Mastar approached the Wards booths, her heart wavering just slightly as she felt the tension being put on her. Ok, so she was a supposed hero with mind control, and given the information that was leaked about a certain cape's mind control and that Bratva boss... she just felt like the big eyes of the PRT were gazing down on her, making sure that the tar hero didn't attempt to control any hero under the PRT's jurisdiction. Of course, that wasn't going to happen, unless the PRT was actively trying to harm her in any way, shape and/or fluid form.

At last, Mastar stood in front of the Wards, and after a heavy sigh, she stepped forward. Tulpa seemed like the one with the least going on at the time and addressed the girl with a smile on her face, hidden partially underneath her mask. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything, Miss Tulpa." She began, looking towards the girl. It was actually kind of weird, considering how she was just as tall as Tulpa right now, but she was certain she was fairly shorter than Tulpa when out of costume. "I figured I'd slip by here and properly acquaint myself with the great Wards of this city."

Sylph smiled a little as Epsilon waved to her, but quickly turned back to the wards, not wanting to be rude. The first to speak up was Tulpa, having complimented Sylph on her looks almost instantly, before promptly covering her mouth and looking rather embarrassed. Oh no! Silvia had made one of the wards embarrassed, this was terrible! She wanted to apologies for making Tulpa uncomfortable, but Messiah was already speaking. Again Sylph was hit with a complement, followed by an awkward laugh. She'd made two wards nervous! Absolute catastrophe! Was Sylph scary looking? Did they think telling her that she looks bad would make her eat them? Sylph was crumbling on the inside, awkwardness threatening to consume her completely. She had to say something, but words were hard.

"Thank you. I a-appreciate the compliments."

It didn't look like Messiah had been as effected as Sylph thought, as she continued talking. She knew who Sylph was, but then again, when a dragon lady walks into town naked, then joins the Protectorate, that's bound to turn a few heads. Sylph would nod in response to Messiah's question.

"Y-you are correct, I'm S-Sylph, nice to meet you."

Sylph followed Messiah's gaze then saw Margrave there on his own, a winged woman on her way over. Sylph snap her head back around as Messiah got up, then extended a hand. Sylph knelt down slightly, taking Messiah's hand and giving it a gentle shake a smile making it's way onto her face. Unfortunately Messiah had to rush of, probably to see if her fellow ward was alright.

"O-oh no problem, don't let me keep you from anything, it was a pleasure to meet you Messiah."

Sylph waved a little, then looked back at Tulpa, and a new person had arrived. Sylph wasn't familiar with this one. But she had a tail and a horn, maybe they could talk about that! But this new person was already engaging with Tulpa, maybe Sylph could head over and talk to Epsilon... No that'd be very rude, she should at least talk to these two for a moment before running off. The handshake from Messiah had really helped her calm down, she clearly wasn't afraid like Sylph had thought. Though... It was kind of curious why she wanted to see Sylphs costume designer, it'd literally taken Sylph a minute to draw up her idea, guess Messiah just liked simple designs.

Coming back to reality Sylph looked down on Mastar and Tulpa. But she wasn't quite sure how to interject herself into the conversation without being rude. She simply put her hands together and waited, her tail swaying slowly behind her as she shuffled around awkwardly.

Judah spoke to the woman behind the door somewhat surprised, "I'm here for some intel on.."He quietly muttered the next words,"The Community." If this woman had any information Judah hoped to glean it from her. He slid the document obtained from the warehouse they raided through the eyehole and waited.

To ensure he succeeded, Judah released the thought into her mind,"He seems legitimate." If anything it would only help his cause. Using his powers now came second nature to him. Judah released feelings and implanted thoughts regularly. Needed a drink at the bar? He would release peace or warmth. Needed grenades from a black market dealer? Fear and intimidation. Judah was almost scared of what he was capable of and even more concerned about what he was willing to go through to further the cause. Of course someone had to do it, to bite the bullet. To play hardball with the scum. He sometimes pondered what he would be, had he not lost his friends to the fires of terrorism.

He put that thought behind him now. All that mattered was this present moment. Hopefully, this woman had what he needed. Whether it be more intelligence, a name, number anything that would further their goals really. He did not have a lot to go on presently. Patriarch was proving to be a very hard criminal to track down. It would appear they would have to go through one of his lessers to get to him.

Though most of the fans had cleared out, a good few remained who didn't want to be deterred from their idols. As more of the heroes began to converse amongst themselves, the more the fans dispersed until it was only the odd boy or girl here and there interrupting conversations. The rest of the Protectorates began to take a break, a few of them even interacting with the Wards. Overlook was spending his time conversing with the holographic Decoy, mostly minding his own business while his therapy dog got ear scratches. G4M3R abandoned his post in order to go ask Mastar to join his Minutemen. Captain Morales stood up from his seat and moseyed on over to where Messiah had gone, which just so happened to be near Margrave and the independent hero Angel.

"I just want to thank you for your efforts, Messiah," he said. Confidence began to well up in the youth's mind, but was that the influence of the captain's power? Or just pride in his words? "While Noble and I were in the hospital you did your best to step it up, and I'm proud of you. The information the Wards gathered on the Jacks will be invaluable in taking them down. I just know it." With that he gave the young girl a salute, waved to Margrave, and stepped away.

Meanwhile Inkscape decided to take his own break. The leader of the Denver Protectorate slithered himself into an upright position, straightened his tie, and tentacle-walked on over to where Epsilon was currently alone. "Good morning, Epsilon. Decoy has been telling me good things about your studies. He says you're coming along nicely, both in normal studies and as a tinker." She got the feeling that he was trying to smile, but it wasn't entirely clear with his strange octo-physiology.

As this occurred, Furnace stood up to stretch. "Oof, my hand is cramping," he commented, wagging his wrist out. He then glanced over to Hermes. "Hermes, right? I've heard good things about your work. They say you're behind the Protectorate's recent successes against the Bratva and the Community. Keep up the good job. Hopefully we can work together?"

Noble got up to stretch as well, popping the joints in her neck as she did so. The gas manipulator caught sight of Inkscape talking to Epsilon and smiled. Her boyfriend was no doubt giving the girl the classic Inkscape "good job" pep talk. She knew better than most how well the girl was coming along. After all, Epsilon had gone to her to study her powers and develop that pack she was wearing now. Noble thought about congratulating the girl on a job well done with that invention, but decided it would be too embarrassing. Instead she caught sight of Tulpa and judging by the girl's body language she was experiencing some embarrassment of her own. Strutting like a runway model, helped by a slight bit of levitation, she made her way to Tulpa.

"Something catch your eye, sweetie?" she whispered in a low, husky tone. "Don't be uncomfortable. We're women. When we see something we like, we need to take the opportunity before it's gone. Don't you agree? You're only young once."

Just then a kid ran into the room, no longer than ten or maybe eleven. A young girl with brown hair and matching eyes, latina. "EEEEEEEEK!" she shrieked with enough sound force to crack a wine glass. "IT'S HIM! IT'S MY FAVORITE HERO!" She charged toward the object of her adoration and affection, attempting to glomp him. "I CAN'T BELIEVE IT'S YOU, MARGRAVE! I LOVE YOU!" No truer fan of the Margrave could be found in all the land, for this girl had it all on first glance. She was clearly cosplaying Margrave, and her outfit was pretty well made. She held up the official Margrave action figure, still in packaging. "Please please please can you sign it? Oh you're so cool and mysterious and just EEEEE I CAN'T BELIEVE IT'S REALLY YOU!"

The girl then pulled out a second Margrave action figure from her coat pocket, this one had been removed from the packaging and had clearly seen some play time. "See it's so cool because Margrave makes toys from things and he is a toy but his toy comes with toys for him to use AND IT'S JUST SO COOL IT WORKS ON LIKE 20 LAYERS!"

---

---

The bartender gave a polite nod as Visage had decided to NOPE the fuck out of there. Not once did he allow his inner smile to show on his face. She'd already been in range, already been affected. Abandoning the meeting now was of absolutely no consequence in his mind. Meanwhile the last of the villains arrived, among them the multi-personality of Swarm. Once they had all taken their seats, the conversations really began to pick up.

"Well?" Sabotage urged impatiently. "Are we starting or what?"

From behind the bar, the Broker gave an ominous nod to the Jacks who were paying attention. It was time to call this meeting, to let them all know that it was time to unite against the Community.

---

Creep stopped short when Visage stopped, her eyes widening and looking straight at Visage behind her using her power without actually turning around. Wait, what? Visage was… leaving?

No, wait.

Don’t go.

I really need you, I’m way too scared to do this alone.

… As if she could say something that invited that much weakness among all these villains. Sheila had been mentally preparing to leave most the talking to actual villain Visage, while Creep simply existed. Despite herself, Sheila had balanced her confidence on the fact she had an ally, however temporary. Now, however, Visage was turning and leaving her alone. Panic brew inside her, brimming within a surface that could crack at any moment. Creep still went through her action of walking to sit at the place reserved for the Rockers, but a deep terror was swirling just within.

Now, of course she had considered that perhaps this was a trap by the Community to ensnare all the remaining villains in Denver at once. That was natural. Sheila would be extremely surprised if there wasn’t at least one Community drone here, which meant the Patriarch knew this meeting was taking place. However, Visage had her power blocked? Sheila knew Visage saw more than the average, a Thinker in some manner. Was it as simple as that her power clashed with another Thinker here, or would Visage have seen something she shouldn’t see if allowed to, and so her power was blocked?

Community trap increased significantly in likelihood. Sitting tense and still, Creep watched everyone around her with suspicion and fear, making note of the actions of every person she could see and suppress a shudder whenever anyone looked at her. Creep was making ready to vanish into thin air at any sign of a trap or an attack. She was even keeping a look-out just in case the bartender suddenly shot a beam from his eyes or something. He could be a trap, too.

Of course, to everyone else, Creep was just sitting still with a blindfold, face directed straight forward as if she was really blinded by the blindfold, maybe perhaps a bit tense.

---

Lillian looked at Alessa, chewing on her lip slightly as she considered how to word what she was going to say next. It… It needed to be done right.

A large part of her felt like she shouldn't try, because why risk ruining such a great friendship? Why would Alessa even be down for something like this? Let alone with someone like herself? The part of her she was so used to listening to. The part that had led her down that dark path too many times now.

But… Well, honestly she didn't want a ‘what if’ situation. She didn't want to wonder what might have been anymore. She certainly wasn't all better herself but taking a chance and a step forward felt like the right thing to do. Even if someone might overhear or make fun of her or even if she got rejected for being a freak or something. She needed to do this. For herself. She needed to grow.

Lillian waited as everyone seemed to converge together, internally screaming as her nerves spiked. Conversations were being had but… She couldn't concentrate on the words. It was static roaring in her ears, a rumble shaking through her. She looked at everyone, feeling glad her face was partially covered, as she took a moment to realize how many people were here.

Oh god, this was going to be so difficult.

”Hey, Messiah?” Lillian asked, drawing Alessa’s attention as there was a lull in the conversations. Her voice shivered, barely able to finish the name. She gently pulled the older girl away from Margrave and the others. ”Uhm, I was wondering if maybe you wouldn't - if, uh, you would want to go to the movies with me when we got a free moment?” Lillian asked hesitantly, keeping her voice quiet. Her heart was thunder, her blood a raging torrent. ”I've just been, well, it's always nice when we've hung out…”

'In the mood for some films, huh?’ Alessa asked, smiling crookedly. ‘Yeah, I like films! I mean, that sounds silly, I assume everyone likes some films, right? Ahaha, I’m rambling, sorry.'

"But not like normal... Like, uhm, like when you like someone and want them to have a good time and be happy and be happy together and maybe you end up holding hands and stuff..." her voice trailed off as she mustered her courage and looked up.

‘...Ohhh, like a date,’ Alessa realised, blinking. ‘Huh.’

"Uh, yeah...a-a date." For a little bit after that, the older girl seemed to think hard to herself, seeming on the verge of denying Lillian’s suggestion for an uncomfortable while before her expression smoothed out underneath the mask.

‘...You know what, sure. Let's go for it, see if it works out,’ she agreed, this time smiling full-heartedly. ‘What sort of film were you thinking of seeing?’

"...It's okay, I get it - Wait , what, really? Eeeeeee. There's that new one about heroes but I don't care whatever you want to see I'm not picky about it as long as it's not horror and I mean even then I'm okay with that if you want to see something like that and oh my god I can't believe this -" She stopped for breath and turned bright red, her heart swelling. "Sorry, I just - I only hoped - yeahhhhh... Hehe, I just never expected..."

Beaming, Lillian let her shoulder lightly tap against Alessa's, briefly letting their fingers brush. Such a bold move for her, but she felt electricity run through her from the contact. It was a heat, the increase in her pulse, a shiver through her soul…. It was what she imagined being entirely content and happy in the moment must feel like. Was she happy? She pondered the question momentarily before deciding that yes, yes she was.

”I've never been so happy…” she murmured, grinning like an idiot. Is it too soon to hold hands? What if she didn't want to hold hands? Oh, I don't want to ruin this moment or mess up or…

Lillian's breath caught momentarily as she felt the soft, warm embrace as Alessa took her hand. Internally she was squealing, feeling like she might rip from all the swelling in her heart, as she entwined their fingers. This really was the best day ever.

'You really like me that much? I'm... Honestly flattered. I'm not that great, honestly,’ Alessa replied sheepishly.

”Nuh uh,” Lillian chided quietly, squeezing her hand lightly. ”You're the bestest, most beautiful, coolest, and smartest person I know.”

'Aw, thanks, Lil! You're really sweet, yourself.'

Lillian giggled lightly, euphoric, as she looked around. Things had... Changed while she was preoccupied. Margrave was being accosted by a fangirl, which was nice and confusing at the same time. Leaning her head gently against Alessa's arm, she waved at Morales as he approached. Dropping kind words on Alessa before leaving, Lillian was greatly appreciative of the act.

Ah, everything was going so great for everyone. It made her own little pocket of sunshine all the better, seeing so many people happy after so much ugly darkness lately.

Funny, really, how just a few short weeks ago she'd wanted to leave all this behind.

No, never again. This.... This was worth it. This was worth the hard times, that darkness that always threatened the light. This made it all worth the fight to get here.

---

---

There was silence that seemed to stretch on for eternity before the sound of many locks clicking, sliding, and thudding could be heard on the other side of the door. ”In. Now.” The voice commanded before Mantis was yanked through the barely open door. ”Those are dangerous words to speak aloud. Especially for a Cape,” the strange woman continued before florescent lights sprung into life, blindingly bright.

As Mantis' eyes adjusted, the woman had moved silently to a table nearby. Her back was to him, a thick winter coat obscuring her appearance. The room itself was spacious, but full of clutter. Books, maps, what seemed to be tapes and recording equipment… One could barely see anything except all this stuff, let alone move around in it all!

”You found something stolen from me. A picture… No, a puzzle. No...a map. Yes, a map,” the woman spoke hurriedly, moving things around. ”Part of a whole, useless by itself. What are you after? What are you willing to pay to get what you want? Important questions, and questions I deal with.”

She turned around and Mantis could finally see her. The front of the blue jacket was open, revealing a woman not much shorter than him. Pasty skin and murky brown eyes clashed with her strikingly silver hair, her frame neither plump nor curved. She was dressed in what appeared to be men's boxers and a tanktop and dress shoes without socks. Her nails were painted with a chipped baby blue, slightly pointed, as she lifted a finger towards Mantis.

”Call me…Questioner.”

---

---

Jason rolled his eyes under his mask as Heartless flirted with one of the other villains, impatiently waiting for everyone to arrive.

One had turned and left suddenly. An oddity, but... Perhaps there was a reason behind it. Oh well, it didn't matter.

The Broker had signaled to begin, and Jason was impatient enough to start.

Standing up, he knocked his fist against the table he was at, the loud noise calling attention at Sabotage's question.

"We start...Right now," his voice thundered, loud and clear. "We're here because of the fucking Community. Their constant threat and the new reports that threw PHO into a bloody panic. Mind control. Permanent. Unending. Taking strong villains and puppeteering them to further their agenda. It needs to end."

He paused, his opening statement sinking in. "I propose a joint effort of those gathered. Take the fight to the community more directly, and cripple them until Patriarch falls. I'm sure others disagree with me, but that's why this meeting exists. Communications need to happen."

---

---

Whip continued to glare at Heartless, barely listening as the meeting began.

Of course it was a man who started things off. Pathetic.

"Come to the location yourself in an hour. Then you can transfer the money."

The Spectre hung up the phone before looking down on the target building from the roof he was perched on. Ben had got a contract to take out some new blood that was muscling in on some established turf. The men at the front checked either end of the road before heading inside and closing the door of the old warehouse. Ben chuckled. What a joke. A couple of guys with guns, the rest with pipes and bats. These schmucks were easy pickings. It would be those at the back with the boss himself that was going to be the trouble. No doubt that would be where the guns would be, probably for his bodyguards. Slinging the gas mask over his face, Ben made all final checks on his weapons before stepping off of the building.

A few seconds before impact, Ben felt a surge of energy rush over him, as he activated his power. A cloud of black smoke replaced where Ben was falling, and as the smoke reached the ground, it practically rolled forward across the road and began to seep through the crack underneath the doorway. He could see two guys walking away from the door. Ben shifted behind a pillar and smirked as he reformed back to his human form. He reached into his jacket and gripped the handle of his sword, the Wakizashi. A Japanese short sword which it's blade reached 16 inches. The crossguard, called the Tsuba, had the carving of a crashing wave. Like the crack of a whip, Ben ran out from his hiding place. With two swift motions of his arm, Ben had made clean slashes across the backs of the guards. Their weapons clattered on the ground, which drew the attention of a group of them. Wiping the lens of his mask, Ben grinned and marched forward.



Cut... Slice... Kill... Oh, how Ben loved carving his bloody handiwork. The contract was very clear. No survivors. Ben slaughtered his way through the warehouse, making his way to the target. The gang leader watched in horror as his men fell one by one. One guy actually managed to get a hit on Ben. However, what the man saw next was the eyes of a demon. Creepy, haunting laughter began to echo throughout the hideout, and the gangster watched as the man he just punched began to transform into smoke. Something was filling his lungs, the man desperately clawed at his throat, trying to will the smoke out of his body. It was too late. Whatever this smoke contained, it was worse than chain-smoking a thousand cigarettes in a minute. Ben had transformed into smoke and entered the man's body and choked him from the inside. The body slumped to the cold floor, as the smog seeped out of his mouth and began to reform. All that was left was the guys with the guns and the boss himself.

Fear tactics was such an underappreciated technique in a hitman's arsenal, Ben found. He looked at the bodyguards, shaking where they stood. "My God, this is pathetic. You're certainly not worth what I'm getting paid." He taunted with a chuckle. One of the unnerved men took a shot. As soon as the gun fired, Ben was once more smoke, and the bullet whizzed through, creating a small hole that was quickly filled up. An arm began to condense in the shadow, holding the Longbarrel Hardballer pistol. The barrel pointed straight at the man, and Ben squeezed the trigger. Two more shots rang out, the first burying itself deep into the gangster's chest, and the other one splattering his grey matter against the wall. The arm swung around to the other bodyguard, who met the same grisly fate. Finally, the gun found itself pointed at the leader, and Ben soon reformed with the rest of his body.

"C-C'mon man!" The gang leader stammered, begging for his life. "Th-This is about money? I'll pay you man! Double? Triple!" He continued to beg. Men who could give the big talk but pissed their pants when shit gets real disgusted Ben. He stabbed the man's hand, pinning him to the desk. The assassin reached into his coat pocket and showed the gangster a black playing card. He flipped it around, showing the guy's name, written in red. Pushing the card towards him, Ben laughed as he put the steel against the man's head. The last shot of the fight rang out.

Ben walked out of the warehouse, sheathing his sword and holstering his gun before looking at his suit. Messy work again. He'd have to buy a new one, and burn this one too. With a satisfied sigh, Ben pulled off the gas mask and pulled his phone out. It muffled his voice too much. With another job done, Ben can finally get a reputation going, and keep the money stacking. A bigger payout with each successful hit.

"It's done. You know my details."

---

Morning light was creeping into the space that Ben had claimed for his rest hours, casting long shadows against anything in the way.

A sharp, single knock rang out as an plain envelope with "Spectre" written on it in fancy cursive floated through the crack under the door.

Inside was a single piece of paper, covered on the same flowing cursive.



Beneath the letter was specific, direct, and detailed directions from his location to the meeting location.

Looking around would net no indication on who had left the envelope. However, this looked to become his highest paid hit yet if the final payment at all mirrored the acceptance amount.

Just who was pulling this together?

---

Damien shoved the door open with a push from his telekinesis. It swung open and stayed that way as he strolled in. He wore a fine suit and sported a golden mask over his face, cigarette in the mouth hole. He took a long drag and blew a large cloud upward. It spiraled toward the ceiling like it had a mind of its' own and remained.

The door finally swung shut after Swarm made his way to an empty booth. He was waiting for someone to arrive. A new ally who would further his own goals as he would further theirs.

Wearing his cracked mask with a suit it was an odd sight to behold, however, he shuffled over calmly towards Damien who was smoke per his usual. They were going to an event. Something he could use to gain a foothold into the world of villains. Something perhaps that could give some connections. Having Swarm by his side was a good start, now it was time to think bigger and bolder. While still being cautious and aware.

"I got your call," he says calmly.

Damien took another drag and slowly exhaled before replying, "No. That wasn't me, that was Gabriel. He does all the communications." As far as communicating was concerned, having Gabriel do most of the talking was always a good idea. Damien had the awful habit of making negotiations sour very quickly.

Swarm eyed the other villains with an air of superiority. They could be of use, but they would have to prove their worth first. Affliction had done so in the past, showing Swarm the extent of his capabilities and impressing him with his meatspace.

Right, Gabriel. He was still getting use to the fact that this man had different people inside of him. Something he should have known considering the name Swarm could tip him off.

"Ah yes," he replies, "Gabriel." he acts like he knew that the whole entire time though the truth was far from it.

"What are we doing here?" he adds.

Damien looked at Affliction and replied, "The villains of Denver are meeting to take on The Community. You know, the ones who have been on the news for taking over most gangs." He looked up and saw things were starting to proceed, "Looks like they are starting this pow-wow." He exhaled another plume of smoke into the air.

@Old Amsterdam

Spectre was awoken to the sound of someone knocking at the door. He groaned as he rolled out of the bed and yawned as he checked his phone. His payment from the last job had gone through as promised. That was the replacement suit paid for at least. Ben walked up to the door and picked up the envelope, peeking out into the corridor of the hotel hallway to see if he could find who left it. He shrugged and closed the front door, leaning against it and opening the letter. He rubbed his eyes awake before double checking the offer. He chuckled before looking over all his gear. Apart from the bloodied suit form yesterday's job, he seemed good to go to grab that 50 grand. Ka-Ching! He needed something to really wake him up. Ben opened up the bedside drawer and found a needle filled with heroin. This was what he needed. Ben wrapped a belt around his arm and plunged the needle into his arm, pushing the syringe and injecting himself with the sweet nectar.

Having a shower and putting on a spare shirt, Ben made his way into town to pick up a new suit. It had to be somewhat decent so he could present himself to the new employer. First impressions are important after all, right? Ideas raced through his mind of who he was going to take down. This was a lot of cash being promised, so it might be someone high-profile. High-level gangsters? Mafia? Maybe Ben was finally getting the call to engage in some corporate warfare. Maybe he was going to take out a CEO or a political target. Something that made waves. The ideas excited Ben, and it made him stride even faster towards the suit store. Taking out cash from the ATM machine, Ben wandered around before seeing a Suit store that would catch his eye. Soon enough, he found one.

"Bespoke." Sounded fancy enough. Immediately, he found a suit showy enough that he liked. If you got the money, why can't you show off and enjoy it right? He picked out a dark blue jacket with matching pants. A brown pair of oxfords, a brown leather belt and a white shirt underneath with a white shirt and a burgundy red tie to finish. After paying for the suit and putting it on in the changing rooms, Ben emerged satisfied and walked out. Now it was time to make final preparations until he had to make it to the agreed address. He went back to the hotel room and prepared his gun, sword and holster, putting it on underneath his new jacket. Ben proceeded to find a secluded spot to burn the old suit and finally get going to the address.

It takes him a couple of hours to get there. He didn't want to smoke his way everywhere all of the time. It was nice to take a walk like regular people do. Ben was under no impression that he was a regular human being, even without the freaky powers. He was a killer who enjoyed his work. He feels alive when he's killing people and doing drugs. Preferably both. At the same time. Eventually, he found the deli that was talked about in the note. He took out the paper and reread it. Ben looked across the street and saw "Denver Prints." Seemed legit. The hitman walked across the street and opened the shop door. Empty. Must've been out to lunch. Without a second thought, he shrugged and made his way up the stairs once he eventually found them and made his way to the required second floor.

A Cape? How did she know? Could she be a thinker as well? Mantis eyed The Questioner as he adjusted to the brightness and couldn't help but smirk. Who was this? A recluse? He shook his head to refocus and stated, "I'm willing to give as much as is necessary to cut off the head. Patriarch himself." Without realizing it, he had released emotions of burning anger around him, that even Questioner would feel. He wasn't here to play games. He had to get straight to the point. As long as this guy was allowed to continue controlling people with his powers, Denver was just a civil war away from complete chaos. The way things were going it was only a matter of time.

"What is it you need from me so I can get what I want?

Mastar flicked her head towards the new arrival of... Sylph, right? The PRT had released an official statement regarding her new involvement with them, and if Mastar was correct, that was her name. Still, for being a massive dragon lady, she seemed so... timid. So scared. She needed some help. "You're Sylph right? Gotta say, it's kind of cool being next to you, luv." Mastar's legs stretched out as she took a sitting position, moving back towards Sylph with a feeling of sassy attitude to her movements. "Maybe it's because we're both kinda new, or maybe it's because we're both kinda... endowed."

The one visible eye of Mastar gave a wink at that last statement. God, she was hated. She was also loved, but in a weird way. It was odd.

---

"Oh shoot, is that Kyoshi?"

Kyoshi turned her head towards the trio of girls that had walked over to the Minutemen booth, all dressed in various articles of Minutemen merchandise ranging from shirts to... socks? G4M3R made socks for merch? And Kyoshi didn't hear about that? What the hell! Bah, nevermind that, there were fans approaching. "How's it goin'? Fans of the heroes or fans of the show?" She was referring to the livestreams G4M3R had been putting out from time to time, where she co-starred in a select few of them, specifically the Mario Party streams.

"Both! We didn't expect you to be here, but we're glad you are!" Aw, how sweet. It was also kind of... somber, but it was still cool for them to have done this. It was then Kyoshi saw one of the trio pull a rather large rock out of their bag and hold it up towards Kyoshi. "I-If it's not any trouble, could you bend this for us?"

"U-uh... sure!" Was Kyoshi allowed to do this? She didn't know off the top of her head. She imagined she could, because it wouldn't cause any property damage, but she was still a bit worried about this going out of hand and into the nearby pillar. "Stand back, girls. I don't want you to be hit by any debris."

Once everyone was back a safe distance, Kyoshi stomped and brought the rock up into the air before she accompanied her display with several quick karate forms and moves, each one taking a chunk out of the rock and dropping it down to the floor. After about a minute of this nonsense, what was once a rock now rested a statue of Kyoshi (as low-poly as it was), and it slowly fell to th ground where it sat atop the dust and rocks of the leftovers.

The same girl who presented the rock lifted up the statue. "W-wow! Thank you so much, Kyoshi! We wish you luck with Nick!!!"

"No problem! Remember to check out G4M3R's streams!" The trio of girls wandered away as Kyoshi swept up the dust from the display, putting it to the side in case she needed it for later, as horribly unlikely as it would be.

---

"... he's right." Sparce spoke up as he continued off of what Thunderbolt was saying. "Patriarch's control over strong capes is definitely something that needs to be stopped, regardless on what side of a moral compass you fight on. Issue is, we as a collective lack any real way to hurt Patriarch outside of the firepower given by... several of us here." Sparce nodded his head towards Headhunter before continuing. "That's also bringing up the risk that we take by sending those specific capes into the heat of battle. I don't doubt that we could do it, but I also don't doubt the capabilities of the Community and their goons to take us hostage."

Sparce paused as he talked to his other half in his head. "Am I missing anything?"

Aside from bringing up how we're apparently villains? Not a thing.

"Not gonna bring that up, since it's rather... unimportant to this whole debate."

Unimportant my ass!

"If being considered as a villain is what gets us the alliance of these vilains in pursuit of taking down the biggest threat to Denver, then call me goddamn Al Capone 'cause I'll gladly take that label if it brings down Patriarch!"

Silvia flinched a little as Mastar looked over at her, she felt a little bad for not knowing who she was, but she had a tail and a horn, so that was nice. Silvia smiled at the compliment, this other cape thought Silvia was cool! So it wasn't just the wards who though she looked good. Silvia eased up a little and smiled at Mastar. "Yep, that's m-me." Silvia bent down to shake Mastar's hand.

Then she froze, what was that she'd just heard? Endowed. E-e-endowed!? Silvia's tail bent in some slightly awkward ways as her face dropped with the sudden realization. Wait, is that why Messiah and Tulpa got so nervous? B-because of my c-chest? Silvia would be blushing furiously underneath her shell, a soft squeaky sound was escaping her as she stood there like a statue, it sounded kinda like a deflating balloon. Silvia honestly didn't think anyone could look at her in that kind of way, but to be fair, she'd not talked with many people aside from scientists so far. And they were all adults to boot, so she didn't really have any experience talking to other teens. But now she was up to her waist in them, some of them literally only being up to her waist.

Mastar's little comment had essentially broken Silvia. Luckily Silvia snapped out of it, shaking her head a little. "Heh-h-h-heh, you're so f-funny." Silvia noticed she'd retracted her hand, she promptly re-extended it out to Mastar. "P-pleasure to meet y-you!" Despite her efforts it was super clear Silvia was super embarrassed, even if her shuffling didn't give it away, her tone was betraying her, sounding like that of a frightened mouse.

Accepting the hand offered to her by Messiah, Angel gave a firm shake. "Nice to meet you Messiah. I suppose it's only natural we should meet." She smiled and let the teen talk for a moment. Seemed they had similar motives for approaching Margrave. Before too much else could happen though a young girl entered and rushed over to the table they were at. Seeing as the hero now had a fan to attend to, Angel took a step back so as not to get in the way or grab any undue attention.

But to not avoid what Messiah proposed she answered. "I would be more than happy to talk. I will be around for when anyone is available." Internally Sarah sighed. Whenever Angel was in charge so to speak the normal woman was riding shotgun. Didn't mean she couldn't reflect on what was going on around her though. Messiah, what a name. At least Guardian Angel made sense and wasn't so presumptuous. Hell she was just given the name because of how she looked and acted.

The question of whether alcohol tasted good would have to wait it seems, Jason was busy making a speech. There were quite a few people here, but Sofia didn't know any of them very well. There really wasn't much for her to say and there really wasn't much for her to do. After all, she was only here because the rest of the Jacks were. This was a whole lot of people grouped up to take down Patriarch, he must be pretty scary. Mind control... yeah Sofia could understand why people wouldn't like that. Losing control of yourself, Sofia thought back to the warehouse when she hadn't been able to use her powers. Something like that for the rest of her life sounded horrible. Jason was here though, so everything would definitely be fine.

---

Bide your time, you're not just a performer anymore, Drake, this is important. Just like an actor's entrance, a chessmaster's first moves are essential.

As the others mingled, the eminent showmaster, rose with deliberate slowness and repositioned himself, moving away from the bar and finding a table, with a lone chair that he'd placed in a far off corner, facing the rest of the room. He sat, placing his elbows on the table, his drink beneath them. His fingers intertwined over the glass, two of them draping down to stir the mixed drink with the red umbrella he'd requested.

His mind was sharp, focused, while his eyes roved slowly, taking in everything that went on in the room.

Sabotage complained, but was soon placated by another member of the Jacks. Drake smiled, the expression hid behind his hands. Amusement danced in his eyes briefly, painting them with a warmth that belied the cold analytics that took place behind them.

At the growing mention of taking down Patriarch, Drake nodded slightly, showing his agreement. His eyes roved over those present, wondering if any disagreed or were perhaps too insecure in their own position to deal with the growing menace of the Community.

His smile quietly replaced by an unreadable expression, Chatterbox considered his position. He was an unknown to these people—a new face who had only just begun establishing a reputation. Just like the Protectorate, the PRT, and their Wards, these villains knew very little about his power...if anything significant.

Broker had given him permission to use his power during this meeting, though obviously with discretion. Not that anyone in the room could actually hurt him if the Broker had any interest in continuing to use Chatterbox to further his goals.

At the thought, he recalled another Chatterbox, an alternate timeline clone, being snuffed out simply because he'd been no use to the man.

Cold.

Calculated.

Drake narrowed his eyes slightly. The Broker was not a man he could take lightly...not even for a second.

"Perhaps it would be easier if those against striking at the Community raised their voices, if there are indeed any among our esteemed ranks who would think themselves unaffected," with his words, he dialed his power on faintly, letting it tune out around those such as Mantis. He swore he'd felt something earlier with the man's words. It would pay to be cautious of that one.

Making sure to keep the smile off his lips, he considered his words carefully. He'd laid a trap in them, after all. Anyone speaking against the notion of taking down Patriarch and his Community would be implying themselves a fool and alienating themselves from the others. If it was a 50/50 split, then they could work with that, drawing lines and coercing some on the other side to stand with them in more subtle ways than an outright attack. If it was more for the attack, than against, then it would diminish the standing of those who refused to play ball. Hell, even if those desiring to deal with the problem were in the minority it implied that they were esteemed while the others were not.

It would raise their status, if increase their odds for being attacked for the slight. That was if any of them noticed it right away.

As to his power, well it did its work, nudging ever so slightly towards finding him and his sentiment agreeable, rather than something less pleasant. It made him part of the group, rather than an outsider. Less unfamiliar, less unknown and hopefully more trustworthy. Still, the power was subtle, it hid its tracks and if any were suspicious of the faint feelings it stirred, they'd ascribe it to someone else more likely than to Chatterbox.

The corner of his mouth twitched, but no smirk formed. For once, his goal was not to subjugate those present.

At least...not for now.

All in good time.

---

---

Well, at least she'd taken the compliment well, she thought. Better than well, her reaction was absolutely adorable in its shyness. It made her want to just—the thought was cut off as a certain grown woman, Noble, whispered somewhat sultry words of encouragement into her ear. A shiver went through her and she stiffened, a little intimidated—among other things—at the heroine's presence. "O-of course N-noble," she stammered quietly, before blushing at the stutter. Now she sounded like Sylph!

Then another voice interceded, throwing her into something of mental knot. She looked to its source and—if only because of the cape's appearance—she immediately knew who she was. After all, though Evelyn was a proper cape herself, she had never stopped being an utter nerd when it came to capes. She'd kept well abreast of Denver's cape situation. It helped with work too!

Swallowing heard, Evelyn met Mastar's eyes, trying not to let her gaze wander. However, before she could get a word in edgewise, the woman made a comment about Sylph's...assets. Evelyn's eyes turned to the other cape almost reflexively. She glanced down, then away.

After a moment to try and center herself she found that Noble's advice helped a bit. Taking a deep breath she called upon a practiced smile—one she used for fans—and looked first to Sylph. "It's wonderful meeting you as well Sylph," her eyes shone and she almost pulled the 'shadow' to her in an effort to scan the magnificent woman's power. A sick feeling briefly took her stomach, but she swallowed it and suppressed the urge, instead focusing on the two in front of her. "...and Mastar, I've heard about some of your exploits. You seem to be making quite the name for yourself. Pretty impressive work in such a small timeframe." She leaned over the table a bit and lowered her voice, as if speaking only to Sylph, a little grin crossing her lips, "You really shouldn't downplay yourself too much. You are very pretty~" She winked, and pulled away, a glint of mischief in her eyes.

She knew the comment might make Sylph more uncomfortable, but...oh man, the girl was just adorable when she squirmed a little. Perhaps she could make it up to her somehow.

Once the meeting had officially commenced, Genevieve continued sipping on her drink as she eyed some other attendees she wasn't all that familiar with. Not that her observations would be exceedingly helpful given the fact that these people were at the very least, concealing some part of their appearance.... but she had to keep busy. The image of that horrible night kept tugging at her sanity, yet her poker face never faltered despite the turmoil going on within the confines of her mind. Genevieve had previously made a decision regarding her lack of active participation in the meeting and instead, she would let others do the talking. She knew she wouldn't have anything of use to contribute, and she preferred not to attract any type of attention, whether positive or negative. For the most part, she was a stranger to them and they were strangers to her.

Genevieve then glimpsed over at Sparce from across the table as he started speaking, listening to his words for a moment before her mind drifted elsewhere. However, after a minute or so, Genevieve was brought back to reality when someone else chimed in. Despite previously making up her mind to refrain from speaking up, Genevieve felt compelled to do so.

"If anyone is in fact against it, there's no need to fault them," she shrugged, "everyone will be better off without."

She spoke the truth, nothing more and nothing less.

Alessa gladly shook Angel’s hand, smiling as she spoke, only to be interrupted by Margrave’s own statements about how he was, in fact, perfectly fine, and that he merely seemed out of sorts due to, perhaps, the nature of the event itself. There were almost certainly deeper reasons than that, but...

Alessa just about managed to utter ‘Fair enough,’ before a young girl ran into the room with a screech of joy, and a flurry of excitement. Over... Margrave! Well, that was certainly beneficial for him, and somewhat unexpected - and in the hubbub, Lillian drew her attention for something that immediately struck Alessa as an important matter.

‘Uh, sure thing. I reckon Margrave has this under control,’ she initially responded, throwing an encouraging smile to the hero in question as Lily pulled her away, just enough to stay out of any other conversations for a time.

By the end of it, Alessa was feeling quite pleased with herself. She... she had a girlfriend now. Or at least a date. And it was clear that Lillian couldn’t be happier for it. Alessa had had to consider the matter quite thoroughly, of course, but... well, a thought had occurred. Her therapist had suggested that she had to start doing things for herself, not just for everyone else. She couldn’t be a hero the whole time, or else she’d not really be a person. And, well, the therapist was right. So, she was going to take a chance, and she was going to see if Lillian’s company, her partnership, was what she truly wanted.

In the meantime, Morales found his way over to her and grabbed her attention, telling her that he felt she’d done well in the absence of he and Noble, and that the Jacks were sure to be taken down thanks to that information. Sure, maybe her confidence was welling due to his power, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t feel legitimate satisfaction at being told she was doing her job right, too. She managed to call out ‘Thank you, sir!’ and shoot out her own salute before he walked off again.

With all that out of the way, and Lillian on her arm, Alessa’s gaze wandered back over to where Sylph was. She and the other Wards at that table been joined by another hero- who was that again, Mastar if she recalled? And Sylph was embarrassed beyond belief. Alessa supposed she’d realised what Evelyn had originally been saying - and it looked like Evelyn was taking the shot there, if the way she was leaning forward meant anything.

‘What do you think, Lily?’ Alessa asked quietly, an idea coming to mind as she watched that conversation. ‘You want to give the good news about us to the others now, or should we surprise them with it?’

---

Raymond had to admit, he wasn’t amazingly fond of this location. It felt... not small, per se, but compact in a way that had him feeling mildly uncomfortable. If something were to happen, if he needed to act offensively, he was unavoidably stuck between two groups of potential threats, with no way out of the situation that would guarantee his safety. Still, the Broker had insisted that they go to that particular location - and it seemed few others had any objections, since even major villains like Purge were showing up.

And speaking of the Broker, how droll he was. Hiding in plain sight, so to speak - who’d ever guess without prior knowledge that the man working behind the bar tonight was the very benefactor who wanted to see Patriarch taken down? Or, if he considered it, the right sort of Thinker ability, but that counted toward prior knowledge regardless.

As for Raymond himself, he wasn’t especially interested in talking to the majority of people. Instead, he pondered the recent improvements to his equipment, most of which remained on his person, just in case. First, a general improvement to his armour, helmet included - it was a tad heavier, thanks to the metal plates embedded in it, but generally superior to what it had been before, and he reckoned it’d potentially save his life in the future. Speaking of his helmet, it now enclosed the majority of his head, included the same noise-cancelling effect as his allies’ gear, and furthermore possessed a sort of “video scope” - that was, an eyepiece inside the helmet’s visor that flipped down with the appropriate voice command, with a wireless video connection to the camera within his scope, letting him scope in with minimal effort or even the need to wield the gun properly.

He’d tried to convince Matrix to create a few drones to wield his weapons without needing to risk his own body. The Tinker had responded by pointing out that those drones would immediately rat him out as somebody who assisted villains, and that it wasn’t worth the money, and that if he was going to persist along that train of thought, Headhunter could leave. A request regarding particular bullets was met with less hostility, though Raymond was sure that was partially because, as Matrix explained, he couldn’t make any such projectiles at all. He’d been unable to get in contact with a more combat-oriented Cape within a reasonable timeframe, either - Arsenal would have been a great option, if he hadn’t left weeks ago.

Overall, it was an unfortunate matter. However, it wasn’t one that affected his situation. With a nod from the Broker, Jason finally started the meeting proper with his speech, followed up by one of the newer villains - was that one Sparce or Farce? - citing their assent in so many words. Drake, too, made the argument that those uninterested ought to say so before anyone made any further complaints; now, then, would be Raymond’s time to make his statement.

‘For the record,’ he said, barely loud enough to be heard to the full width of the bar, ‘and as the field leader of the Jacks, I fully intend to do what I can to eliminate Patriarch as a threat, as permanently as is necessary.’ He said this without moving from his seat, and without further clarifying what that meant. They knew damn well what it meant.

Epsilon only muttered out a small, “thanks” in regards to Inkscape’s compliment. The Protectorate leader would have liked to continue the conversation, but he didn’t want to make the young girl any more uncomfortable than she already was. ”Keep up the good work.” He pat her back with a slimy tentacle, though the gesture felt warm and had weight behind it, like a real human hand. Inkscape then wandered off to have a conversation with Noble, which could hardly be called surprising. The two were well known to be dating.

Meanwhile, Furnace was still rubbing his wrist, destressing from the carpal tunnel, next to Hermes. The new Protectorate member still felt a bit taken aback by the famous hero’s comment. “Just between you and me, I used to work the beat,” he said.

“No kidding?” Furnace replied, genuinely interested. “Then you’ve been a hero for a while. I know I could never have done that before I got my powers.”

Hermes shook his head. “Seeing you do what you do, from the perspective of a cop on the street? It really… Affected me.”

Furnace chuckled nervously. “I’m glad I could inspire, even though I’ll never get used to hearing anybody say things like that. Always feels like I don’t deserve it, you know?”

In that moment, everyone was interrupted as a lone voice cried out over the small crowd of heroes. It was Overlook, one of the Protectorate’s newer heroes, and a precognitive thinker class. “Everyone take cover! Something big is about to happen! Get away from the middle of the floor!”

The few remaining fans took heed of the thinker’s words and ran for the walls. No sooner had they cleared the way did everyone feel a mighty rumble through the floor as a tremor surged across the ground. The ground cracked in fissure, then spread all around the room from its center until the ground and floor violently burst upward, sending stone shard shrapnel in all directions. Some of the less physically capable heroes took cover by upending their tables and stands, while others could dodge or tank through the spray of earth material. Noble remained untouched as the stones bounced off a cushion of air focused around her body, while the debris heading toward Furnace vaporized nanoseconds before making contact.

The remaining civilians cowered, crying out in fear, but the deadly spray of rock and stone never touched them. Inkscape had jumped into action, taking the ink and dyes from all the tables, stands, banners, and even the carpet itself and created a curtain-like shield, catching all the debris before it could hit them. ”Looks like today is one of my good days,” he commented, feeling relief.

The danger was not yet over, however. A large stone hand gripped the edge of the new hole, and with a mighty heave the being connected to that arm emerged from below ground. A mighty stone warrior, nearly twenty-five feet tall, stood before the gathered heroes of the fundraiser. Perched on the stone goliath’s shoulders, arms, and legs were a number of brutish looking thugs wielding pickaxes. At the top, situated in the head, stuck out the shoulders and head of a single individual. Though he was more known in the city of Boulder, his men had madea presence in Denver over the last several weeks. The big boss of the Rockers, Ceramix, had officially crashed the party.

---

---

The villains listened patiently as Thunderbolt explained the reason they had all been called together. Taking out Patriarch was something just about everyone could get on board with. Even if the rumors of his mind control proved to be false, he still controlled the largest criminal enterprise in the entire state, and he was well known for not playing well with others. Chatterbox called for those against the idea to speak out, while Headhunter gave input as to his own lethal intentions. The first to speak up was Farce. Or was it Sparce? Keeping those two straight always proved to be a troublesome task.

”The vigilante brings up a good point,” said Sabotage, so far the most vocal of the villains gathered. ”What’s the point in bringing down Patriarch’s organization if he can turn us into his puppets? I don’t much care for the idea.”

”That’s bullcrap and you know it,” interjected Retcon. ”You don’t want to lose your biggest cash cow. Everyone knows that the Community is your biggest client, thief.”

”I’m not exactly hurting for cash. If they go, yeah I’ll take a hit, but there’s only so much money I need to live comfortably. Not that I need to justify myself to you, bitch.” The cat burglar raised her middle finger at the androgynous jester, who merely shrugged in response. Retcon had no interest in further getting a rise out of her.

”If we are to steer this ship back on topic,” insisted Purge from his booth. ”My organization and our allies would like nothing more than to see the Community cleansed from our streets. They have no respect, cannot be reasoned with, and they escalate matters to an unsafe point for the remainder of us. For this charter, you have my full backing and all resources available to my mafia.”

Sabotage scoffed. ”Right, like we’re even going to make a dent in the Community. Look, if we’re going to do this, fine, but I need some sort of assurance that you all have got my back. I’m not getting left high and dry to get tossed in the Birdcage, or worse brainwashed.”

”I believe I can offer you that very assurance!” All heads turned toward the newest voice in the room, looking to see a man dressed in a rather expensive tuxedo entering the room. He was tall and fairly muscular, with white skin, and well groomed hair. He carried with him a briefcase, and spoke in an English accent. Probably Liverpool.

The various villains in the room immediately went on their guard, with the quickest to react being Purge’s right hand man, Benito, who pulled out a gun. ”Now now, put that silly little thing away. Don’t worry, I’ll show myself to my seat. Invitation must’ve gotten lost in the mail, but no worries! I haven’t taken any offense!”

The mystery man took a seat at the bar, a few spots down from where the majority of the Jacks were sitting. The bartender continued cleaning glasses, pretending not to be noticing any of this, like a fly on the wall.

”And who might you be, most… Esteemed guest?” Purged inquired, cautious but curious.

”Oh, I’m nobody, really. Just a whisper of a shadow in the corner of your eye. Been setting things up for some time and decided it was finally time to reveal myself, to start building trust.” He set the briefcase down on top of the bar, and signalled for the bartender, who proceeded to get him a rum and coke.

”Cut the shit. Who are you?”

The man in the tuxedo began drinking from his glass, unable to answer until he had downed the entire thing. Once he set the glass back on the bar top, he turned to face Sabotage, as well as the rest of the villains in the bar. ”I’m who you go to when things aren’t quite working out in your favor. I’m the man who you make a deal with to turn your fortune around and your whole world upside down. You can call me the Broker-” He snapped open the briefcase, revealing its contents: the six vials the Jacks had successfully stolen from the Community warehouse. ”And today, my good mates, I’m selling superpowers.”

---

Jason remained quiet as the various members present supported, more or less, the idea to destroy the Community. Their reservations weren't necessarily uncalled for, though plenty had remained quiet so far (including two of his teammates, though he didn't really expect Sofia to speak up).

He was about to speak up about Sabotage's concerns when an unexpected visitor pushed through into the bar.

He frowned beneath his helmet, glancing subtly towards the one he knew previously as Broker with annoyance. What was this?

He smacked his hands together, calling attention back to himself. "I think I speak for everyone here when I say I would like for you to expand, Broker." His voice remained level, but perhaps he did shift slightly closer (protectively?) towards Sofia. Running through his knowledge on the present Capes, he didn't think any had Thinker abilities, so he causally activated his comm line, barely speaking audibly. He hoped the others had treated this like the mission it was and had remained equipped with their own comms. "I have a bad feeling in my gut. I'll continue to remain the focus for us, but stay alert..."

Whip, meanwhile, had shifted her chair closer to the wall and was glaring at this 'Broker' character. "Bloody fucking bastards thinking they decide everything," she muttered, glancing at Sabotage. At least she was sensible and pure, unlike most of the people present.

She stood up, her chair shooting back with audible protest. "Bastards like Patriarch deserve to die. Bastards trying to control you deserve to die. And bastards who trick you can get fucked."

Her outburst was... Oddly calm given her explosive movement. Was she actually angry or....?

She flicked her wrist and looked down in surprise, her face scrunching up in irritation. "Why doesn't it work? Why doesn't it....."

She sat down suddenly, muttering fiercely to herself as she continued to attempt....something, oblivious to everyone else suddenly.

---

---

Lillian smiled at Alessa, following her gaze towards the two shapely heroes where Sylph seemed incredibly flustered.

Idly she wondered if she could get Alessa that adorably flustered. She would probably be cute with a bit of a flush creeping across her face....

Grinning mischievous she decided she was going to have to find a way to test that theory. For science!

Stifling a fit of giggling, Lillian went to reply to Alessa's question when suddenly Overlook called out.

Without even thinking, Lillian pulled on Alessa to the nearest cover and covered her ears at the thunderous crack as.... Something big and Rocky erupted from the ground.

"Are you okay, A-errr-Messiah?" Lillian asked, peeking over the table she'd flipped when she's noticed others doing such. She thought this might have actually have been her own table, actually...

See recognized that man, though. It was in the files she'd had to memorize about local villain threats the PRT knew about. But..."I thought Ceramix was in Boulder?" she said quietly, wondering if everyone else noticed him at the top of that golem.

She pressed on her comms, glad she'd automatically put it on when she's gotten in costume. She hesitated, wondering if she was the only one to be wearing one. This wasn't supposed to be something they'd have needed them for.

Shaking herself mentally she pressed the comms and spoke up. "Ceramix. Rockers' leader. Second in command Shatterpoint. I don't see anything indicating he's here too, but....I think it's likely. I'm with Messiah, what's our orders?" she spoke quickly, itching to transform. He was huge but.... She could get bigger than that. Even if that rock would hurt, if she got big enough it wouldn't be that bad right?

"Back me up, beautiful?" she asked Messiah, a lopsided grin on her face as she pulled up the other girl's hand she was still holding, kissing it lightly. "Like we promised, right? Better. Much better."

She was, of course, referencing their promise that the next 'mission' didn't end like the warehouse. But she felt light, much lighter than before, but with this hint of fire. She couldn't let this beautiful, wonderful girl get hurt.

---

---

The second floor was, unexpectedly perhaps, deserted. There was a single door, behind which was a room covered in dust and cobwebs. The furniture was under that odd plastic, pushed against the walls haphazardly, and all in all it was mildly depressing at the utter abandoned state of the room.

However, sitting perfectly in the center of the room was another note with "Spectre" clearly written in the same script as the first note.

---

---

The Questioner laughed at Mantis' words, before she turned him with serious eyes. "I want that bit of my map back, and I want you to stop using that emotion influence on me. It's rude, you know, and if you can't even be polite when I'm sure you can't even pay my standard fee I'll have to ask you to leave."

With a bit of a grimace she leaned against a stack of books. "Look, I'm a Rogue. I can't do stuff for free or everyone wants it for free. I ain't some Protectorate dog. You give me back my stuff, apologise, and I'll consider lowering the fee."

She held out her hand expectantly. "I can't give you Patriarch, there's not enough threads. I've tried. But I can give you someone else. I'm not sure who, but I know it's one of his. But, but, but! You can't do this alone. Not just an empath...." She considered for a moment, pursing her lips. "No, manipulator. Not just a manipulator like you. I hope you got a team or something. Don't care though. As long as you pay."

She wrote down something suddenly, a series of scribbled notes? "500 in cash and I never want to see your face again here. Deal?"