"The shadowy teenager speaks the truth lu-AH!" Mastar broke character slightly as she heard Overlook shout, followed up by something crashing into the event, and it was something big. Her mask quickly obscured her mouth and face as she turned towards the hulking Goliath of stone and concrete, a bit of a worried expression appearing on her face as her mask disappeared off it, still leaving the usual half covering it.

What the hell was Ceramix doing? Attacking the PRT head on is one thing, and attacking a place for monetary gain is another, but a place like this? It was absolutely surrounded by civilians! Innocent lives can't defend themselves from this sort of mess! The heroes here needed to act, and Mastar was no different. Like it or not, she was helping the PRT without benefits here. Though... she was more than happy to do it.

"Well, it seems like we've all got work to do, lovelies. Let's not waste any time~." Mastar's voice returned from the high pitched voice of her normal identity back into the standard sultry voice of Mastar, a smile appearing on her face as she melted down into tar. She slipped in front of Sylph, reforming with a hand on her hip. "Oh lovely Sylph? Think you can get me up there to Ceramix himself?"

---

"... oh shit." Kyoshi stared directly at the monstrous Ceramix as she saw a number of civilians run away in fear behind her, the groups rushing out the doors for salvation. For a moment, Kyoshi considered the action herself. Going ahead and leaving, getting out so she didn't risk dying before this new opportunity she had presented itself. A long sigh escaped Kyoshi as she realized that it was her duty to help, and as much as her dad would probably kill her for doing this, it was her job. Nobody could tell her otherwise.

Well, except G4M3R, but he was off somewhere doing something. Same with Outsider. Kyoshi saw he was here, but where the fuck was he? Maybe he was just outside, being a face. He really should be in here though, so why the fuck wasn't he in here yet?

"It doesn't matter." Kyoshi spoke to herself in an effort to keep her calm. "It's not about him being around, it's about our jobs as heroes." Kyoshi took a long pause as she did a few short hops, preparing for this fight to go down. "... he still better get his ass back in here."

With all else done, Kyoshi sprinted for the PRT booths where the majority of everyone else was situated. She was a useful tool here, considering what Ceramix's powers seemed to be like, so getting a PRT official to guide her here seemed like a good idea.

---

Sparce and Farce both collectively responded to the power dealer with the same general effect of "What?" when they were presented with the idea before them. Coincidentally, at that moment the legendary power that the Twins held was used as Farce appeared right in front of everybody, her dress and mask worn as opposed to the more ragamuffin cop appearance Sparce held up.

Shit. That was, quite effectively, the only thing Sparce could've said at that moment in time. He was completely stumped by the arrival of the new offer on the table, and that was now further combined with Farce taking the wheel.

Farce on the other hand, muttered to herself personally. "No way... y-you can buy powers?"

Hey sis? Check on Whip, she's not looking so great.

Farce instinctively turned to face her new friend and placed a friendly hand on her shoulder, speaking to her specifically while she kept a watchful eye and ear set out for the rest of the people in the room. "Whipstitch, you okay?" Farce tried making her voice as calming as possible, as to allow for Whipstitch to actually... well... calm down and not panic.

Sylph would continue shuffling awkwardly, nervously giggling as she did. She smiled at Tulpa's compliment, these people were very accepting of how she looked, but why did they all have to wink!? Silvia's tail bent around and she grabbed it, holding onto it like a life line, giving her something to squeeze her embarrassment out on. She stood there for a while before she noticed she was grasping her tail, quickly letting it go and looking at the floor whimpering to herself. Silvia wasn't sure how to take the compliments, she'd received them a few times but still had no clue how to take them. "O-oh you are both too kind, b-both of you."

She smiled awkwardly when suddenly someone shouted out a warning, then ground shook. Silvia instinctively raised her wings and powered up her wind barrier, forming a shield to protect Mastar and Tulpa. The ground would shake once more as a massive golem burst from the floor, sending a hail of debris everywhere. Silvia took the shattered pieces of rock fairly well, her wings blocking a good deal of the stone projectiles. The dust and tiniest projectiles simply got blown away buy her wind barrier, while the small and medium sized rock crashed into her wings and back, loud clangs accompanying the impacts on her shell.

After the hail of rocks and dust settled down, Sylph looked at Mastar and Tulpa, lowering her wings. It seemed like this sudden attack had knocked some sense into her, no longer cowering like a terrified animal. "Are you two alright?" She asked, only waiting a short moment before turning to face the towering golem. It was big, it had lots of thugs covering it's body, acting like some kind of transport. She then saw Mastar reform in front of her looking up at the golem, Mastar then asked if Sylph could give her a boost, this made Sylph a little embarrassed again. "I-uhhh. I'm not the best at flying, I don't think it well end well if I try doing it inside." She shook her head a little, pushing her embarrassment aside and refocusing on the golem.

She looked around the room, seeing all the other heroes, and the civilians. This could end very badly, they needed to act fast. Sylph would start shooting out her weakest wind blasts, hoping to knock over a few of the lackey goons. Her aim wasn't that great as she fired off a few projectiles, hoping they would connect. "What are we going to do?" She called back to Mastar and Tulpa, fairly sure that negotiation was out of the option.

Before either of his visitors could respond to the Margrave's query, an interloper appeared with a deafening squeal. For a moment the antihero's face twisted into a furious snarl, but that expression evaporated when he saw who it belonged to. That yellow scarf, those black gloves, that black baseball cap, that murky green overcoat...could it be? Frozen like a statue with a visage of somewhat-alarmed wondered, he allowed himself to be seized in an enthusiastic embrace more akin to a flying tackle over the table, and to be battered by the young girl's bubbling. Even after she finished, with her feet on the ground and her mint-condition action figure outstretched toward him, he took a moment to recuperate. Something was irritating his eyes, causing a slight twitch and bizarre wateriness, but a hero overcame all challenges.

There appeared on his face a wider smile than any Ward had ever seen, and a truer smile than any Elliot had known for years. “Heheh. I like the cut of your jib, kid. You've got a serious eye for quality.” Reaching into a pocket, he produced a small, thin object scarcely bigger than a grain of rice: a pen meant for the hand of a Lego minifigure. The Margrave positioned it like a coin and flipped it up, and as it spun in midair it grew to a normal-sized pen. With deft fingers he snatched it and twirled it between them, until it fell into his grip in perfect writing position. All that time spent twirling pencils in school actually came in handy, huh? “Allow me.” He took the boxed figure and flourished a signature across a blank spot of the cardstock backing: 'Your biggest fan: the Margrave!'

With that done, he handed it back. “I trust you'll keep me safe. Of course, you are keenly aware of the extravagant value any imitation of me possesses, so I have utmost faith in you. And please, help yourself to any of these, if you are so inclined.” He gestured to the small though untouched stack of expensive photographs. “For being such a steadfast supporter, you may have as many as you wish. It is the least I can do in thanks!” He arrayed his arms diagonally parallel across his front, one reaching down toward the hip and the other toward its face, both hands inclined so as to be vertical with the fingers splayed.

His posing was, however, rudely and unforgivably cut off as a great rumble shook the convention center and from the floor burst an unruly mob atop an imposing goliath. Debris flew in every direction from the eruption point, and as if a burst of lightning shot through his veins, the Margrave jumped into action. Slamming his hands down on his desk and jumping, he vaulted over both it and his little fan, unzipping his jacket and flipping up his hood as he did so. He landed with his back facing the deadly spray, stumbled and fell down for a moment, but righted himself in time to spread his coat as a cloth shield to protect his new friend and merchandise from harm, though his overcoat did not absorb the worst of the fragments. When the dust cleared, he seized a toy baton from his side pocket and spun around, leveling a rapidly-expanding baseball bat at the unexpected enemies. Bruises ached and scratches stung, but he kept his face a mask of grim steel, pausing only to make sure the girl was behind him.

“Alright,” he snapped, moving his bat to his shoulder. “Who called in the loser brigade? Just when we might have had a nice day, these insipid nobodies stumble along.” Sure, a few of them looked tough, and that giant could do a lot of damage, but who in their right mind would attack almost every Cape in the city at once? Any one of the veterans here could probably handle the situation alone. Speaking of handling things, I could negate that golem in a single stroke if I got close enough. That'd make things pretty easy. The only conceivable rationale behind this attack would be to make a scene by threatening and hurting civilians, which they were admittedly accomplishing. If that was the case, the Margrave commended their bravery for putting an end to their futures and possibly their lives for the sake of an intimidation gambit.

Winning this fight was never in question. Winning while protecting the civilians would be where things got hairy. The Margrave, however, was nothing if not confident. Nearby, the other Wards -as well as a few visitors- were preparing for a scuffle as well, though one somewhat flirtatious exchange brought an incredulous look to the Margrave's face.

Hm, it seemed like people definitely wanted to take down the Community, and Patriarch most of all. An- what? But Broker was... What? Sofia looked as Jason with confusion, as though she could somehow glean the answers to this situation from his face. Jason however, didn't seem to like the situation either. At the sight of him speaking into his com, Sofia hands clumsily went to her own and she turned it on, even if she was close enough to hear him anyway. What had Broker said again, something about power? Sofia looked at the briefcase. So that was what they had stolen, bottled up powers? Sofia didn't even know you could get bottled power, much less that they had gotten them. Sofia wondered what kind of powers they were. She felt somewhat... Resentful. Someone getting powers like hers without having to go through what she did. Hm. She didn't like that.

---

So, why was nobody introducing themselves? Were they just supposed to automatically know everyone else in the villain community? That said, nobody had asked her to introduce herself, either. Was everyone working under the same shroud of ignorance to start with, and just had to work their way to knowing who everyone was? Sheila felt she had a long way to climb… Oh, there was someone she knew! … The guy she thwarted trying to take over the Rockers. Hopefully, he had trouble connecting “unknown cape”, “Rockers” and “that attack”, hah…

A very large man in armour, no idea who he was, declared the meeting open. Oh, it was time to announce that they wanted to bring the Community down? Sheila wanted to say that the Rockers would support such an endeavour, except she had no time to gather courage and people kept talking. Oh, that relatively handsome young man in the goggles and with some green hair said they should only raise their voices if they were against the proposal. That sounded extremely agreeable to Sheila, meant she didn’t need to say a thing. Just keeping quiet.

The army-like man over there clarified that he was the field leader of the Jacks. A useful distinction. She kept it in mind. People she actually kind of knew talked, she knew of Sabotage and Purge, she had found a little bit on Retcon’s existence. It seemed to be going relatively well, until Sabotage said she wanted assurance everyone had her back. As a kinda spy even though she fully intended to fight the Community, this sent a surge of fear through Sheila… which basically meant she almost flinched when someone showed up saying he could grant that assurance.

What? Did he have a power that could ascertain that those around had honest intentions? Could he detect spies in their number? What kind of assurance could he provide? Sheila’s mind raced through multiple worst-case scenarios that would mean the end of her time here at the meeting and a hasty attempted escape that probably would go terribly given all the known and unknown powers that’d work together to stop her. Still, the man had not explained yet, so she didn’t act and just sat as the conversation continued, and…

And the man proclaimed he was selling superpowers. Those vials?

That sounded impossible. You could now give powers through vials? That sounded like dumb fiction or a scam to Sheila’s well-researched cape-mind. Yet here he was, proclaiming so with such confidence. If this was true… then where did they come from? If there was a cape with a power that produced these vials that could give others powers, it was imperative that this cape not be working with villains, which clearly didn’t seem to be the case. A mystery presented itself, one Sheila felt an urge to pursue and eliminate before it could become a threat to her.

It would be great if she could prevent these vials from ending up in villainous hands… except staying alive was more important. She couldn’t risk herself for it. Six new villainous capes was terrible news, but ultimately Sheila didn’t feel it was enough to risk everything for. The source was far, far more worrying. … Not that Sheila dared to ask, of course. Other people were going to ask what she wanted to hear, anyway. She kept still, awaiting more conversation.

Huh. That person was just replaced by someone else. Sheila had no idea what that entailed, but she seemed to just keep going, it wasn’t as if Sheila could ask right now. Just a little something that happens sometimes in the cape-world, she supposed.

To everyone else, Creep simply sat still in her place by one table, unmoving except for turning her head a little when this “Broker” showed the vials.

---

His form aloft and monstrous, though the fans seemed to enjoy rather than flee in terror as so many had before. He smiled internally, his Second Vessel incapable of the act due to its alien anatomy, but his enjoyment of the moment was interrupted as a vibration passed through the air. His tendrils twitched, and where before they had floated through the air lazily, they suddenly went static, his head turning to the earth. Reaching out one of his many limbs, Outsider touched the ground and immediately his form blurred into motion. Using his Vessel's flight, he twisted around midair and positioned himself between the entrance to the building and those who wished to enter, as well as the fans he'd been entertaining.

Looks of shock, and briefly, fear, came upon their features before they were replaced by pure awe at the sheer size, majesty, and speed of his form. Then stony debris and glass struck the latter side of his shield and he felt rather than saw the floor crater and allow entry of a giant figure. His senses narrowed, his acute hearing and echolocation giving him an understanding of things that sight could not. Further, his sense of the bio-electrical currents in the room let him note that it seemed no one had been significantly injured in the act.

"Outsider, sir, what's going on?"

His head turned, giving the young fan the impression that he was looking upon him, though his form possessed not a single eye.

"Villains," his hollow voice boomed, its source unclear, though its owner was unmistakable. Attention shifting to the few security personnel that had remained outside the building

PRT soldiers. Good.

"Officer," his voice boomed as he turned to one man in particular, the man had an air of authority about him, his bearing proud, eyes full of confidence and steel despite the situation. "We need to direct the flow of traffic. Rally the other PRT if you can, I'm going to see what I can do about the threat." He paused, form slipping through the air with uncanny grace as he turned towards the damaged entrance. "First priority: Get everyone away from this door." With that some of his tendrils gently guided the closest civilians away, giving the gentlest of pushes to move. It only took about 30 seconds, but in that time the huge golem of stone had pulled itself entirely from the giant hole in the hall.

He was done waiting.

Tendrils shot out, piercing the glass, his barrier taking the impact completely. His body pulsed with bioluminscence as a shockwave tore its way from his kinetic barrier and shattered, threw, or tore apart the doorways and their bracing, creating a gap big enough for his body to slip through. None of the detritus made it past him to endanger the civilians.

Again he moved, form tearing through the gap he'd made, air whooshing past his sinuous body as he flew into the building. Low to the ground he was unlikely to immediately register to the golem and its hangers on, though the sounds of shattering glass and warping metal would be apparent. Twisting through the air, Outsider raised from the ground and shot towards the center of the golem's back at high speed, accelerating in several bursts of kinetic energy. Even as he flew, tentacles arranged themselves to snatch the Rockers from the body of the golem so that they might not go flying when he struck.

He may have the body of a monster, but his mind was all hero.

The door shook as Nora ripped it open, the taxi driver glancing back as the young woman entering his car was trying her best to contain her own shaking. "The convention center. I have a pass, it won't matter that I'm late," Visage said, stuffing her mask into her bag. The reversed design of the top half being broken as opposed to the bottom meant it was slightly smaller. She took out a small spray bottle and cloth, getting it moist enough to wipe her eyes clean of the black makeup that darkened them. Then she redid her eyelashes and did the foundation that was previously missing. To this end she used a portable mirror, the entire procedure being a relatively simple one.

Upon arriving, she handed cash to the taxi driver, and thanked him, before getting out of the car. Nora stretched a bit, being careful to keep her dress decent, before removing the Kodak camera from her bag, and attaching its small lens. The building should be evenly lit to increase the amount of photography done, but it would probably be a very neutral light setting. To help counter this, as she walked to the entrance she adjusted the color settings on the camera. It was a slight adjustment to the white balance of the camera, but it would make the subjects appear more natural. That was important, as any oddity of the pictures would be discussed AdNauseam on the various forums.

As she arrived at the security checkpoint, she flashed her press pass, and was promptly let through. She didn't actually have a job at any local newspaper, but they provided the pass at one point in exchange for some high quality photos she had taken, and the promise of first pick on future shoots they would be interested in. As soon as she entered, Outsider filled up her vision. She quickly scrambled to get a good angle, framing him with adoring fans. Her various customers would love to see a rare picture like this, framing him in a positive light. There would be hundreds of pictures of Outsider floating there with a neutral background, but much fewer of this more human perspective.

After she took the third picture a voice called out a warning she couldn't quite understand. Outsider shifted first, moving to keep more people from getting in, while PRT veterans assisted him. Nothing about Outsiders form registered as eyes, but the soliders were less lucky. She activated her power, convincing them she was Inkscape, and slipped under Outsiders tentacle. His attention was more on the people who had just destroyed a wall, which was understandable. She slipped off to the side, just out of sight of the PRT personnel before shifting back, though she didn't fully remove her power. Ceramix was the one entering, with other members of the Rockers, and Nora got a great candid shot of its entrance. It was a very good day for her, in more ways than one.

Nora kept taking photos of the heroes getting into place, and generally getting ready to fight, while the Rockers began what she considered a feeble assault.

---

As she might have expected, Sylph's reaction was just the cutest thing, though she felt a bit guilty she couldn't help but giggle lightly, her chest full of a heady joy. She breathed in the feeling and it flooded her and for a moment things were good.

Then the ground shook, cratered, and split open. Tables were overturned, hers included, and in a flash, silver wings had spread, covering her. Evelyn had ducked behind the table as well and, instinctively, reached out to her projection, willing it up into the hall where it spread out into a fine lattice-like network of faintly glowing silver light. It remained like that for roughly ten seconds, allowing a copious amount of information to wash over her mind and coil in her thoughts, constricting her view, taking up all her focus, consuming her. Then she recoiled and the projection went hazy, before she shunted it back beneath the floor where it remained.

In that moment of abject panic and confusion she realized she wasn't breathing. Her mother's words that day before her power went under review and the words of her martial arts instructor came to her unbidden. Despite the situation and her fear she felt her lips curl into a slight smile.

Breathing again, then keeping that breath steady like she'd been taught, Evelyn centered herself. She was present. There were people here who needed protecting. Innocents and people she cared about. She didn't have time to cower.

"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 heard Tiger Lily through her comms and the young girl's voice, in her ear, and near her was another point to focus on.

Turning her head she glanced at Lillian and her eyes lit up as things clicked into place. Messiah and Tiger Lily were holding hands, and despite the situation they had the cutest little grins on their face. There was a sort of determination and strength in their eyes and bearing. She envied it, but she was happy for them all the same.

Letting go a breath she didn't realized she'd started holding—again for that matter—Evelyn, no, Tulpa closed her eyes, pressing a hand to her comms to be sure she'd be heard over the noise.

"Team, cover me while I sort through powers. Got a lot, might take a minute, but when I'm done there's gonna be a helluva reckon—woah!" with a crash that had her opening her eyes, the entrance to the concert hall burst forth, and a flash of white and pastel blue monstrosity blurred directly at the back of Ceramix's golem.

"Um. Yeah. Cover me," she said, a bit stunned before centering, closing her eyes once more, and focusing. Focus directed out from her body, she took hold of her projection and a brief flash of silver light shot up through the floor, parallel to the floor, and swept up over everyone, before vanishing into the first layer of the concert hall's ceiling. She took a deep breath and then let it out slowly as information roared through her mind, consuming her attention entirely. Tulpa felt a flash of fear, but for once she breathed and embraced it, letting it pass like the fleeting thing it was. Then the knowledge came, materials first, followed in swift order by cascading geometry with edges and lines marked with numbers and letters. It all converged, becoming groupings of the diagrams, which then began to rapidly—faster than the human eye could have tracked—cascade down from geometric forms, to anotated 2D diagrams, to equations with some words surrounding, and then finally rows of words formed, each grouped separately from the others. Some of the descriptions were more garbled than others and she focused on those. They clarified and organized themselves.

It was always weird seeing things like this, rather than just seeing the results of powers. Even stranger were the connections. Powers—however she perceived them—were always somehow linked to other powers. Sometimes it manifested in literal linking lines or overlapping geometry, other times, like now as she parsed the information that her projection was giving her, the connections were represented by how much distance was between one power description and another. Like blurbs of text arranged across a page, with those that were more closely related being physically nearer to eachother.

Shelving the thought process, Tulpa focused in on the powers, mentally flicking over those she'd seen before.



She breathed, eight seconds had passed, she could tell. It was weird, she hadn't been counting, but she just...knew how long she'd taken. Still, the powers swirled in her mind, some untouched and she breathed deeply before sinking her awareness back into her power. Now that she had the familiar capes out of the way, it was time to analyze those she'd had little or no exposure to.



She opened her eyes and found that a miracle had taken place. She'd kept breathing. Swallowing hard, Evelyn grasped at the overturned table, steadying herself. That had been quite a bit to process all at once. Blinking she checked her internal mechanism and found that only eight more seconds had passed. Well, at least it was consistent, she thought with a slight offkilter laugh. She didn't sound too good, maybe she'd overdone it.

Trying to center herself she called upon her projection and it fell, formless, from the ceiling, rushing imperceptibly about the room. She couldn't rise to see without endangering herself, but she could use it as her and her team's eyes. Swiftly she managed to paint a mental picture of the situation. With that done, her focus returned, she activated comms.

Her voice was shaky.

"Got a scan of all capes present in the hall," she reported, "No sign of Shatterpoint. That's the good news. Bad news is there's an unknown cape present in civilian clothes. Not sure on exact location. Nature of power is somewhat unclear. Too early to make call-outs, but try not to meet the eyes of any civilians. Power is initiated by sight. Going to sweep my projection elsewhere. Gather material traits for a manifestation. Awaiting orders, Messiah. Inkscape."

With that her hand fell and she exhaled, willing her projection further out, scanning concrete and tar in the road, metal girders in buildings, humans, grass and other plant matter. Processed wood. Water, the rubber of tires, and many other materials too numerous to count, let alone note.

She swallowed again and suddenly wished she had some water, despite everything. She knew she had to use her power soon, but...she'd put it off and play support for now. She hated the idea of anyone here getting hurt because of these...these blathering idiots. They just had to attack and ruin a good thing.

She grit her teeth, feeling a scowl on her face. She breathed and felt the expression fade, clarity coming to her again, though the anger remained beneath the surface. Waiting, grasping, trying for purchase. She had to be careful. She had to give it none. Hopefully these jokes didn't do anyone meaningful harm.

It was a slim hope.

There were things that people did that baffled Sarah at times. Most of them were not all that consequential but more irritating. But what was unfolding before her was far and away the most confounding. A group of villains burst through the floor in the middle of the largest gathering of heroes in Denver. Why would anyone in their right mind do that? Either they had an ace up their sleeve or they were supremely stupid. Whatever the case though the woman wasn't going anywhere, Angel lived for this kind of thing. Unless the threat went away then she was in the right place.

Other heroes were working of protect and move civilians out of harms way. There were mostly heroes by her so she didn't imminently move. The debris that came her way she stood firm with her wings spread to stop anyone behind her. Once that first threat was done she looked up as the massive stone figure rose from the ground. Everyone was scrambling to get in position, she could overhear some of the Wards from their higher ups. No doubt the PRT were doing similar. The new heroine didn't have those kinds of connections. Sarah wasn't entirely sure she could work with that kind of structure. While the organization had good intentions there were surely times where her strict moral code would cause some kind of issue.

Not being as in the know of the specific threats to the city, Really need to look through PHO , she did know that these guys were the the Rockers. Been making a mess of things as of late but she hadn't had the pleasure of running into them. A monster... hero... rushed up and was working to snatch several of the pickax wielding goons off the statue. Most seemed to be waiting for another to make the first move. As unlikely as it would be for them to be here for good intentions she would at least try and learn why they were here. Pushing off the floor Angel's density shifted to make her lighter. With little effort her wings carried and allowed her to hover in the air. Ready to shift again the woman stopped in front of the head of the giant a few yards away, eyes glowing. "I'll admit, you know how to make an entrance. Gesturing toward the scene surrounding them. "I do hope you have a good excuse for interrupting and putting innocents in danger. Can't say I would call this an ideal time." Was her approach a bit too passive? Maybe, but any amount of conflict they could avoid the better. And if nothing else she could stall a bit while the others prepare.

As the teenager's hand slapped firmly down on the alarm sitting on the giant of a bed she was in, Christian sat up and looked about the giant hotel room she had called a home. A moppy hot mess of brown hair framed a pair of sleepy chocolate brown eyes, and the loose-fitting pair of black-colored pajamas that clad her Caucasian-skinned form seemed to hang in a messy bunch as was the usual. It was hard to think this was all....hers, but by now the coming in and out of the window secretly, memorizing the damn code for this room she had been told to say if she ever had to "come back" in another body, and then it would be going about preparing her gear for the day. The comfortable, albeit form-fitting, bodysuit was something she had become accustomed to along with the mask, but sometimes her day of attempted hero work made her really enjoy the hot shower after getting back home. A. Long. Hot. Shower.

"Ahhh!.....So, what place to patrol today? See what the Wards are doing? Saw a few cute girls last time.....or maybe that butcher shop place two blocks over with the homemade German sausages and fancy meat jello (head cheese) those thugs were around....ugh," the teenager said as she yawned, stretching her arms with a long yawn escaping her lips, pulling herself out from under the bed sheets and onto the carpeted floor.

At least Breakfast was a single hotel room call way.

Mantis controlled his emotions until the leakage subsided, "Apologies, I do it without thinking." Then he continued to listen to the woman who's mind seemed to be in many different places at once. Was it because of the threads she mentioned? Hard to know. From what Mantis could feel about her, she seemed to be telling the truth.

The asking price of 500 was very reasonable. A chance to get at someone who was close to the ringleader was worth it. Mantis took out five 100 dollar bills and handed them to her, "We have a deal. For powers as desirable as your's I'm sure you are in high demand," he let the words sink in and continued, "I have a team and I'd be willing to take up jobs on your behalf in exchange for your services in the future." He did not use his manipulative powers in this case. She was too perceptive of that sort of thing, but when Mantis saw a good asset he wanted to make the most of it.

---

---

Not being able to use his power made Damien very perplexed. Someone was messing with his abilities. Whoever it was could not be taken lightly.

Once the meeting began, Swarm listened to the vigilantes and villains converse with an air of boredom. He perked up a little as the one named Chatterbox spoke. Any chance Swarm could get some territory and men was a reason for him to help these people. Selfish reasons of course. With his new ally of Affliction, they made a formidable team.

Just then, a new character strolled in calling himself the Broker. He seemed like the one in charge. He opened a case revealing a set of vials. Not just any, but one's which gave power. This is just what they needed to stand out among the plethora of gangs and law enforcement in the city. If they got a hold of those, people would have to take them seriously. And then they could destroy those Rockers as a side note.

Damien pulled out another cigarette as he pressed his current one on a plate at their table. After lighting it, he made his way toward the man without consulting any of his personas or Affliction. Even without his powers he felt like he owned the place. He spoke up to the Broker, "Reflections will help bring this community trash down in exchange for a number of these vials of our choice." It was a bold move. Damien was out of all Swarm's personas the most direct and grating. He did it with confidence, but, these things could backfire if The Broker took offense to his bluntness.

Hazel eyes darted in their sockets like fireflies around the lamp, intermittently clenching shut when strands of bleached blonde hair found their way beneath the eyelids. Christopher Fan, bed-hair, pajamas and a half-baked wakefulness, was slumming it. The ‘fabled’ locale of post-adolescent purgatory, mother’s basement, served as his base of operations, the sun barely making its glimmering acquaintance through the small of the raised ranch window. All around him was the grey and dim lighting of bulbs at half-life, suffused with the browning din of cardboard storage. Solitude.

Mom and dad had felt obligated to take him in; they hadn’t felt obligated to acknowledge his existence. All the better.

Fingers engaged in rapido staccato, as Chris tackled cape work in the only way he had ever known to tackle anything; through study and rout memorization. Written word on the web, with perhaps one source compelling enough to treat as gospel. Details, more fun facts and (trivial) trivia, assaulting his memory banks ad infinitum as he clicked and scrolled. An exercise in abject futility, he knew; in all his schoolings he had established a basis of knowledge from a very young age. In this, he was… unschooled.

Best to pivot from his current methodology. Maybe he needed to find something just a bit more engaging:

Jobs. Meetings. Gatherings. Reputable or otherwise. Just something to get himself out there.

A warning was following by an explosion of stone. A piece of rubble was hurdling towards Epsilon's booth in slow motion before a black curtain hid it. Epsilon fell on her rear, while the curtain hardly moved. The young tinker turned over, and crawled to the next booth on her hands and knees. Lillian called out that it was Ceramix as she arrived, and Epsilon waited for Evelyn's analysis of the situation. She didn't have to wait long, as her teammate opened her eyes and spoke. There was a cape in the crowd that was acting like a civilian, and they should avoid eye contact. That was a lot to ask, it was hard not to look at people's eyes, it was probably human nature or something. Epsilon peaked over the barrier, observing their common enemy from afar.

The nothing opened up for Hermes, the stone figures leg took up most of his vision, its hip just visible. A rocker landed directly in front of him, though he stumbled in surprise at the heroes sudden appearance. Hermes grabbed the man and willed himself away. The darkness consumed him again, stripping him of his senses.

A silent prayer went up from Epsilon that Hermes was on their side. The alternative was terrifying. She took stock of the equipment she had brought with her. She had left the Nullification Sphere on her bed, since it wasn't flashy enough to warrant bringing it to a charity event. She had another flightpack at her booth! "E-Evelyn. I got another flightpack on the floor of my booth. You've used it once before, you know it's not difficult. If you think it's a good time, use it, or-I don't know. It's there."

Color filled James's vision, and he threw the gangster on the ground of the holding cell. He raised his hand to the communicator, toggling it on. "Got a bogey in cell 5," He said, waiting for a response before teleporting back to the convention center. This was a much longer range than he normally used, and he knew he would pay for it.

Epsilon waited for a response from Evelyn while steeling herself. She stepped out into the open and pushed upward into the air, pulling her signature goggles over her mask, while the world changed tones in the process. It was sepia under the goggles, with parahumans lighting up in this dull world. Some didn't count though, for example Outsider and Inkscape, who stayed the same dull color. Just as Evelyn had said, a green light was shining in the crowd, but something was off about it.

Hermes reappeared in mid air, falling where the Ward across the room was floating upward. He reoriented himself, and chose his destination; an empty spot on top of the table he had been previously sat at. Standing there, he waited for Decoy to give him orders, if they had any. The situation hadn't changed too much in his absence, but he still took the time to take it in. There was a dragon in the corner, which he hadn't noticed before. Made him feel a bit daft to have just noticed it now.

Everything seemed to happen in a few moments. Overlook, one of the heroes who had been at the warehouse raid, suddenly cried out for everyone to get away from the middle of the room; even before Alessa reacted, Lillian did, dragging her behind a stall as the floor of the conference hall seemed to explode, spraying rubble everywhere that barely avoided injuring anybody, even the fans in the room, thanks in part to Inkscape’s quick action. Even so, they were still in danger as long as they stayed in the room.

‘I’m fine, Lillian, thank you,’ Alessa confirmed with a smile, before her expression defaulted to serious. ‘If you’re alright too, then...’ There were civilians still present, after all. Alessa yelled out into the hall, hoping her voice reached everyone inside - that the noise of something rising from within the new hole didn’t drown her out even as she continued to talk - ‘Every non-combatant, please leave the hall in an orderly fashion! The area still isn’t safe, and you need to leave!’ In fairness, there was a chance that it wasn’t safe outside either, but considering that the room had just had shrapnel fired through it and a giant stone warrior crawl in, one could hardly blame her thought process.

As she yelled out to the civilians, she could overhear Lillian speaking into the comms, describing the situation - the Rockers, of course, had made themselves known in perhaps the silliest way possible, right in the middle of a crowd of heroes alongside their fans, both endangering the public and making for what seemed to be a very easy capture. If it were just Ceramix, of course, things would be simpler; if Shatterpoint were here too, somewhat less so, unless somebody happened to have a can of containment foam on them.

First things first, though, there was a granite statue to take out. Even as a plan formed in Alessa’s mind, observing the area for a good position to work everything out, Lillian asked her to back her up - like they promised, of course. ‘Absolutely,’ Alessa agreed, the idea cementing itself in her mind as she began describing it: ‘If you can get big enough to charge the giant without too much injury, I should be able to melt its knee joints. Just make sure it falls ove-’

And then it showed up, smashing through one of the entrances in a cacophonous symphony. Was- was that an Endbringer?! No, surely not, she- no, she recognised it, that was, gah what was his name, Beyonder? She didn’t have time to think, as regardless, it- he- was charging the rock creature with great speed.

‘Sorry, T-L, gotta act now! Duck and cover!’ she quickly explained, yanking her hand out of Lillian’s grasp and very quickly analysing her firing angle. Nobody in her firing range, nobody she might accidentally hit, especially with the Rockers on its legs seeming to fly off of their own accord - aiming one hand at each of the giant’s knees, she fired twin rays of intense heat and light at the statue, with the intent of melting the joints and fusing them together. If she’d aimed properly and put enough energy into the rays, the joints would either collapse entirely under the weight of rock above it as they melted, fuse into useless lumps that would make Beyonder’s tackle all the more effective, or at worst weaken them enough that the thing’s legs might break in half on impact. Regardless, if Alessa had her way, that statue was coming down, albeit not quite where she’d have made it fall.

---

Raymond listened in on the discussion held in response to “the vigilante” and their fairly reasonable consideration of how easy it could be for a given villain to be kidnapped and turned to Patriarch’s control. Sabotage seemed very sure that taking down the organisation entirely would be impossible; Retcon accused her of being unwilling to lose her biggest income source; and Purge simply stated that the full force of his mafia would be put towards ending the Community. Fools that they were. Like most organisations, the head was the most important organ. If they took out Patriarch alone, his would-be children - his immediate subordinates, that is - would fall on each other like squabbling siblings. The metaphor was darkly apt.

Then a newcomer entered. Raymond was curious, but soon smiled with mirth beneath his helmet as he realised what was being pulled. Of course, the old bait-and-switch ruse - have somebody pretend to be you, only to go on as if nothing had happened if and when the decoy gets assassinated. An old classic.

Except, as Jason cited the bad feeling in his gut, Raymond in turn began to experience a squirming cognitive dissonance within him - “what if.” The Jacks knew already that the vials contained parahuman abilities within them, somehow; there had been no word about a Broker imitator before now. What if they’d been talking to a proxy all along? What if this was the real deal, with the powers in their vials? Or what if both were fakes, and the real Broker still had yet to present himself? The notion settled like a lead balloon in Raymond’s stomach, heavy yet engorged with doubt. He hated doubt. It was a natural human reaction, after all - nobody wanted to not know something.

Alas, his internal mood lightened somewhat as somebody, Whipstitch if he recalled, made a grand speech about how controlling bastards and tricksters simply couldn’t be allowed to keep living. And then sat down with obvious confusion, seemingly trying to make her power work properly. The vigilante from before- wait, weren’t they a boy just a moment ago? Either way, they went to check on the woman, shortly before somebody with a lot of confidence approached this new Broker, or Broker imitator, or patsy, or whatever they represented, and practically demanded he hand over the vials in exchange for his organisation’s services. Wow. He was probably a dead man, then - if not thanks to the Broker himself, than thanks to the other villains’ outrage at his brash attempt to wile away so many unknown abilities for himself.

@Spiffy

How quaint, like pirates it seemed the rebels of society had a little meeting to talk among themselves. Like an illusion of peace among each other, he wondered what each were thinking internally. It was never what you saw on the surface that you had to consider, but what was in the inside. The weakest part of an individual was often their mind and the demons that they held in the closet. It just took the right kind of cunning to twist that into a weapon of some sort. Still he was here because Swarm suggested it and furthermore, he was here to get Reflections on the map or at least on their radar. Radar or not he’d keep quiet, listening to the words bounce back and forth. Clearly decision making was none of their strong suits, it didn’t seem like anyone had a solid planned, just agreed on a few issues.

‘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.’

It struck out like an instrument out of tune with the others. Just one key off from the other. Violence had always been a way to cause attention. Sometimes unwanted attention that through an unnecessary sense of balance off balance. Affliction moved his head to the side to address the individual, but more the room. He wondered if he’d be heard in this crowded, and yet seemingly isolated little world they were in right now.

“Violence tends to bring unnecessary consequences,” Affliction replies, his voice still, and calm, devoid of the usual rally a villain would have. He stacks his hand above each other, “In the hierarchy of things, it’s better to take things on in it’s structural pillars. Every foundation has a base that which it stands on. Taking down those pillars.” he uses his hands to create crumbling in the air, “Usually takes a structure down without outing oneself.”

He nods his head respectfully to the individual and the group. It’s best to keep oneself as polite as he could right now. Fading back into the background again listening to others speak, he wondered if he had any purpose in this world. It after all was a town they associated with. A town they were familiar with. Something they claimed. Though eventually it was something he would reclaim in the future. For now it was better to get on the good side to create his own pillars.

Then another brought up Vials into the trial. Again this an interesting tool to bring up speculation.

"Reflections will help bring this community trash down in exchange for a number of these vials of our choice."

Arturo stares at Swarm. He hadn’t bothered to learn all the names in this one man, not yet. He knew they were there, due to a conversation they had. Though that was a bold claim to make. How powerful did Swarm assume he was? Or how powerful did he assume Reflections was? They only had the three. Though Victor started to take things more seriously at the clinic. He bit his lip.

Very well, no sense of undermining Swarm. It look like poor direction coming from their organization or their group. He didn’t like the idea of converting others to something they were not. Didn’t mix well with his morality, however, he’d let it slide. And see what he could do it with it. Perhaps ask Victor about it later.

“Yes, send us a target and surely you’ll know it is us, we might even have a plan in the works to swap the power dynamics,” Affliction adds, nodding his head assuredly, but remaining still, calm, and keeping his voice at an even tone.

Paranoid as ever, Spectre reached into his jacket and kept his hand on the hilt of his precious sword before opening the door to first floor... Huh. Empty again. He began to feel uneasy with this emptiness. When you were trying to do a business transaction, not knowing who your employer is can lead to more unknown information. Knowing who you're working for can help you understand who you're gonna piss off by taking a job from this person. At the level of hits Spectre was taking, someone wanted someone else killed because they benefited someone else by being alive. That someone else bites back, sometimes with Spectre himself in some instances. For now, Ben let go of the sword. He could always pull it out if shit went sideways. However, that would not seem to be the case.

Ben walked across the room and picked up the note, reading it through. Halfway through, he saw the location of the promised payment. Walking over, he reached under and grabbed the case, lifting it up onto the table and flicking open the locks. Damn. This is way more than he's ever got before and this was only half! Welp, so much for wondering who his employer was. At this point, Spectre didn't care anymore. With a smirk, he closed the case and read through the rest of the note. Payment, a target, and the promise of danger. What more could Ben ask for?

Finally, it was time for him to move up in the world and start making some real money, fighting some real competition. Ben carried the briefcase back to his hideout and left it there before making his way to the bar. His smirk and turned to a wide, sadistic grin and as he put on his own gas mask. Ben began to chuckle to himself. This was going to be a great mission!

Genevieve was not the least bit amused with that Broker guy. He reminded her of a shady salesman taking advantage of one person or in this case, a group of people, and she didn't appreciate it. Not that everyone there was a saint; in fact, it was quite the opposite, but those superpowers he was selling sure as hell didn't come without a price, and that's not referring to their monetary value.

She then noticed Whipstitch having trouble with herself after her straightforward but rather short speech. Not being one to sit around and watch a situation unfold, Genevieve quietly excused herself to go up to the bar. She chose to walk to the other end where it was less crowded, flagging down the bartender when she got there. She waited for a moment, leaning forward on the bar top as she eyed the small but impressive selection of alcohol set up against the wall.

"May I have a water, please?" Genevieve smiled at the man, suddenly remembering she had finished her drink a while back. "Oh, and another Dozier." She turned her body a bit to catch another glimpse of Broker, curiosity getting the best of her as she wondered what exactly was in those vials. But it's not like she cared anyway...she would not be getting anyway near them. The bartender then returned, quicker than she had anticipated. Genevieve proceeded to pay for the drink before making her way back to offer Whipstitch some water.

---

Questioner accepted the cash easily, slipping it into her cleavage before taking the 'Intel' that Lethal Force had taken. Ignoring Mantis she pulled various papers and city maps out, laying them across anything and everything as she started writing down something in flowing, elegant writing.

"Unnecessary movement here, lack of activity here, increased empty traffic here...." she muttered before cursing as the pen's ink stopped flowing. "You pay, I provide. Normally. I can and do refuse jobs. I'm not getting caught up in a fucking gang war. So obviously you won't be telling anyone you got this from me."

Tossing the pen randomly over her shoulder she pulled another out of a book, continuing her work while she talked. "There's something underground. It's big, stuff goes in and comes out elsewhere. I think it's a safe place. Maybe. Probably. People, guards. Guns? Maybe." Turning she thrusted the paper at Mantis, motioning for him to take it and go. "Directions. That gets you in. You and your team are alone after that, against odds. Remember, these people have lives outside of the gang." her words were stern before she shoved him back out the door. "You weren't here."

The door shut between them, locks clacking into place. It was still early enough that Mantis could get to the Villain meeting and just be a little late.

---

---

The sun was high in the sky the scheduled time for Spectre's mission. The bar was relatively quiet for this time of day and week, not much of a surprise there. There were several buildings he could watch from, alleys as well, giving him a wide spread of options and advantage points. The PRT and Protectorate were busy, but there could still be some Independents floating around.

A bouncer, a big guy who's name was probably Chad, was standing guard outside the front doors, neon lights standing out behind him even in the mid-day sun. The windows on the second floor appeared to have been boarded up.

After nearly twenty minutes of waiting the Target exited the building, wearing a white lab coat and two piece gas mask, setting off at a leisurely pace.

---

---

The day was, surprisingly, rather quiet. Perfect for two new independent heroes to take a leisurely patrol, an attempt at stretching their legs and flexing their powers. All was quiet, until a little after mid-day.

Their mindless wandering would, one way or another, bring them within earshot of what seemed to be an explosion... Followed by screaming civilians running!

Arriving at the scene they'd be greeted with each other.... And a dinky little bar missing most of its front end!

---

As the new face entered the diner and set themselves up, Chatterbox's eyes narrowed a fraction. Then the man announced himself...and his reason for being present. He didn't like it.

'Well, this is certainly...a complication.'

While perhaps not the most original ploy, it was nonetheless intriguing, clever, and worrisome. It was the sort of thing that made him nervous and unsure. However, before either emotion could get ahold of him he clamped down tight and washed them away with another swig of alcohol. Taking some deep breaths, he refocused himself and then started humming quietly. It would be audible to everyone nearby him and it was augmented subtly by his power. It wouldn't draw attention, but it would build his influence...if very slowly, much more slowly than normal. He had his power tuned down considerably and—furthermore—he wasn't using it at all on the faux Broker. Beyond that he kept silent, reading the room and letting others lead for the moment. He wanted to see where this faux Broker took the conversation, how he leveraged things in favor of removing the thorn in their side that was the Community.

Everything had begun happening so fast! The floor broke open and Ceramix crawled in with his giant stone armor golem, carrying a bunch of thugs from his gang in Boulder, and many people weren't exactly sure how to react. Some of the heroes, like Messiah and Margrave, jumped to action without a second prompt, while many gave pause for orders or attempted to reason with the gang leader. Inkscape was a man of action. As far as the Protectorate leader had been concerned, the very fact that Ceramix had dared to attack with such a grand show of force with such potential for civilian casualty negated any thought of peaceful negotiation prematurely.

"We need to concentrate on keeping the civilians safe!" he shot off quickly into his communicator, linked in to all Protectorates and Wards present. "Morales, keep their spirits up and get them out of here! Epsilon, put that new pack to the test and help Morales get the civilians gone!"

The octopus man shot himself high into the air by blasting out a massive stream of ink, propelling up like a rocket. In an effort to end things quickly, he shot a thick black liquid for Ceramix's face, but the massive arm of the stone golem swat the ink aside. "Overlook, we need your constant updates. Tell us when and where he's going to be open, or when we need to dodge! Noble, Margrave, take care of the small fry. We can't let them run amok!"

As he was giving out the second batch of orders, the majority of the Rockers disembarked from their ride in order to rush the stage. Every one of them carried pickaxes as weapons, which would no doubt be deadly if they struck someone without strong armor or brute toughness. "Hermes, I need you to-Ok, yeah, keep doing that. Sylph, it's your time to shine! You're the toughest and most mobile, so I need to to get in his blind spot and try to knock out Ceramix from inside his golem armor."

A Rocker rushed straight for Messiah and Tiger Lily, pickaxe ready to lodge in one of the girl's torsos. Just as he began swinging the weapon, a pellet of containment foam burst open on his back, rapidly expanding and enveloping him. The girls had Noble to thank, floating up above. Decoy, I need you to analyze the city grid and figure out how they got through without disturbing the sewers and lower infrastructure. Protean!"

"I heard the commotion, Ink, and I'm on my way!" came the voice of the Protectorate's shapeshifter, and biggest bruiser, through the commlinks.

"Come at me, heroes! Do you really think I'd attack you all together if I didn't have a plan? Hahahahaha! I'm gonna kick your asses!" The stone giant swung a mighty fist down toward where Inkscape was giving orders, but a quick warning courtesy of Overlook gave the team leader ample opportunity to get out of the way.

"Got a scan of all capes present in the hall," Tulpa reported, "No sign of Shatterpoint. That's the good news. Bad news is there's an unknown cape present in civilian clothes. Not sure on exact location. Nature of power is somewhat unclear. Too early to make call-outs, but try not to meet the eyes of any civilians. Power is initiated by sight. Going to sweep my projection elsewhere. Gather material traits for a manifestation. Awaiting orders, Messiah. Inkscape."

"Acknowledged, Tulpa. You heard her, heroes! Don't make eye contact with anybody!"

Nearby another Rocker swung a pickaxe at the hero Furnace, who didn't even move in reaction to the assault. His temperature flared up for a fraction of a second, flash melting the metal head of the digging tool. Everyone else in the room could feel the sudden change of temperature as its effects lessened over the distance, in particular Messiah who got at least a small bit of energy added to her reserves. Afterward Furnace unfurled a telescopic baton and whapped the Rocker across the face, putting him down in a single strike. "My powers are too volatile to deal with Ceramix with so many people around!" he called out over the intense sounds of battle. "I'll help with crowd control!"

At this point Messiah began striking Ceramix's stone leg with a concentrated heat beam. The stone began to glow red hot, but it did not melt. At least not as quickly as she might have anticipated. No doubt if she kept it up, or turned the heat up a few notches, that would do the trick. "I thought I'd have to deal with you! That's why I chose only igneous rocks for this suit! Hahaha!" One arm reached down to the ground and yanked free a large clump of earth, the size of a mini cooper, and hurled it toward Messiah with clear intent to crush her into a red paste.

"Messiah, he's going to throw something!" Overlook spoke into the comms, a fraction of a second before Ceramix actually began the tactic.

As soon as the clump had been thrown, Outsider made his entrance! With two titanic creatures, space was beginning to become a limited luxury. The alien-like hero slammed into the golem's back with intense force, knocking him off balance. The stone warrior stumbled forward, utterly annihilating the stage all the heroes had been presenting on. Still, he regained his footing and spun around with a powerful backhand right to what was probably Outsider's face.

"We're getting strapped for space in here. Tulpa, manifest as something that can hinder or immobilize him! We can't have any more wanton destruction endangering ourselves or the civilians." Meanwhile, the PRT security officers were busy either helping people get out, or taking down Rocker thugs. A particularly burly, mean looking Rocker wielding a pickaxe in each hand had spotted the little girl cosplaying as Margrave and went on the offense, mistaking her for the real thing.

"Take this, you wannabe hero!" he shouted, swinging both weapons at her horizontally from opposite sides.

"Kyoshi, get in there!" G@m3r ordered, pulling out a small blaster he had replicated from an indie sci-fi game. He blasted a thug in the chest, leaving a nice burn mark and knocking him out, but otherwise leaving him unharmed.

---

---

"Hmhmhm, I see that our resident Whipstitch has just discovered my insurance policy," mused the man calling himself the Broker. "Perhaps others have detected it as well, but chosen not to say anything? It's perfectly acceptable to comment. An individual such as myself who has no superpowers of his own needs to feel safe when surrounded by blokes such as yourselves. Ergo, with a bit of tinker technology that I have... Appropriated courtesy of the Wards' very own Epsilon, I have created a power nullification field. The settings are adjustable, so that I can provide proper demonstration of my product of course, but you will note that any powers of yours that directly affect others or the environment around you have been, shall we say, flipped off for the moment?"

And then Swarm made his move, a very bold one to say the least. The dominant personality strode forward as though he were in charge and owned the situation, and laid into this "Broker" his own conditions and demands. The tuxedo wearing many stifled a chuckle. "Mr. Swarm, I am the one who makes deals, or have you no respect for the name? I am the Broker." Suddenly his face contorted to give off a venomous anger the likes of which was usually only described in books and anime. It was as though he had a sort of aura about him, nothing superhuman, nothing related to powers, but a vibe that resonated with "do not fuck with me." "My offer is such: Ten thousand dollars per vial, an egregious discount I should note, and a limit of one vial per group. Bolster your numbers with another parahuman, someone you trust to watch your back, and then you can really lay into the Community. I want them gone as much as everyone else here. They're... Bad for business."

And like that he switched back to a friendly-yet-professional demeanor, on a dime. Rifling through his pockets, he pulled out another vial of clear liquid, and held it up. "I do not expect you to simply take my word for it. A demonstration is in order, after all. And how lucky we should be but to have someone present who has no superpowers." The man calling himself Broker glanced over to the booth where Purge and his right hand Benito sat. The Italian mobster lifted an eyebrow.

"Would you be referring to me?" Benito asked.

"But of course. I would be willing to provide you with this free sample, as demonstration to everyone present that my word is good as gold."

Benito glanced back to Purge, who merely nodded a single time. He then addressed the suited man once again. "Fine. I'll take it." He stood up and, cautiously, approached. Once he was near, he was handed the vial without any problems. "Bottoms up, I suppose." Like that Benito downed the vial. Immediately he dropped it, and the glass shattered on the floor. He hacked and coughed and half the villains stood up in apprehension.

"What are you pulling here?!" demanded Sabotage. The interloper merely smiled.

"Tastes awful!" Benito coughed. He stumbled his way over to the bar, motioning for the bartender. The bartender approached with a glass of water in hand. He brushed against the mobster as Benito rushed to grab the liquid and drown out the taste of the vial, but the glass never made it to his lips. It was gone.

"What the hell?!" Benito cried out, feeling for something that wasn't there. In that instant every single person in the Cruise Room blacked out for a few seconds. Otherworldly images dominated their sight in the black empty void of space. Celestial bodies, planets and nebulae, glimmering beautifully amidst the infinite nothingness. These things were wiped away, leaving only the blackness... And everyone came to.

A trigger event. Benito had just experienced a trigger event. Those in the room who were more knowledgeable about parahumans and triggers would recognize what had just happened. Whenever someone triggered in the vicinity of other parahumans, they would experience some sort of... Feedback. An unexplored science of parahumans as of yet, the cause and nature was unknown, but to those who knew what they had just experienced there could not possibly be any doubt. Benito had somehow just triggered. He was now a parahuman.