Sheila sighed as she arrived home, pulling off her blindfolds and letting the hood fall as she revealed herself only first after she had completely entered the building. Obviously, she found Viola at the computer, dressed in a purple hoodie. Her little sister spun around and looked with somewhat worried eyes at her.

‘Oh. You’re back. How did it go?’ Viola asked, looking at her.

‘… I was unsuccessful in making the Rockers leave town. Damn it. Why do they think they can match the Community? They’re flies compared to the Community,’ Sheila said with a frown, annoyed by their decision. Despite herself, she had grown just the slightest fond of the Rockers, if only in comparison to other villains. Certainly more so than the Community.

‘… We’re going to need to put our eggs in more baskets,’ she commented, causing Viola to raise an eyebrow.

‘I might need your help,’ Sheila continued, now causing Viola’s eyes to widen in surprise, for Sheila had never requested her help with a mission before.

---

‘How do I look?’ Sheila asked, standing still while turning her head slightly, inspecting as Viola walked around her with a frown on her face.

‘You look… freakin’ weird,’ Viola commented, making Sheila shiver. ‘No, this won’t work. I can see that it’s an image, and the places you’re trying to fill in in-between the images look twisted and unnatural. People’s going to see,’ she continued, sighing a bit as she frowned to her sister.

Sheila nodded back, she could see it herself. One of the bonuses of her power was that she could always choose to see herself, no mirror required, just light redirected to her eyes. She discarded the printed images she was holding. They had tried to use images of a stranger on the internet taken from a variety of different angles as a basis for Sheila to attempt to reconstruct as a 3D image around her face for everyone else to see in public, using her power to try to fill in the blanks. This to create disguise for Sheila to use in public, but apparently it wouldn’t be that simple. Probably could have done it if the person was physically within her range, but unfortunately that range was a whole meter.

‘Damn,’ Sheila cursed. She really wanted to use a public computer for this, and school-computers used passwords. The problem with that, was that Sheila would be appearing in public, and she’d rather not be identified if the worst came to be. Viola, though, was giving her a strange look.

‘Hey, sis,’ Viola had a sneaky smirk. ‘You control all visible light, right? … So, how about you divert some light and control your hair and skin-color?’

Sheila blinked, slightly stunned. Oh. She hadn’t thought of doing that. So, the only kind of disguise she could possibly realistically do with that would be to make her skin dark. … So she did just that. Using her power to watch herself, she watched as she diverted large amounts of light from extending from her skin… but not all of it. Before her, the color of her skin changed. First to a weird unnatural grey, but then she balanced it by letting some yellow and red pass through, making brown… then a few tweaks here and there to make it look more natural, progressively making her skin darker… made her hair black by just cutting away most of the light…

And there she stood. Sheila Hopkins, except considerably dark-skinned, close to completely black, and with black hair instead of blonde white. Not unrecognizable, but would definitely throw off someone that was looking for her. Viola had jumped back and watched the odd transformation taking place before her eyes. She extended a thumbs up.

‘Nice. You’re now a literal black irish!’ Viola quipped, grinning at her.

‘…’ Sheila stood silent for a second or two, inspecting herself. Without her ponytail, she looked a lot different than she normally did while in public, and the darker skin did even more to that. But, that was still her facial-structure. Someone who knew her power could still identify her. Also, maybe it was just her looking at herself, but as someone who was genetically irish despite having lived her whole life in America, looking black was weird. … But ultimately nothing genetics couldn’t explain, nothing that would attract attention in public.

‘It’ll do,’ she said, settling for this.

‘Alright,’ Viola nodded with a grin. ‘Let’s do this.’

---

Before the mission start, Sheila went and stole a couple walkie-talkies. One was given to Viola, the other Sheila kept. They’d be discarded after the mission, regardless.

---

Later, Sheila arrived at the public library in order to use a public computer, with a skin-color close to completely black by use of her power. Just a young, dark-skinned teenager wanting to make use of the public library. She wore a blue jacket that would be discarded after this, and a dark skirt, her visually black hair intentionally hanging free and combed to somewhat hide her face, just for extra protection. Because using a public computer while in costume would attract attention, but there was the possibility that she’d be tracked while doing this, so she’d rather not appear as herself. To stay black required continuous use of her power, but Sheila was well-versed with continuous use of her power. She wouldn’t even be confused by changes of light, she could make it bounce off naturally, adapting.

She blended in. She found herself an unoccupied public computer in a corner. As she sat down, her fingers started moving to create a new email-address and then type down a message from it. She had a simple goal.

Ensure the Protectorate and PRT elsewhere, in as many cities as possible, get messages detailing Patriarch’s power and influence on Denver. She made a couple posts on different forums with “rumors” of Patriarch’s power, to sow the seeds. She included other public heroes or hero-teams who had mail-addresses that could be found. She had let Viola find the emails and forums where Sheila was the most likely to connect to as many people as possible. So now, with all that done, Sheila began typing. Notably, she excluded the local Protectorate or any local heroes. They could already belong to Patriarch.

Several times while doing this, she reached into her jacket’s pocket and pressed a button on the walkie talkie. It slowed things down a bit, but soon enough, she had her message typed.

From: anonymouspersoninperil@mail.com



Alright. Something like that. She didn’t hide the “sent-to” section, all of those who received the mail would see all others that received that. Satisfied, she clicked “Send”.

Now, Sheila sat still. … If someone sent back a reply, she wanted to be there to reply with further information. That would increase the perceived validity of her claim, hopefully.

But, paranoid as she is, she couldn’t help but imagine that somehow, SOMEONE would be able to track her location to this library. And if they did, they weren’t necessarily doing it with her well-being in mind. Sheila used her powers to get perfect 360 degree vision, all around her, suspicious of every single movement, feeling a mild panic brewing. She wasn’t even sure she’d see an attack before it’s too late.

Which is why she had Speedrunner on standby, by walkie talkie, fully dressed up as Speedrunner in an alley, battle-staff at the ready. Once every minute Wisp reached into her pocket and just pressed the button to let Speedrunner know she was still there. If Speedrunner failed to get an update, she’d send an empty text-message to Wisp’s phone, which would then vibrate a little in her pocket. If then Wisp didn’t quickly press the button to confirm she was still there, Speedrunner was to assume she was in trouble and dash in quickly to retrieve her.

Speedrunner also watched the walls from the alley intently, because the second and more immediate signal that Sheila was in trouble was simply an extremely powerful burst of light, which Sheila had been gathering ammo for before she even embarked for the library.

Now, there was a possibility that Sheila was just being massively paranoid. … But she was putting herself in a situation where she was potentially making herself a massive target to the Community or even local heroes that may have been touched by the Patriarch, if they had tinkers that could track her, and she’d much rather be safe than sorry. Much rather.

So there she sat, watching an inbox.

---

Lillian listened to her fellow Wards with one ear and tried to hear these Parahumans with the other. She'd been surprised by Tulpa's announcement that they were all Paras, with a wide variety of abilities.

She nearly giggled at the comment made to Margrave, one she was about to make herself.

With any luck, she'd remember that later so she could ask him why he had been doing it. Boys were so weird.

She couldn't catch much in terms of talking, though. They weren't being loud by any means, which made her wonder who they were exactly. She pressed her comms...
"The big guy just moved some big boxes like they were cardboard. They found some weird looking case, it's got that Omega symbol on it. It got passed off to someone I couldn't see, but the girl separated from the big guy," she conveyed in a hurried whisper. "As for vehicles...I can't tell by smell, but looks like there's people. Just relaxing and chilling and stuff."

Lillian backed away from the glass carefully, standing back up when she was several steps away. For a brief moment her shadow crossed the skylight, maybe half a second at most, before she caught her mistake. Hopefully none of those people had been looking up...

"If we're gonna do anything, I think soon would be best. What's the orders, Leader Messiah?"

The old shopkeeper took out a small glasses cleaning rag from his breast pocket, then did some patch work cleaning of his spectacles. Once he returned the lenses to his face, the man addressed the Minutemen once more. "Sheila Jones? I'm afraid I don't know the name, but uh she might be one of my regulars. Oh dear, I have such a difficult time with names these days. You kids will understand that once you're my age, I'm sure." He took a moment to check the time via a nice antique watch he wore on his wrist.

"But if someone thinks that those horrible cretins calling themselves the Community will be causing a ruckus here, then I'm sure glad to have some nice Samaritans with your fancy powers by my side. Perhaps I could repay you with some home baked chocolate turtles?" He didn't make eye contact once until he had finished speaking, instead squinting his eyes on the timepiece. It seemed his glasses needed to be replaced if he were having this much trouble.

Meanwhile, a group of 8 youths, ranging from about 14 to 25, were approaching from around the corner. Half wore do rags, all had tattered jeans, and they looked and smelled of bad attitude. That said, they weren't wearing the colors of The Community. Instead many carried pickaxes... The signature weapon of the Rockers.

"What to do here..." Ruben sat at his chair wondering what to do before he lit up with a wicked idea in his head. A very solid one at that. Problem would be that he'd have to have everyone on board for this. "I'm gonna take a leap here and go off on my idea. Engage if you need to."

Ruben's Eye switched into speaker mode (and stayed in Bluetooth mode for the Wards to listen) as his voice distorted, shifting to the newer persona of Overlook, complete with a deeper and more hazy voice, however, it was still very understandable.

"You are trespassing in a place you should not be. You will be given one minute before intervention. If you have questions, ask them now."

Overlook's eyes sat at the ready, detailing everything as it came. His Eye didn't have a lot of delay on it, so he could at least tell for a good few seconds before something was going to happen with his power. Hopefully nothing did, though.

---

Farce and Axel ran around to the back of the heist location as they rushed for any point of access they could. There wasn't a ton to take advantage of, however, there was a blast of air hitting Farce's legs. An air vent was clearly there for Axel and Farce to both use in order to get a more silent entrance and begin to do their thing best.

Farce ducked down and pulled the vent cover off before crawling through it herself, Axel taking her up on the rear. Farce was rather flexible from her police training episodes, plus her rather thin frame allowed her to crawl through the vents with relative ease. Axel was a dog, so that was covered there.

Not before long, the duo of dog and woman found themselves at another vent cover, overlooking the entire area. The floor plan Chilly gave them was accurate. Good. Now to let Mantis know that the duo was in position.

Farce pulled out her phone and sent a quick text message to Mantis. "Ready."

---

Pickaxes? Really? Pickaxes? The one thing that threatened Kyoshi's powers and those powers specifically?

How the hell did they even get them in the first place?

Bah, it doesn't matter. What did matter, though, was the group of pickax-wielding n'er-do-wells approaching the Minutemen and this old man. Was there time to worry about Sheila being a dirty trickster? No, as there were lives on the line... well... about to be on the line, anyway.

"Outsider, get to an open area and morph. Rend, stay non-lethal. If they get too close, engage at will."

A few concrete rocks rose up around Kyoshi with a single stomp as they began to orbit the young woman, ready to be fired off if they need to be.

Let's hope these thugs would listen to reason and turn around.

@Gardevoiran@ProPro@Yoshua171

---

Rend lifted his bow, stringing an arrow, and keeping a finger on the arrowhead. As if he'd waste the energy to be lethal on punks like these.

"Desist and lay down your weapons," he called over, taking a stand diagonally behind Kyoshi.

What a bother. Wild goose chase, lying brat probably set us up... he thought to himself bitterly. We're just lucky it's some random Rocker goons and not a Parahuman trap.

Unfortunately for Lillian, Heartless was just paranoid enough to catch her minor mistake. His eyes widened beneath his helmet and he looked over at Chatterbox. "We have company on the roof." His voice was quiet enough that only the group could hear rather than their watcher up above. Not that it mattered considering one of their watchers had decided to go loud and reveal themselves via a drone.

"You are trespassing in a place you should not be. You will be given one minute before intervention. If you have questions, ask them now." Heartless sighed and rubbed the top of his helmet, considering the professional language being used and the advanced tech in use this was likely a PRT drone. He tucked the box into one of his inside jacket pockets subtly and cracked his knuckles with his thumbs, adopting a relaxed stance as he put his hands behind his head.

"Yeah I got a quick question. Can we just leave and pretend none of this ever happened? You get to keep the bad guys and we get to not spend the night in a prison cell. Seems like a sweet trade in your favor." Best case scenario it was just some low level thugs, worst case scenario was they had a high level Cape waiting outside for them. Best hope was that they could walk out of here scotch free and with their prize.

Genevieve followed Judah to the ladder before they started their ascend. She wasn't necessarily scared of heights, but she looked up from one of the first few steps and a small lump formed in her throat. Nonetheless, she pushed forward and followed her partner up to the second floor. It was there she observed Judah ready his weapon. She stepped up next to him given that she was left handed, and as she reached for her gun, she lost her footing, dropping her weapon down on the ground below. Uttering a string of curse words, Genevieve attempted to climb down as quietly as possible. She didn't say anything to Judah as he'd seen what happened, and to be honest, she was somewhat embarrassed by her clumsy mishap.

It only took a few moments, and eventually Genevieve climbed up again to be beside Judah with gun in hand. "That's not going to happen again," she whispered, unsure of what the purpose of such statement was.

@Spiffy

Captain planet? V would get a kick out of that one, he didn’t find it amusing nor clever. Some people had no care for the world they lived on.

“I won’t be the first nor the last,” Affliction told the individual who attempted to blow smoke his way, “It is like a chain. One person picks up after you, then another, then another.” Still he bent down and picked it up. He stared at the individual in question.

Middle aged, possibly a chain smoker considering this smoke barely had went out and he grabbed another one. Affliction continued to walk, mainly to place the cigarette on top of one of those ashtrays on a trashcan close by. He probably had went out of range with the radios. Their equipment was staggeringly incompetent.

“Now that I have cleaned up after you,” Affliction said calmly, “I am new in town. Perhaps you could provide me some answers to how all of this works out here.”

This was after all one of the strangest things he had done with his life. How do you even begin to navigate this scope of a goal?

---

Pleased that they'd found what they had come for, he briefly allowed himself a self-satisfied smile...before everything started unravelling, just as he had suspected it might. Dammit! Chatterbox thought for a frantic moment before narrowing his eyes and tuning his power to max on anything except for his teammates as he opened his mouth. "Well that's just a damn SHAME!" He yelled the last word and it resonated through the warehouse, its acoustics sufficient. Immediately his awareness of additional people being affected by his power expanded. His hand entered a number of tap codes to the device he'd been using to communicate to his loyal fans.

He smiled wide and raised his hands and began clapping as he shook his head, keeping close to Sofia. "Wonderful! Fantastic! We've got interlopers my dear friends. Looks like we're in for an eventful escape doesn't it?!" He laughed again, voice resonating throughout the room with each sound he made.

Oh how he loved the compounding effect of acoustics. He intended to put some more specific emphasis as he spoke, "Or perhaps it won't be terribly eventful at all," he said...and then something strange occurred, like a faint disruption in his power.

He felt something even as he took stock of the amount of people he was effecting and how it had gone up a moment ago. There were at least five additional people by his count, not including the drone, which wasn't really a person. To begin with. However, that didn't account for anyone outside their location.

Tapping his finger against his thigh a few more times, he was rewarded a moment later as one of his lackeys spoke into his bluetooth headset. Tapping again he let the woman repeat what she'd said to all of his teammates.

"There are at least three people outside currently. Four entered and we saw one climb the roof earlier. That makes a total of seven people." The words would be inaudible to everyone except the Jacks.

As he walked forwards, Sofia presumably at his side, he stepped into the nullification field unwittingly and everything briefly went awry. His eye twitched, but like the actor he was, he showed no other hint of being effected. Instead, he chuckled and exhaled from his nose. When he looked up and spoke there was a note of irritation in his voice, "So you've got tricks. How troublesome." As he said it he looked to Headhunter and Thunderbolt, while simultaneously drawing a gun at his side. His eyes scanned the room, noting where he'd begun being effected by the nullification. Wait, a moment ago, he'd heard the door, and he had sensed people in that general direction as well.

Wasting no time waiting for his teammates, he fired his gun at the drone several times and took a number of steps back as he did so. These people, they were capes, or at least one of them was. That and they were heroes and their timing was far too convenient.

As he felt the swell of his power return to him—having stepped out of the field—he made contact with Sofia. "Ignore us," he commanded, though without the use of his power, before continuing to everyone who could hear, his ears ringing from the sound of the gunshots--hoping that he had driven the drone to a position it couldn't see them properly. "I deduce that you're all a bunch of heroes. However, I'm going to have to tell each of you not to waste your time being heroes." His smile dimmed, becoming a small smirk instead. He had put emphasis on them not acting heroic or rashly. However, he was playing the long game, projecting his influence via his power to tug at their sense of responsibility, and their will to act.

He wanted them to feel hopeless, powerless, and while it would take time, this introduction of it would sow the seeds...and some of them might be more vulnerable than others.

"That leaves us with two options. You can let us go and take the rest of this Community loot to do with as is lawfully appropriate, or...hehe, and this really amuses me, you can try to take us in as well." All fanfare fell away as he glared up at the drone—the only presumed thing that could see his expressions and was on the opposing side in that moment.

"At which point you will find that you are severely lacking," the words would bite more than they normally would. Feeling more like one's own inner voice calling them useless or like the bite of truth, rather than a stranger's words. Yet, nothing was strange about that. After all, Chatterbox was just at the edge of the nullification field and it could be easily mistaken to still have effect. Besides, with none of them knowing his power, they really had no way of knowing that the more they listened, the more fucked they would be.

It was a beautiful thing really.

A beautiful thing to be a performer.

He loved it so and soon they would too.

---

---

Why hadn't the old man been expecting them? Was he faking maybe? Something wasn't right.

Looking to the approaching delinquents, Jake tilted his head. He flickered a glance back at the old man, taking a step back from his teammates so that he was behind and to the old man's right. He didn't want to let the civilian out of his sight. Either to protect him or to apprehend him, because something was off...just like it had been when the woman had 'hired' them. Turning his gaze back to the 'Rockers,' he leaned forwards and whispered to Kyoshi, "Something's up. The timing is too good. Keep an eye on the old man. I'm gonna find somewhere to shift."

He then backed up again, patted the old man on the shoulder and smiled—though it felt unnatural on his face. It probably looked mostly genuine. He'd practiced. "Stay near my teammates, they'll keep you safe, sir." He then stalked off and broke into a jog. Once he had turned a corner and was out of their sight—though not the sight of the many gawking civilians—he ran past a number of allies at full speed. He stopped only when he saw a maintenance ladder, which he made a break for as precious seconds ticked by.

After a few moments of climbing he made his way to the building's roof, only about two minutes having ticked by, at which point he took a deep breath, let it out, inhaled again...and switched.

Everything went black...or maybe white...for a brief moment. There were no sounds, smells, tastes, or sensations. He was nothing, he was nowhere.

Then, in a brief moment of disorientation almost like falling, he existed again. Shaking his massive form in a shudder, he made a mental checklist of his status, noting the tendrils, general dimensions, and the layout of his surroundings via his various senses.


Prepared, he folded the tendrils along his body and compressed his anatomy somewhat with his own barrier, and flew. He was fast, but not at all a blur as he kept a tight handle on his movements, weaving between obstacles. Even avoiding doing damage to the buildings and other objects in the vicinity, he still arrived in seconds.

As he arrived a rush of emotion struck him and he felt his other body smile...wherever it was. Joy, elation, anger, freedom, dislike, distrust, unease all wrapped up in a bundle flooded his mind...and he enjoyed every moment of it.

Even the negative emotions caused whatever the equivalent of endorphins were in his weird biology to trigger. It all felt good. It was relief. It was being human, despite not looking it. Man did he love using his power.

He shuddered again, tendrils undulating faintly as his shadow covered the delinquents as he swam through the air. All the sounds in the environment fed him information on his surroundings, as did the electrical impulses that ran through living things and the electrical wires. It was all laid out with incredible clarity.

His eyeless gaze turning to face downwards at them like a great monster considering its prey, Outsider spoke, his voice booming out over the area, cutting through the ambient noise entirely.

"I'm going to have to command that you either go somewhere else, or surrendur yourselves." He felt a rush of confidence, pride, and strength as he said it, grinning to himself internally as he moved his tentacles, splaying them out in the air behind him like numerous floating tails. He began drifting through the air, almost circling above the teens. He made sure to let tendrils or body periodically block out the light so they couldn't forget that he was there—not that it would be easy for them to do so to begin with, given his size.

"I would really rather not fight you, because chances are...only you'll be getting hurt." He said it, sounding almost regretful, despite the strange detached sound of his voice. Some people on the other side of the street had taken out their phones and were recording. Traffic was slowing down as people tried to gawk, perhaps making an effort to figure out what was going on.

They were drawing more attention now, which for the delinquents, was hardly good.

All the while, Outsider kept his senses tuned, making sure to keep track of the old man.

He didn't trust him and the feeling of unease—though not unpleasant to his emotion-starved mind—was stronger than before. Still, through the general feeling of living it was a bit more difficult to focus. Had his senses not been so different it may have even been a problem.

The older man barely seemed to acknowledge Outsider's presence when given the order to stay near the other heroes. He seemed too senile to really register the teen hero's actions. Even after Outsider had successfully made his transformation and returned, it elicited only a subdued, "Oh, must be heavy cloud coverage today. The sun is blocked out..."

As for the punks wearing Rockers' colors and using pickaxes, they had an entirely different reaction to the entire situation. Soon as Kyoshi showed off her mastery of the earth, and Rend put down his warning, they had completely stopped in their tracks. The apparent leader of the group, the man in the dew rag, clearly wasn't prepared for parahumans. "Aaaaw shit, it's those Minutemen assholes! They raided the boss's old hideout!"

"Can we take'em, Troy?" a young girl asked. She couldn't be any older than 14.

"Uh, well..." Troy trailed off, clearly thinking about it, but it was clear from the look on his face that whatever he was thinking, he was not very confident about it. And that's when Outsider returned in his full glory. A giant colorful snake-like thing covered in tendrils just commanded them to surrender or bugger off, and so...

"Fuck this, we're outta here!" Troy called out. Immediately the entire group followed his example. "Bitch hired us to rough up some old guy, but I ain't dealin' with god damn space snakes!"

Overlook's Eye barely managed to dodge out of the way of the oncoming bullet, his speaker mode switching off as he spoke to the Wards via the comms. "Engage with caution! They just shot at my drone!" The 'caution' was emphasized in that sentence, as the way that Chatterbox moved and spoke was a bit... interesting in some way. Like he was utilizing a power that Overlook couldn't understand from where he was. Alas, Overlook couldn't know anything. He was just left where he was in wonder of what the hell this performer could really do.

"Watch out for the performer. I'm afraid of what he might be able to do."

---

As quickly as they arrived, they were gone. Just like that.

Kyoshi dropped the stones down into their craters and took a breath of relief as she watched the gangbangers run away in fear. Hopefully that looked good for PR that the group didn't engage the Rockers, or in any case it'd keep the Rockers off the backs of the Minutemen in the future.

Kyoshi turned around to Rend and Outsider before she spoke up again. "I have a suspicion we've been set up..."

Sofia held onto Chatterhead's shirt, as she didn't want to be too bothersome. Meanwhile some sort of eye-bot had managed to get into the warehouse and informed them they were trespassing. Sofia wasn't sure that was accurate, she hadn't seen any NO TRESPASSING, VIOLATERS WILL BE SHOT, SURVIVERS WILL BE SHOT AGAIN signs. Regardless Heartloss quipped at it, probably ineffectively. Chatterhead meanwhile began monolouging while stepping forward dramatically, Sofia naturally hanging onto his coattails. At least seven people were outside which meant they were outnumbered. Sofia absently began thinking that they should probably work on that escape. Then the world came into focus. Sofia blinked rapidly, her eyes dilated, her breathing accelerated, and she looked around rapidly. Huh? What was- Sofia felt a tug on his hand as Chatterbox pulled out his gun and stepped backwards. The sound of it firing was deafening and Sofia raised her hands to her ears in surprise for a moment. Too loud. There was a strong smell in the air she wasn't familiar with. Too strong. She released her hold on Chatterbox: before quickly stepping after him, feeling unusually... Something? Everything felt far too real. After a few steps however the sharpness of her senses left and Sofia latched back onto Chatterhead, with a bit more energy this time. She closed her eyes as she hung onto him and felt a dull sense of relief as her breathing returned to normal. She was safe again.

Damien took another long drag of the cigarette before finally responding, "Denver, a place for gangs, drugs and violence, but a larger parahuman community then averge." He didn't know why he was telling this stranger this info. Damien was just intruiged by the way he simply picked up after him without question. He was also listening to him which is what Swarm wanted more then anything. He didn't even need to throw him around either!

"Where you from anyway?"

---

Rend followed Kyoshi's lead, lowering his bow but keeping it at the ready and armed.

They had been set up. Another point of failure in his books. Another set back.

It was so aggravating.

He glanced at the old man. Who was the real conductor of this set up? That girl? The old man? What did they want? Was the Rockers showing up a coincidence?

Too many questions, too few answers.

He didn't like it at all. This was... Inexperience at it's finest.

"We might want to head back..." He said quietly. "Before this becomes a real disaster."

---

---

Jason was in a fairly good mood. They'd found their target box, and even if they were outnumbered that didn't phase him much.

He was getting hyped just listening to Chatterbox and his grandiose speech. The gunshots he could've done without, but...

He picked up a crate, activating his ability. Deactivating it, he counted, gauging the distance.

With a sudden movement he sent the crate flying at the drone. "Bugger off, ya twit!" he yelled at it. Turning to his team he continued, "Going by that drone, I'd say that's PRT here. We should make our exit, unless you'd like to fight..." His tone made it obvious which of the two he would prefer.

---

---

Lillian listened, not quite able to make out the words of the speech but still...

He made a lot of sense, this guy, from what she did hear. She could feel the depression ramping up, her excitement draining away.

Maybe it was better if they just left. What hope did they have of completing this mission as a success? How could they, mere kids and three soldiers, hope to deal with this situation?

Her head hung low as she pressed the earpiece.
"I think-" the sound of gunshots caused her to jump, cutting off her transmission. Had she really just been able to suggest they give up? She shook her head, confused and conflicted.

She sat there, indecisive, for several moments. Messiah's request floated back into her mind, the girl's voice a kind of safe space she could fall back to.

Vehicles. She could do that. Yeah.

Several quick looks confirmed there were several vehicles she could see. A fair number of people loitering.

Lillian took a deep breath, shaking her head, before pressing the comm again.

"I can...I can see several vehicles. Maybe 10 people around the building? They just seem to be loitering," she said quietly, her voice subdued. "I... she released the comm before finishing her thought.

"... Don't know I can do this.." she said to herself.

She returned towards the glass, frowning as she looked down at the speech giving man.

"Tell me... What to do ... Messiah..." she asked though the comm.

An annoyed look crossed the Margrave's face. By what right did some lowly soldier criticize him? No matter how quirky the main characters, they took precedence over the fodder; the grunts were only here to provide a sense of normalcy to contrast the heroes' and perhaps die to establish the threat posed by the villains. Sensing that remarking this aloud would more than likely lead to negative consequences, however, Margrave obeyed the peon and kept his silence. In fact, he obeyed it so closely that he failed to utter so much as a peep in response to Alessa's concerned request as he sidled up to the warehouse near her. It was no wonder that her reckless abandon would lead her to arrive at the destination first, while his utmost focus on stealth obliged him to take longer. If you're so worried about getaway vehicles, why don't you go yourself? The soldiers are there to keep an eye while we do our job: taking down the callous fiends holed up in this place. He spotted Epsilon and her escort making their way over, headed for one of the entrances used by the Community's lackeys. I shall have to steer clear of her at all costs. If I become ensnared in her nullification field, every toy I've ferreted away on my person will return to full size instantly, giving away my position and disarming me if not crushing me first. How unfortunate for those who desire to foster our teamwork that our abilities are antithetical.

The Margrave's inner monologue faded as he rerouted his attention to moving forward. 'Tiger Lily' and Epsilon appeared to have already advanced, so he needed to make haste. That said, he hadn't received any orders from the Wards' so-called leader, and even if the others didn't resent him utterly should he act on his own, there could be dire consequences for rash action for one even as talented and enigmatic as he. As such, he inched closer to the goal whilst awaiting a game plan. He did not expect Overlook to jump into action without delay, announcing his presence and demanding that...the thugs voice their questions? Wouldn't it be more appropriate for a peacekeeping force to demand 'drop any weapons and put your hands over your heads. You are under arrest for trespassing!'? What he said wasn't intimidating at all. Though their chaperon had blown his own cover, that didn't mean that the Wards' own positions were compromised—unless, of course, one of the parahumans within the warehouse harbored some tracking ability.

Despite his best efforts at maintaining composure, the Margrave jumped when an unfamiliar voice from inside the warehouse started shouting. ”He doesn't seem bothered giving away his position. How bizarre, to throw away a potential advantage...” Several ideas floated around his head as to why, the first and foremost being that those inside had some sort of backup on the outside, to whom the presence of the Wards had just been broadcasted. So many unknowns when dealing with powers...unless these are gormless curmudgeons, we'll need every advantage we can get. He edged closer to a window, craning his hearing on the voice inside. A moment later, the sound of gunshots reached his ears, bringing a grimace to his features. Great. We've got the lethality factor right off the bat. At the moment, he did not assign much probability to those gunshots being at an ally, since as far as he knew nobody was confronting the enemy directly. If Overlook's drone was the target, he'd be paying the price for sticking his neck out with the destruction of his hardware. Still, the battle has begun. His face remained cold as the unknown voice from earlier identified his group as heroes. In this case, being technically right did not matter; the fact that this villain figured it out indicated either remarkable intuition or some sort of information-gathering ability. As the Margrave's bemusing adversary spoke, his tone full of confidence, things seemed more and more dour. What kind of power do they have that he's acting so full of himself, when there are potentially grade-A Capes out here? He can't be some overblown idiot...we've gotta be out of our league here. All his life, the boy known as Elliot had known disparagement, and at every turn he'd made the same resolution: to never let it get him down. But this was different. Maybe because he was thrust into a dangerous real-life situation, the accusation of not being good enough cut more deeply? He glanced at Messiah, his eyes questioning. When things looked bad, as they now did, it was her job to whip up a solution. He could have put more effort into thinking of something himself, but his anger against her smoldered. This burden was on her. ”Now's your chance to prove yourself, o gracious leader. They...” As another voice spoke up from inside, one tinted by a British accent, he trailed off. This man didn't seem nearly as convinced of his group's superiority as the first, and he advocated retreat. There was a loud clatter of splintering wood against some surface, which might have been another attack against the drone.

Moving automatically, the Margrave pulled out his toy gun and released his power over it, returning it to its proper form as a MAC-10. While he possessed only rubber bullets, the Community parahumans didn't know that, so the weapon offered some solace. Still, the vociferous one's words weighed heavy on his mind, making him think that the doubt of the second speaker might have been an attempt at a trap. I can't make the first move. From the voice coming to him over the Wards' comms, a similar paralysis seized Lily. What were they going to do?

It felt like forever since the woman's life had been turned on its head. Behavior wasn't always the easiest thing to change. Though she had splintered off from her old gang she didn't entirely leave the life of crime. Being alone her tactics had to change some, doing much simpler things. Anyone that truly knew her though could tell that her heart wasn't exactly in it anymore. It was a weird dichotomy where she tried to hold on to her own life while being driven to combat it. And perhaps that was why she was still trying to do it. Trouble loved company and if she she stayed near it then Angel would be there to stop it.

This was one of those situations where Sarah would normally try and skip town. She didn't want, nor did she ever really have the desire, to be a cape. And yet since her Parahuman potential realized she couldn't pull herself away from acting the part of one. Plus going somewhere else would just present problems elsewhere. Never a particularly religious person, the woman couldn't help but feel that someone up there was playing a joke on her by turning her into an angel. Hiding wasn't an option as she discovered early on. Each attempt only proved to intensify her derangement until she would become Guardian Angel and take to the skies. It was a miracle that she had yet to transform in front of anyone. But somehow she knew it was only a matter of time given how little control she had of her own mental faculties.

Right now everything was as under control as could reasonably be expected. Even someone trying to lay low had to get out and just chill else go mad. Dressing casually in a hoodie and jeans she was just out to get things and breath. Living in fear was no way to go about so she had to at least attempt to have a normal life. Even mundane things seemed to have more value when basically everything could be uprooted in an instant. It was an ever present nagging that kept her on the lookout for trouble.

Heading back to her place her walk was interrupted by a man approaching. It was a familiar face, one of the members of the gang she had been a part of. Though not one of the ones that had left her to fend for herself those months ago. His name was Chase, a wiry guy that looked like he could blow away if the wind kicked up enough. He spoke up as he moved in her path. "Sar, whoa slow down for a minute." Sarah had planned to walk past but he clearly wasn't going to let her go that easily. "Where've you been girl? Haven't seen you in awhile." A shrug was the response and the man shook his head. "C'mon. Listen there's no hard feelings with you skipping out. But we really could use your help. All these Parafreaks put a lot of pressure on us. We had a good things going and you won't have to scrounge around so much."

Stopping and switching the meager bag of goods she'd picked up on her time out to her other arm she huffed. "I left for a reason Chase. I don't expect you to understand but I can't live like that anymore." Her typical hard expression drilled into her former comember.

"I'm just sayin'" Chase replied. "But I do know you're still working jobs solo so you can't tell me you're really out." He smirked for a second but from experience knew trying to corner Sarah pissed her off and she wasn't a gentle sort of soul.

So he knew about that. Suppose it wasn't surprising considering Sarah managed to fail on one of those jobs. News travels quick and only proved to make getting more work harder. "That's my problem. You're just going to have to live with the reality that you're down a man." Heavy handedly she grabbed the man's shoulder and moved him aside.

"I know something's up. You haven't been yourself since you got jumped. Just tell me what's up and we can help you out!" Chase yelled after her.

"You wish! Stop wasting my time." She knew Chase probably wanted to press further, but he didn't want to also press his luck and get punched in the face or worse. Leaving wasn't exactly her first choice but really her only one at this moment. She still had some level of loyalty and being around just put the whole gang at risk.

With that nuscience out of the way she resumed her walk home. The area of town she crashed in wasn't grand by any means. And going solo pretty much shot any chances of moving somewhere else. Would she survive? Probably, but it would be pretty tight for a while. Her route took her through some rival gang territory. Having been fairly low on the totem pole it wasn't likely that anyone would recognize her. But it was still a quicker path than going around and the longer she was out the more likely she would run into...trouble.

Since this wasn't her turf she had been keeping an eye out. Activity in the area shouldn't have been that high at this moment. After all, The Community was having some big thing going on that probably had people scurrying about the city. Her train of thought was interrupted by a sound coming from around one of the warehouses. It was a brief clatter. Listening she could make out the faintest sound of movement. Pausing for a moment she wondered to herself if it was worth investigating. Dismissing the thought she opted to resume walking.

Three steps, that was all she could take before a tingle started at the base of her skull. A voice echoed in her head. Stay. The single soft command halted the woman almost instantly. The source was her other persona, Angel. She wasn't so much her own person as she was Sarah's conscience on steroids. And that applied literally as much as it did figuratively. Thing was the angel had a way of overriding pretty much any action of Sarah's for the purpose of doing "...the right thing..." At least the command was just to stick around. If nothing happened then the woman could get back to her so called life.

It sounded like Ira had taken the opportunity to activate her device at last. The null field was, at least, functioning as intended: she could feel her powers leaving her as she passed near Epsilon, and mildly threatening as that was, she knew it also meant any villains in range were equally depowered.

If any were in range, that was. Gunfire and crashing noises rang out from within the warehouse, followed by Overlook’s report that his drone was coming under attack, albeit without any damage dealt so far. Not to mention, whoever was talking in there, a man with a British accent, was apparently coming off as suspicious... shit, could that be Chatterbox? As she recalled from Lovecraft’s interrogation, his power had something to do with his “magic voice”, meaning the more he talked, the more effect it’d have on them. Something for Epsilon’s field to get in range of as soon as possible, then. There could be no funny business with any parahuman abilities if they were inactive, after all.

But something in the guy’s voice... she wanted to think he had a point. It wouldn’t be particularly heroic of them to just allow the crates to be damaged beyond repair, after all... maybe letting a few people go wouldn’t be so...

She was snapped out of her reverie by the sound of requests for their next move. Lillian first, followed shortly by an apparent breakdown of her will to act; and then Margrave, who seemed to be alright, but...

But. But but but.

He’d just suggested they should give up being heroes. And he was making Lillian feel bad in the process. Perhaps with a power of his?

How dare he.

‘Tulpa, keep them busy as long as possible, then take out the drivers once everyone else has engaged with the villains,’ Messiah began, her voice authoritative, commanding even, as she spoke. ‘Tiger Lily, Skeetz, head round the back, cut off that escape route as quickly as possible. Everyone else, move in and spread out. We’re taking these bastards down, now.’

And with that, she grabbed the nearest door and flung it open, gesturing for Margrave, Epsilon, and the soldiers associated with each of them respectively to do as told, each scouring the warehouse from appropriate angles to ensure they would see the interlopers even if they hid elsewhere. She was going to capture at least one of these people, even if it killed her.

---

And that, it seemed, was that for the box. A fast job. But not as clean as he’d wanted, not by a long shot; the drone hovering in had demanded that they stand down, and gunfire from Chatterbox was ineffective. What would, on the other hand, be especially effective would be his chatter, if it kept working as intended. If the power worked the way he thought it did, the boy’s big mouth might even be their most valuable asset over time, moreso even than Raymond’s own ability.

And on the other hand, that drone was not proving easy to take down. It could dodge gunfire, and like as not it’d be able to dodge the crate Jason had just hurled at it too... did that, perhaps, have anything to do with the sudden sense of attachment he felt toward the rest of his team?

...HIS team? What the...

Luckily, a few steps further toward the back fixed the matter, giving him a moment too to spy a shadow moving out of the path of the skylight... was somebody up there, then? A problem to resolve in a moment. Right now, he had a job to do - apparently, the plastic drone was hard to hit? Funny story, that was Headhunter’s specialty. He flicked the gun over to its FN P90 setting, and scoped in.

Well, tried to scope in. For some reason, he wasn’t getting a read, despite the drone clearly being in range to hit. Thinker interference? Possibly. He was originally planning to take out the camera first, followed by each propeller in turn, but if that wasn’t going to work out, he might as well just take his shots - aiming at the drone, he let off a spray of five rounds, an attempt to shatter the casing, as well as the more important internals keeping it powered and viable.

And once the drone was down, finishing it off would be a simple matter of smashing it with the butt of his gun a few times. No need to waste any additional bullets on a plastic toy, after all. On the other hand, it did sound like Chatterbox’s gibberish was having rather the opposite effect of what was intended, going by the somewhat distant sound of orders being spouted in the tone of a young-ish girl.

Followed by the opening of the front-side warehouse doors. Shit.

‘Heartless, there’s somebody upstairs. Take them out, and get to us when you’re done. Everyone else, we’re taking the back way out of here,’ he ordered with volume a little way above his usual quietude, gesturing for everyone else to follow him as he began to jog back the way he came in the first place, weapon primed to deal with any soldiers or capes who might show up. Not that that’d happen, but if it did, he’d be ready for it.

Talk talk talk talk. Did this guy ever love the sound of his own voice. When he yelled shame, Ira flinched at the loud noise. The soldier next to her kept her steady with his presence and his unflinching resolve. He kept going, talking about an eventful escape. The kind of thing Epsilon absolutely loved the sound of spoiling. She shifted slightly, pressing herself against one of the warehouse shelves, large boxes blocking view of her from the other side. He continued on and on, and words seemed to stick in her head. It was a subtle thing, hardly noticeable. Shame, not eventful. She kept her eyes on the soldier, watching his reaction. Nothing. They were fine, they were fine. Barely audible, Epsilon heard the sound of footsteps drawing closer, though the sound stopped soon after. She shifted the grip of her gun in her hand, trying to calm her unsteady breaths. Her hands were clammy, the grip unsteady. The steps played out again, and this time Epsilon picked out that there it was a pair of steps. Retreating, maybe. They might've stepped into the field, but the young tinker filed that down in her head as unlikely. Now that Epsilon replayed his words in her head, she noted the word escape again. It was doubtful they had full coverage of the building, and that was not good news.

Moving quickly now, she motioned for the soldier to follow her in a pretty obvious come on motion. He responded immediately, watching their back while moving backwards at a decent clip. She wanted to put herself in a position best suited to stop their escape. Just the smallest fraction, Epsilon slowed down, dread clawing at her with glancing blows. They couldn't stop them, especially Epsilon. Powers. Powers implied power, but it just wasn't the case for Epsilon. If anything she felt just a powerless now as she di-back then. She saw Margrave just as a door opened on her right. Epsilon shifted, pulling her gun up, before recognizing Messiah's costume. She had missed some of the conversation, it seemed, but now Messiah gave a simple command. Move in on them. Epsilon nodded, her resolve hardening once again. Lifting her left hand, she activated the comm piece, and spoke to her teammates. "I'm gonna try my best to make them literally powerless, guys. We can win this,

Despite the brave front, only being employed because of her position as second in command, she didn't quite believe it. She moved to a location in the opposite direction of where she had been running earlier, slipping between two shelves, and quickly crossing the empty space where no shelves were standing. Time to flank them as safely as she could without getting shot, and crossed another gap before stopping to throw them off. If they had been leading her, she would have a moment of confusion. It felt like she was trying to predict fifty moves ahead, without knowing if her opponent was even at the table.


The young man stood in the middle of the sidewalk in front of the store, patiently awaiting Farce's confirmation. As soon as the radio flicked on, he moved, not waiting for actual words. Confidence in his safety was obvious in every step, in how he took in the situation. This was the simple stuff; his shoulders were rolled back, his back straight, his breathing steady. He pushed the front door of the building, letting it open a bit too hard and slam against the wall inside. Instantly the people inside were hostile, hands hovering above, or readying weapons. More than one pistol was aimed at the ground in preparation of a fight. When Zach extended his baton, they responded by raising their weapons and shouting commands. "Drop your weapon", "The fuck are you thinking?", "Who the hell are you?", Why couldn't they ever have creative responses to his presence.

He moved towards a large group of the thugs, shifting to a sprint once he was close enough. Their inability to use guns was broken all at once as a shot rang out, then three more. His power stopped one, the two other bullets too far off course to hit him. He reached a man who was steadying his pistol. Zach didn't hear the bang, his power blocking it off in anticipation, and didn't even see the bullet as it was deflected off to the right side. His baton came down hard just above the man's ribs, eliciting a yelp of pain. He hit the ground hard, and Zach hit him again in the shoulder, seeing it instantly turn red with a small amount of blood looking from it. This was going to be a long fight.

---

With Headhunter's response to the drone being gunfire and Thunderbolt's response being a thrown crate, Chatterbox let his smirk grow back into a proper smile. A malicious tilt had made its way into his expression. Feeling the directions of his various targets shifting, he spoke—quietly--into his bluetooth headset. A moment later one of his 'fans' spoke up, informing the rest of the Jacks that they were sending people around the building to cut off the other escape route.

Further, he noticed that one person was handling his power far worse than the rest. His smile broadened, showing white teeth as he spoke up once more. For the briefest of moments he let the immunity of his team falter ever so slightly, "Well, I'll take your silence and movement as an affront to my prestigious team and of course my own skills." He turned so he was standing sideways, making the Jacks immune again. The effect bolstered their confidence in their own abilities subtly, perhaps burning away doubt or worry over their situation, without totally erasing their caution. To the wards on the otherhand, the skills of his teammates were reinforced.

Pointing his hand at the entrance that he and Headhunter had come through, he spoke even as he tapped his pager. "I will have to just punish you petulant heroes for thinking yourselves sufficient to stand against us. Headhunter," he said, reinforcing the crushing sense of hopelessness. He focused on the target on the roof and the one most resistant to his words, just outside the building. A moment after he'd gotten Headhunter's attention, one of his fans spoke through their headsets.

"Headhunter, move back, Chatterbox is fairly sure there's something in that area interfering with powers. Go towards the back door. Someone's coming around that way, two people. Chatterbox thinks you can handle them."

Walking towards the backdoor, Sofia's hand in his, he continued tapping the pager.

"Sofi—err, Whimsy. Chatterbox needs you to 'ignore' you and him for safety purposes."

The message given he started on another, keeping his gun at the ready. He noted the shifting of someone's location a few times, till his sense of their location in the room had totally changed.

"Someone's coming around trying to flank you," his 'fan' iterated to the team, followed by. "Heartless, intercept. If your power is interferred with, retreat."

Chatterbox spoke, tuning his power down to fifty percent, "I know we should probably be flattered that the PRT has taken an interest in us, but given what I can see of you, well...it's rather disappointing really. After all, we're worth more than a few incompetent chidren," he said those last words with a sneer, as if disgusted, and flared the intensity of his power back to its full strength, increasing the impact of those ideas in his audience.

I need to break them down psychologically. The less agency they feel that they have, the easier this will be. Though, I shouldn't entirely reveal my hand. Instead, let's give them a bit of misinformation.

Turning somewhat as he gradually retreated, he fired twice in the general direction that he knew the flanker was moving. He aimed so he wouldn't hit boxes, but instead the far wall. It was a tactic to induce fear more than anything else. Then, shifting again he fired just past the edge of the open cargo doorway that served as the back exit, doing it so he wouldn't hit anyone, but would make it seem like a far worse idea to come around that corner and take them from that angle.

"I can see you scuttling around, you know. Like little insignificant insects trying to outmaneuver a hawk," there was clear disdain in his voice, to help drive the statements home even without the use of his power—which of course was still playing at their emotions.

"Oh, by the way, you should tell your little friend upstairs to come down and join the party. Maybe dance with you, mmm? After all, it's not as if they were ever hidden to begin with. Just as with the rest of you. No good at stealth, though it's not terribly useful with someone like me around," arrogance practically dripped from his tone, polluting their thoughts, putting a nasty taste to everything. It made him seem more pompous, less legitimate, but at the same time foolish enough to reveal part of his power's nature. He reached the back door, Sofia's hand in his, gun in the other and—provided she had "ignored" them—he stepped beyond the door.

Hopefully Headhunter was taking care of the two who had headed around the building.

"Of course, telling you anything else would be far too helpful, wouldn't it? Then again," he considered briefly, letting the pause hang so that they'd wonder at his words. His powers increased the effect faintly, making that want to hang on the words of the charismatic, and loud more potent...yet somehow not out of place. "...perhaps you need all the help you can get." Staring along the wall in the direction of what was likely to be oncoming heroes, he fired his gun once, twice, three times. Rubber bullets may not have been lethal, but they hurt and guns were loud.

The sharp pain of sound would distract from his power, but not detract from it. With the tension and stress of the situation, mixed with the impending threat of firearms and capes he could keep up the pressure, hide his power, and attack all at once.

"Fun fact, kiddies," he began, mockingly, "I'm a Thinker." He began walking away, using his tap code to communicate with his teammates further. If the two who had circled around stood in his path he would flash them a grin and just keep walking towards them—Sofia's hand gripped tightly as he did so. They were untouchable like this, it was ideal, because it meant his power would continue to work while he remained impossible to stop.

It almost couldn't be more perfect.

"Wait, sir!" One of his fans called out through their comms, sounding afraid, "There's something coming...and another one of them."

"What? What do you mean!" He kept his voice down and the smile on his face as he said it, whispering and barely moving his lips. Yet, before he could respond, there was a crash, punctuated by a sharp grinding and then the sound of stone being broken apart.

That does not sound good....

It wasn't.

---

---

Pain, confusion, and mixed feelings were what she was dealing with while her teammates faced against evil. She hated it. She hated how crippling it felt, how useless it made her seem, even if only briefly. Over the minutes that she was somewhat incapacitated, waiting for the pain to fade so she could focus, use her power, and help her teammates, Evelyn listened to the comms. It didn't help, but to turn it off would be worse, so she forced herself to listen to her teammates struggle against what their words implied to be bad odds. Taking a deep breath and letting it out, she centered herself, straightened her clothes, mask, weapon, and then rose to her feet.

Her head throbbed, she winced, but she was not about to leave her team in a sticky situation that she could help with. She'd just have to make sure she didn't scan one of their capes again. So, instead, she reached out to her projection and willed it to move. Copying materials as it did blurred into motion, the silver 'shadow' whirred by her teammates, touching those who were outside or only just entering the building. While she wanted to get a better read of the powers of their opponents, those heinous criminals that she had every intention to bring to heel, she couldn't risk it. So, instead she drew back her projection, letting it return to her. Totally on accident it brushed through one of the villains.

Her head throbbed again, but this time the pain came with information.

Touch-initiated transdimensional mass transference. Limit: Temporary alteration.

Well, that was...something. It might be useful. She laid it alongside the powers of her teammates in her mind, sans Ira.

She took a few moments, focusing on the various details and sorting through the material-traits that she had access to.

Concrete(Hard. Porous. Dense, Heavy), Metal(Hard, Solidity), Flesh(Soft, Adapatability, Strength), Wood(Medium hardness, Bendable), Rubber(Flexible, Durable, Medium Hardness), Glass(Translucent, Crystalline, Weak).

There were a few others, but they were harder to classify in her head. First, keeping in mind the traits, she altered the silhouette of her projection, letting it shift into a six limbed creature with a long tail and medium length neck. She then assigned its physical body certain traits.

Adaptability/strength(Flesh), solidity/hardness(Metal), bendable(Wood), flexible/durable(Rubber), hard/heavy/dense(Concrete)

Then, laying out the powers at her disposal, she ran through everything with combinations in mind.

Protective absorption. Focus, energetic. Physical limiter. Control appropriation. Non-adaptive control method. Upwards limit, irrelevant. Dimensional access. Energetic storage method: Dimensional. Access threshold: Neural interfacing. Ranged application.
Messiah.

Contact based transfiguration. Object alteration.
Margrave.

Alternate form. Scalable. High physical resistance and strength. Enhanced detection and reaction. Focus: Hearing, smell. Proximity object integration. Transformation method: dimensional mass-transition.
Tiger Lily.

Touch-initiated transdimensional mass transference. Limit: Temporary alteration.
Unknown Villain (Thunderbolt).

"Alright...I got this," she said to herself, eyes closed as she began the process of mixing their powers. It would take a bit of doing to make what she wanted.

Static physical alteration: High physical resistance, durability, and strength. Enhanced detection and reaction. Focus: Sound and thermal energy. Contact-based mass absorption and shedding/object transmutation. Absorption limit: Irrelevant. Scalable/selective absorption. Storage method: physical.

She locked the powers into place in her mind, felt no feedback, and then opened her eyes. A look of determination had come across her features. Already standing she exited the vehicle and started walking towards the warehouse. Her projection's "shadow", not yet manifested, drifted through the air, its form a subtle silver glow. Taking her retractable staff from her back she activated her comms with her free hand.

"Tulpa reporting in. Back-up incoming," she ended the communication and pointed at the building.

"Manifest," she said cooly and her projection did just that. The glow suddenly becoming dense, then taking on proper physical form—the air around it briefly distorting as it phased into existence—before it bounded forwards, at first clumsily, then gracefully. This time her projection had taken the form of six limbed monstrosity its teeth were dull, but long and flexible. She knew immediately that it was capable of grappling with its mouth, able to lock something in its jaws without biting into it, using its teeth as a cage and a threat—if an empty one. Its entire body was covered in a hard dull gray substance, clearly some kind of composite of concrete and metal. It was clearly some kind of armor and, by the looks of it, heavy...yet the creature moved as if entirely unencumbered. Of course, the reality of its weight swiftly came into focus as it slammed into the side of the warehouse, seemingly unable to stop properly.

She received information about the collision as she broke into a jog. It had done it on purpose. Of course, that wasn't terribly surprising. What was a bit surprising was when the projection responded to her incredible desire to help her teammates by rearing up onto its hind legs before using its claws to rend straight through the stone wall of the building in four precise slashing motions. It then fell forwards, pushing itself forth with its hindlegs, pushing the section of stone wall out of place violently. The stone, quite suddenly, shattered under what could only be the weight of her projection.

She smiled as she felt the projection open its mouth and let out a low bellowing roar. The creature was standing on four of its six clawed limbs, its tail held out behind it for balance as it half reared up, neck turned to gaze down at the rest of them. It was heavily armored, well muscled and entirely silver, gray, and red in its coloration. The red ran in lines across its body, stopping at its face where its two eyes lay. They curved over the front "brow" ridge of the face and along the sides so that they managed to give the projection view of both its sides, somewhat behind it, and in front of it with clarity. Over the surface of the eyes there seemed to be a hard silver tinted carapce. It was largely translucent, and from within it shone a number of fierce red 'pupils'.

It did not appear particularly happy with its existence and the general state of the world.

Luckily for them it was under the control of someone far less unhappy with the status quo.

At least...for now.

---

---

Swimming above his teammates, Outsider revelled in the feeling of presence that his power allowed him. While his Second Vessel's expression was unreadable, on the inside he had a huge grin. Hearing Rend and Kyoshi, he laughed a little—and it came out sounding somewhat awkward, not to mention hollow. Speaking up, making sure not to do so too loudly, he communicated with his team. "Yeah, this does seem rather strange," he said, sounding far more animated—if strangely distant—than the situation ought to justify. It was hard for him to reign in the pure joy of really experiencing life moment-to-moment, rather than as a passenger.

"Perhaps I could catch one of those Rockers and we could question them? Wouldn't do to arrest them. Conversely, we could follow them. Thoughts?" His digits and tendrils twitched slightly and he continued swimming in abstract patterns through the air. His body's movements were at once ponderous and graceful.

As he awaited their response he kept a close 'eye' on the old man, still not trusting him. In fact, the distrust was even stronger than before, given his current state.

---

As the two men conversed outside of the HQ, they were interrupted by a series of sounds from the HQ. Almost like...

Laser pistols from Star Wars, actually, followed by a series of cracks and crashes.

What in world was G4M3R up to in there?

---

---

As the Minutemen expressed their suspicions Kyoshi's phone vibrated. A quick look would show it was from their HQ!

As soon as the call was answered, G4M3R started speaking quickly before anyone could get a word in.

"Guys, I need you back here, now. I... We've been attacked." There was a solid thunk as if something heavy had been dropped, followed by a string of grumbling. "It's all ruined..." he said angrily.

---

Upon reaching the HQ, the Minutemen would see nothing obviously wrong from the outside, minus Gabriel talking with... Someone?

Heading inside, however, would display the destruction G4M3R had spoken of. The side of the young man's face was coated in fresh blood, though it definitely didn't appear life threatening, and he was picking up pieces upon pieces of his technology. It appeared that every Tinker made object that had existed in the HQ was now... Trash.

The HQ itself was a disaster of parts. But right in clear view of the front door sat a golden card on top of a pile of parts arranged like a pedestal.

You've been Sabotaged! was the words stamped onto the front of the card in black lettering.

"I'll never forgive you for this, Sabotage..."

---

---

They were near. They were in her territory.
How dare they?

Standing on a roof nearby, she looked around. Down. Woman. Harassed? Her fingers twitched as the man walked away. Bastard. Dirty, ugly, broken piece of filth.

He needed to be punished. Horrible people deserved what came to them.

But... Dammit, she had bigger barf to clean up.

With a twirl a length of string reached across the small gap in the street, growing... Hardening... Snip!

She giggled, loudly, as she started scurrying across the bright blue walkway, swinging around it a few times in excitement.

"Better run, girly girl woman!" She called down in a fevered pitch. "Things gonna get scary. Don't need you getting hurt, you strong woman you."

She stepped onto the roof across the street from where she started, moving quickly towards the other side. Noises on the inside alerted her to an unexpected situation arising inside.

"No, no. Bad little men. You are supposed to be mine. Mine. All mine. Who are you to be worked up before I get there? Who are you to do anything but what I want? How dare you pack up in my territory, without my permission? Buckle up you fucking fucks." She muttered furiously before swinging in through a roof access door.