The news caused Elliot to crack open his eyes in a glare. So, poor, traumatized, horrifically-injured Collin was in fact a double-agent, no doubt using the cover of a bed-ridden sufferer to skulk about unseen in the wee hours of the night stealing secrets. He believed it wholeheartedly in an instant, any ounce of kinship that might have once existed between the two forgotten. The little weasel. Vengeance would swift, sure, and definitive. In the same breath, however, Lillian laid the groundwork for a gambit to suss out Collin's contact. While the others might be thinking about to how contribute to such a plan, Elliot found himself instead wondering when exactly the dimwit who greeted Decoy's present with airheaded jabber became the Wards' mission giver. Still another example of being passed up for an inferior just because I don't play nice, he concluded, his expression sour.

Her final statement would have brought a nasty smirk to Elliot's face were it not for his masterful self-control. What makes you think you can rely on me? he wondered. Some nonsensical, imagined bond between us? Or because I'm literally shackled to you by duty? The former would be sad, but the latter would be mocking. However, what he said was, “The hell do you want me for? You made it sound like this was important. Wouldn't such a job be better left in more 'capable' hands?” He took a deep drink of his coffee and sat back in his chair, face pointed toward the ceiling. “Immaterial. Though I hardly need extend my consent, use me as you see fit, as ever.”

---

---

Lillian was mildly disgusted when Kendall promptly vomited into her drink, her concern quickly shifted with Evelyn's words. Yeah, she could imagine that the projection could solve the problem of capture. Somehow.

And Alessa had a much better idea than what she had, which was a huge relief. She could definitely get behind this, and it seemed much more likely to work. Wards overreaching? Completely believable! Hadn't they done just that when Collin had been 'incapacitated'?

Huh. Was that all part of the scheme? Had they walked into that situation to either be caught or to set Collin up to be the perfect mole? That was unsettling to think about, so she put it out of her mind. Which was a good thing, considering Elliot's choice of words at this moment. Her eyes fell to the table as her shoulders slumped. This wasn't important to him. Was anything here important? Were the Wards just something he had to deal with?

"Fine. You're the best actor out of all of us, but if you don't want to help then fine. Don't. Go home or go to school or go do whatever you do. I'm not going to force you to help. I know we don't talk much but I always thought we were all a team. I'd risk my life for all of you, but I guess it was pretty childish to assume anyone else would feel the same," she said quietly, continuing to look down. Meekly she gestured towards Alessa, passing over control of the situation with her next words. "Alessa's plan makes more sense. Unless there's objections we can figure out how exactly we're going to do that. If you want out of this, well, now's the time to walk away."

She'd just keep her mouth shut unless she had to contribute anymore. She wasn't a leader and never would be. There wasn't any point pretending she wasn't out of her depth here. No shame in admitting that, right?

Just as planned, Elliot's declaration struck a nerve, and who better to try to take him to task than Lillian, the most obliviously ill-equipped? He let out a derisive snort, both at the airhead's rebuttal and at the thought that her canned lines rendered him dealt with. Rather than allow Alessa to take the reins, as Lillian no doubt intended to forestall Elliot's inevitable response, the toymaker flared back up without skipping a beat. "Didn't you just hear me?" he asked, voice hard. "I just assured you I'm on board for whatever endeavor you might dream up, putting aside all personal objections and unfitness. For isn't it the duty of a hero to suffer through all for the sake of others?"

He leaned forward again, clapping his hands together and fixing Lillian with his most baleful stare, whether or not she dared to meet his gaze. "You are childish. We're a team in name, but when have you -any of you- made me feel like I'm part of a team? Like I'm even a person? Do you know where I'm from, what I did before the Wards, my last name? Have you attempted interacting with me for any reason other than to assuage the guilt you feel for excluding me and hating me so thoroughly? No, you all have your priorities well in order." His accusatory gaze did not lay on Lillian alone. "Maybe there's a reason why the other guys on this team got sick and took a different road: your perfect little club is toxic. But don't worry, I'm not as weak as them. I can take all the punishment you can dish out. I will not turn away." Elliot stood to his feet, gulped down the last of his coffee, and shrunk the empty cup in his hand to the size of a jolly rancher. After putting it between his fingers, he flicked it into a nearby trash can. "So I will accept whatever task you give me. But don't imagine it's because you deserve it. It is merely...my lot in life. My curse. When you figure it out, come and tell me what I have to do." So saying, he left the Little Owl Cafe to wait outside in the cold, unable to stand the suffocation even a moment longer.

Thanks, uncontrollable nausea, for making the situation unhelpful.

Kendall listened intently to Alessa's plan, then felt disheartened at Lillian's saddened tone. Poor Lilly. There was a lot of thought actually put into that plan and it was quickly whisked away into the aether. It sucked. It didn't help that Elliot quickly interjected before anyone else could say anything and chastised her for taking initiative, amongst other things that seemed to be in earnest for the most part. Kendall might not have known anything major about the Denver Wards prior to joining, but regardless, the potential of a previous Ward being a Community mole was way worse than any past squabble that the team had.

Then, he left, leaving Lillian attacked and contributing nothing but annoyance and aggression to the issue at hand. Maybe if he kept his mouth shut and acted normal he would be treated more like a family member. No. Shut up. That's not how you should treat a friend, even if he was a total jerk.

Kendall sighed before pushing their cup away. They needed to say something to try and mellow out the air, but what could be said, really? The kid didn't speak for a few seconds after Elliot stormed out to let the chaos settle, with a second quickly turning into a couple of them, and a couple more. Finally, they worked up the courage to speak. "Lilly... are you okay?" Kendall asked really sheepishly, yet worried for the girl.

Of course not. Elliot was fuming, and you'd be crying right now if someone like Ryan did that to you. Okay, yeah, maybe that's true, but for celery's sake someone has to step in and be the helpful shoulder here!

After hearing the voice of Creep Swarm glanced at Firefly with a quick nod. Then with a demeanor of a man who felt out of place he replied, "Uh, hello there," Barry stated glancing around for the origin of the voice, "I am a structural engineer and was looking for work. I am gifted in designing buildings' infustructures. With the Rockers recent expansions I felt it was in our interests to offer my skills before someone else did."

Still glancing around, Swarm unzipped his backpack and pulled out a set of blueprints. They looked legitimate as he placed them on the receptionist's desk. "These are simple drafts and I can edit them to accommodate your plans.." He shifted around nervously, as if he was in a dangerous job interview.

---

She hesitated. Infrastructure was most assuredly not one of Creep’s strong points. Would they even have use of such? For designing lairs or whatnot? Still, it was possible this could be genuinely helpful, Creep wasn’t about to rebuke it outright, she’d want to go over these things with Visage and the others… although she was wary of that this might be a trap.

@Spiffy

‘We will review your drafts at a later time and determine if we are interested in your services. Give us your name and a number with which to contact you with. If you have any further things to say, ideas or thoughts or so, I am currently listening,’ Creep said, eventually rounding around the building to look through the windows on the doors at the backs of those who were visiting, herself invisible outside.

Meanwhile, the receptionists would be glancing over the drafts for a bit.

Zinerva shifted her head to watch the sunrise through her window, the brilliant orange glow painting the interior of her apartment and playing over her exposed muscles and veins. The high-rise apartment wasn’t exactly cheap, being situated in the heart of the downtown Denver, but the view from the skyscraper was worth it. The windows in the living room stretched from floor to ceiling, giving her a panoramic perspective of the city as she watched its inhabitants begin to fill the streets.

It was beautiful, really. She adjusted her nearly severed head with one tentacle to better take in the view, letting out a happy sigh. Sleep was more of a luxury these days, with the way that her regeneration mitigated the effects of sleep deprivation by clearing out all the metabolic waste and other nasties that would otherwise accumulate in her brain, so she had more opportunities to see sights like these.

But just as the sun could not lounge about the horizon indefinitely, so too was Zinerva compelled to begin with her day.

She removed her probing appendages from her neck, telling the cells that made up her experimental set of vocal cords to undergo cell death and autolysis, and reconstructed her more usual set of vocal cords as the neck wounds began sealing themselves over. Her tentacles split into strands of muscle she rearranged the flesh and sinew into its more usual hand-shaped form and regrew her bones. Flopping off of her couch, she checked to make sure she hadn’t smeared blood all over the cushions before shuffling over to her closet, stifling a yawn and stretching. She didn’t need to do either of those things, of course, but her body still rewarded her with a small rush of endorphins.

There weren’t a lot of clothing options to choose from, not when she was just going outside to grab some food and look around the PRT building. She had a shopping list saved on her phone filled with interesting foods that she hoped to interest her power in, and she had the vague beginnings of a plan to register at the PRT as some kind of independent hero so no one would mistakenly attack her if she showed up to a fight as a parahuman.

In the end she picked out her usual outfit, which was a comfy pair of pajamas suitable for wearing outdoors, sunglasses, and a similarly comfortable pair of leather boots she could jog around in. The baggy outfit was something she wouldn’t wear to anything resembling an important event, but since she had nowhere important to be she didn’t really care what anyone seeing her on the streets might think of her. More importantly, the pajama pants had actual pockets, which meant she could just bring her wallet, keys, and phone along without having to bring a purse.

After tucking some loose strands of silver hair behind an ear and adjusting her sunglasses, she left her apartment and jogged over to the elevator, heading straight for the ground floor. It was a somewhat lengthy trip to the bottom, so she spent the time crafting and evaluating plans for surviving a sudden elevator cable failure that dropped her to the bottom of the shaft. It wasn’t very likely, given the large amount of safeties built into elevators, but perhaps a severe lack of maintenance coupled with catastrophic failure might cause such an event. By the time she got to ground floor, she’d settled on a plan of simply taking the fall and not healing her injuries at first while waiting for emergency responders. She’d “miraculously” survive if rescue came, but if it took too long for them to come to her aid with her survival still being plausible, she supposed she’d just have to crawl out of the wreckage herself and pretend she had never been there at all. But then there’d be security footage to deal with, so maybe she’d pretend she’d triggered in the accident?

She shook her head ruefully as she jogged out of the ground floor lobby, giving the receptionists a friendly wave and a smile as she passed them. Maybe it’d be for the best if she just never got into a situation like that all, as there were far too many problems to deal with in that kind of scenario.

Her first stop was a nearby donut shop where she was methodically working her way through all the flavors, avoiding buying too many at once so she wouldn’t attract attention. Truthfully, her power probably wouldn’t find much benefit in eating the different variations of flour and eggs that donuts were comprised of, but she enjoyed the food and, strictly speaking, taking in more exogenous organic mass was still beneficial for her power development.

Strolling down the street to her next destination—another donut shop—she was interrupted mid-bite by a car skidding and tumbling down her street, the noise of screeching metal grating in her ears as it flew past her. She stared at bisected vehicle, confused, then traced its path back to where it came from. Two parahumans were apparently the cause of the damage, one of them taking apart another car with a punch as she watched.

Dangerous. Zinerva took three perhaps slightly too-fast strides to reach the nearest alleyway, shucking off her boots and sunglasses and leaving them on the ground. An ivory helmet began extruding from her skin, her skin and fat dissolving to allow her bones erupt from her skull before reforming underneath. A similar process began over the rest of her skin as she started climbing the nearby two-story building, slender and intricate armor taking shape as clawed gauntlets helped her dig into the brick exterior of the structure. Her clothes, unfortunately, wouldn’t survive, but luckily she had multiple sets of these pajamas back at her apartment.

Zinerva had never been in a cape fight before, and she had, at one point in time, hoped that she’d never get into one. Nevertheless, she’d resolved a while ago to take a greater responsibility in protecting the things she cherished in the city, and now was perhaps the opportunity to make good on her promise to herself. Two capes blatantly attacking civilians in broad daylight in front of her was something that she didn’t want to walk away from.

But they were dangerous, ridiculously so. One was vaporizing metal with punches, the other casually tossing halves of cars. She didn’t want to close distance with them, not when she had no real chance of winning a melee against either of them at the moment.

By the time she reached the rooftop, thin bone armor was covering her body. It resembled slender plate armor, closely following her figure, and was intricately constructed and filigreed. It was still unfinished and growing thicker by the second, but in the state it was now Metanoia doubted it could even block a small caliber bullet. A shield was forming on her left forearm, but it was still small and very incomplete. Her helmet was the closest to completion, encompassing her entire head and leaving slits for vision, with small flared wing-like shapes adorning the sides. It’d taken her months to design and practice the armor, to make something that would give her a distinct identity she could use or discard as needed, but she couldn’t exactly say she was happy about having to use it.

She dashed to the edge of the rooftop and managed to catch sight of another parahuman confronting the other two, flinching as she saw and heard the gunshot. Then she shuddered as she took in the warped angelic form, nearly falling to her knees at the sudden influx of terror flooding her mind. Ripping her gaze away from the aberration, she took a deep breath and steadied herself, focusing her attention on the two hostile villains just in time to see the angelic cape hurl the remaining half of the car at the other two.

Regardless of the outcome, Metanoia will create a bone spear and hurl it like a javelin toward the general vicinity of where the two hostile capes are after they deal with the car being thrown at them, aiming only to warn and not to hurt. The fragile bone spear will shatter upon impacting a hard surface like the road or the side of a building, though the fragments will only startle and distract and won’t be dangerous enough to injure any bystanders. Metanoia is going to make sure to avoid even getting close to hitting the angelic cape, trying to making it clear that she’s on the angelic cape’s side.

---

@Gardevoiran@Spiffy
Chapter One: Lethal Force
Things did not look good for Lethal Force. While it didn't seem like the two Community heavy hitters were trying to kill them, they definitely didn't seem like they were holding back by much. Sonika, the ever cold hearted professional, however... Well, she wasn't used to strong emotions. She'd managed to keep her focus so far but when Mantis released the rage inside her there was a moment where her perfect mask cracked. The air inside the room whipped violently, uncontrolled, as Mantis fired his gun from his free arm. Xolotl flickered in and out of his breaker state, thunderous crashes deafening everyone in the room.

Most shots went wide, but two managed to find their mark. One entered and exited at her left shoulder, the arm hanging limply afterwards. The other caught her right side.

Between the anger and the pain Sonika's normally cool exterior twisted, a crack become a shattering. And then.... Everything went still. Farce made her break for the window at the same time Sonika released a high pressure explosion directly in front of Mantis and Xolotl flashed forward, a blur of electricity, before becoming solid as Sonika's attack ended. With the momentum from his breaker form his fist connected with Mantis' head.

"Pathetic mortal, challenging a god," he sneered as his foot came down on Mantis' head, bringing darkness with it.

The duo looked at the window, a silent agreement between them. They had the culprit, the leader. Lethal Force was finished, and there would be plenty of time to deal with the other. They let Farce escape.

Farce had managed a fairly safe landing, though it was entirely possible Whip had taken damage on the landing. She caught the dog as it followed after them, before they promptly took off.

---

@PlatinumSkink@Spiffy@BCTheEntity@solokolos@Lemonzest1337
Chapter Two: The Rockers
While Sheila was dealing with her uninvited guests her phone suddenly buzzed with an incoming message.

RED, 2

What did that mean? It was from one of her men, but there didn't seem to be anything else coming....

---

@Belladonna@Lemonzest1337@Yoshua171@Ambrosine
(Open invitation to Independents to get involved)
Chapter Three: The City
As Outsider checked on Sylph they could hear his mad cackling grow a little fainter as he moved towards the more populated area nearby. Outsider abandoned there scene to ward off the helicopter, which turned out to be a news helicopter. The pilot panicked at the sight of Outsider approaching, temporarily forgetting that he was a hero. Then again, with the city in such chaos it wasn't entirely unreasonable to assume the worst. The helicopter banked hard, losing altitude in the process, before the tail end clipped a building, sending the helicopter out of control! Outsider would have to act fast if he wanted to save them.

Sylph, however, had a choice to make herself. She could hear the sounds of crashing and screaming from the direction of Eyeblight getting worse and she might be the only one around who could hope to stop him before he put hundreds in the hospital or the morgue. Eyeblight was having the time of his life, by the sounds of things, and she'd need to hurry up if she had any desire to try and combat him.

---

Abaddon had deflected the bullet, her instantaneous breaker form far faster than the bullet, and much more durable than her fleshy body. Lamprey grinned in response, taking a step forward before Abaddon grabbed the car half to throw at them. She dived to the side as Celia holstered the gun and decided to play catch with the half of a car. Grabbing it she was knocked backwards down the street by a few hundred feet, leaving a trail in the pavement. Lamprey looked up as the bone spear suddenly landed not five feet from her, her eyes narrowing, as the half a car (now in even worse shape than it had been) went rushing past her at Abaddon.

Several gunshots rang out as Celia opened fire on the cape on the rooftop whole she casually walked back towards her partner.

"Celia, be a dear and deal with the pest, will you? I'm going to go teach our little friend a lesson in respect," Lamprey said as she turned towards Abaddon. She started walking forward before turning it into a run. Close the distance and let her power do the talking.

Celia nodded once in response before launching herself at the building Metanoia was on, climbing up the side of the building quickly. Indents were left behind where her fingers crossed the concrete, dust trickling down beneath her.

Okay, where the heck was this attitude coming from with Margrave? Was this because he felt like he’d been slighted? She’d absolutely tried to connect with him after the fact, damn it, and been brushed off for her efforts!

And before she could take him to task, Lillian responded with... substantial meekness. Her words were sweet, honestly, and it seemed logical for her to pass off command to Alessa in turn. Before she could say anything, though, Elliot continued as if his response were already scripted in his mind - and frankly, it was mean. Yes, of course Alessa knew all that stuff about Elliot, and about the rest of the Wards!

From their files. Oh, God, and whilst it wasn’t like she hadn’t tried to talk with him throughout her year under Sonar, he’d always been just distant enough to make communication difficult, and she hadn’t thought about how any of them would feel without... fuck. Fuck.

Elliot waltzed out once he’d made clear how unwanted he felt, and how obliged he was to help anyway, and Alessa began to start hyperventilating slightly. If she’d just done more... if she’d actually tried to bring the team together... if she hadn’t gotten trapped in that Godforsaken crowd, if the warehouse hadn’t been so fucking fucked, Christ she’d murdered so many people there, she knew they were just clones, of course they were, but the gore was real, the blood was real, hell, hell HELL-

She forced herself to breath at a measured pace, like the therapist had said. She swallowed, no saliva going down, and realised she’d had her head in her hands for the past ten seconds. Was she crying? No, just sweat from the heat of the coffee, but she wiped it off anyway. And Kendall was asking if Lillian was doing okay before she’d even fully recovered. Everyone was probably downhearted, and no wonder. Placing her hand over Lillian’s, Alessa squeezed tightly, trying to soothe Lillian as well as calm herself down, in preparation for what she had to say next. If she could get what she should say sorted out in her head, anyway. Professional? No, no, that didn’t work last time. She had to be open. She had to be receptive. A friend, moreso than a leader.

‘Erm. Wwkkhe-’ Coughing as she choked on her own lack of saliva, Alessa swallowed a second time and tried again, more successfully: ‘Well, I think it’s safe to say, I ought to try and get everybody closer to one another so this doesn’t happen again. We... we don’t want anyone leaving at such a crucial time.’ She refrained from reminding everybody that two people had left the Wards recently. Nobody needed to think about Ira departing. She didn’t need to think about... about Dean. Poor Dean.

‘I’ll see about setting some things up... as for the plan, that’s simple,’ she explained. ‘Text Decoy, and get him to get Director Kens to assign that mission for us. If he’s got an idea for a mission that’d suit that purpose better than Lily’s, or if he can adapt that to something that Collin would feasibly fall for, so be it. Decoy’s probably our best bet to handle figuring out who Collin is contacting too, and after that... well,’ she finalised, shutting her fist in Evelyn’s direction as a mimicking of her role, ‘closing the trap will be the last step, I imagine.

‘I think that covers everything. Any thoughts, possible areas to shore up?’ she asked, hoping everybody would be- ...hoping everybody present would be able to analyse what she’d said for potential weaknesses. She couldn’t think of any. Maybe they would, though.

---

His eyebrows rose fractionally, then fell as he steeled himself. Vanishing and reappearing damage while people continued to panic and react...or otherwise remain unaffected. The phenomena coupled with the words of a thinker on scene made for a worrisome implication.

"Move the brainiac around, see if we can get anything else" he whispered. He got a number of responses from his thralls, mostly them complying. A more involved dialogue began between the thinker and the other thralls. He turned his attention elsewhere.

The reports kept coming in, but they weren't helpful...not immediately, that was until he had a thrall or two start receiving them and organizing them into a map of sort. It told him that the effect was particularly consistent anywhere. It was flickering, just like it had—and still occasionally was—for him. An unstable power? Something hard to nail down. Tinkertech?

By all reports it wasn't stronger in any particular area, there was no way to correlate it to any particular flight's arrival, and it didn't even matter if it was through a device.

"Update. Effect is widespread and wholly inconsistent everywhere. Recording is the same as direct visual contact I'm sending the empowered out to try and regulate panic."

As he spoke he rapidly used his tapcode to notify thralls of their directives. Some he sent outwards from the airport, making them check to see if there was a clear place that the effect stopped and if it was consistent. Others he directed to investigate areas that had apparently been damaged and to do it thoroughly with all five senses and to report regularly and in detail—preferrably through text message. He wanted to see if any of the damage was truly real and being obscured, or the effect was truly just in their heads.

"This feels like a diversion or a way to hide actual damage that is done. Perhaps to obscure the intentions of whoever is doing this. Make sure not to take on your guise yet, we don't want this event to be pinned on us."

Even as he spoke he got more reports and status updates, telling him that individuals had arrived in prime zones where people were freaking out—consistently or otherwise. The empowered—and some normal thralls—began the process of trying to get people evacuated, with many of them being with security, while many more of the empowered remained in the throng, assisting security and improving morale as best as possible. He made sure someone called 911 as well, after all, the instance of panic and suddenly manifesting damage was just a recipe for any number of accidents. They'd need the assistance.

Then he got some useful information, something usable.

"The effect has a fairly consistent radius. Reports on Blucifer have stopped, no damage on that front. The rest of the damage also appears to be totally illusory...except for the tram. Someone wanted to shutdown transportation between the areas of the airport. Not optimal. The radius of the effect appears to end around the parking lot, so it's moving east."

These bits of knowledge gained, Chatterbox sent the thralls at the edges inwards in straight lines, going from the estimated middle of the effect and following a straight path as best as possible. They would hopefully run into the source.

"Going to attempt to close in on the source. I think it's a parahuman, rather than tinkertech. Furthermore, I'll clear the way for you Hunter, but I need you to get a vantage point to see if we can get a better idea of the situation."

---

---

At Margrave's words she tried to catch his eyes, to no avail. Tiger Lily's response softened her heart a little, but then the gates were kicked open as pure vitriol poured from her other teammate's mouth. Her jaw muscles clenched, her eyes shot to him and briefly went from cold detachement, to abject anger, before cooling into hard unforgiving iron. It was that coldness he'd see when he looked to her. She might have given him a chance before, but now? After taking out his frustration on their youngest most vulnerable member? The one who had arguable gotten the worst of the situations the'd been through.

Afterwards, when he had left, there was mostly silence, before Kend—Mastar's, words broke the fragile glass of quiet. She saw that Tiger Lily certainly wasn't okay and that apparently Messiah wasn't either. Still their team leader pulled it together and managed to address the group.

Evelyn nodded in response to Messiah's gesture. "Certainly, but please excuse me a moment," she stood up, not seeing any real problem with their eminent leader's plan, "...make sure that you only contact the Director through text. Otherwise Collin will hear it. I'll be right back, I'm going to talk to Mar—Elliot."

She then turned and left the warm comfort of the shop. As the cold hit her, she briefly embraced it, letting its chill bring her thoughts and emotions into order. She had to do what was right, even if it meant she had to compromise what she wanted...at least this time.

Moving so Elliot could see her, she didn't turn his way, feeling it would be too personal after so long of not being even remotely close. "That was poorly handled, but I'm...not going to judge you for it." She was silent for a time before she managed to work the disgusting words out of her throat. It took her two tries to say it. "You're right. I discounted you before I ever tried getting to know you. I won't defend it other than to say...you seem to put a barrier between yourself and others. Still, it's my own fault for not even trying to get past that wall you put up. I appreciate how dedicated you are to the idea of the team, despite, well...the team. Myself included."

She then fell silent, even though inside she felt herself seething. He felt justified to attack a vulnerable child, a girl who was meek enough already. Yet she had to stand outside in the cold, telling him he was right. It wasn't right, but his words had been. They represented his side of the story and they were also representative to the reality of how he'd been treated...at least since she'd joined the Wards. "I'll try to be more mindful in the future, not sure how else to bridge the gap." She took that empathy and used it to choke down the anger and guilt.

This was necessary and it was good. She'd been the least affected of the others, she felt, so it was her job—even though she wasn't the team leader—to try and make ammends as best she could.

---

---

Had it not been so serious, Outsider would have sighed as the pilot reacted badly to his appearance. Swiftly he shifted into motion, swimming through the air with frightening speed and startling grace. A tendril shot out, wrapped around the tail of the helicopter, followed by one on each side of the main body, and one entwined with the landing gear. With his strength holding it and his flight, he guided the helicopter into a stable flight. Keeping his tendrils in place he moved to a side door and debated opening it.

He decided against it and instead used his strength and flight to guide the helicopter further upwards and clear of buildings. Unfortunately, without proper eyes, he couldn't locate a proper helipad for it to land.

He'd just have to make due with a stable, flat, open space on a high rooftop. This in mind he paid close attention to his senses, locating just that and also measuring the size of the helicopter itself. All this in mind, he slowly guided the heli to the chosen roof and then started descending. Hopefully the pilot got the hint and started turning off the engine.

---

---

Lillian froze as Elliot replied, tensing as his words struck at tender parts of her past. Tears dropped into her hot chocolate, slowly but consistently, as he left. She didn't register Kendall's question, her mind replaying his words in a circle in her head.

It was hard, didn't he get it? Didn't he get that reaching out across a gap that he had made was impossible? She wasn't strong enough for that! Her fists clenched under the table, shaking, as the tears fell faster.

Didn't he get she didn't want to be alone? She didn't want to - she wasn't....

She took a shuddering breath as Alessa spoke up and Evelyn left, failing to center herself or calm the guilt. She had Alessa, but for how long? She didn't have anyone else. She didn't know how to prove she didn't hate him when he wouldn't even let anyone try.

He was right, wasn't he? She was weak. She'd always been weak. She stood up suddenly, wiping at her wet face, as she came to a decision she didn't even know she was making until it hit her.

She just wouldn't be weak anymore. Problems solved.

It really was... That easy.

The tears still falling she motioned for the other two to follow. She caught Evelyn saying something about a gap before she planted herself right in front of Elliot. Stepping closer, looking up at him, she let out a shuddering breath.

"You're right. You're an asshole, and you're just as bad as I am, but we're going to go back to HQ, convince this backstabbing jerk that he can be important for once, and we're going to leave a mark against the Community. Today," she said with a surprisingly steady voice. "You don't know anything about me either, Elliot, and you've never tried. From the day I joined until now you've always purposely avoided me. Well no more. Cause damnit I'm tired of crying and being the weak link. I don't know how to bridge gaps or make friends or be a hero but..." She moved, wrapping her arms around his midsection in an awkward hug. "I'm sorry for my part in making you feel like I did for all those years. I understand if I can't fix it, but I want to."

Metanoia flinched as she watched the car slam into the enemy cape, relaxing slightly when she saw that the villain had caught it and hadn’t been splattered over the road. Her arm muscles coiled and bulged under her armor as she threw the bone spear with a simple motion, not putting all of her strength into the toss. A tightness eased in her chest when the spear landed almost exactly where she wanted it to, a near-perfect warning shot that didn’t hurt anyone and hopefully made it clear to the angelic cape that Metanoia was on her side.

Still, that enemy cape—villain—was even stronger than Metanoia had thought she was. Despite the furrow carved into the road, the villain stood up casually, seemingly uninjured, and reached for her gun—

The thin, partially-formed bone armor covering Metanoia’s chest and abdomen only slowed the bullets on impact, a spiderweb of cracks emanating from each bullet hole that penetrated her armor as the bullets lodged themselves inside her. It felt like being punched in the chest repeatedly, pain radiating from where each bullet had stopped. She gasped, stumbling and dropping to a knee, her mind running on autopilot to continue repairing, shaping, and thickening her armor.

She’d torn out her own muscles before, ripped out her eyes, vivisected herself...but she’d never been shot before. Each impact felt like a personal attack, each bullet sent out with the intention to hurt and maim. Weren’t capes supposed to avoid using guns? Wasn’t there something about that in the Unwritten Rules?

Metanoia deadened the nerves around her injuries, flooding the wounds with pain-killing compounds even as the wounds immediately began healing. She left the bullets in, not willing to give away her status as a regenerator, but otherwise redirected crucial organ functions to operate around the obstructions created by the foreign material. Her ruined armor immediately shifted and realigned, the cracks quickly receding like a video playing in reverse even as the armor grew thicker and more intricate by the second. She hadn’t bled much from the bullet wounds, and thus her ivory plate armor was still spotless.

Metanoia watched as the villain who had shot her raced for her building, sprinting far faster than a normal human. There was only one thing she could conclude—or perhaps should have realized far sooner—the villains were obviously disregarding the Unwritten Rules. Metanoia didn’t know if she had it in her to kill someone—she’d never had a real opportunity to do so—and she wasn’t willing to escalate that far, not yet. Still, she was at least drawing the attention of one of the villains, which would give the angelic cape a better fighting chance.

Her armor wasn’t fully grown yet, unfortunately. It was heavy, far heavier than a normal set of plate armor made of metal due to the level of protection she wanted and the simple fact that the strength-to-weight ratio of even compressed bone was still a little worse than tempered steel. She’d need ten or twenty more seconds to reach the optimal thickness of her armor where she could maintain her current form while still being somewhat mobile. Even then, she’d still weigh far less than half a car. Spikes formed at the bottom of her ivory sabatons at that thought, and she stomped down to anchor herself more firmly into the rooftop.

She didn’t start making another bone spear—she didn’t have the time to make a weapon that’d last more than a few hits, she doubted she could swing fast enough in her current form to hit the other cape, and she didn’t want to stab her either, in case the villain’s durability didn’t including penetrating injuries. Instead, she continued increasing the size of her existing shield as the villain began climbing the building, growing small spikes into the front of the shield that wouldn’t penetrate deep enough to severely injure but would hopefully deter the villain’s attacks.

By the time the villain had almost reached the rooftop, the shield was large enough to almost cover her completely if she hunched over, but its thickness was lacking. Metanoia had focused on shunting most of her growth into her other pieces of armor, only putting enough into the shield so that it hopefully would at least be able to take a hit or two before shattering.

As the villain approaches her, Metanoia will attempt to stand her ground, digging her spiked boots into the rooftop and bracing for impact. Her goal is to hopefully shove the other villain back off the rooftop, if possible, and otherwise delay for as long as she can.

Cold air meant discomfort, and while Elliot didn't like it, he felt it necessary. It kept him from being able to withdraw or concentrate too much on his thoughts. Did he come here intending to confront the Wards like this? He'd wanted to for some time, the urge to unleash his burning resentment for them overpowering at times, but when it came down to it he just seized the most convenient opportunity. Elliot wanted to move on, confident that his breakdown wouldn't change a thing, but he felt positive that someone would confront him. Would whoever came imagine herself blameless? That he was nothing more than an arrogant asshole lashing out without cause? Nobody would flinch from the status quo, their opinions of him surely worsening after this outburst, but if his words sparked enough guilt would they make an effort to put this problem down...?

Evelyn appeared a moment later. She did not look at him straight on, nor he her, which felt right. He should have predicted this outcome; after all, no way delicate Lillian -sure to be hit hard by the revelation that her mindlessness had consequences- or her closest sympathizer would approach him now. Evelyn told him that his actions would not earn him judgment from her, which was a lie, of course. Humans were judgmental by nature; even he, the Margrave, would have harbored strong new conclusions were he in her shoes. Elliot noticed that she seemed to be having a tough time getting her words out. Did they reflect her true thoughts? From what he knew of her, he felt a degree of surprise she didn't come out swinging. If she did, he would have needed to take her on with the full extent of his strength -equal opportunity and all that- though he suspected he would have gained little satisfaction, as her projection would have netted her a relatively easy victory over him despite his stronger form and martial training. Power, after all, meant everything, and some just didn't have it. Regardless of what might have been, he decided to humor Evelyn based on the premise of her coming out here with entreating words.

He allowed a succinct, “Mm,” to slip out when she mentioned a barrier. Yes, he thought. That's true. A barrier did exist. He did close himself off from the others, but was that wall his doing alone? Who built it, brick by brick? They resented him for his behavior, either antisocial or theatrical, and then for his negative reaction to their scorn. Which came first, the chicken or the egg? The Margrave was the Margrave; he did not change. These girls did not interest him, nor he them; circumstance thrust him, the loner and stranger, into their clique, and such opposites did not attract. They did not and would never understand him, and while he would have been happy enough if they feared what they didn't understand, they had ignored and denigrated it instead. Well, he didn't need to be understood. A crutch for the weak!

However, Evelyn did betray a hint of awareness, whether forced or true. Surely she cannot be connecting the dots, Elliot wondered. That hatred breeds hatred, that despising me forces me away and earns retribution. At least she acknowledged his steadfastness to his duty, tenet of heroism that it was. A few moments of silence trudged by, culminating in a pronouncement from Evelyn that interested him. As ever, he forestalled his gut response only long enough to inject it with his characteristic elegance.

“It is said that the first stage of recovery is admitting one has a problem. If the road is true, not even the smallest step on it is wasted.”

If her statement bore ambiguous honesty, his did as well. Still, it didn't feel like the token responses and efforts he'd received from the others before. Having been desperate for respect for so long, and now, after making clear his feelings, Elliot would not stonewall even an ambiguously honest attempt on her part. It would take more convincing that she trod upon it, but the path to reconciliation was open.

He blinked twice. He'd allowed himself to become mired in thinking again, and Lillian was standing in front of him. Where did she come from? She was crying. Oh boy, here we go.

Her name-calling he took like a champ, but her very next few word left him perplexed, causing his eyebrows to furrow in puzzlement. Bad as I am? The restatement of what the Wards would be doing brooked no argument from him, since as previously asserted, he would be doing whatever his duty required of him. However, what Lillian said next got the gears turning. Knowing you isn't my job, he wanted to say. I'm not nice, not friendly, not an extrovert, not a leader, not some goody two-shoes, and I don't pretend to be, unlike some. We can do our thing without knowing one another just fine. It's everyone else's ignorant self-righteousness and contempt that's the problem.

Something specific about her phrasing stuck with him, though. How long had it been since she joined? A few weeks? From the moment she appeared, happy-go-lucky and seemingly beloved and accepted by everyone, he'd lumped her in completely with the rest. But other than ignoring him from time to time, had she really offended him...?

Either way, she now voiced determination to bring an end to the dismissal. Before Elliot could draw much of a conclusion beyond 'yeah, right' he found himself forcibly embraced. An utterly aghast expression took hold of his features as he froze, motionless, not daring to move. “...Eck.” A noise of distress, released on instinct, caught in his throat. Never had the effervescent spheres, whose myriad eyes beheld all futures, awakened him to a reality such as this. A dozen thoughts shot though his head like particles in an atom collider, running together in a gruesome mess. At length he concluded, if...if this is a farce, it's a strong one. Too strong... Something in the bareness of her words told him they came from the heart. Indeed, of all of them, Lillian struck him as the least inclined toward duplicity. He looked down on her as a simpleton, driven by emotion, nevertheless adored by all, but right now she seemed like a child struggling with the burden of being hated. That didn't feel good. 'All those years' she said. How much did she struggle? Surely not as much as him...?

A different sort of confusion hit Elliot as something in his chest turned over. He swallowed, and in the back of his throat it felt as though a dozen tiny bubbles were popping. What the hell is going on? He couldn't stand this internal pressure; he needed to let it out. Since he didn't know what to say, he let his mouth go by itself. “The first thing to know,” he said, voice thick, ”Is that I'm a failure. I've failed everything I've ever done, everyone I've ever known.”

Elliot coughed, and stared across the street at the menu of some restaurant. He couldn't read it from this distance. Thoughts coming together, he continued, ”So I don't deserve sympathy or pity. And I don't want them. Withstanding all that comes...without cracking, showing weakness, giving a single inch...the Margrave's strength. That's who I became. Who I am! Screwing his eyes shut and clenching his teeth, Elliot awkwardly attempted to squirm out of the hug. Why was he saying this? How could he let them see him like this!? He needed to get away. ”Now I've failed that too. Let me go!” he growled, preparing to make a break for it.

Whip landed on the ground outside the apartments with a grunt, darting forward. She had let the dog free to run beside them, forgetting he had existed quickly afterwards. She had something on her mind, now, something that irked her more than anything. Mantis wasn't worth much, but he was certainly worth more than the Community was. She flicked her wrist up into the air before her eyes widened in panic. "What?!" Whip flicked her wrist over and over, to no avail, before growling and vanishing in the air.

Gaia was back, only this time she was bloody and beaten, hunching over slightly in pain as she felt the cool air ride against the new wounds created by the shattered window. She lurked over to the wall of the alley before sitting down against it, clutching her now-red arm with her hand. "F-fuck..." Axel whined in front of her, his paws anxiously patting against the ground. "I know, bud. I'm not looking too great, and Mantis isn't here to calm anyone down."

For once, Gaia didn't mind the voices in her head. Whip was rambling to herself about how she couldn't do what she normally did, but that was overshadowed by Francine speaking up without patronization. They let us run... Mantis was their main target. Probably because he was the one who offed me.

"Yeah... no... that makes a lot of sense..." Gaia thought back to that day, before she realized something. "Oh fuck."

What?

"Allison." Gaia said grimly. "She's probably got the Community on her ass right now." Gaia winced as she pulled a shard of glass out of her arm. "Gah! Fuck!"

Probably not safe to go and help her. Patriarch likely sent a tough lieutenant to get her, maybe Master Baiter, and with what she can do I'm certain we can't talk our way into getting Allison out of there.

Gaia sighed in defeat. "That's it, then? We throw in the towel?" Gaia asked herself and the voices as she pulled another shard out. Axel stepped over to her and simply laid beside her, putting his head in her lap in the meantime.

Of course not. We just need to think about our next move. You were a vigilante, you know that better than most.

"... that...'s right. I was." Gaia chuckled. "Yeah, I was. Any immediate ideas on what we can do to protect ourselves from the Community?"

Change our names and what we go by. It's something that we need to leave behind, right here, and right now. We can be tracked by the Community with that.

Right, that was a roadblock Gaia'd have to overcome. Though, maybe it's better to do that as a coping mechanism, anyway. Her old life was really close to Dunn, and now that he's gone, it might just be better to attempt to start fresh. "I'll have to give that thought... I still want something that fits with the curse I have."

Same, really. You need something that's a bit better than what you have now, for sure, heh. Was that a hint of sarcasm?

"Anywhere we can go? I'd say my contact in now-higher places could help us, but I don't have a phFUCK!" Gaia plucked another shard of glass from her arm before looking at it again. It was bleeding a bit more, now, but she didn't have any more glass in her, so that was a big plus.

Yeah. Uh... mind letting me take over as the body? Fran asked, being genuine for the first time with Gaia. You're not gonna look right walking through public right that, and if I took over it might throw a wrench in Patriarch's goals.

In an instant, Fran was the active persona, and Gaia was merely a voice in the abyss.

Oh thank God... I'm not in pain anymore. Gaia 'breathed' a sigh of relief. Now, you're not gonna turn on us and take us to Patriarch, are you...?

"Nope." Fran said as she stepped out into the streets, one hand in her pocket, the other over her ear (as if she was talking on the phone,) and with Axel trotting along beside her protectively. "Don't expect me to warm up right now and tell you where he is, though. For now, we're allies until we can figure out what to do that'd be the best for all of us."

I wouldn't expect it. Though... no hard feelings from the past

"Much easier to say okay to."

---

Silvia watched Outsider fly off in the direction of the approaching helicopter feeling a hit of relief as she felt that situation was in capable hands. That just left her to go after Eyeblight, who's maniacal laughter could be heard not too far away. Silvia very much didn't want to face him, the sheer terror he caused her was an insanely powerful deterrent but Silvia knew she couldn't let her fear stop her from protecting people. All she had to do was not look at him, which meant she'd not be able to safely aim an attack at him. Though she couldn't safely aim attacks most of the time anyway... Taking a deep breath Silvia started running towards the hideous cackling, if she could sweat through her armor she would be right now.

She ran for a bit before jumping high into the air using a mighty flap of her wings to help boost her higher into the air. She landed with a loud clang! though she looked at the floor for a while, afraid to look up. She forced herself to look up and see if she could catch a glimpse of Eyeblight. And there he was, the surge of fear shooting over her instantly crippling her. She let out a hiss as she covered her eyes, her arms already trembling. The fear was just so overwhelming she couldn't do anything against him, but that didn't matter, if she could draw his focus she could stop him from spreading more chaos and death and that was her ultimate goal here. "HEY YOU!" She yelled out still using her arm to obscure Eyeblight from view, her tone wasn't very threatening as fear was very present in her voice. It was now or never. Silvia's wind barrier flared up now her adrenaline was pumping and she was ready for the oncoming fight, or at least hoped she was.

Silvia started to concentrate, she had a plan that might just work but without knowing much on this villain she was just grasping at straws at the moment and maybe she'd be lucky and her first plan would work, she really didn't have any others for now. But this plan would not work with focus, she needed to build up her strength and let her wind barrier get stronger. Maybe she'd be able to keep her eyes closed and use her study defense to keep him occupied until Outsider got back, or until she was able to make a wind strong enough to suck the villain up. She'd at the very least heard the pounding Outsider was dishing out to this guy and felt that she might be able to trap this guy with a tornado without seriously hurting him.

Claire watched in both awe and surprise as the mysterious attacker caught the car, noticing it was in a much worse condition after being caught. Claire knew what was coming next, she knew she had a delay in reaction times in this form so she had to learn how to predict and make educated guesses about what someone would do in response. She knew in this situation, the car was coming back at her, just not how fast. She hadn’t noticed the spear that had landed on the pavement but instead noticed the other cape running off in a weird direction, away from her.

Claire shook her head and caught the car mid-air, along with a small piece of scrap that had fallen off the car, where her foe had first caught the car. She watched as the woman ran at her, throwing the half car at the woman again before throwing the smaller piece of scrap low to the ground aiming for her legs, hoping she’d be too busy with the big car to notice.

In the off-chance that this didn’t work, she started to ascend, starting to move inline with the second story of the buildings by her sides.

Evelyn left almost immediately once Alessa had made her statement. Honestly, she didn’t blame her. She herself couldn’t just abandon the majority of her team without telling them what was likely going to happen, but since there were more people here who needed her than outside, she’d follow outside only once Lillian and Kendall were okay with that plan.

Or... until Lillian stood up and motioned for Alessa and Kendall to follow her outside? She was crying, evidently, and Alessa couldn’t just leave her to be upset. Hell, what sort of girlfriend would she be if she did? What sort of girlfriend was she at the moment, considering how she hadn’t helped soothe Lillian accordingly yet? And...

Too many questions, frankly, given how quickly things were moving along. Downing the remainder of her coffee very quickly- a perk of absorbing all the heat, though it made drinking cheaper coffee impossible- and uttered to Kendall ‘I think we ought to start heading out now,’ before promptly doing so, bringing out her phone to begin texting Decoy.

The ensuing conversation between Lillian and Elliot was, to be frank, a bit confusing, and apparently represented some sort of catharsis for the younger girl. Lillian hadn’t been with the Wards for years, had she? She’d been with them for a few months at most. Hell, Alessa herself was in charge primarily because she had the most experience of the group, having been with the Wards for a bit over a year total, and she was still screwing things up regularly... they both seemed to think they were weak? Well, weak for Lillian, and a total failure for Elliot, and... gah, this wasn’t fun. How would she go about fixing this? There was some sort of attempt to form a bridge, evidently, and maybe helping with that would be a good idea.

‘Maybe I’m gonna come off as insincere,’ Alessa began as Elliot tried to free himself from Lillian’s grasp, wringing her hands together at her waist, ‘but if it matters at all, I’m very sorry I’ve contributed to how alienated you feel from the rest of the group, Elliot. I should have done more to include you, and I know there was at least one time I could have done that recently where I just failed. And, really, that goes for the rest of you guys as well,’ she felt the need to add, glancing over the three other girls regretfully too. ‘It feels like I’ve been doing everything wrong with the Wards since I started up - Evelyn, you were so upset by what happened with Shatterpoint, and I don’t think I helped you enough with those negative feelings; Lillian, I know you like me, but in light of what you’ve said, I don’t know that I’ve been supporting you very well at all, even as your girlfriend; and Kendall... well, we must seem like a pretty incoherent team, huh?

‘...I will say, I don’t want to hear anything like what Elliot said to Lillian in the Little Owl again,’ she made note of after a second. ‘And that’s from anybody in this group, before anyone thinks I’m singling Elliot out. I do understand where the frustration comes from, but putting it that way is rude, and doesn’t solve anyone’s problems. And... I think group cohesion is something we seriously need to work on, as a whole,’ she concluded, ‘especially with a new member to introduce. After this, I’m gonna see about setting up activities we can do together, as a team- ...as friends. Because, I want to think we can all get along, you know?’

Once she’d had her say there, she finished off the half-written text to Decoy, essentially reiterating the idea she’d had about using not the Wards, but the idea of the Wards heading out on a group mission as bait to catch whoever Collin was using as his collaborator, complete with Evelyn being able to trap him using her abilities, and sent it on to him. She only hoped he could spin up something to fill in the gaps and make the whole plan cohesive.

---

With his equipment gathered, and after a brief, subtle check to make sure all was well in that regard, it didn’t take long to find a bathroom to enter and start changing into uniform. And in that timeframe, everything went to shit, complete with the noise of an explosion overshadowing all else. The moment he stepped out, it was clear something on the runway had been destroyed; from the look of things, it seemed to be an air traffic tower that had been standing a moment ago, and not too much time after that, as the rest of the Jacks communicated their verdict - sensory manipulation caused by a parahuman - the nearby tram went off the rails, the line evidently bombed.

‘Visuals on my end are as follows,’ he promptly reported, efficient as a soldier could be. Ideally, he’d just be taken for pre-emptive military assistance by passengers. The plus sides of having an official uniform for a Cape outfit. ‘The air traffic tower near Terminal C is down, as is the corresponding tram and tram line. Could be a Thinker and/or Master, if the explosions are illusory; alternatively, a Stranger might be intentionally hiding the real destruction. Shaker influence either way, given the scale.’

As Chatterbox gave his proposal for Headhunter’s next move, he nodded. High ground, unobstructed view. ‘Confirmed. If I find the target, I’ll try to take them out. If I can’t do that, I’ll keep you informed of their location.’ With that, he began his hunt for a better vantage point. The only question there was, where would be best?

The panic quickly escalated as civilians did what they could to escape imaginary dangers, while others assured them that nothing was the matter to begin with. With the knowledge that at the very least the tram bombing was real, no doubt dozens were already dead, and the number was growing. Some, who saw the tram as operating perfectly normally, stepped into the burning wreckage and fell into the electrified tracks, where they were simultaneously shocked and burned to well-toasted corpses. Injuries mounted as people were trampled over, prevented from leaving by security guards who wanted to keep everyone calm while the situation was assessed. Of course the situation would only get worse.

A plane was already on the runway heading toward a gate in the concourse Alloy was stationed in. Wheels had hit the tarmac and now it coasted along, suddenly picking up speed and jerking to the side! Such a violent turn for a vehicle designed to work in the air led to a most unfortunate result. The airliner picked up just enough air to no longer be touching the ground, but twisted to the side just before. Worse, it couldn't clear the building.

SMASH!

Concrete crumbled, glass shards flew like a thousand knives, metal tore apart. The plane, or what was left of it, came to a stop halfway through the wall, but dozens more died in the process. At least, that's what it appeared to be from Alloy's viewpoint. Was it real? One look at the glass shard embedded in her arm said yes. Then, just as suddenly, the plane, the wreckage, the damage, it all vanished in an instant. She saw only people sitting around, waiting for their flight, playing with phones and snoring in their chairs. But the glass was still in her arm. The pain still stung.

Almost immediately after, Chatterbox received another text message, this one from one of his thralls in the control towers. Reports of a crash in concourse A. Pilot called in with distress moments ago, said there was a crashed plane in his way and tried to avoid it.

Meanwhile, Headhunter took to climbing up for a better vantage point. There was really only one option in the situation: up the stairs. A number of airport security came charging out of a security door nearby and he was able to slip in after the past. The only way to get the access he needed was to enter employee only areas. Maintenance tunnels, security hallways, and the likes. Thankfully for him, the personnel were too occupied with the shitstorm raging all over the place to focus on an apparent military officer strolling wherever he liked as though he owned the place.

Now up on a rooftop, Headhunter was able to see the majority of the airport and adjoining airfields. In the direction of concourse A he could see the flashing red and blue lights of emergency services, as well as the rising black smoke of a fire. There was no other immediately recognizable damage in sight, but with the nature of this situation it was hardly surprising. If he weren't careful, he could walk two feet to the left into empty space and suddenly find himself on fire. Wait, what was that?

It appeared as though someone were standing near a window in concourse B, wearing something flashy and gaudy like a cape outfit. He only saw them for a brief second and then they were gone, but he was sure his eyes didn't betray him. Wait, there again! Something green appeared for about two seconds a few feet from where it was before, then vanished again.

As Headhunter laid eyes on what could possibly be the target, Chatterbox was receiving multiple communications from those in his "employ." The thinkers that his thralls had enthralled reported that their powers were only giving them static now, no longer working. Meanwhile the ones he had ordered to explore the outer edges of the area were beginning to report. It seemed fuzzy, since the very nature of the effect was inconsistent, but what he could determine for absolute certainty was that all the concourses, everywhere in the airport proper, was covered by the effect, as well as a decent distance into the airfields, most likely about a mile or so into it.

It was quick. Frighteningly so. Evelyn left in a hurry after Elliot, followed by Lillian, and now Alessa's insisting that Kendall follows behind her outside, too. Gosh, this was devolving quickly into a mess of a situation. Everyone had things to say about the others, whether it was chastising, apologetic, or commanding.

And then there was Kendall, who found themself with literally nothing to say.

The team was... well, it was a mess. Kendall wanted to join the Wards and interact with them all as not only friends or teammates, but best friends and siblings. Friends like Ryan, who you can tell secrets to and share cocoa with. Instead, she got the first impressions that went completely against her beliefs of the team.

And to put it bluntly, were just... not good.

The composition of the team is terrible, Kendy. You know that. From a leader who doesn't take initiative outside of just now, to a newer member who tries too hard to be the dominant one in the group. It certainly doesn't help that the other two members of the group are as detached from reality as you are from your mom's womb. The group is horrible, every one of them is a different flavor of toxic to your brain, and all you can do is sit here and watch the stitches of a sewn-together team slowly fall away into an abyss.

And now... you're one of them. It's like you're experiencing the physical manifestations of what I am. Tar. Toxic, gooey, and sticky tar. How long will you stick around? Will you leave like Martyr and Epsilon did before you? Or maybe you'll stick around and watch as the team falls apart? I'm eager to see where this goes...

Kendall shook their head quickly as they heard Alessa conclude her speech. Sadly, though, that's... really all Kendall heard. They got clips of the actual speech within the thoughts racing through their head, but they couldn't get everything that Alessa said. All they got was the last few sentences. Though, even if that was all they got, it was plenty enough for Kendall to get an idea of what was said. "I... I'd like that, Alessa." Kendall said softly from behind the leader. "I really do want to get to know you all, so that may be a good way to do it."

After that, Kendall immediately went back to their thoughts. Maybe it was time to get an actual therapist, since Ryan wasn't around to help them sort out their thoughts with Mastar now that the PRT are involved with Kendall's day-to-day life.

Raymond ignored the emergency situation in concourse A, after a brief scan. It didn’t matter, if the parahuman who’d caused it wasn’t directly there, though he made brief mention of it in the Jacks’ comms. No, finding the Cape would be tantamount to solving this issue.

After a few moments, he laid eyes on them: a gaudy green fixture within concourse B, seemingly moving, though it was hard to tell. Drawing his weapon and switching to assault rifle form, he had the scope on his helmet flip down, scoping in to-

...or not. Apparently, he couldn’t use his power at that precise moment. Odd, very odd. Promptly, he reported in: ‘Suspect sighted in concourse B. My power isn’t functioning properly at the moment, so I’d advise all Jacks and as many other people as possible converge on the area. I’ll keep you up to tabs on their location.’ In the meantime, Raymond chose to glance around at the rest of the airport from his position, his gaze returning to concourse B every few seconds to make sure the green geist wasn’t going anywhere too quickly. Maybe they could teleport, or maybe the one he’d initially seen was just an illusion, along with much of the damage being dealt? He couldn’t say without proper intel.