Anomaly

---

"Bye Miss Yamada!" Xoxi cheerfully said as she left the room with her, turning off on her own path as she proceeded to her room. She was free again, and free to cause some mayhem... well... maybe "mayhem" was a bit of an exaggeration. "Beating-everyone-at-Smash-Bros" was a bit more accurate than "mayhem". Thankfully, with some cash Xoxi had saved up, she had bought a Wii on her own accord. Well, she had someone else buy it for her because she didn't have arms and she didn't want to blow her cover, but that's besides the point.

Xoxi entered her room, grabbed her Wii with her psychic hands (already unplugged from the last time she did this), along with a bag of controllers, and headed off for one of the meeting rooms in the Zenith. She had done this before without getting yelled at, so she figured "why not try it again?"

Xoxi placed the Wii and the bag down onto the ground before plugging the console into a projector and switching it on. A psychic hand flew over towards the light switch as the other drew a crude sign on a piece of paper, putting some tape on the paper, and placing it on the outside of the door. The sign read "Smash Brothers going on. Soda optional."

Once everything was set, Xoxi plugged in her trusty-rusty Gamecube controller and began to warm up her skills in a brawl.

@Sickle-Cell[@Whoever Really Wants to Play Some Smash in the Zenith]

"...gonna be honest, Sherlock, I thought the metal arms already gave that game away. But sure, noted." Automaton shrugged. Relying on external factors like the element of surprise didn't make for a good test, when you really got down to it. Besides, if Sickle actually thought she was here to win, he had a really low opinion of her intelligence. Then again, his type always were arrogant - that wasn't exactly a surprise to her.

What did bug her slightly was that he knew already. Then again, she'd been at the fight this morning, and there was every chance he'd just caught sight of her there. Still... she wasn't exactly high-profile as capes went. Wasn't like she went around murdering people or anything like that - most of her activity was based around her need to eat, her inability to afford most of the parts she needed for improvement, and the thought of keeping anyone from wanting her head on a platter. Not the kind of things that normally drew enough attention for people to know what her powers were.

But hey, she could worry about that later. Time to get this over with. And considering her opponent's confidence, her only option was to try and do as much damage as she could before things got too bad to keep fighting.

Darting forwards, she feinted a strike with her left with her actual attack coming from the right, an open palm striking at Sickle's ribs. Without the option to wait and see if the attack would hit, she fired her new weapon, a pulse of kinetic energy from her right hand that would hopefully send him flying across the cage.

Shortly after setting up the little makeshift game party, a head poked its way through the door. This was quickly followed by a second. Gestalt and Septima - or Nola and Kairi, given their lack of costumes - smiled when they saw their teammate.

“Hey!” Gestalt yelled, slightly louder than she anticipated. “I heard you got out of that little hamster cage they had you locked up in. I know the feeling. They did it to me, too, the first time I absorbed a villain’s power.” She scoffed. “As if we are seriously going to blow something up just cause we touched someone evil.”

Nola was the more respectable-looking of the two, but also the more boring. Her outfit consisted of a loose-fitting white blouse and denim jeans. On the other hand, Kairi looked like a burst mattress - a walking pile of dark green hoodie and uncombed hair. Her top actually looked several sizes too large for her, although whether this was intentional or not was something only she knew.

Although, whether she cared was another matter entirely.

As her eyes looked between the console, the screen, and her newfound friend, there was a flash of fierce competitiveness and intense happiness. “Alright, we’re doing this, we’re doing it right. Be right back, gonna go steal snacks off the heroes.”

A flared portal of deep crimson opened beside her, and she hopped through. It closed with a snap, leaving the faint smell of charcoal and brimstone behind.

With a chuckle, Nola turned to Xoxi. “That’s the most animated I’ve seen her for a while.” She walked over and sat down beside the girl. “I heard you saw Dr Yamada today. She’s pretty awesome, huh? One of the best the PRT’s got - and not just around here.”

She leaned closer, with a conspiratory whisper. “I heard she’s so good, she can make people untrigger.”

[@Banana]

---

Watching his opponent charge towards him brought back fond memories.

Well, ‘fond’ memories.

He’d done this song and dance many a time. The last 7 or 8 years of his life had been almost constant combat. Sometimes with capes, sometimes with regular gangland crooks. Sometimes he had powers, others he’d had to make do with a gun and a couple of idiots. If he was thankful to Gladius for anything, it was that. Whetstone had the power to sharpen blades to a perfect edge.

But she’d honed him, too. Polished his instincts.

The powers were a nice touch, too.

He watched every single tell, taking in each one with perfect clarity. She was going to strike with her lef-

No.

A feint. Clever. An open-palm strike, low down. With the intent to wind and take him out of the fight. A simple blow like that wouldn’t be nearly enough force to do so, however. She didn’t seem the type to be overconfident with her attacks. Still, maybe she’d miscalculated something. Maybe she was just desperate.

It didn’t really matter.

When she was a foot or two away, he raised his right hand and did the one thing no-one expected him to do.

“I concede,” he declared.

Both hands moved to intercept the strike on his midsection, meeting Automaton’s open palm with two of his own. Something moved underneath his hands, though. His flesh rippled even through the gloves. A wave of sudden force blasted into him, causing his eyes to go wide.

The wave lifted him off the ground, blew both arms straight out to the side and sent him arcing into the bars of the cage with a metallic clatter. Everyone in attendance was trying to figure out what had happened - whether the fight was still on. No-one wanted to face the truth of what him conceding meant for them.

Sickle slid down the bars, coming to a rest in a sitting position on the floor of the arena. His palms burned from the heat generated by whatever device she’d used. Back ached. A rib felt like it could well have been fractured, despite intercepting the blow. He winced.

Arrogance. It’d cost him.

Still, could've been worse.

Resting on the floor, a harsh chuckle rose up from him, turning into a full-blown and genuine laugh. The crowd paled. Almost everyone in the room had bet on him. Some more than most. With a violent surge, the collected mass roared and howled a torrent of abuse - as well as anything else they could get their hands on - at the hooded man. Whetstone and Praetor remained stony-faced. Maxwell crumbled a betting slip in his hand with a look of sheer and utter hatred, and Pipeline shared in the laughter.

He didn’t bet on matches in his own circus, after all. Didn’t want anyone thinking the results were rigged.

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

Anomaly

---

"I WOULDN'T DO TH-she's gone." Xoxi tried stealing a soda from Praetor's fridge once. It was actually successful until someone noticed the broken windows. Eh, whatever. Xoxi got a soda out of it.

"She seems pretty happy to lose to a girl with no arms, that's for sure," Xoxi cockily said as she quit out of the match and returned to a character selection screen. It revealed that Xoxi was playing a bit of Ganondorf. Ah, Ganondorf, the slowest but burliest character in the game. One of the harder ones to play as, too, but it seemed she was alright with it.

Nola talked a bit about Yamada before an interesting question came up. How Yamada could "untrigger" people. "Holy crap, that's crazy. Is untriggering even a thing?" Xoxi asked with a bit of skepticism. That sounded pretty fishy to her.

@Sickle-cell

Registering the words as Sickle went flying, it was a miracle that Automaton had enough presence of mind to stay balanced through the weapon's recoil. Well, that's a new one. Wonder if-- Ow!

Automaton was snapped out of her shock by something clattering into the back of her head. From the looks of it, most people were aiming for Sickle, but their aim seriously sucked. Or maybe they didn't really care about giving her a concussion, because she was involved in this one way or another.

For her part, the cyborg wasn't happy with this either, but not for any betting reason. Rather, she was annoyed at being robbed of a proper testing opportunity, although she noted the pulse's effects with a note of satisfaction. But while there were things to note - she hadn't missed him catching her hand mid-strike - it didn't amount to nearly as much as a proper fight. Today had given her more ideas than her whole last year in Boston, and she really couldn't have cared less if she was in over her head.

Raising one metallic arm to shield her head, she made her way over to the Covenant's leader, offering him a hand up without really taking into account how many people the seemingly friendly gesture might piss off. After all, she had sucker-punched him after the fight ended, intentional or not. As she reached out, she spoke with a hint of amusement.

"You can't sit there forever, you know." She lowered her voice, not planning to be overheard as her tone grew serious. "And I don't really feel like walking away yet."

The Covenant had long since left you at the foot of a large building. A receptionist had guided you to the top floor, where all that awaited you was a cosy, medium-sized penthouse apartment. A tall man with snow-white hair walked over.

“Ah. You must be the cape from earlier. I must thank you for your assistance with matters earlier, and besides which, a little celebration is in order, I believe.” He gestured for you to enter fully and sit down. A roaring fire coated the room in an orange glow, which was basically the only light in the room save for a few lamps dotted around. All the windows were covered with thick blackout curtains.

Several pieces of expensive-looking artwork adorned the walls as well as rows of books stacked on shelves. A chessboard took pride of place on a dark wooden coffee table in the center of a three-sided square of couches. Except this one appeared to be designed to play alone, and some of the figures looked custom-made - resembling several important city figures.

As he walked over to a cabinet in the corner of the room, he called over. “Allow me to introduce myself. I have a hundred different names across this city alone. To the underworld, I am the Spider. To the media, the Egyptian. To the world of business, I am the Broker.” Taking a bottle and several glasses, he walked over.

“And to the Covenant, I am known as Kingmaker.”

Placing the items on the table, he furrowed his brow. “Forgive me, are you old enough to drink? I can make something else, if you’d like.”

@knifeman

---

“No idea,” Nola replied. “I think It’s just a metaphor, but I’m not sure. She is amazing.”

The conversation was cut short by a burst of orange, as a number of people stumbled through the portal. Kairi was holding a number of bags of assorted food and several bottles of juice, with a teenage boy beside her holding quite a few more.

Behind them both was a slightly older girl, who shook her head and comically chuckled at the two. “You are going to get us all shot, you know.”

“Hush you,” Kairi retorted, dumping the mountain of spoils from a hard-won conquest all over a nearby table.

The girl walked over to Xoxi and smirked. “You must be Anomaly. Kairi told me about you, earlier. My name is Marwa Seif - also known as Hourglass - and I’m the leader of the Boston Wards.” Whether she had been given the cape name due to her powers or curves was another matter entirely. She pointed to the boy. “He’s Aedan Lark-”

He cleared his throat. “I’ll do my own introduction, if it’s all the same to you.” A hand popped out from somewhere in between two large packs of crisps and gave a skewed peace sign - the best he could manage while still holding the goods upright. “Aedan Lark. Broadside. Also known as baby Pallas, since I basically do everything he does but a bit worse.”

“-which is why he was transferred to Boston. To become a better tinker.” Marwa looked at the two controllers. “Ah, my sister had a gamecube when she was younger. It’s been ages since I played anything, though - being leader sucks. All you do is paperwork.” There was a mischievous glint in her eye. “Still, we’ll need more of these, huh?”

Picking up the unused second controller, she threw it to Kairi who caught it with deft precision. A flare white energy arced off the pad and back to Hourglass. On the way, the trail of light twisted and solidified into a third game controller, which she tossed at Aedan. The same milky-white energy created a fourth which headed to Gestalt, and a fifth appeared in her own hands once again. She sighed. “Shame I can’t do this with food.”

Nola spoke up. “Sorry, guys, I can’t stay. I’m going out with family tonight.” She placed down the controller, and Marwa waved a hand.

The pad splintered into fragments of white glass-like energy before disappearing completely. “Sorry to hear that,” she said, “but have fun!”

With a smile, the younger girl nodded and left the room.

Kairi sat with a look of raw determination on her face. “So, we doing this or what?”

[@Banana]

---

“It’s quite comfortable, actually,” he retorted. “Most people hate the idea of every crossing my path. Yet I offer you a reprieve, and still you insist. You are a strange one.”

A flicker of something stirred inside him. How cute, it said, let me have her.

No, he thought. I’ve cracked something. Fighting in this state would be stupid.

And exhilarating. Or are you saying you don’t think I can win? From the corner of his eye, he didn’t miss the figure reclining on the bars.

He growled. I know I can win, but risking a permanent injury is pointless. I have too much riding on this gambit to be put out of comission by another lucky punch.

A cough rose up from his gut. The familiar taste of metal in his mouth was almost comforting. That probably said far more about his mental health than his little imaginary friend. A trickle of blood ran from his lips and dripped from the bottom of his mask, splashing against the red jacket and blending right in. Aww,, the voice cooed,she made you bleed.

At the sight, the haze around his thoughts grew a bit thicker. More intrusive. Quiet. I’m busy.. Looking up at the offered hand, he finally replied. “I think Pipeline would have a problem with us taking up his arena for an unsanctioned fight - given that you've already won. That made me a rather tidy sum of money, by-the-by, and cost others far more.”

He took the hand, and pulled himself up. As he did, something slipped and a grin spread from ear to ear under the mask. With his face only an inch or so from Automaton’s ear, he spoke with a tone devoid of all emotion, save for an almost giddy and sadistic glee. “But if you really insist on dying…”

“Meet me outside in five minutes.”

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

Anomaly

---

Juice? Really? What were the Wards? Kids?

Don't answer that. Gah?! I thought you were gone?! Pheh! You wish! Xoxi gets serious when it comes down to Smash Bros. Plus, why not expend me the good way by wreckin' house? ... I guess you can be tolerated for now.

Xoxi responded with a warm "Hello!" at the appearance of not just the Ward leader, but the other Ward that she had yet to meet. Damn, was this not a convenient way to meet everyone? The people conversed amongst themselves for a minute before something caught Xoxi's eye.

Mawra actually duped the controllers like it was nothing. "W-wha...?" It left Xoxi speechless for a good second as Nola left. Taking the initiative, one of Xoxi's psychic hands flew off the controller and into the air beside Xoxi as it proceeded to change shapes.


After all of that was said and done, Xoxi's dumbfounded expression left and was replaced with a look of her own determination. "Depends. Are you ready to lose to an amputee?"

Automaton couldn't help but tense up as Sickle approached her, but to her credit she managed not to flinch as he made his offer. There was something unnerving about his behaviour, about the note of glee in his voice and the lack of anything else. She didn't say anything in response, but then she didn't think she needed to.

Five minutes. Not enough time to write a will. And not an offer she had any reason to take, no matter her bravado.

But whatever impulse had made her chase that opportunity, it wasn't done. Somehow, despite knowing what a lucky break she'd had with this fight, Robin knew she couldn't resist the offer. Whether that was a sign of weakness or strength, she wasn't quite sure - but the situation had fallen into her lap. In the absence of any further opportunities... she picked up her jacket, slinging it over one shoulder. Temptation. Impulse. Both more appealing to her than worrying about consequences.

When you really got down to it, she was just going with the flow.

Deciding not to hold things up any longer, she exited the cage, trying to ignore the furious crowd members as she made her way out. There were a couple of curious glances - maybe people expected her to hang around and bask in her so-called victory, but she knew she hadn't earned a bit of it. Not yet. Anyone that approached her would get no response, the Tinker being almost completely lost in thought. The rational parts of her raging against the utter stupidity of this deal.

But it was a lost cause. After a few minutes' deliberation, she came to a decision, walking out of the Circus in a move that she knew could be signing her own death warrant - though the reality of that didn't quite hit home. Whether out of bravery or stupidity, the action had been taken. It took a certain kind of person to willingly put their head on the chopping block, but she found herself unafraid.

One more step. Power. Inspiration. If a trial by fire was what it took for strength, then Automaton would be the first to jump into the flames. Whatever fear she felt was nothing of importance, not when compared to the potential gain. So she stood outside the Circus, bravely determined as she waited for Sickle's arrival.

If he was to be her executioner, she'd go out with her head held high.

The girl’s eyes lit up with a flash of fire. “Competitive, are we? Good. My brother was such a pushover at these things.” A shift in mood came over the room, turning the atmosphere from friendly banter to something more of a rivalry. Marwa and Aedan both looked at one another and almost reluctantly picked up a controller and chose a character.

Trying to soften the edge, the Ward leader asked Kairi a question. “Hey, where is Nola off to?”

Kairi, barely taking her eyes off the screen, shrugged. “No idea. She didn’t tell me anything - I had no idea she even had plans.”

“Fair enough,” the older girl said. “You two are usually inseparable, thought she might have mentioned something.”

@Gardevoiran

---

On the way out of the arena, Sickle crumpled up his betting form and tossed it up to Vegas. “Do me a favour, cash that in.”

“Why? Where are you off to?” the girl asked, with a suspicious gaze.

He merely laughed. “I’ve got a date. Won’t be long.”

Vegas watched as he wandered off down the path and out of site. She had no idea what the two in the arena had said, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to.

Underneath the red jacket, the pain was faint but definitely there. Something wasn’t quite right. Usually Whetstone provided a healer for the event, but for whatever reason she wasn’t available this time. The only other alternative was Planck, and he always felt uneasy around the young girl. In fact, it spread out across pretty much every parahuman girl under the age of 16. He’d faced down some pretty terrifying things in his time, but the worst by far was Septima.

She’d used her power on him once.

And if she ever did again, it would be too soon.

As he entered the area outside the Circus, he caught sight of Automaton. Taking out a switchblade, he began rhythmically clicking it in and out, in and out - the rasp of metal ever so faint.

Coming to a stop about 5 metres away, he stared a hole straight through her. Why? he thought. What does she have to gain from this??

Who cares? came the reply. She obviously wants to see you go all-out. And we both know you’ve been dying to since that hero this morning.

He closed his eyes. Not true. I pitied her. Although that should hardly be a surprise.

Rasping, harsh chuckles. Don’t bullshit me. You wanted to tear her apart, precisely because she reminds you of yourself. No-one hates you more than you. Another chuckle. I’m proof of that.

You aren’t real.

Fuck you too, buddy.

Sickle tightened the closure of his eyes, and prayed he wouldn’t regret this. Fine. Do it.

Opening his eyes, he saw the world in an entirely different light. Before him wasn’t a girl. She wasn’t a parahuman, or a cyborg, or a tinker or whatever she was. She was simply standing in his way.

Prey.

He smirked. “So. You wanted me? You’ve got me. But the question is,” he said, moving backwards with a bow and flashing the switchblade behind him. “Can you handle me?”

“A ‘cyborg’. That’s cute. Do you still bleed? I wanna see,” he asked, not even considering how bad the fight might go if that answer was no. He didn’t even slow for a response. “If you’re all metal, does that include your insides? Do your intestines glint when the light hits them? Surely you can survive if we take them out. Oh! I have an idea.”

“I came out here to kill you, but you’re in luck. I’ve thought of something far more entertaining. I’m going to take you apart, piece by piece, and see if you can put yourself back together! Or, maybe I’ll just rip out those metal guts of yours and use them to tie you to that lamppost over there. Then we can see, together, just how long it takes you to beg.” He laughed, cruelly and sadistically. “But not matter what, you don’t need to worry.”

“I’m not going to kill you.”

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

Anomaly

---

"She said something about eating with her family," Xoxi said as if she actually listened to that despite her focus being not there for that conversation at all. Odd, but it happened anyway. She only got that out of the recent conversation. "We could go spy on her, if we wanted to be jerks."

Xoxi went to the settings of the Menu and switched the rules from a timed game to a stock match. "We don't do timed matches here. We do stock or we don't play at all," the amputee calmly said as she snuck her hand over to beside Kairi while the other selected her own character. Good ol' Ganondorf.

---

Well, I'm not going to die. That should be reassuring, right?

It was not reassuring.

Robin was realising, far too late, that she may have bitten off more than she could chew. She was probably faster than him - running was a possibility, especially if she cloaked up. But she wouldn't. Because despite the chill that ran down her spine, the sudden certainty that the man in front of her could and would follow through on his threats, the bile that rose in her throat at the thought of seeing her own metallic muscles glinting in the moonlight...

And yet she could push all that aside.

Wasn't that what she wanted? To be remade? To replace everything that was inferior, that was inefficient? She could do it, she thought, if she really tried. A step she'd never had the courage to take on her own. There had been times she'd stepped close to that edge, and returned, gripping tightly to her humanity-- but maybe what she really needed was a push. To tear away the parts that made her human.

He wouldn't let her escape, she knew that. The things he described, they'd reduce her to something less than human. And after that...

After that, she could become so much more.

"How thoughtful of you - and I'm shiny all over, for the record. As for the rest, well..." Robin chuckled. It was odd, how quickly she relaxed upon accepting her fate. Continuing to speak as she launched herself forward, she grinned. "I'd rather not make it too easy for you."

There were a lot of tactics her opponent would expect. She'd certainly lost the element of surprise with her new toy, so that was out. Punches and kicks - well, he could predict them well enough, catching her attack in the arena had shown that. The one thing he wouldn't expect her to do, though, was simple. As her left fist swung towards the side of his face, a blade shot forward from her arm. Aiming not for his mask, but just behind it. If the attack landed, it would almost certainly take out his eye.

Of course, there was a reason he wouldn't expect such an attack. Because if it landed, the trade-off was unbelievably dangerous. It would take her a second to retract the blade and move away, and even in that short time...

Well, half-blinded or not, there was a reason you didn't make Sickle-Cell bleed.

---

The VTOL arrived on victory road, almost precisely on time. The "circus", as it was known, lay before them, hundreds of locals still trying to get in. There were still thousands loitering about the outside, some of which looked desperate, most of which looked suspicious. Shady vendors took advantage of the crowd, the attention, the people who had come here in an attempt to achieve some distance in their lives. Upon seeing the VTOL, many of them cast spiteful glances, rearranging their wares, or outright hiding, turning away. The area was too saturated for the PRT to make a direct attempt at restoring their order to the area, but truth be told, Wonderland did an ok job of it themselves. They were frightening when they needed to be, a force of chaos, feared for their unpredictability, but they were surprisingly proficient at keeping order in their territory, so an unspoken truce had held between them and the PRT, at least in so long as they maintained the status quo.

Emerging from the VTOL, the two armored heroes headed for the Circus. Ifrit knew how important first impressions could be, especially in a situation like this. So he made an impression.

Today, his armor was multiple shades between violent Red and deep sunset orange, but it was overshadowed by the smoke which emanated from every chink in his armor, bright blue light splayed from the cracks, and his eyes glowed bright white. The result, was that of a demon. A meteor which had crashed down to earth, still steaming, and ready to unleash its unknowable power. As he walked out with night he was sure to take a confident, but alien stance. The armor helped his movements be perfectly smooth, efficient, powerful, like a cat. Every movement measured, the threat was implicit.

Knight too was considerably armored and walking with a purpose, the combo worked well, Knight didn't need any extra flashy effects, the fact that she could look so confident, walking without concern beside this unknown creature only increased the mystery. They made their way through the crowd, into the corridors of the building, and to the doors into the main area, where the betting booth was.

Before even coming this far, Knight would have noted how her power vanished. It caused her to feel extremely uncomfortable, for then any of the surrounding thugs had a reasonable chance of overpowering her. Without it, she was a but a young girl in an expensive armor. But, alright. Better learn this power exists NOW rather than… otherwise.

Ifrit, on the other hand, felt the absence of his power as a sort of.... relief. Where ordinarily he would have to suppress the onslaught of ideas coming to his mind, the solutions to the obstacles he encountered, it actually cleared his mind. Made it a bit easier to focus. It wasn't dramatic, it was like when an air conditioner that had been making noise in the background switched off, and you had forgotten it was running. Suddenly, everything just seemed a little quieter in his mind. He wasn't sure what the affect was but... he could guess.

He had actually researched the Circus to a degree before he had even come to Boston. This power dampener, whatever it was, had been precisely the subject of his interest. It wasn't known if it was an effect bestowed by a parahuman, or some sort of specialized tinker device, but he had tried to replicate it. Unfortunately, he had of course failed, but he still had a passing interest in how such an effect could be achieved, as well as how it would interact with different powers. One could only wonder how it might interact with a case-53....

Knight gazed in. A metal cage waiting in the middle, and the place where the fights would take place. How raw. The place was absolutely packed, the chance of getting seating was extremely low, if there weren’t special seats for the fighters. But, Knight was determined to watch. She saw Whetstone, on her throne of swords. Pipeline was there. Sickle-Cell was there. Knight frowned. No, not now. She turned to check the battles and-

Knight(Pro.) & Ifrit(Pro.) vs Black Kaze(Ind.) & Talion(Ind.)

Knight froze in place. It… it took a few seconds. Oh, okay. This was shaping up to be a terrible day to stand out among terrible days.

With the assumption that Ifrit was still close, she’d grab him and gesture for him to follow her to somewhere where there was less people, a corridor a bit further away, before spinning and whispering.

‘Okay. We’re fighting together, against Talion and Black Kaze. I don’t know Talion, but Black Kaze. Teleports a straight line, in which time innumerable hers occupy the space in-between, giving her an innumerable number of angles to slice at us with her sword.’ Just one of the deadliest parahumans ever to walk the planet. No biggie.

Ifrit listened carefully, at first he was puzzled at both of the names, although Black Kaze definitely sounded familiar.... As Knight was speaking he pulled up the PRT database on his HUD. Ohh..... well Talion didn't come up, but Black Kaze definitely did, and he definitely recognized the name. He spoke over his communicator, as much to remind her that they should be able to speak without anybody knowing regardless of where they were, s to preserve secrecy. "Ahh... they have been looking for her you know? There is a kill order and for good reason.... she has an extraordinary body count."

Knight didn't need a reminder. She nodded, grimly. ‘She’s too fast for me to box in. I’ll attempt to freeze her sword or other weapons if she’s close enough, but I think she can hurt us anyways. I could potentially cut part of the battlefield and one enemy away from consideration with a wide and thin wall, but they’ll need to be in one of the hexagonal corners, and I’ll be using too much of my potential just to wall off to be of much use against the other enemy. I could just go armor-mode, but I don’t think I can hit Black Kaze with that. She’ll teleport out of the way. No idea who Talion is. If he has projectiles, I can attempt blocking them with my walls, but Black Kaze can just teleport around them. ... What do you think?’

He shook his head, "You are thinking too directly in fighting her, first lets think about their strengths and weaknesses. Part of the reason Black Kaze has been at large for so long, and racked up so many kills is because she is really, really difficult to contain. She is extremely mobile, and able to get out of bad situations, then return at opportune moments to take advantage of any openings. She is as though somebody went out of their way to make a physical manifestation of the queen in chess. Extremely hard hitting, extremely mobile, the perfect piece to either put your enemy in a bad position via deterrence, or to take advantage of their weakness. We have to fight her in the same way you fight a queen in chess."

He eyed the crowd, looking for Black Kaze and her companion cape, hoping that maybe if he caught sight of them he could get a hint as to Talion's identity, and more importantly, their capabilities. "Like I said, her best advantage is she can always reposition herself to the best possible location, and be there to strike immediately. Imagine a chess board without any limits, the queen could go anywhere in her sight, instantly. That is Black Kaze. Fortunately for us, the very nature of this fight limits that. We are in a cage, she can't leave the cage, she can't instantly escape from anywhere to anywhere, this is almost a worst-case scenario for her power. We need to leverage that disadvantage, figure out how to further limit her mobility, force her into a poor situation, and most importantly, avoid exposing our weaknesses."

He finally noticed Black Kaze, after what was an embarrassingly long time. She was beside Pipeline on his throne, along with another cape he didn't immediately recognize. He started a search for that cape in his database, perhaps it was Talion? He then gestured toward Black Kaze so Knight would be aware of her too. "Another major limitation of hers is that she is going to be visibility limited. I am not sure if she can teleport somewhere she can't see, but regardless we can vastly limit her effectiveness in teleporting if we can limit her visibility. Fortunately I have the tools for that. Finally, another way she is similar to the Queen in chess, is that while she is undeniably deadly, she is just as exposed as every other piece on the board. Even if she wears body armor, she doesn't have any known ability to make her especially durable. We only need one good hit on her and she is down, we just have to not die in the process. Fortunately, both of us have power assisted durability, you have your costume, but more importantly, your power. Put simply, even if it means we castle up, lock ourselves away in a shell, we stay active at all costs. We use our durability to outlast her, get her to expose herself. The problem is.... I have no idea who Talion is. Not in the database, I have never heard of her."

Knight kept silent, and made a note to herself. Ifrit says a lot, and she was too polite or insecure to interrupt. She wasn't entirely sure what he meant with that she thought too directly about it. But, yeah. She knew of Black Kaze. She had coincidentally been one of the capes Knight had looked up in order to disguise that she had been looking for Conflux's file, but that only because Knight had already known of her. The "queen in chess" analogy was apt. Yeah, the amount of space would be limited. So... in the end...

‘So, I should cover myself in my power, make myself invulnerable?’ Knight simply asked. ‘I can't hit a mobile Black Kaze like that, I'll have limited senses and won't be able to protect you, but perhaps I'll be safe. I will be able to go on the offensive, hunt them.’ She told, looking at him. Should she mention the toll being in armor-mode took on her head? ... Probably, but if there was anything she didn't want to mention in a hive of enemies, it was her own weaknesses. Who knows what could be listening in.

Ifrit thought on that for a moment. It was a really difficult situation to be sure. Black Kaze could and would take advantage of any vulnerabilities they left open, and if they were out of the fight it wouldn't matter what they did. But by the same token, completely surrendering the initiative might just leave them on the defensive, it would be a slow loss but getting the edge on Black Kaze would be impossible if they just tutled up. Still, in reality it wasn't a dichotomy between the two. There were solutions that could avoid the worst of both worlds.

"No, not completely." Ifrit said, over their comms unit so nobody could hear him. "I have a plan, I will fill you in while we wait, but you shouldn't need to turtle up completely. We need to leave open the possibility of you delivering an attack while preventing you from being taken out in the process. I think I have..." He faded off as he watched Praetor stride in, to the shock of apparently everyone. "....seriously?" What the Hell was a Protectorate team leader, doing here? I mean, Ifrit realized he didn't have a lot of room to speak, but he was here on orders. Praetor's orders. What was up with this? His suspicions of the man grew ten-fold, as the only reason a Protectorate leader would do something like this, was if he had no reason to fear the consequences, or there was some other consequence he was much more afraid of. Could he be being manipulated? What did he have to gain or lose from being here or not being here? Needless to say, Ifrit was baffled.

Since they were apparently in the stadium area, Knight’s now going to catch up with a few reactions.

While she kept her helmet still, she gazed through her visor at numerous of the individuals present. Pipeline was to be expected, he still ruled this part of the underworld. Whetstone as well, Knight’s eyes lingered on her for longer, not entirely sure how to place her among the villains of Boston. Then… Sickle-Cell. Knight frowned, turning her head a little to glare upon him. She had lingering anger from the earlier confrontation towards him, blaming him somewhat for having been chewed out. But… she sighed. This was no time to focus on him. She’d look towards the stage, and just keep calm.

Maxwell arrived. Huh, Knight didn’t think he would. He wasn’t a cape, wasn’t this really dangerous for him? … Then again, knowing the power of the Consortium, perhaps it wasn’t. Knight’s gaze was still lingering on him, listening to what Ifrit was saying when his last word surprised her. She blinked, then checked him and followed his gaze towards… Praetor. … … …

Knight momentarily short-circuited. She didn’t have words to speak or feelings to put into words at this. Just blankness. Okay. So Praetor was here. To… see the powers of the Circus in action? To evaluate her and Ifrit’s performance? He had nowhere better to be?

‘I-I’m… sure he h-has his reasons?’ Knight said, her stuttering voice blanketed in uncertainty. But why hadn’t he told them he was coming? Um. Knight was feeling a lot more doubtful, now. So Praetor had personally come to see her get floored by Black Kaze. Wonderful.

At this point, Ifrit wasn't even thinking about Praetor's motivations, he was way past that and now on full alert. If his experience as a parahuman had taught him anything, it was that when things don't add up, something is very wrong and you will probably die if you don't figure it out fast. As Knight reeled, he was already activating his large drone, Griffin, and directing it to a surveillance position high above the arena. It was using all manner of sensors to meticulously scan the area for all anomaly’s, check for traps, anything.

He doubted that Knight was a problem but in the world of Parahumans, you could never be sure of anything. He literally kept one eye on her (a camera) and the other thoroughly searched their surroundings, not just the obvious points of focus that would be meant to attract attention, but EVERYTHING. He looked for any sign of danger, but was very very careful to not let anything show in his posture, his mannerisms, nothing. He knew he was probably overreacting, he had talked with others about this before but... the stakes were too high. As far as he was concerned this was a combat situation, and he wasn't trusting anything.

‘Th-this changes nothing, as far as we’re concerned. We must still focus on our battle.’ Knight eventually said, her mind coming to a compromise to continue functioning.

Ifrit nodded, and to not break patterns he responded "Of course, the mission always comes first. We simply adapt to the situation." He couldn't be sure about Knight either way. He would trust her in as far as he had to, for now.

The first battle was Sickle-Cell versus Automaton. The most famous criminal in Boston against… an unknown. Knight frowned, and focused. She was interested in how Sickle-Cell would fight in a scenario where nobody was obviously bleeding. So, the match started…

… And Sickle-Cell gave up the moment he could speak, before being launched into the bars of the cage as his opponent hadn’t been able to stop her- notably powerful -attack. … He had given up, and the outrage was more or less obvious in quite a few of the audience. Knight… was actually amused. A soft giggle escaped her mouth, staring at where Sickle-Cell was sitting and his opponent advanced on him, a conversation seemingly taking place.

‘He sure knows how to make himself hated by the entirety of Boston…’ She commented. Quite a few were unlikely to want to be his allies after this. He was unlikely to be accepted into the Circus as a contestant anytime soon again, either. No doubt he had agents that had betted on him losing or something, so. It was debatable if he’d be allowed to leave alive. Then again, Pipeline was laughing, so maybe the owner of the place was amused enough to let it slide this time. Oh, well.

Well… That meant their battle was coming up faster. Three battles to go, one of which included Vector. … She continued speaking strategy with Ifrit, as they watched.

Automaton and Sickle-Cell both left. It made Knight a little worried, what were they doing? Sickle-Cell wasn’t about to bomb the place, right? He HAD made himself an enemy of all the gangs in Boston, and wouldn’t this be a perfect opportunity to get rid of them all at the same time? Drop in a Gubbins bomb somewhere?… … … That made more sense than she wanted it to, in her mind. Yet, Knight stood still, silent. She defaulted to hoping that was not the case, as she watched the stage for the next battle.

There was… more than one clash of motivations in her mind.

Holly felt extremely out of place in front of this very fancy-looking man in his very fancy apartment. She wished she had gotten a chance to change into something nicer, rather than a shirt with a cat holding up its middle fingers on it and a denim jacket she literally found abandoned on the side of a street.

As the man introduced himself, Holly wondered how someone could have so many different aliases. Do you just introduce yourself differently to everyone you meet? Or maybe different people start calling you different things and it just happens naturally?

“Uh, nice to meet you. I’m Holly. I don’t have a codename or anything yet.”

She awkwardly scratched the back of her head, looking at her feet.

When the alcohol came out, she gained a bit of hope. Liquid Courage, right?

“Y-yeah, I’m old enough. This is great, thanks.”

“Perfect,” he said with a chuckle. “I always find a good brandy to be the best way to celebrate.” As he poured the drink and sat it in front of his guest, his thoughts were interrupted by the hum of the elevator heading up to his floor. Which was strange.

Because he wasn’t expecting more guests.

“You haven’t brought anyone with you, by any chance?” he asked, while walking over to his desk. Inside the top drawer was a large caliber handgun, and a pair of throwing knives. With an almost practised routine, he picked up and loaded the gun, hiding it and the knives underneath his shirt. One could never be too careful.

With a chime, the elevator arrived and the doors parted open. Out walked a number of people. A man, wearing a highly-elaborate red and black formal jacket which trailed down to his ankles - like something out of a period drama. His mask was one of white porcelain, eerily similar to Sickle-Cell’s, but the only decoration besides the two eye-holes was a large, black cracked mass over the left eye. It was hard to tell if the mask had been damaged or designed like that.

Beside him was what looked like a girl in a form-fitting black outfit. It was hooded, and she too sported a white mask. This one had only large, bug-like glass eyes as distinguishing features, though.

And between the two stood the only person he recognised. She was covered with a tight, black leather biker suit with a modified helmet to match. It left her mouth - and only her mouth - visible, with the flash of her purple lipstick the only colour she had.

He blinked several times. He wasn’t expecting a visit. “Conflux. How lovely of you to drop by, but I’m afraid I’m already engaged.” Keeping his hand in reach of the gun at all times, he circled her warily. “If you’d like to make an appointment, i may be free sometime next week.”

“I did make one, my darling,” she purred. “Just ask your receptionist.”

“What did you do to her?” he asked, eyes narrowing.

She smirked. “Nothing yet.” Her eyes fell on Holly and lit up under the helmet. “Awww! Is this your new guard dog? She’s adorable!” Leaning closer, she spoke. “Bark for me.” Each word crashed over the girl like a tidal wave of pressure. Every syllable a mix of discordant and harmonious tones. A sudden and overwhelming urge to obey her rose up and-

“Kill yourself,” Kingmaker ordered Holly.

These words were different. There was no obvious sound to them, but they seemed so compelling. It was the obvious thing to do. Except it wasn’t. No human in their right mind would ever-

Crack.

Something inside the young girl’s head gave way, causing a burst of crippling pain to wash over her. A concentrated migrane of unholy proportions. Conflux placed her hands on her hips, dramatically. “You are no fun!” she shouted. “And you hurt her. I wasn’t going to do anything.”

“Of course not,” Kingmaker replied. “This time, maybe. What do you want?”

“I’m here to deliver a message,” she said with a smile. “As of right now, this city belongs to me. Every faction in this city is going to quite happily roll over and give me the power I want, and if they don’t, things are going to get rather messy.”

Within a second, his gun was in-hand. Two shots rang out.

The man at her side wasted no time. He was in front of her the second Kingmaker made a move. The bullets hit, blew holes in his skin, and instantly began to reform. Conflux gave a nod to her other henchman, who moved forward and touched Holly’s bare skin with her own. Looking towards the window, she used her telekinesis to tear open the blinds, causing a shaft of setting sunlight to illuminate the room.

And Kingmaker began to scream.

His exposed flesh glistened in the light, before starting to burn and melt. The pain brought him to his knees in a desperate attempt to find cover. All the while, Conflux merely smiled. “It’s almost pathetic how much power you think you wield, but without your tools, you are worthless.”

“Be careful when you play with fire, my boy,” she called over her shoulder as she left. “You might just get burned.”

@knifeman

---

A few rounds of smash bros later - none of which anyone bar Xoxi had managed to win - a sound at the door startled the collective group. It opened with a hiss to reveal Vector. She quite clearly hadn’t left to attend the Circus, but given her speed at covering the city, that wasn’t a surprise.

More interesting, though, was that she’d brought pizza.

“Which one of you damned idiots decided to order pizza to the Zenith?” she asked, incredulously. “Do you have any idea what Praetor would do if he found out?”

Aedan’s eyes lit up. “We have pizza?”

The Ward leader looked more curious than worried. “How on Earth did the pizza company deliver this high up?”

With a wicked glint in her eye, Kairi spoke. “They didn’t. They called Vector, and she delivered it. She’s basically the Protectorate’s pizza girl,” she said with a whisper.

Vector very nearly threw the pizza at her. “I am not, you little shit!”

“So this is the first time you’ve done this?” Kairi asked, knowing full well the answer.

Without her helmet, the faint tinge of pink on her cheeks was clearly visible. Seeing the hero with the most confirmed kill-order takedowns in the Boston Protectorate blush was quite possibly one of the most terrifying things the Wards would ever see. “Fine. No. But since I only did this to save word of your stupidity getting back to Praetor, I’d be nicer if I were you.”

“Or I’ll just eat all these myself.”

[@Banana]

---

He knew most of what she could do. The famous quote from Sun Tzu sprang to mind. Problem was, while he almost always knew his enemy…

He was an enigma, even to himself.

It takes either an enormous idiot or an impulsive fool to begin a fight at a disadvantage. However, he’d managed to do so with two. Some sort of internal injury, and arguably even worse, not a drop of blood outside his body.

The blood armour he always wore underneath his costume had to be abandoned before entering the Circus. He needed his power to keep it moving and with the restriction field in place it would've made him a glorified statue. The more blood he had, the better. He needed a way to get quite a bit out as quickly as possible.

His opponent charged him. A risky gambit, but from her attitude, he’d expected little else. However, clearly knowing she was a cyborg wasn’t all there was to it. Her dossier file had detailed a number of augments, but missed that one earlier. Had it been a new one? Was the information wrong?

One thing it had mentioned was hidden blades inside the arms. If that was what she planned to do here - if - it might just work to his advantage. Of course, that meant actually taking yet another hit, but he had resigned himself to getting the shit kicked out him in basically every early fight almost a year ago. There wasn’t really any way around it.

As her fist closed in on his head, instead of dodging the attack, he raised his arm to block. A blade appeared. The air immediately around them was filled with the wet, squishy sound of ripping flesh. Impaling his arm practically clean through, Sickle roared in pain.

Which turned to an almost deranged laugh.

His power kicked in. He could feel the blood in the air. On his arm. On the blade. And with a little bit of focus, he changed it. Made the droplets in the air turn to little spines, no bigger than a cocktail stick. A little more alterations made them razor-sharp, and hard as steel. He did the same to the blood at the edges of his wound, before angling the whole lot away from himself.

And, turning the cut into his arm into a makeshift bomb, sent them screeching out in almost every direction.

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

There were times when Robin suspected that she was a goddamned idiot, and this was one of those times. As Sickle raised his arm to block, she didn't have time to stop her strike, eyes widening as she withdrew the blade and saw the blood moving around the wound. Really should've picked out that coffin.

Knowing it would be impossible to stop the attack, she fell back onto the ground, raising armoured legs and bringing her left hand up to cover her face as the needles flew towards her. The armour thankfully seemed to keep the attacks from doing major damage, though she didn't know how many more barrages it would stand. Still, in her hurried defence she couldn't cover everything, and she felt an explosion of burning pain across the right side of her face, accompanied sudden silence and a wave of dizziness that washed over Robin as most of her ear was torn away.

If she wasn't in the middle of a fight, she'd have been sick all over the sidewalk. As it was, she was seriously considering it. Hard to comprehend that sort of injury, she figured, metallic muscle exposed and glinting in the moonlight. Had she screamed? She thought so. Her breaths came shuddering, unsteady as shock threatened to sink in. But it was an instinctive reaction to the pain, nothing more, and her earlier determination hadn't faded.

Would that even regenerate? No time to think about it - whatever happened, having blood pour from the side of her head wasn't exactly the best-case scenario here. What little healing ability she had would probably keep her from bleeding out, but that wasn't much of a blessing. She'd been in over her head in the first place, and the more this went on the more hopelessly outmatched she'd be.

The fight was a lost cause, really, and maybe that was why she kept fighting. Because... well, it was a goal. And turning away meant what? Another day fixing cars in her garage, waiting for some gang leader to call her in? One more expendable meat shield, a cog in someone else's machine. She didn't know what she was chasing with this, but it was something. Substance. Desperately trying to prove she wasn't just one more nobody.

She wondered what the hopelessness of it all said about her. A harsh laugh escaped almost unwillingly, whether at that realisation or out of frustrated defiance she wasn't quite sure. "Guess that's the bleeding question answered, huh?" Her right hand made contact with the floor.

ᴄʟᴏᴀᴋɪɴɢ: ᴀᴄᴛɪᴠᴇ

And she fired the pulse directly into the ground with a slightly muffled boom, the recoil sending her flying towards her opponent at high speed. The movement itself was uncontrolled, but along with the camouflage it was at least unpredictable enough that she might get a good hit in. Finding herself going feet-first, she aimed to sink an armoured knee into her opponent's ribs; knocking the wind out of him and keeping him down seemed like the best chance she had of getting anywhere.

@Lasrever@Sickle-Cell

---

Gamble had watched the initial match with interest, being highly disappointed that nothing had really happened. The lady definitely seemed to pack sooner interesting augmentations, but he didn't understand Sickle. Throwing a fight that people bet on... Well, he was definitely locking up that reputation of being the most hated man in Boston.

But there was practically a riot brewing, though he was fairly certain it wouldn't actually turn into one.

Turning from the arena Gamble decided to take a stroll. He didn't figure his match would start anytime soon, being a late additions such as he was.

It was then that he heard a scream, as he was near the edge of the building. What sounded like a fight was going in, by the noises he could hear before the screen.

Passing through a set of double doors, his eyes fell on the fighters from moments ago. But this time they seemed to really be going at it, and the Tinker did not seem to be doing well.

Stepping outside the nullification some, Gamble could feel his power coming back. Looking to the side he saw a trash bin, which he promptly took the lid from.

Probability of hitting Sickle in the gut, Ricochet to be caught as I run forward at this distance? Unlikely. 1 in 34000. Gamble threw the lid like a frisbee, running forward. As he crossed the distance, he saw it make contact and fling upwards. Raising a hand, he felt it land in his grasp as he stopped a short distance away.

"It's not nice to make such a ruckus, let alone tear someone to shreds," he called over jovially. "How about y'all just go get patched up, and save the killing each other for a regular day?"

Anomaly

---

Xoxi's winning streak was interrupted by one thing. Pizza. More specifically, an annoyed Vector brought the pizza that Kairi called for. Why exactly would Kairi call a pizza to the PRT building, Xoxi had no idea. Regardless, Xoxi was fine with the pizza, however she was NOT fine with Vector being angry at Kairi and, as a result, her.

A psychic hand formed behind Vector as Xoxi started talking. "C'mon Vec, chill out and play some Smash with us." While she said this, her hand went for a soft pat on Vector's back, trying to remove the rage in her. Of course, it'd make Xoxi a bit salty, but she could expend that in beating Vector, Kairi, and the other Wards into the dirt.

[+1 RAGE, if successful]

Vector stared humorously as the ghostly hand tapped her back like an old friend. Glancing at Xoxi, she raised an eyebrow. “Are… are you trying to use your power on me?”

The rage which swelled within the young girl as a result of this action was almost certainly far less than she anticipated. It was a mix of more exasperation than true anger, mostly from her undesired babysitting role in keeping the Wards out of trouble with the rest of the Protectorate. With Praetor in charge, that wasn’t always easy.

Her face lit up with a smile of thinly-veiled annoyance. “Oh, and don’t call me ‘Vec’.”

Pressing a button on her helmet, a piece of her visor clicked into place by her eye while she did a quick check on time via her HUD. “I have a few minutes,” she said with an almost wicked grin.

“Time enough to kick all your asses.”

@Gardevoiran

---

The faint feeling of blood spraying from a wound - a sort of vibrating tug at his senses - satisfied him greatly. Not nearly as much as hearing the girl howl, however. It made the pain burning through his arm worthwhile, as he made a conscious effort to restrict the blood flowing from the wound.

Blood and metal shone faintly in the moonlight. The entire picture was one of almost sublime beauty. Still, he wasn’t nearly done. Surprisingly enough, neither was his opponent. She was a strange one. No matter how much effort he put into the fear tactics that worked so well on almost every cape in Boston just at the mention of his name, she continued unabated even in the face of certain death.

He could respect that.

Trying to get the drop on him, she activated some kind of cloaking device and disappeared from view. For the briefest of moments, Sickle actually believed she was running away - finally showing an ounce of self-preservation. Focusing on the blood pouring from her ear, it moved lower to the ground.

Before rocketing in his direction.

The cloak was almost useless. From her injury, he could track her every movement. Well, almost every movement. Without knowing the finer details of the positioning of her arms and legs, he relied on best-guessing to establish her next move. And this time, he’d guessed wrong. From the hesitation brought about by expecting her to run, his reactions were slowed.

With a flick of his wrist, he moved the blood pouring from her ear across her face, turning the liquid into a congealed and sticky lattice. Now that it had a larger surface area, he pushed back against her momentum - trying to stop her in mid-air and leave her completely open to a counterattack. He’d started a little too late, however, and although her speed had dropped by quite a margin, it was nowhere near enough to stop her.

A knee cracked into his upper chest, and something inside audibly snapped. Probably the injury from earlier being pushed over the edge. The impact knocked him back a few feet, and down to his knees. Moving his mask, a coughing fit brought up a mouthful of blood which dripped through his teeth and onto the ground.

This is why, a voice said, I don’t like picking fights when already injured.

Shut up, the other hissed. We didn’t pick this fight, but I’ll sure as hell fucking end it.

A lid of a trashcan clattered onto the ground nearby, arcing back to what was presumably the person who threw it. Given the angle of the ricochet, that person was also presumably a parahuman. Sickle took the chance, taking a deep breath, and calmed slightly. No. Not unless I have to, he thought.

The man put forward a proposition - which given the state of affairs, Sickle was more than happy to hear out. “Gladly,” he called out from his kneeling position. “Although since the Iron Maiden over there seems to have a sodden death wish, she might object to that.”

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

Anomaly

---

Xoxi sighed as the exasperation was taken in, not aimed at Vector, mind. It was aimed at the Wards. Xoxi suddenly felt really tired of just constantly winning, and she was longing for a true challenge. Kairi was fine, but she didn't provide the real challenge Xoxi was looking for. Ayden and Mawra were hardly a challenge at all, merely serving as a morsel for the meager main course of Kairi. It was more or less just tiring dealing with the constant stream of victories.

Vector was full of fire, though. A passionate fire ready to prove herself as a challenge to Xoxi. After a chuckle, Xoxi spoke aloud to nobody in particular. "Kick my ass? Hah, good luck." Xoxi's tone shifted as her psychic hands flew back to her controller, ready to lay a smack down on Vector.

@Sickle-cell