozen in time, nothing escapes, be it light, sound or even radio-waves. Then I can move the fields telekinetically, and shape them. So, I can make myself invulnerable by making an armor around me and still move, but I lose all my senses and ability to communicate while in there. Meaning I have to open a bit around my head, my most vulnerable part, to get new air or at all see or hear what's outside...’ She described, throwing a glance to Ifrit to see if he was getting ideas.

Ifrit shrugged. "I read your file on the way over here, but there is a big difference between understanding the general idea behind somebody's powers, and the actual use of them. Another difference between that, and actually seeing how they can be, or are applied during combat." He thought on it for a moment as they walked. "For now, the gas mask modification is just a stopgap measure so that I can use my full toolset during any combat we get into, don't worry I will make it so it can be removed easily if I am not here. That will only take me a few minutes as I already have the tech, I just have to adjust it to fit your helmet, and set it to produce. If you want, I will be able to design something to really augment you later on, but that will take quite a bit of time. Mostly in design, the actual manufacture or maintenance doesn't take long at all. First, I will need to have a better idea of your strengths and weaknesses though, maybe it was a good for us to get involved in this after all, a bit of a team building exercise. If not more than a little unconventional...."

Ifrit looked about, which he immediately thought better of. Praetor could, and perhaps would, listen, watch, and probably interact with any conversation in the whole of the Zenith. That said, the man hardly had unlimited processing power and he seemed like a busy guy. Odds were he rarely if ever listened in on his heroes conversations. If not out of common decency, then out of limited time. Most conversations are pretty boring if you aren't involved. Still, better to be safe, he reasoned. He decided to pick his word carefully, but didn't change his tone or volume. "Speaking of" Ifrit said, "Are you totally comfortable with this? I understand Praetor's reasoning... I guess.... but this is a really weird task. Even if the rumors are true and people don't die in the circus, it just seems undignified and pointless for the Protectorate to involve itself.... what do you think?"

Knight listened on the way, her eyes open and curious as Ifrit spoke. She considered his words, wondering about the possibilities, before Ifrit went on to speak of her comfortability... which was when Knight's expression went back to the pained one she had when listening to Praetor earlier.

‘I... I'm not.’ She admitted. ‘It's an arrangement made by villains. By participating, it feels like we're giving their operations legitimacy. Also, regardless of if we win or lose the fight, we lose overall. If we win, they start plotting how to take us on. If we lose, we're humiliated in front of all the villains in town.’ Knight sighed. ‘But, I don't have power or experience enough to question. So I'll go. I must assume Praetor knows how this works better than I do.’ She said, praying this was the case.

Ifrit frowned. "I agree. That is a really good point, about giving them legitimacy. I'm willing to trust Praetor on this, I am assuming there is a bigger picture and more to this then we know, but still. On principle? In terms of general perception? That seems like a high price to pay for some field experience." He got a sly look on his face, "We will just have to win, I suppose. That is all you can do in the end." He looked thoughtful a moment. "I mean, we might lose the fight, we may lose our very first engagement, but that isn't what really matters in the end. We need to figure out what winning means first, what our real goal here is, and do what it takes. What matters is the war, let's not get bogged down in the minutia."

Knight listened to his words with a concerned expression, but nodded when it came to that they simply had to fight. She breathed out and attempted to relax. It seemed like that was the best reply she had for that at this moment.

Ifrit smiled, "We had better get ready, I have some prep to do. Meet you at the hangar in an hour?"

She blinked a little as they had apparently already reached where they'd split up for now. Wait, she still hadn't-

‘Um. Wait.’ She first said, then averted her eyes a little as she tried to a bit more carefully consider what she wanted to say. ‘Can I... ask a personal question?’ She asked, sounding as well as looking a little unsure as she said it.

Ifrit turned his whole focus to Knight, a concerned expression forming on his face. "Of course, what's up?"

Or, well, "personal question" wasn't entirely accurate for what she wanted to ask, but-

‘I-I need a friend. Someone I can vent to sometimes when I’m troubled, or comfort me sometimes, and perhaps the other way around, too. Someone closer than a therapist.’ She really hoped she wasn’t coming off as desperate, but, um, she kind of was. ‘Replicant’s really nice, but he has yet to convince me that he’s entirely stable or that I won’t accidentally leave any conversation with a deadly virus. Vector’s… kind of hard to talk to for me, Praetor’s…’ She just sighed instead of giving a reason for him. ‘I want to look dependable to the Wards, and Pallas low-key creeps me out. That… leaves you.’ She tilted her head a bit and looked at him curiously.

‘You haven’t given me reason to believe I might be making a mistake yet. … C-could you consider being that person?’ She asked, looking considerably insecure as she was asking.

Ifrit would be lying if he said he wasn't caught off guard, they had just met after all. However.... Ifrit had been in the Wards for a while. He knew just how isolated one could get, more so than ordinary teenagers (or at least so he assumed) with all the power, the pressure, the ongoing frustration. On top of all that, capes could really only form friendships with each other. It got too difficult, there was too much of a gap between parahumans and non-parahumans. Unfortunately, parahumans were by requirement some of the most messed up people in the known universe. They were rarely reliable, and in this line of work things changed quickly. The peaks were higher, the valleys deeper. In his time, Ifrit had seen dozens of Wards in frankly far worse emotional straights then Knight, too many of which had lived to suffer for it.

He gave a warm smile, dismissing the sarcastic response about being the bottom of the list that rose in the back of his throat, and said "Rosaline," He had no idea if that was what she usually went by outside of costume, but it was what had been in her file. "We are team-mates now, I am here for you. We need to have each other's backs, sometimes that means protecting each other from psychopath supervillains, in my experience more often than not it means helping each other fight our emotional supervillains. Capes, as a rule, are fucked up. It isn't something any of us asked for, but nobody asks for any of their circumstances. Some of us are born rich, some of us are born poor, some without parents, some in circumstances I can't imagine. It doesn't matter, all that matters is that when we move forward, we decide. We have control now, and at this moment, we are a team. I am here for you, anything you need, let me help." He looked off for a moment, and abruptly added on "And whatever you do, don't feel bad for asking. The fact that you able to reach out for help so candidly is a sign of your strength, not weakness." He put a hand on her arm, just below the shoulder. "I understand how you feel. I think most people do, in their own way."

She made a sharp intake of breath with her nose when he smiled and spoke her name, definitely nervous. Then he surprised her by going into a speech about team-mates looking after one-another no matter who they were. Not entirely what she had expected or imagined, but alright. She got an optimistic smile when he placed that hand on her arm and encouraged her. ‘Alright. Then. To start us off again.’ She held a hand forward to him.

‘Rosaline Buckner, Knight. I'll be counting on you.’ She nodded, daring to seem a bit happy. ... And this demand to shake hands with proper introductions was not entirely a ploy to lurk out his real name because she didn't know it yet. Definitely not. ... Not entirely, anyway.

Ifrit got a sly grin, the temptation from is immature side was definitely real to make up a fake name, but this wasn't the time. She had exposed herself and asked for help, and he had offered his trust and support in return. He took her hand, hesitated for just an instant, he didn't like to associate his given name with his cape name, partly because he didn't want to get his family involved, partly because of the psychology behind it, but he decided and answered " Bryson Green. Ifrit. And I won't let you down. "

She noticed his momentary hesitation, managing to imagine all kinds of worst-case scenarios for a brief moment, but then relaxed as he answered in turn. Rosaline nodded to him, happily.

‘Alright. Then I'll see you in an hour.’ She said, smiling as she turned and walked to her own room to relax, because there wasn't much else she could do. Perhaps just read up on the Circus, common capes seen on the scene, check for any new emails...

---

Rosaline sat unmoving in front of the computer, staring at the screen in silence. She read it twice. Then thrice. Then another time. ... ... ...

Fuck.

What even did it mean that the Boston Protectorate "are aware and have sanctioned" this? Are they in direct contact with... Rosaline shook her head. That wasn't important right now. What was important right now... Was she a Master that controlled her own personal entity, or a Master that manipulated other humans? Those two seriously should be different categories, damn it. She was pretty sure she could handle a minion-controlling Master, but one that took control of HER? That was a different matter altogether.

... She went ahead and checked multiple unrelated capes in the database. She didn't want to leave a record of herself checking one, single, particular cape. Just went through a couple high-threats or others she slightly remembered the names on. Then, she'd check Conflux. If she had a PRT rating then she should be in here, right? Or was that just "the rating she'd have if the PRT got to rate her"? Ngh. Too many unknowns. She didn't even know where to look.

She responded. [I have no information to start looking with. Do we know any tendencies of the target or any resources/contacts I could make use of to track down the target? What should I be looking for?] ... If she didn't get a response, then she had absolutely no leads to start her off with. Which was... troubling. She sighed, and waited until time ran out if needed.

@Sickle-cell

Before she left, she'd delete the email(s), as well as she could. Not that she thought it'd help if someone searched her computer, but it was a matter of principle.

---

As soon as Knight had left, Bryson got straight to work. The whole encounter had been... well if he was honest, a Tuesday in the life of a cape. Still, it stuck out as one of those moments reminded him know just how insane things could be for capes, the stress, the pressure, the isolation. Parahumans were still, at their core, human, but powers made everything bigger, more intense. Knight was relatively new to the whole business, and it was not an easy life to adjust to. He wondered if Replicant had his own issues of the same sort.

As soon as he was in his lab, he set the helmet in what looked almost like a large, cube shaped, microwave. It began taking extremely high resolution scans of the helmet, so he could work with the model in adjusting his tech to work with it. It was also to check for any other tinker tech or anything anomalous that might warrant his caution. It was precisely what it appeared to be, a high strength helmet, durable but stylish.

As he worked, adjusting a concept he had made for his mask years ago to fit the helmet, he considered what he should do to prepare for the fight. The Lethal weaponry he had developed wasn't ready to bring yet, he could finish the work but there wasn't any reason to. From what he had heard about the Circus, it would involve confined, close quarters combat. He debated bringing his heavy-duty power suit, it would make him far more durable and powerful, but.... flexibility was usually the key when fighting powered individuals. A castle seems like a good idea but it usually just lets your enemy know where you are, allowing them to take their time to find a lever on you. No, brute strength would not be the way to go here, besides even if it was Knight's power was well suited to function as the heavy hitter. The trick was to be unpredictable, give himself options, useful ones. So he could handle all manner of threats.

The device to fit in Knight's helmet was already being built by a 3D printer, the job wouldn't take long as it didn't have too many sophisticated components, and he already had filters for it that would be replicable. He looked at his own suit, deciding what to equip, what to get at the expense of others. He decided it would be crucial to have access to the containment foam, a module was attached to the undersides of his arms that would allow him to pack a bit more. It still wasn't very much, volume limited after all but it would be enough to subdue most enemies in extremely close quarters. His baton was always equipped, as well as built in reservoirs of chemicals ready to be aerated through vents throughout his suit, or sprayed in a given direction. Primarily the equivalent of knock out gas, his own formula designed to be effective but give targets a high enough tolerance so they wouldn't accidentally be killed. Under his wrists he had dart launchers, each could hold 8 darts, some of which would carry a tranquilizer. It wouldn't necessarily be useful, since it would take around 40 seconds to be effective, but hopefully he and Knight were tough enough to outlast opponents for that long.

Needles could be ejected from his fingertips, like claws. Not only were they sharp and could be used to scratch someone horrendously, they could also be used to deliver yet more chemicals. There wasn't much he could pack besides tranquilizers, but he decided to equip a chemical with another approach. A protein which would target the nerves, not to destroy them as that could kill someone, but cause excruciating pain. It would start almost instantly from injection, but would steadily spread throughout the body. It was cruel, and he knew it, but that was why he also brought an anecdotal enzyme that could counter the effect as quickly as it started. In case he sent someone into shock.

He also equipped a chemical with essentially the exact opposite effect.... it was basically super dopamine. He had terrible visions of possible pasts, ones where gangs sought access to his abilities just because he could have created, frankly, the ultimate drug. Maximally addictive, maximally effective.... he didn't think he would be getting anybody an addiction by knocking them out with pleasure, but it was an option. He brought a counter agent to this chemical as well, as he did with all of his chemicals. All of them could be loaded into a dart, they were filled within the suit, or loaded into the smoke emanating from his body, sprayed via aerosol, or injected via his finger needles. His large drone, Griffin, would carry additional supplies.

Finally most everything prepared, he finished by equipping into slots on his back a dozen small canister filled with extremely compressed chemicals, some of which would be mixed on activation, with various useful effects. There were a couple that would spray "Greek fire," handful of tranquilizer gas, a handful of obscuring smoke that would linger in the air, a couple that would spray what could spray a "super glue", (a counter agent was equipped in the suit) and finally a couple that would kill any microorganisms, one never knew what he might face in the world of parahumans. Also on his back were two clips with additional darts for his wrist launchers. All of this was equipped into his standard battle suit, it favored mobility over strength or durability, but it still significantly augmented his strength, and was unbelievably tough. All in a relatively lightweight package that allowed him to move like a superhuman. He replaced the gecko pads on his hands and feet that could provide grip (although he didn't like how it associated him with certain spider-oriented capes) and finally he was-probably- ready. Or as ready as one could ever be.

He made his finishing touches to the mask attachment for Knight's helmet, and got suited up. Griffin was equipped with its standard kit, including refills, clips, sniper attachments, additional power, first aid equipment and more. He dismissed the drone to head through his lab access into the hangar. Everything packed, he put on his helmet, and walked out into the corridor.

---

So, Rosaline couldn't exactly head to the hangar without her helmet. Normal PRT officers were not to know her appearance. Instead, she made sure she was a bit early and stood outside Ifrit's lab, leaning against the wall. She tried to look casual, tense. Tense was fine, they were heading to the Circus, after all. It was fine to look a bit emotionally disturbed, she told herself inside her mind. He wouldn't necessarily notice something was amiss...

Knight was waiting for him outside, looking slightly self-conscious, her body all at angles, but also ready for a fight. He didn't blame her; the adrenaline was already pumping through his veins in anticipation for a fight. He both loved and hated the feeling. It filled him with clarity, energy, life. But it also made him anxious, he wanted to get going. When he spoke through the mask, his voice emanated not only clearly, but as though it were being enhanced. Like the flaws and minor modulations, in his speech were being smoothed over, made to sound louder. It might have been tinker tech, or it might have just been Ifrit speaking more confidently and "heroically" now that he was in costume. "You ready for this? I have already arranged a VTOL to be ready." he said, as he handed her the helmet with one hand, holding the new attachment in the other.

Knight blinked and straightened herself as Ifrit came out. The change in his voice did not go unnoticed. Maybe if it was something tinker-made, perhaps she could convince him to make her something similar? ... It was a good distracting line of thinking, she managed to smirk a little as she accepted the helmet and the attachment.

‘Yeah, I'm ready.’ She convinced herself to say, looking at the attachment as Ifrit started explaining.

"This is the chemical filter, I equipped it with its own passive air storage system, it could automatically be storing air when exposed, and releasing it back to you if the CO2 content in the air gets too high. A super-air pocket, if you will, although it uses chemicals to store it rather than anything mechanical. Keep in mind it won't automatically activate for other chemicals, you will have to do that manually, there is a switch here which when attached to your helmet should be right under your chin. Just pressing it will activate it, it takes a long press to deactivate it so it doesn't happen by accident for any reason. I also made it possible to take off the helmet without taking off the mask, keeping it attached to your face. The mask is of course totally separate from the helmet, so you can wear the helmet without the filter just as easily."

Knight was turning the helmet in her hands to inspect as Ifrit explained, checking the location of the switch and nodded.

"I also equipped it with standard PRT comms tech, and my own variation which should allow it to connect even with minimal opportunity, say if you were deep underground or in a mostly sealed off space. The connectivity will also make it so I can automatically activate it to seal to your face, in case you weren't able to reach or if you were unconscious, or if I needed to try something sneaky against an enemy and wanted you to equip it without giving any sign. I will of course give you the standard tinker documentation later, so that if you are away from me for any reason another tinker should be able to service it for you. I know that seems like a lot, but it isn't actually too complicated." he finished with a smile, not that Knight would be able to tell with Ifrit wearing his mask.

... Hm. Knight nodded to him again. That was useful. She could hear the smile, it was clear enough that he was proud of the quality-of-life improvements he had done, and in such a short time. Tinkers are really something, huh. Of course, she knew that, this was Boston, she had been surrounded by tinker things the moment she came here. Alright.

‘Alright. Thank you. I'm going to be open to more extensive modifications in the future. Okay, let's go.’ She nodded to him, putting on the things and helmet, attaching them to the suit she had to protect her throat, before turning to head for the hangar.

"We will see what can be done, tinker tech can sometimes be as much of a problem as it is a benefit." said Ifrit. He followed her to the hangar, where one of the Zenith's "standard" VTOL craft was waiting.

Knight nodded, also something to keep in mind, before jumping into one of the crafts available to them, made the command that the two of them were to be heading down, and then took her seat waiting for them to fly off and land somewhere in the proximity of the Circus. They would most likely arrive just as the circus was ready to get underway. Fashionably, right on time.

Dr Yamada nodded. “I read your file before coming over. It was… hard, I’ll admit. Some of the cases I’ve dealt with have been severe ones, but the worst are usually Case 53’s. Those parahumans who’s power has completely warped their physical - and usually mental - shape. None of them had the sheer impact or sense of betrayal I felt from yours, though.”

She smiled while handing the shivering girl her lab coat. “Take it. They are surprisingly warm, and I have more than I really should have.” Whispering, she looked around with mock-secrecy. “I stole quite a few from the PRT technicians. Who doesn’t love a lab coat, am I right?”

“What happened in your past was awful, but venting usually helps people. As an additional plus, it’ll help you get all that anger out of your system, and we can get you out of here that much faster.”

“If you want my personal opinion, most people would have went completely off the rails with what happened to you. The incident would have proved, in their mind, how they couldn’t trust anyone - how they were better off on their own. Most would have turned to villainy. Why didn’t you? What drives you to be a hero and help people out?”

Her warm smile complimented her features. “Don’t worry about the answer, by-the-by. I’ve heard everything from ‘I don’t know’ to ‘The money is better’.”

@Banana

---

Maxwell was the next to arrive. He did so without fanfare, and wearing his usual suit. He wasn’t a cape, and had no reason to hide his identity.

The entire city knew about the Consortium’s underworld dealings, even if they wouldn’t or couldn’t act on those suspicions.

His entourage consisted of Nightlight and Zabaniya. As combinations went, it was a good one. Nightlight could absorb and fire off blasts of light, while his female counterpart manipulated and melted into the shadows. Together, the made for an almost unbeatable combination, with one powering the other.

But no-one who had arrived could have anticipated the next arrivals.

A man, wearing a white and ice-blue suit of spandex. The gloves and feet were black, and his face was uncovered, save for a very basic eye mask of blue. His hair was platinum blonde, and he waved and gestured to the crowd on arrival. He was perhaps the most popular cape in Boston with the general populous, and a local celebrity - Cold Front.

On the other side was a girl dressed in a fabric costume of orange, green and white. Her hair was covered by a hood, and her mask was an elegant way to hide her eyes which resembled with wings of a Phoenix. Her eyes darted warily around the room, drinking in all of the threats and possible problems and escape routes on offer. This was Foxfire, popular but not nearly as well-known as Cold Front.

Although they both commanded the room individually, their presence was positively dwarfed by their companion.

Praetor himself.

The room was utterly stunned to silence as he simply stood on the platform, in front of the pristine and crystalline white chair. His eyes - and his scorn - fell on each of the faction leaders in turn, lingering on the Covenant the longest.

Pipeline broke the silence. He laughed. “Praety! I so hoped you’d finally come this year. Was confident you would, too, it’s why I put out a chair and everything.”

As Praetor sat, Pipeline rose. “Finally, everyone is here. Well. We’d best get the festivities kicked off, eh? Lot of bad blood to clear after this morning’s escapades.” He turned to Poker Face. “My good man, if you’d kindly do the honours, I think it’s high time we watched some bloodshed!” Winking at the Protectorate leader, he added “with moderation, of course.”

@Migyudon@Duoya@Lasrever@Old Amsterdam@SkinnyTy@PlatinumSkink

Anomaly

---

Xoxi's hands returned to existence as it grabbed the labcoat, draping it around her and buttoning it up. She was right. They were surprisingly warm for how they looked. There was a good chance this wasn't going to return to anyone now.

Xoxi pondered the question of why she was a hero for a few seconds before finally answering. "I'm not trying to be a hero for me or for the city, I'm trying to be a hero for my dad. We'd been through so much with the poverty and all of that trash, and now that the... incident, we'll call it, with my mother happened, I think he was ready to... ready to just quit. For good." Xoxi's tone shifted slightly as she said those last two words, but returned to normal afterwards. "Besides, I'd rather be seen as a mural for someone to gawk at than a stain on the side of a wall."

Xoxi took another second before talking again. "Now... I think I'm going to vent for a bit."

Hey. So, what's happening right now is a bit too graphic for even my tastes. Like, horribly so. If I could phrase it into words for you, I would because it's quite entertaining to watch this double-amputee flail around on the bed and destroy it, but it's very difficult trying to put it into words. If you all that are reading this could do me a big solid and just imagine some of the worst words and worst things you could do to someone here, that'd be great. I think I'm gonna be going here for a while. I might return. Who knows? Not me. See ya.

Xoxi sat back up on the bed, her headache finally gone and the entire bed a large mess of torn sheets, popped pillows, and tears bitter and sweet. A smile washed over her face as she looked back at Yamada with a wide-eyed grin. "That... that felt good."

As she finally forced herself to calm down, Mag looked over to the arena, the excitement of the crowd leaving her in two minds about the whole situation. On the one hand, this place was full of complete monsters - that, or authorities like the PRT who might not just let her missing person status slide. Staying here was really risky, but at the same time... going without food for so long wouldn't help her in the slightest.

And for better or worse, just about everyone seemed enraptured by the spectacle in front of them. With all the gambling that was going on, it was a fair bet that these people at least had some kind of money. Or valuables - phones, jewellery, even betting slips would be good enough at this point if she managed to cash them in. They also probably had pockets.

It was a risk. Definitely a risk. But in here, under the watchful eyes of the city's most powerful gang leaders, there couldn't be that many people brave or stupid enough to start a fight. Not that she was being as tactical as all that, mind; at the end of the day, a quick superpower-murdering seemed less drawn out than starving. Plus - she grimaced - she was as powered as anyone here, like it or not. And if someone got really angry, well...

Doesn't matter anyway. I won't get caught. Glancing around uneasily, she corrected herself. Make that can't get caught. These guys are terrifying. And probably murderers.

Sure enough, it didn't take long to spot someone who wasn't quite paying enough attention to his wallet. Her heart just about stopped in those few moments where she pocketed it, convinced that every pair of eyes was on her. But they weren't, and deciding not to push her luck she picked a seat at random in the viewing area around the arena. Looking around shiftily, she opened the wallet, rifling through its contents and hoping the owner didn't notice his suddenly lighter pockets.

...well, at least she was small enough to dodge through the crowd if he did.

The man he was talking to, seeming quite confident, proceeded to speak with Tony.

"I believe Pipeline specifically requested that certain individuals, myself included, make an appearance if at all possible, And I'm sure you'll get me in somehow someway. I got faith in ya, friend. But, uh, I got a nice bet on me. A grand saying I beat my first batch. And another five hundred saying I win every match I get. Do I, uh, need to give you the cash down? Some places do that. Wouldn't be a problem. Fuck, this is awesome,"

"Whatever you say, friend. You don't need to put the cash down - just take this ticket."

Quickly, Tony scribbled down the bet on the card, before handing it to the guy. It was pretty easy - contestants usually don't bet on themselves. Hopefully, this guy wasn't that good... Tony thought that not many people would bet on a kid they never heard of before, and that would be bad for business to pay out his bet...

The crowds shrieked with glee as more impressive individuals began to flood into the area, including the contestants that would be fighting today. Tony distinctly remembered that those who betted on certain individuals were cheering significantly harder - hm. This changed when he arrived - the guy that had declared war on every faction in the city. He had balls for showing up here - even though everybody hated his guts, he still was a popular guy to bet on... Maxwell was the next, and he was pretty boring. After all, he wasn't participating - Tony was just glad that the guy was keeping things professional, rather than going into the loonynes of this place.

The next person shocked Tony - a professional hero. A popular one at that! Cold Front always annoyed Tony with that stereotypical "Hero" look of his, but he he didn't really care as much as most of the haters. Tony just didn't like the guy - and some of the more villainous gang members seemed to agree, folding their arms over themselves while others clapped. Phoenix was next, and she was met with a similar response. Finally, the last man revealed himself - Praetor. Tony didn't even want to know what dirt Pipeline had to get someone who led the PRT in the entire city to come here, but he was met with similar response as Sickle-Cell. The only difference was, rather than being silent out of anger, the crowd was silent out of shock.

Pipeline recovered first, having expected the man to make an appearance no doubt, and offered him the previously untaken white seat. He then introduced the crowd, before turning the attention to Tony

“Finally, everyone is here. Well. We’d best get the festivities kicked off, eh? Lot of bad blood to clear after this morning’s escapades. My good man, if you’d kindly do the honors, I think it’s high time we watched some bloodshed! ...with moderation, of course.”

Tony did his best to hide that he was nearly shitting his pants, and walked into the middle of the poorly built arena, adopting a much louder voice to allow everyone to hear.

"Greetings everyone - Now that we've introduced our esteemed guests, It's time to start the fights!"

A round of applause followed this, but not as much Tony was hoping for.

"As most of you know, our first match up looks pretty good - Returning from last year is Sickle-Cell! Some of you may remember him as the guy that took down our own Juggernaut - pretty impressive track record!"

"Facing him will be a first-timer - A girl going by 'Automaton!' Since this is her first time, we don't know what could happen - maybe she'll even pull through in the end and win!"

Tony coughed slightly.

"Anyways, we'll be starting the first match soon - could the first two fighters come to the center of the stage?"

Tony made his way off of the soon-to-be deathtrap, and back to his small booth, a bastion of safety by comparison. He really hoped that girl took his advice and dropped out of the match - Sickle excelled in this stuff.

---

Gamble took the ticket with a slight bow, a grin across his face.

That's when he noticed all the big guys appear. His eyes flicked between them all, lingering on his boss.

Now why would the PRT show up officially? he wondered to himself, before shrugging mentally and moving on. Listening to the speech, he pushed his way through to the edge, glancing down into the arena.

Sickle vs a newcomer. That was going to be... Interesting. He'd get to see the crazy evil blood guy in action, which was a nice plus since the odds were good that he'd have to fight him eventually. Maybe not tonight, but probably in the coming months.

Though, truth be told, he was more concerned with watching his fellow PRT fighters in their matches. See what they were capable of, how they might work with his own abilities.

Not that he really needed to work with people. That tended to mess with the odds, limiting him in the long-run.

Tonight would be interesting, to say the least.

“We need to go after them.”

Mary sighed and wiped the towel over her face, scrubbing away the last of the water from her quick shower. “No, we don’t. They hurt us, but that doesn’t mean we should do anything stupid.” She sat on the desk chair, poking the computer’s mouse so that the screen came back alive, showing their latest internet search. The Covenant. Simply by searching the different factions in the city, they’d come across enough evidence that these were the mooks that they’d fought against.

“What about Pipeline? You think that he got away?” They hadn’t seen his dead body lying on the battlefield after they made their hasty retreat, so it seemed rather likely that he was still at large.

“Probably.” All in all, a completely failed excursion to go save people. Things had gotten way out of hand, they’d gotten too deep into the fight. Should have just bailed on it as soon as their surprise attacks had failed. “So you think we made any enemies?”

“Probably.” It was annoying to be on the outskirts of the main groups: they didn’t know how other independent capes kept up with the news, but prowling social media and chat servers seemed to be the best that Maryland could do without getting an official contact. It meant that it was hard to gauge the response to their actions, and to get invited to cape-only events. Not impossible, but hard.

Tonight, amid the responses and conspiracy theories around the morning’s fight, a tantalizing bit of news stuck out. Capes were converging on a large, rundown building, and digital murmurs of “Circus” came from the more knowledgeable theorists. The way that Dragon hummed and hawed over the messages could only mean one thing: she wanted them to go. “Do you think it would be safe, after this morning? If anybody were there, they’d recognize you pretty easily.”

“That’s why you would go alone. Just don’t wear your combat gear, and no one will know.”

Mary raised a curious eyebrow; it wasn’t like Dragon to recommend something so… sensible. But she had to admit that she was curious, too. And it was true that she’d been completely covered up during the battle, so no one should notice her…

It was easy to find where she was supposed to be going. Once Mary was in the right vicinity, she needed only to move with the crowds of thugs and weirdly-dressed capes. She was hiding in a blue pull-over hoody that did nothing to convince anyone that she belonged there. But she managed to slip by with few questions, since most of those attending were the sort to rape a nine-year-old, not ask if they needed help finding mommy. She made it just in time to see the last big attendee take his seat, and jostled into position to see as best she could. But she was more focused on who was sitting above her than anything going on below. She recognized the whole Covenant crowd, and Pipeline. Apparently not dead, though. She recognized the others more remotely, from images off the internet. Honestly, none of them looked as impressive sitting on their thrones as she had expected they would.

Behind the glass, the soldiers visibly tensed as Anomaly tore the bed to shreds. Yamada, on the other hand, met the girl’s wide smile with her own. “It’s not healthy to leave all that emotion bottled up. Well, not healthy for you. Letting it out isn’t necessarily the best thing for any soft furnishings nearby.”

A series of small bleeps pierced the air from somewhere near the doctor’s waist. She glanced down at the pager, and her eyes widened slightly. “Oh bugger. I completely forgot that I have somewhere to be right now. Well, I have no doubt that you are still you, but would you like to make these sessions a regular thing? I wouldn’t mind making the trip over to help you out.”

“In fact, I’d thoroughly enjoy it.”

@Banana

---

As the crowd began to cheer for the upcoming match - mostly out of habit, or hope that Sickle might lose - his lips curled up into a smirk under the cold, white mask. Automaton. She’d been at the chaos earlier today, although he hadn’t seen her. A compiled list of basically every independant present had been waiting for him upon his return for Dorchester, and it make for interesting reading since basically every other cape was officially unaligned.

His opponent was a tinker specialising in self-improvement. Not a bad power, as powers went. She’d arrived as an independant under Gladius’s payroll, and left as the newest member of Wonderland’s little ‘thing’ they had going. The rest of the information made that last bit stand out. She really didn’t seem the Wonderland type. It was clear just how much she valued the freedom they purported, but how long would she really last? Only time would tell.

Still, this fight would be little more than a farce. He’d taken down far bigger enemies than her - even before he’d gotten powers. That being said, he was never one to turn down a chance to shock the established order. “Well, looks like i’m up,” he said to his allies around him. “But first, I fancy a bet.”

Scribbling down a bet for a serious amount of cash - some $250,000, the last of his winnings from his victory in the very same arena nearly a year ago - he approached the announcer and betting manager. “Do me a favour. Place a bet for me. Can’t hang around, need to get myself prepared.” Handing over both the scrap of paper and a check for the money, he vanished down a set of stairs and underneath the building, to snake through the tunnels up to the cage.

Walking out brought back so many memories. The last time he’d been here was as a comparative nobody. Everyone in the room had known him, but by reputation only. He didn’t even have a cape name before that night. It was just before that match he’d submitted the name the entire underworld now feared. They all wanted to see him lose. Most who did had bet on him to win. His smirk grew larger. The lights, bright and coarse, cast malevolent shadows all across the edge of the arena. A smell of blood hung in the air - barely noticeable, at least to him.

He took a deep breath, stewing in that unique atmosphere.

God, was he looking forward to this.

@Migyudon@Duoya@Lasrever@Old Amsterdam@SkinnyTy@PlatinumSkink

Anomaly

---

Xoxi nodded with a smile as one of her hands removed the name tag off of the lab coat she was wearing and she extended it to Yamada. "I wouldn't mind that. It felt good getting rid of all those emotions." The back of her mind raced with thoughts now that it wasn't cleared. Was she gonna be the odd man out, constantly receiving sessions like this? Not that she would mind, since this session was rather helpful at least. Plus, she had the feeling a higher power sort of... enjoyed this situation.

Xoxi did, however, have one question she needed answering. "Where's Knight and the rest?"

This was a terrible idea in so many different ways, but Automaton wasn't going in this to win; she wasn't even going in for a real fight, no matter what the crowd would have to say about an early withdrawal. It was a test, an experiment, part of a bigger picture - her bigger picture, not anyone else's. Work-ons, weaknesses, a new train of thought.

And it was probably a little late to realise that Wonderland were just as willing to throw her under the bus as Gladius had been. Of course, there was a chance that this was all just a coincidence and she'd gotten this matchup on pure bad luck, but Boston wasn't a safe place to believe in coincidences. Like they said - it's not paranoia if everyone really is out to get you. Or out for themselves, in this case, but that made sense. Collateral damage.

Seeing that the heroes had turned up to the Circus at least reinforced that particular theory. So much for principles, huh? They were as much of a gang as anyone else here, and the self-righteousness they maintained in light of that left a bad taste in her mouth. All against criminal activity until a point needed proving, huh? Soon as the public eye wasn't on, they were just like anyone else. Yeah, everyone in this city really was a self-interested asshole. Her included, of course, but she'd never claimed not to be. Not being a murderer was enough for her to feel okay about a few petty thefts.

But as far as the Protectorate went, it really wasn't a good look... she smiled to herself. That would be something to think about later. If she wasn't a quadriplegic within the next half-hour.

Could really be more positive about this. Maybe he'll just break both my legs.

At least her systems were working alright, new addition and all. Nothing was likely to break on her without someone else breaking it. But whatever was about to happen in the cage, it was time to face the music. Deep breaths. Calm. No point getting worked up. She smiled to herself as she entered the arena - knowing she had every intention to quit as soon as the going got tough. Would it look cowardly? No doubt, but pride wasn't much use to a dead girl.

Pulling off her gloves and jacket, she tossed them aside, metallic enhancements gleaming in the harsh light. The arena itself was more intimidating than she would have liked, and Sickle was creepily silent. Totally looking forward to turning her into confetti, if she had to guess, an idea that her internal organs weren't exactly on board with. She wasn't sure if she could actually smell blood, or if her mind was just playing some cruel trick.

"Don't suppose we could talk this out? Y'know, one to one, cyborg to blood-bender, thief to self-righteous murdering psychopath?" She laughed slightly - okay, she knew how much trouble she was in, but apparently running her mouth and talking complete nonsense was how she coped with the inevitability of death. Looking at Sickle's mask, she sighed. "...yeah, didn't think so."

Relaxing as much as she could, Automaton prepared for the fight to begin.

Holly had no idea how to react. Her first damn day in Boston and she had been offered a place in an outlaw group, and in her lap was a lot of money. She stared numbly at the bills in her lap.

“I-I don’t…”

Not knowing what to say, she did what she always did. She looked to Mandy.

Her sister, apparently catching onto Holly’s silent cry for help, spoke up with a calm and confident tone that Holly envied.

“Well, you guys can drop me off at home, at least, because I’m not the one with the powers here. I have work in a few hours anyway. Don’t worry; you can trust me to keep my mouth shut about all of this. But,” she put a hand on Holly’s shoulder, “I think you should do it.”

At Holly’s unsure expression, she continued, “You’ve already proven you can help, and during that huge fight, you were awesome! Obviously it’s your own choice, but I think you can really do some good here.”

Holly was silent for a moment. She thought about the fight and how she felt during it. Yes, she was scared, but beneath that there was something else. She had no idea what is was; confidence? Adrenaline? Power trip? She didn’t know, but it felt good. What did that mean for her? Maybe that would be a good thing? Well, the only way to know…

Holly looked up at Sickle-Cell, her eyes determined.

“I’ll join you.”

The collective group smiled, but only Sickle spoke. “Then we have so much work to do.”

“We’ll head back to our little clubhouse, but the rest of us have an appointment later tonight. Before we head over, we’ll drop you off by our employer’s penthouse. He’ll watch over you while we’re gone.”

@knifeman

---

“As of right now, I believe a number of Protectorate capes are out on mission. Foxfire, Cold Front, Vector, Gamble, Ifrit, Knight and even Praetor. From what I gather, it’s more a show of force than anything major, but I think sending the bulk of power the Protectorate has all to the one place was foolish.”

She chuckled and shook her head, taking the name badge from Xoxi and attaching it to her shirt. “But I’m just a humble therapist and no-one asks for my advice.” Standing and walking over to the guards, she waved a hand. “She’s completely fine, just had to get a bit of pent-up anger dealt with. There’s no threat to you in this room, and you can let her out.”

“After that?” The captain asked incredulously, pointing to the ruined bed.

“Yes, captain,” she said with a smirk. “Unless you don’t trust my assessment.”

His eyes narrowed, but he nodded to the door. Two of his men typed in a code and it opened.

Yamada turned to Xoxi one last now. “I’m afraid I really must run, now. I’m already slightly late. However, should you need a shoulder, the Wards will be more than happy to oblige. Especially Gestalt. She’s been where you are now. Not as bad, definitely, but you’ll find a kindred spirit, there.”

“I’ll be over again in a few days. Till then, take care of yourself, Xoxi.”

@Banana

---

“Talk it out? That would appeal to me, if there was anything to talk about.”

“The outcome of this match, however, was set in stone from the moment you stepped foot in this ring.” His laugh echoed out from behind the mask. If anything, the muffled tone made it creepier. “But i’ll offer you a bit of advice for the future. It’s unwise to show your hand to an opponent before playing the game. Telling me you are a cyborg just might have changed my entire strategy.”

“It hasn’t, because I already knew, but keep it in mind.”

He left that final statement hanging, watching for any signs of tension in her body. Masks made reading faces impossible, but muscle tension can be visible under costumes. More than usual, for the ridiculous spandex-wearing weirdos.

“And for the record, I’m not just ‘self’ righteous,” he muttered under his breath, to no-one in particular.

The crowd began to cheer as the announcer kicked off the match.

Sickle just grinned.

@Migyudon@Duoya@Lasrever@Old Amsterdam@SkinnyTy@PlatinumSkink

Replicant chuckled as this amazing specimen flirted and divulged such great information. She didn't seem so bad, once you got passed the whole mind altering raping of free will thing. She seemed to want to do some legitimate good, as long as it kept her entertained. He was more than willing to steer her in the right direction. "Well, for your first lesson, people are a bit touchy about their free will. Altering it is seen as a huge violation of personal rights, you see? But your heart was in the right place, so I think we can work around that."

He thought for a moment on the girl he had seen moments before. The one calling herself a phoenix. Now it made sense. She was a cape, and Phoenix was her cape name! Well don't that just beat all? And employed to one of the local villains. A "bitch" by the way Alice spoke. The only female gang leader that immediately came to mind was Gladius's own Whetstone. He decided to go on his gut instinct with that. "Having one of Whetstone's parahumans in custody will be a great blow for justice! Who knows what she could tell us about their operations? This is an amazing first step forward, my ravishing beauty."