Starbright was a bit taken a back with the suddenly appearing girl. But before he could react she went on a tangent about legal sides, paper work and publishers, as if he knew anything about that. Though, he still considered talk out his ass about it to scare her a bit he always loved doing that. 'No, not now Starbright, this is not the time or the type of person to do it to' he thought to himself. It was clear the girl was very shy, he had dealt with shy fans in the past and he knew how to deal with them.

Starbright relaxed his posture and softened his voice while heading toward the opposite side of the room, taking a seat. "Legal stuff? Oh no I don't care about that. The more I hear my songs the better if you ask me." He started leaning back on his chair. "It's nice to meet you Eliza and, of course, you know who I am already. I just had to meet the person play that viola... violin." Starbright had his fore fingers and thumbs in a rectangle and looking through them with one eye closed. As if he were sizing up camera shots. "Tell me, are you a hero here? I assume you are with that power of spontaneously appearing, but I can never be sure."

Vivien laughed loudly at the thought of Executive Director Powers dressed up as Baby Spice belting out the lyrics to Wannnabe. "If you can arrange that, you better get me a front row seat. Got that, Scary Spice?"

The phantasmal young man was a lot more silly than people would have thought. It reminded Vivien of herself a little bit. Everyone assumed that she would be this uptight academic, and in reality she's just a goofy passionate weirdo. A waiter came by and smiled brightly at us.

"Hi my name is Nicky! Can I get you guys anything to drink while you decide on your entrée?" He asked with a perky smile.

"I'll have a Roy Rogers."

The waiter looked to the pale clawed boy and smiled just as brightly. "And for you sir?"

---

Azhar recalled the drink ‘Roy Rogers’. He had yet to imbibe, however. Perhaps somewhat unfair towards an otherwise excellent beverage. Cola and grenadine syrup did sound like a winning combination, something the spectral boy found incredibly appealing. It did prompt him to consider all the various, interesting options that continuously made themselves known before him, but Zee was far too busy extending a clawed hand towards that of which had grown somewhat familiar. Perhaps it was time to put aside that Java Monster Energy drink, and maintain focus on that which had yet to be experienced.

"I’ll have the same," came a spectral voice in response, Azhar’s sharp-toothed smile shifting towards their waiter. A young man dressed in the obligatory combination of dress shirt and tie, his winning smile the most important part of such an attire. It would be a lie to claim that Zee’s attention merely brushed past their water, before shifting back towards Doctor Vivien Valis. The phantasmal teen was nearly twenty years of age, and his thoughts of recent had been clinging to more intimate venues.

It was difficult to deduce whether these interests were founded in a desire to hold someone close, or simple curiosity. Azhar often claimed that a person in their position, a Hero, as it were, should not reasonably find themselves in such circumstances. Relationships for a Hero tended towards the same end, which appeared to maintain a similar theme. Chaos. Though Azhar was unknown, it would be foolish to claim that he didn’t have enemies. The boy was a high A Tier Hero, someone who had been sent on missions earning him notable rivals in the process. Involving a hapless lover in that constant battlefield was not only naive, but cruel.

"I think I have a more active singing career than Scary Spice," Azhar commented, changing the direction of his thoughts towards what Doctor Valis had stated. It was a joke, one met by jest, in turn, which was evident by Azhar’s lingering smirk. It was commonplace to consider the young man’s expression somewhat disturbing, those sharp teeth meeting an onlooker as a less flamboyant presentation of the Cheshire Cat. However, this woman, Doctor Viven Valis seemed far more interested in what resided beyond the mysterious surface which had managed to split an audience in two. Those who would rather avert their gaze, and those who found Azhar’s appearance intriguing. Claws, fangs, abyssal eyes, a tail, and his phantasmal voice all spoke of a less than family-friendly nature. However, it was something the young Hero wished to change. It was the reason why he wanted to reach some level of fame. Perhaps that way, he could prove to the world that being a monster wasn’t bad. He could teach both kids and adults alike that actions define you, no matter what skin you wore.

"And what about you, Doctor Valis?" Azhar continued, resting his chin against a slender hand. "What do you do for fun?" Zee asked, clearly enjoying their exchange. It had been a while since he was able to engage in a conversation like this. Work had confiscated nearly all of his free time, and ever since he was ordered by Powers to reach for a more social disposition, Azhar’s experiences with his fellow Heroes had been a hit or miss. Though, despite the boy’s more fun-loving personality, he would admit that interactions similar to this had more charm than trying to make himself heard amongst ten others, each one clawing for attention.

"I sing at the Red Lion Bar every Friday, if you want front-row seats," Azhar stated with a slight chuckle, "I’ve actually performed here, too," the boy motioned towards a vacant stage at the other end of the dining room. "I sang ‘Bang Bang’, a few weeks ago." Azhar finished, the expression on his face indicating a sense of longing. Singing was an escape for him, a time where he could forget about the surrounding world and just be the center of attention. A scene where he could abandon all of his issues in lieu of freedom. A monster on stage, someone who loved the spotlight, and someone who proudly presented all that he was. "Bang, bang, my baby shot me down," the mutant grinned, winking at the woman in front of him, reciting a line from the song.

Angelica did her best to not be unsettled by the new girl in the room, breathing a small sigh of relief as Martino seemed overcome by illness. That was an incredibly unsettling power, however; she couldn’t even think of letting her guard down around this new girl. Still, the grateful smile she offered was real enough as they were paraded into the meeting room.

“Something like that,” she murmured back to Kat. Not technically a lie… heronappers, or something. Her eyes flitted around as they walked, taking note of the meticulously guarded exits. No way in, and no way out… This Gugliano man did not screw around.

Glancing around, her eyes locked onto Will a second before Patricia’s did, but she was marginally better at masking her expression, her jaw clenching so hard her teeth squeaked. Her eyes were wide; she lifted her eyebrows and set her lips into a smirk as though she was somewhat impressed, though her heart pounded. She let Patricia take her to a seat, letting out a nervous-masked-as-flirtatious laugh as she made eyes at someone standing across the room while her thoughts raced.

Still blushing at the tough, stupid-looking man she’d singled out, she leaned in in turn. “I – not text, it’s not secure. We’ve got to get her to not blow our cover. Fuck. I’ll – I’ll think of something.” She leaned back, readjusting her shawl around her shoulders and examining her fingernails absently, trying to gather up her thoughts. Brie needed a warning of some sort. A coded text? Privately, she doubted that the other woman would understand even the most obvious of cryptic messages – Brianna was known for her stubbornness, not her wit. “We’ve just got to get to them and warn her before they get in here and see him, is all. That’s what it’ll have to be. We can’t risk a miscommunication.” She bit her lip as she glanced at a different goon, still trying to seem flirtatious and airheaded.

---

---

All the tension went out of her shoulders as Starbright brushed off her concerns about legal stuff. Thank god. She tucked her bangs behind her ear, visibly flinching as he likened her violin to a viola. But she pushed the concern aside, flashing a nervous smile at him – it certainly looked like a viola proportionately to the rest of her frame, so it was an obvious mistake to make. He had to know what he was talking about to be as famous as he was, right?

“I – yes, I’m a hero here,” she mumbled, staring at the ground and oblivious to how at ease the star hero was. “Murmur is my field name. Not that you’d have – heard of me. I’m only a C minus, so – I don’t get to do a lot of the fun things.” She giggled nervously, peering at him uncertainly. “Obviously you’re a hero here, too – I mean, yes, obviously! I – why?” She cleared her throat nervously, flickering around the edges as she glanced to Starbright. “I mean, sorry, why’d you – want to know who I am? Don’tgetmewrong it’s hugely – it’s a huge honor! I just – I’m not your usual musician by - by any means. I can’t dance. Or be on stage.”

By now it was night time at The Proving Ground, the regular unknowing members of South Brookside Boxing Gym had all but gone home. There were three fights planned tonight. Two new faces were coming in and testing their might against each other for the opening bit, then a couple more rookie fights would close the night out. The spotlights were on the ring welcoming in the new fighters. In the left corner, Gordon Lander. In the right corner, ... ... well Midas forgot his name. It didn't matter anyway he would only get to really know their names if they came out on top.

Midas looked upon all of it from the back office, sure he had more important things to focus on but he couldn't help but drift his attention back to the event. Back to the task at hand, Midas sat back on his chair feet kicked on top of the desk. He held a bowl full of popcorn slowly snacking on them and wore head phones wired to a device receiving transmissions from the bug. Midas's tech guy sat across of him with a less laid back posture. "Do you like the set up?" "Ya know I have to have it to you. This thing works a treat, out of such a tiny object." "Well that because of the new nano-technolo..." Midas' attention trailed of back to the fight.

But then Gugliano's voice came over the transmission and Midas was snapped back to attention. Waving the tech guy out of the room he was left alone in the back office. When Gugliano was talking about heroes being the problem and shoving that kids face in the grapes, he couldn't help but smile. It was the Vinnie he knew and the Vinnie he respected. But that smile and good will faded as he talked more and more about the Gugliano empire and a new ally?

Who could this ally be? Gugliano was the top dog of Castleburg, who would he need help from? Midas didn't like the idea of some unknown group coming in and trying to take over the place. At least Gugliano is someone people know and know his rules but giving power over to some whoever the f*** group wasn't going to fly. He flung the headphones off.

Midas was left in a room with nothing but a tape recording, likely the only one outside of the Gugliano's who know about this. A misstep with this information could cost him his life. Midas had doubts that maybe he was over blowing it, but there was no mistaking it some foreign group has influence over the Guglianos. He would need some force to resist it, but the few good pit fighters he had been recruiting just weren't going to cut it. No matter how Midas looked at it he would need to reach out to other gangs. He would sleep on it and tomorrow, if he hadn't changed his mind, Midas would make some calls.

---

As had been established, Azhar sought to enjoy his day off. A pursuit of relaxation, and in this case, social interaction. He had been doing well in that regard, a development in which the phantasmal boy could pat himself on the shoulder. Indeed, the moment spent with Doctor Vivien Valis was a cherished exchange. Alas, all good things must come to an end, as they say. Where a desire to indulge in the blissful nectar that was a soda mix circled Azhar’s mind, the mutant was forced to yield. Despite what some may have thought, and beyond the boy’s own insecurities, a Hero presented himself, a young man with responsibilities. What did a day off truly mean? It meant that Azhar, or Zee, stood on standby, simply awaiting a call before being sent into the boiling pot, once again.

He could not recall the last official mission executed with other Heroes, but rather found himself on solo assignments constantly. One would, however, be mistaken in assuming Azhar’s longing for teamwork. The moments spent with his fellow Heroes had been disastrous. They didn’t formulate plans, they most certainly didn’t work together in a noteworthy capacity, and they bickered all the time. If anything, the deathly mutant was surprised that they hadn’t all found themselves at the mercy of a villain, due to lacking tactics.

Azhar was not an impressive tactician. He was not a leader, and he was not used to working with others. However, at the very least, he could admit towards attempting the feat. The others were, as Americans tended to say, ‘Loose Cannons’. Azhar adored maintaining a more relaxed disposition amidst the dangers of a life-threatening mission. However, betting his continued existence on fellow Heroes more preoccupied with property damage than a professional approach was not Azhar’s idea of a good time.

Mission - Neutralize and Capture.
Villain - Astral, further information included.
Rank - B+.
Location - Warehouse 9, location mapped.
Lethality - Non-Lethal approach.
Power Restriction - None, but discretion required.

Reaching for his cellphone in response to a beeping sound that trickled into Azhar’s ears, the boy’s eyes fell to the screen, which accompanied a heavy sigh. Indeed a day off meant nothing more than remaining ready and waiting, until eventual disaster struck. Such was the life of a Hero, no matter how obscure, or withdrawn. Within the message, a document had been attached revealing in-depth information on the target dubbed ‘Astral’ and his abilities. It was nothing Azhar could adequately afford attention, while at a restaurant when engaged in company, however. "I am so sorry, Doctor Valis," Zee commented, clawed fingers moving towards his forehead where they gently rubbed the boy’s pale-white skin. "I’ve been called for," came a sigh. Azhar couldn’t simply deny the request. It didn’t quite work, like that. If he was sent a mission, he was expected to deliver. The only acceptable excuse was being stuck in a hospital bed with blood leaking from open wounds.

Rising to his feet, Azhar showed Doctor Vivien Valis the text he had received. "Some guy named Astral," he explained, before slipping the phone into his pocket. If he was allowed to use the entirety of his powers, it meant that this villain was quite powerful, even if his rank was a high B. Underestimating this opponent due to a letter strung along the exact same downfall that Azhar criticized his fellow co-workers for. It was irresponsible. "We’ll have to rain-check this dinner," the mutant managed a soft smile, "it was really nice meeting you!" Azhar finished, before making haste in exiting the restaurant which would otherwise have offered him a lovely evening.

A Hero first, and foremost. It was something the mutant often stumbled across. The mission came first, always. It was why he questioned the decision of settling into a relationship when loyalty to your spouse came second. Perhaps a rather fanatical approach, but one Azhar truly believed in. He was willing to abandon his own desires accompanying a normal, everyday life, for the task at hand. There would always be an assignment present, and there would most certainly always be a villain seeking to harm others. A clouded or preoccupied mind had no place on the battlefield, something any soldier would have been able to affirm.

Upon reaching his home, Azhar slipped inside, closed the door, and proceeded to analyze the mission parameters on a more comfortable screen. His laptop. As per usual, a myriad of information was presented. Astral’s real name, his past, his skills, and powers. Naturally, his illegal operation was equally so afforded the Hero tasked with halting its progress. "A mind-controlling drug," the phantasmal mutant frowned "why is everyone obsessed with creating an army?" It wasn’t the first time Zee had come across something like this. Create a drug, disguise it as any common street substance, and gain complete control over whoever takes it. "I’ll be going up against a lot of mind-jacked civilians," the boy rubbed his chin. Hugo Powers’ demand for discretion made all the more sense, now.

Rising from his computer chair, Azhar approached his closet where everyday clothes were soon replaced by a suit, the thing that symbolized Requiem. An unknown Hero mainly considered ‘cool’ amongst teenaged outsiders, Requiem possessed powers far darker than the public had seen. Without that bracelet circling Azhar’s forearm, there was no way for him to maintain the role of Hero. Clenching those sharp teeth at the thought, Zee reached for his mask, a black skull, and covered his spectral face. Dark or light, it mattered little in the grand scheme of things. He had a mission, and Warehouse 9 was located in Brookside, the easiest location to manufacture and sell drugs. A location where eager buyers, and in this case, slaves, waited around every street corner. Placing his hand on the doorknob, Azhar turned towards his cat, the deathly mutant granting the creature a soft smile behind his obfuscating visage, before finally stepping outside.

Brie didn't really need to take any of the mafiosos clothes, the two conveniently being dressed extremely similar. She did, however, clear out her pockets; taking her phone, wallet and gun. Of course, Brie had no real use for a gun but she figured it would look better if she carried it around anyway...and she also pegged herself as a pretty decent shot, if she did need to use it. Placing it into the back pocket of her tailored trousers, she stood up, giving the mobster one last nudge with her foot to make sure that she was still unconscious.

"See you later Annamaria!" Brie pretended to wave goodbye to the three mobsters as Grace shoved them into the portal. A quick scan over her belongings hadn't given much information about the woman but it did tell her enough to know that her name was Annamaria Ricci & that she was 24 years old. Presumably, she was from some small family associated with, or more likely indebted to, the Guglianos. Of course, none of this was of much interest to Brie and she was far more intrigued by the fact that she'd also had several loyalty cards for Bloopers in her pocket. Perhaps she knew Mr. Impressive...

Pondering on this thought as she leaned against the hood of her now dented car, Brie watched Grace step into the portal, only to emerge a few moments later in the form of a floating head. Still giggling about this as she followed her through, Brie suddenly found herself in a messy, cobweb filled shed. She narrowly avoiding tripping over a large plant pot as she stepped outside, feeling terribly unbalanced. "Gimme a second." Brie managed to mumble as she rested a hand against the weather-worn wood, a strong wave of nausea overcoming her. Teleporting through space was definitely something that would take a while to get used to. When it had passed, and she thankfully hadn't thrown up, Brie turned to smile at her companions. "Well, I guess it's still better than travelling by plane!"

A quick glance around the manicured lawn had Brie spot a set of doors, which were conveniently unlocked. Making her way into the expansive mansion, she found herself in a well decorated and completely empty hallway. Someone more astute might have been concerned that this was a trap but this, whether to her detriment or not, was not Brianna. Instead, she just turned to her colleagues, giving them an enthusiastic nod of the head. "It's empty!" She declared before darting down the corridor, eyes flitting about for any signs of guards or security cameras.

After a couple of uneventful minutes, Brie had reached a crossroads and was pondering on whether to go left or right, when she heard a voice from behind her. "Annamaria! You're late." The voice sounded vexed and also like it had smoked twenty too many cigarettes a day. Reluctantly turning around, Brie quickly found herself face-to-face with a large mafioso who looked like he was trying to be intimidating. Unfortunately, it also looked like he had drunk one too many beers and consumed one too many burgers, so the overall effect was lacklustre. She opened her mouth to reel off some excuse about why she was here and not somewhere else (wherever she was supposedly meant to be), when his pinprick eyes narrowed at her suspiciously.

"Wait...you're not-...!" The guard exclaimed as he reached into his back pocket for what was presumably a gun. Brie was faster though, moving her leg to promptly and forcefully knee him in the groin. Letting out a low groan as he stumbled to the ground and clutched himself in pain, the man managed to mutter something that was incomprehensible to her. "Figlio di puttana...figlio..." He continued to repeat it as he squirmed on the floor, much to the chagrin of Brie, who knew she had made far too much noise already.

"Shh! Stop being so loud!" She put a finger to her lips as she quickly knelt down beside him, urging the distressed man to shut up. "I didn't hit you that hard." Brie rolled her eyes as she placed a hand on his chest, sending just enough voltage coursing through his body to knock him out. Turning to the others when she was content that he was fully unconscious, she shook her head in what seemed to be disappointment. "Jesus, can't anyone take a hit to the balls anymore?"

@hitman @kaijubaragon

Jamie made a pouting face when Rumi slapped her hand but backed away anyways. The hologram had looked so cool, and she had only wanted to touch it! Even though she couldn't. Something about bio-mets. So unfair! But maybe she could get him to let her touch it later...? So distracted by this train of thought, Jamie missed the rest of their conversation, staring off into space and thinking about how she could get Rumi to let her touch it instead. Maybe she could seduce him...? Yes. Seduction was always the answer. And Rumi wouldn't be too bad if she was being honest. As stuck in her rambling thoughts as she was, she only picked up a couple of important things- Gugliano, Sam's Fish Market, control, Leftover- that kind of thing. She would piece it together later, in all likelihoods. Plus, it didn't really matter, did it? All she had to do was hold out her hands and blast.

Her attention was fully drawn back to the present when Rumi put on his Batman suit. Jamie watched in awe as the machines busied about, making whirring sounds as they attached armor to his body. Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped. This place was getting more and more like the Batcave by the second!

She belatedly registered Blake's request, only realizing that he had been talking to her a quarter of the way through Rumi's transformation sequence. She jumped and gave him a big thumbs-up.

"S-sorry! I'll go do it now." Jamie rushed out of the lab just after saying this, skittering on down through the hallways and the waiting area and back to her car. It looked very out of place among the newer, less beaten-up models of the other occupants of the parking lot, with its duct-taped windows and dented, scratched sides. She opened the car door with a click and started up the engine, getting the air conditioning running and buckling up her seatbelt. Like Blake had told her, she set up her GPS- Sam's Fish Market. She clicked the first result that came up on Google Maps (thankfully, it was the correct one), put on some very upbeat pop, and laid back in her seat to wait for the guys.

It didn't take too long. They were out of the building and jumping into her car only a few minutes after she had started it. Rumi's suit looked nice, she noticed. The robots must have done a good job! She gave the two a smile and thumbs-up, and, when they had buckled their seatbelts (safety first!) she slammed on the gas pedal and sped out of the parking lot.

About 20 minutes later (the drive was supposed to take 25 minutes), Jamie pulled up to Sam's Fish Market. Luckily, they hadn't gotten into any accidents on the way. They had been close, though- Jamie's road rage was infamous among her friends. Looking around the parking lot, she noted with a pleased smile that her car actually fit in. Most of the other cars were old and beaten up too. Yay for equality!

Jamie followed Blake into the market, nodding at his statements. She almost asked if he wanted her to knock down the satellite. Wouldn't that disrupt their control of the Iguanosaur? But she stopped herself before asking the question because they were heading inside, so he obviously didn't want her to knock it over since she couldn't do it from inside of a building. Duh. She watched silently as Blake handled the man in the overcoat, giving him an encouraging double thumbs up when the man hit the ground.

At his ushering, Jamie followed Blake through the fish freezer. The two other men surprised her, but not much. From their faces, she could see that Blake's lies weren't going to work. They looked... skeptical. But, fortunately, she was hidden behind the door, so they weren't about to notice her. So, she stepped forward and raised both her hands, sending a blast of vibrational force rushing at each. Both went down in seconds with an audible crack of their sternums. They hit the floor of the freezer, one of them even landing in a pile of frozen fish and sending a few skidding across the floor.

Jamie held her nose and made a face. ]"Ewwww!" she cried. "That's so gross. I bet he'll wake up with one in his mouth!"

@Hitman@Scarifar

---

Patricia nodded her head anxiously at Angelica's reply. "Yeah, yeah, but the security's got the room locked down tight," she whispered back. She gestured to the guards standing around the perimeter of the room. "There's no way we're getting out of here to warn her."

Patricia let out a relieved breath as Katharine moved away from them and towards the head of the table. However helpful she had been, the girl seemed off, and perhaps a little too discerning. Their cover was good (or, at least, Patricia hoped it was), but with enough digging the girl could very well find out that they were liars. Her brown eyes trailed the red-eyed girl as she walked off, only breaking away when she sat down in one of the conference chairs. Patricia's eyes snapped back up when Vinnie and his sons entered the room, and she analyzed them silently. She was familiar with Vinnie and his sons from reading the file but had no intention of going near any of them. Especially the mind-reader.

Patricia's heart sped up a little as Tommy, the younger son, sat down next to Angelica and started to flirt. She gave him a cursory look over and a small nod of acknowledgment to conceal her nervousness. Why would he be flirting with Angelica? She hadn't turned on her power, as far as Patricia could tell. Well, she supposed the older woman was pretty even without her power, but Tommy Gugliano would surely have even prettier women at his disposal. Ones that would match his Greek god persona. Patricia pretended to be bored, examining her nails but was really waiting for the meeting to begin.

Her gaze shot up from her nails when Vinnie slammed his hands on the table and started to speak. Rather dramatic. She couldn't see why the man couldn't just start talking like a normal person. He had commanded the attention room from the second he came in. Patricia put her elbows on the table, leaning in to listen attentively. It would be amazing if they could get all the information they needed from this speech- but unlikely. She followed the grins at the mention of raises from the others with one of her own. She had nothing to be happy about- she wasn't on Vinnie Gugliano's payroll, and would never be.

She couldn't help it when her brows raised at the mention of this new goal. Listening, it sounded... foolish at best, dangerous at worst. Who were these people, and what could they be doing with heroes? A shiver ran down her spine, and she rubbed her toes together in her increasingly obnoxious heels. A dead hero was worth nothing. It was just a dead body. And it wasn't like they could get heroes to use their powers for the benefit of villains. So what could they be getting at? What did they want? Some fancy prisoners, maybe.

Patricia visibly winced in sympathy when they brought Will in. She had never been too close to him but felt bad all the same. She was just glad Brie wasn't there to witness it. What were they even going to do to him? Torture him? He didn't look too fucked up yet... She reluctantly joined the cheers when they shoved his poor face into the grapes, leaning back in her chair and clapping appreciatively with a smile on her face. She barely missed a splatter of grape juice, moving out of the way so that it hit her chair instead of her face.

At Vinnie's final warning, Patricia gripped the arms of her chair, white-knuckled. She had total confidence in their mission and the competence of her coworkers, but this might've been more serious than they had bargained for. Being captured certainly didn't sound pleasant. Or like it would end well. But they were going to take this asshole down, whatever it took. Speaking of her coworkers... she glanced at the door, anxiety increasing. Where were they? They couldn't have been found out already, right?

@Amethyst@Infinite Cosmos@Hitman

---

It had been a pleasant evening which proceeded down a path of increased frustration. What began with a trip to the store, thoughts of a cold, refreshing beverage circling the mutant’s mind, had now brought him towards the evening’s ultimate act. Leaving Doctor Viven behind wasn’t something Azhar could easily forgive himself for, either. He had abandoned good company, and delicious food, all the result of a villain’s schemes. They were neverending, and one would be forgiven for believing that the rise in Heroes demanded balance in increased crime. Where those with powers stood against injustice, there were individuals who sought to challenge the notion. It wasn’t always due to a contradicting ideal, but sometimes the mere notion of clashing with fire and steel was in itself a call to arms.

Exiting his car, Azhar gently closed the door. A sleek, black vehicle afforded him by HERO. It paid off, as they said, to be a high ranking soldier, but as Zee’s foot felt gravel brushing against its sole, the young crime-fighter’s gaze turned towards a large, red title. Warehouse 9, text which indicated his location in an assertive display, each letter twisting and folding across a ribbed wall.

It was an inconvenience but certainly expected. Seeing metal coating every surface removed the element of surprise. Azhar was required to enter the building through a door, where he much preferred a less obvious approach, there was little else that could be done. Circling the warehouse, Azhar paused before lowering himself to a knee. Hidden behind a large gathering of crates, the dark Hero peered ahead. Pistols and assault rifles, hostile targets had made sure to maintain care. They were guarding the loading bay, indicating that a shipment was imminent. The presence of trucks parked along a wide stretch further strengthened this assumption.

Yielding to patience, Azhar waited. He had to be considerate, and most definitely careful. Astral tinkered with mind-control. His drugs afforded him slaves, and a bracelet rendering the young Hero’s powers non-lethal was not enough to allow for a chaotic approach. They were still innocent human beings. However, no plan ever survived contact with the enemy, and Azhar was prepared to improvise. Forcing innocent individuals into unconsciousness for a handful of hours was preferable than putting them in the line of fire.

“Alright, let’s get this done,” came a masculine voice which trickled across the silent evening air. It was soon followed by several boxes loaded into a truck. A closer look would reveal that this manual labor was performed by individuals dressed in everyday clothes, with no weapons, nor notable trinkets available for combat. Further inspection indicated lifeless eyes, staring ahead dimly as each movement mimicked a routine.

"Astral’s using his drug-slaves as workers?" Azhar pondered, before moving from his position. "I need to stop that shipment," he decided. Turning his attention towards the driver’s seat, Azhar noticed how the window was open, with a man smoking a cigarette, and blowing the puffs out from the truck. "The first puzzle piece." Hiding behind another crate, the boy focused on his target and conjured forth a spectral force. The ghostly, emerald presence licked past its victim, following a cigarette that fell onto the asphalt, as the driver slumped forward. "That’s one," Azhar frowned, turning towards the remaining two guards who stood by the entrance.

“Alright, we’re done here. Get moving,” a gangster commented as he motioned ahead. There was, however, no response. Neither was there movement. “The fuck?” An annoyed sighed escaped the man’s lips before he ventured across the loading bay and approached the truck. “Dude!” He exclaimed.

"That’s two..," Azhar whispered, as Necrotic Force breathed itself into existence around the man’s shape. A mere moment later shifted his state into unconsciousness. "And three," the deathly mutant smirked, lifting his hand towards the third guard to mimic the very motions from before, preventing a reaction which would have given away the boy’s position.

Approaching a fallen guard, Azhar reached into the man’s pocket and produced a keycard. So far, the mission had proceeded smoothly. Patience was a virtue, truly. Raising the card towards a scanner, he noted a sound which was soon followed by the color red turning green. This allowed for Azhar to press a large, circular button that slowly lifted a cargo door. He made sure to open it just enough, before quietly slipping inside.

As he had previously expected, several civilians worked in packaging drugs. If he knew anything about these setups, every tightly wrapped block carried one kilo. Following the progress already started, Azhar continued to rely on stealth. Indeed, he could combat these guards easily enough, as long as he relied on cover from their bullets, but allowing that chaos to take place would instead result in the risk of innocent people dying. A mere look into the warehouse would indicate their presence.

"Now, where is Astral?" Came a thought as Azhar continued to move through the massive interior. He did come across more guards, however. Luckily, silence lingered, and he was able to neutralize them without noteworthy complications. Turning towards the metal stairs by a corner wall leading towards a second floor, Zee fluidly moved up those steps until he finally found himself in a corridor. Several doors stretched across its narrow shape, and as Requiem delved deeper, he soon stopped.

“You took your time,” a voice struck at the boy, earning his attention before Azhar carefully opened a door which allowed sight of a decorated office. “My guards would have just let you come and see me, you know.” On a chair sat a man clad in what could only have been defined as an elegant suit. His short, blonde hair was styled, and a cigarette rested between his lips. Piercing blue eyes peered ahead, and Azhar’s focus found itself transfixed. “Please, have a seat,” the man who went by Astral offered, motioning towards the comfortable chair in front of his office desk.

"You knew?" Zee asked, stepping inside before he closed the door behind him.

“Of course,” Astral tapped his temple, “knowledge is my trade, my boy,” a small grin made itself known upon the man’s lips. “Besides,” he continued before standing, “a fight with you wouldn’t exactly end well for me, would it?” Astral chuckled, opening a wooden, mahogany cupboard and produced two glasses, followed by a bottle of whiskey.

"So you invite me over for a drink?" The deathly mutant raised a brow, spectral energy now dimly emanating from his frame. "You can save your speech."

“Come now,” Astral poured them a serving of golden brown liquid, “we both know what you look like, so why not take that mask off?” He exhaled a small puff of smoke, “this meeting will end at your behest, so the least you can do is entertain a conversation, no?”

There was a slight pause, before Azhar eventually pulled his hood down, followed by his mask. Zee had no secret identity, and as far as he was concerned, the whiskey wasn’t poisoned. Astral had taken a sip himself. "How proper of you," the boy offered, his claws clicking against the glass which had been offered.

“With a thought,” Astral began, “I can lay unconscious on this here floor,” he motioned towards the carpeted surface beneath them. “And perfectly good whiskey would simply.., soak in,” came a sigh. “You know this, so I do appreciate the mercy,” Astral took another sip. “You’re not a savage, Azhar. It is uncommon for Heroes to present.., civility.”

"Because trusting villains with a conversation tends to end well," Zee managed a dry joke, and raised an eyebrow. "But I can’t very well enjoy a glass of whiskey while they’re ripping your fingers off in Coldwater," Azhar brought the glass to his lips. "So you have until I finish this drink."

Tom snickered, also waving goodbye to the mafiosos as they were deposited by Grace into Chick-Fil-A via a portal. He would have paid good money to see their reactions when they woke up and discovered they were missing their wallets, sunglasses and were in a horrible fast food restaurant bathroom, and if they weren't on a cool undercover mission he would have gone there and set up some kind of camera just to record it. But they were on a cool undercover mission, and the cool undercover mission had to go first. Tom snickered again as Grace's purple-haired head poked through the portal and invited them to go inside too. Tom stepped into the portal and immediately shuddered, not used to the feeling of travelling through space using a portal.

Coming out in the shed, Tom kicked a broom out of the way before stepping out into the sun, taking deep breaths and leaning over as he got over the bizarre feeling of portal travel. "Christ... That's fucking rough..." He shook his head before standing up fully, the nauseated feeling slipping away after about a minute. His eyes flicked around the well tended to garden that he was now standing in, before focusing on the door that Brie was already heading it to. He walked quickly to keep up as the trio headed inside the extravagant mafia mansion. "Man..." Tom said, looking around at the gorgeous corridor. "These people are loaded! I bet some of this art is worth thousands. For a moment he considered taking some off the wall - stealing from the mafia wasn't morally wrong, right?

But as Brie darted down the corridor he remembered he was on a cool undercover mission, and so he shook his head and got rid of the idea of an art heist. He went in a different direction from Brie, just for a second, to see if he could find the entrance into the meeting. He went off into another ornate corridor, around a couple of bends, before he was suddenly met with the sight of another mafioso patrolling the corridors. Tom kept himself calm and simply looked at the man, who regarded him for a moment before nodding curtly. Tom quickly nodded back, then the man walked off in a different direction. Tom snickered a little. He supposed that he looked like a mafioso enough to not arouse any suspicion. Or maybe it was the sunglasses... Yeah, it was probably the sunglasses.

While Tom was internally gloating about his encounter, he heard a yell nearby and then something heavy hit the ground. He quickly rushed in the general direction of the noise, having to go back and forth through a few identical ornate corridors, before he discovered Brie standing above the body of another mafioso, knocked out peacefully. Looked like she had also had an encounter, but hers had not gone nearly as smoothly has his. He shook his head as Grace appeared at the scene a couple of seconds after he did. "Shit, I heard the body hitting the ground from a couple of corridors over, the dude I saw probably heard it too."

He glanced at Grace again. "We probably should get to the meeting right now. Grace, can you make this guy join the Chick-Fil-A gang?" Tom couldn't help but crack a small smile at his own words.

@Danvers @Hitman

---

“Purpose,” Astral stated, motioning towards the large window behind his desk, a circular glass view which allowed sight into the warehouse interior. “I gave all these people purpose,” he continued. “All of them would have overdosed by now,” the man exhaled smoke as he placed his cigar between two fingers. “So tell me,” came a short pause as Astral leaned against his desk, those bright sapphires meeting Azhar’s abyssal gaze, “how horrible is this, truly?”

"You’re asking me if turning people into mindless husks is morally preferable to drug-induced suicide?" Azhar raised a brow, and sipped his drink. "Really digging deep there, aren’t you?"

With a grin bridging across Astral’s lips, the man took another drag of his cigar. “Before you acquired that bracelet,” he motioned towards Azhar’s arm, “how much of a morally superior mess did you leave behind at the end of every mission, my friend?”

A faint frown made itself known on the deathly mutant’s face, his black gaze falling to the whiskey in his hands. "Enough to warrant nightmares," the boy offered, "enough to drill the scent of death into my head," he continued, shifting his focus towards Astral.

“A very honest boy, you are,” the man raised a brow. He did not quite expect that answer, it would appear.

"Were you hoping for a tantrum?" Azhar asked, before proceeding. "Or do you want to continue, Astral? My glass is still full, so I may as well ventilate my many regrets." Though the expression on Azhar’s face betrayed little more than apathy, there was a sense of jest emanating from the boy’s statement. However, Astral stared at the young hero, not quite sure what went through the teenager’s mind. Indeed, Astral’s power allowed him to peer into someone’s past and learn everything about them with a mere look. Their joys, their fears, their sorrows.

“Is that why your father hates you, then?” The man asked, “because you personify darkness?”

Unable to stifle his laughter, Azhar shook his head. "My father hates me," the boy explained, "because I’m a monster. You’ve seen it all," a claw tapped the side of Azhar’s head, "wouldn’t you say?"

“You’re someone who is trying to escape his true nature,” Astral motioned towards Zee’s bracelet. “Why?”

Enjoying another sip of his drink, Azhar would admit that this was a good trade for what had previously been taken from him. A perfectly good energy drink. However, very little compared to the marvelous splendor that was whiskey. "Don’t you know that, already?" The mutant offered Astral a small, sharp-toothed grin. He had read the documents and was well aware about what this man was capable of. Nothing was a secret.

“I know that you’re afraid of yourself,” the man analyzed, “and I know that you’re trying to look like a hero for everyone else.” Allowing the statement to linger, Astral took another sip of his drink. It could very well have been his last. “What was it you said during that camping trip with your friends? You want to become famous, as to prove that even monsters can be heroes?”

Before setting foot in Astral’s office, Azhar was already prepared to have his mind probed. He had made sure to read through provided documents, and he was also aware that Astral had driven people to insanity. However, the hypothetical ball was on Azhar’s side. "It was something like that," the boy agreed.

Again, there was a pause. A lingering silence which Astral eventually broke. “You’re enjoying this,” he stated, seeing the small smirk bridging its way across Azhar’s lips. “You never did shy away from an interesting conversation, did you?”

"You tell me," Zee leaned against a cupboard, nursing the glass which rested between his slender, clawed digits. "Dive deep into my self-proclaimed philosophical mind and extract every embarrassing secret."

“Because you truly don’t mind,” Astral tapped a finger against his drink. “It is an act of control, your desire to.., what was it? ‘Own your shit’? Yes, that was it.” The man gently stirred his expensive beverage, its price enough to warrant awe. “Because nothing offends you, does it? No insults, no mind games.., your greatest enemy is the struggle constantly raging in here,” he tapped his temple. “To give in and unleash the full extent of your powers, or maintain discipline, and fight to protect those who fear you.”

"You give me too much credit," Azhar commented, with a chuckle. "But you are right about one thing, Astral," the boy’s abyssal orbs fixed themselves on the blue spheres joining the exchange. "Mind games are a waste of time. I wouldn’t join any of you, and you already know that," Zee stated, taking a step away from the cupboard. "Not because of some code or bullshit Hero’s oath," Requiem extended a claw, pointing it towards Astral, "but because if I decided to give in and become a bad boy, the last thing I’d ever do, would be leaving a single one of you alive."

“That’s what you really want, isn’t it?” Astral smirked, “you want to kill all the villains. An Anti-Hero.”

"You probably know the feeling, don’t you? That sickening feeling where you want to puke when you kill someone?" Azhar slowly approached the man, "but somewhere deep inside, buried in your heart.., is satisfaction."

“Is that how you felt when you killed the Warden in Mexico?” Astral remained leaning against the desk, unmoving. “When you helped save the friends you’re forcing yourself to like.” Despite knowing how this meeting would end, there was a twisted sense of joy washing over Astral, being able to speak to someone who so freely expressed the dark desires within. “Oh, you were so delighted.., a man who could copy another’s powers and there you were, presenting yours as if a gift.” Again, there was a pause, but one which remained for a brief breath. “Before you watched him melt into a puddle in response to venturing upon the majesty that are your powers.”

Running those clawed digits through his bangs, Azhar enjoyed another sip. He would make sure to confiscate that whiskey bottle by the end of this. "You know, my biggest fear was expressing those pesky homosexual feelings inside," a claw gently placed itself on Astral’s chest. "Because I was afraid that my mother would cast me aside." Azhar’s slender hand moved, tracing a path across Astral’s torso and towards his cheek where it then lingered. "I was afraid that the other Heroes wouldn’t accept me for being a fucking monster, either," Zee leaned closer, his black eyes now inches from Astral’s own. "But in the end.., who gives a fuck? Right?"

“Own your shit..,” Astral commented, clenching his teeth slightly as his heart rate accelerated.

"Because no one else will..," the boy finished, Necrotic energy escaping his hand, before Astral fell onto the floor. Taking another sip of his whiskey, Azhar finished the drink. "Your conversation’s over."

---

Following the police’s involvement, Zee could leave. However, his mind lingered. Why did Hugo Powers consistently provide weaker foes for the mutant to fight? Was it to prevent a scenario where the boy abandoned reason in the face of struggle? Clenching his teeth, Azhar turned in bed, his arms gently wrapped around Dracula’s soft, dark frame. He was getting tired of stopping drug dealers, and barely combat-ready villains. It was starting to be reminiscent of an insult. The confrontation with Astral had been little more than a conversation, before the battle was won. If intel provided the villain's exact location, why didn’t they just send in the police, initially? Despite his frustrated thoughts, Azhar was aware of the answer. It was to prevent deaths, and that much could be handled by drafting a Hero with the ability to incapacitate without killing.

A rather ironic assessment in relation to Azhar, of all people. Shifting his gaze towards the bracelet around his forearm, Zee did little in stopping Dracula’s paw from repeatedly poking the device where he lay. "This is it, huh?" The deathly mutant commented, his recipient turning with a curious, four-eyed glance, before returning to a far more interesting venue of focus. Azhar’s bracelet. "Ever thought about us putting a cape on you, Dracula?" A sharp-toothed grin bridged itself across the mutant’s lips before he felt a tail slapping his face, which in turn warranted a chuckle. "We could be Death and his trusty steed!" Claws tenderly combed their way across Dracula’s raven fur, before Azhar eventually sat.

Placing the cat on his lap, Zee expressed a deep sigh, his eyes closing as he leaned against the wall. "I wonder what the others are doing," came a quiet statement. "Some mafia thing, wasn’t it?" Azhar murmured, his black claws continuously moving across Dracula’s shape in a constant, albeit absentminded manner. The comfort of his bed had overtaken them both, and yet, the mutant managed little in regards to rest. Turning his attention to the cellphone at his side, Zee paused. Part of him wanted to call Powers and halfway scream at that man. ‘Let me fight some real villains, I won’t go nuts and turn into a fucking horseman of the apocalypse,’ Azhar frowned. Perhaps he was digging too far into this. It could have been that he was simply the only available Hero, considering how his co-workers were tangled in a mess he honestly had no interest in. Too many Heroes on one mission tended to end in disaster. Abilities clashed, plans failed if there were any, to begin with, and allies stumbled over one another. The mutant still recalled those scarce missions he had, in fact, participated in together with the others. Only one of them was in any capacity a notable display of teamwork. That trip to the maximum-security prison in Mexico. It worked because the right people were there, and a tactical approach was, for once, entertained.

Embracing the monstrous cat on his lap, Azhar planted a soft kiss atop Dracula’s forehead. It was impossible to deduce how long he continued to sit in the same position, those large, black eyes aimed towards a ceiling with no actual sight in mind. He had recently noticed how a previously chipper and outgoing personality was slowly fading in lieu of a more reserved disposition. Perhaps Astral was right in his attempts at taunting the boy. Perhaps the phantasmal teen was forcing himself to like others. Though, the very same man was trying to seed doubt within the Hero’s mind with every statement. "I’m not forcing anything..," a frown returned, presenting itself upon Azhar’s face. Reaching for his phone and a stylus, both of which rested undisturbed at the boy’s side, Zee scrolled down his list of contacts until he reached the letter S. Moments later, letters were tapped in rapid succession.

’Hey, Sam. Want to hang out? Doing Hero stuff? Need any help?' The stylus hovered over an intimidating button titled ‘send’. With a deep breath, Zee finally tapped the button before sliding onto his pillow.

"Now, I know what you might be thinking." Joseph said to the still very much unconscious reptilian man slung across his shoulder. "You're probably thinking something like 'No way man, I don't wanna go to prison, it's all boring and cold and shit!' But you don't need to worry about that. I hear prison's actually pretty nice this time of year. Not that I know for certain though, because the only time I've been to prison, I was being held illegally, and it was basically one big rat king of human rights violations. Compared to that, this'll be a walk in the park!"

It might have been strange that Joseph took the criminal to a normal prison rather than Coldwater, but honestly, from the stuff he'd heard, both in and out of his own dreams, he felt like he shouldn't condemn anyone to something like that. At least here the most unpleasant thing he'd have to deal with would be the three canine cops.

Speaking of whom...

"Hey Copberus." Joseph called to the three, who were already in the lobby for whatever reason. "Got a guy for you. Tried to rob a cornerstore, out by... Brookside, somewhere... Anyway yeah, I'm sure you'll figure it out. The investigation's your job, I'm just here to pawn the guy off to you. Think fast!"

As he chucked the guy to Officer Bulldog, because out of the three he looked like the one who could probably take it without being knocked over, he turned to see a... kind of familiar figure entering the precinct.

"Oh, hey... I wanna say Tarzan?" He greeted Samson, who to be fair, hadn't had an interaction with Joseph in a little while now. Maybe the point where he was delirious in the helicopter flying back from Mexico, but with his mind the way it was at the time, he didn't really think that counted. "Anyway, my rapidly dilapidating memories aside, whats up? Don't say Tom, that's my joke and I'll have to arrest you if you try to steal it. WHICH, speaking of, is why I'm here myself, as I was just passing by to drop this guy off after he decided to rob a cornerstore and got beaten up by the Cashier. After that, I can return home to rest in peace and-, shit, I left the groceries at the sto-"

And at that very moment, he heard a small, high-pitched whine in the back of his head, and looked dpwm to see the rune in his pocket activating.

"Oh wow, nice timing..." He mumbled to himself, before sliding his hand over the runes. "Well if it isn't my good friend Cashier, to think you were that desperate to see me again... Well I'm sorry to say, but I'm afraid there's only room in my heart for one, and that spots already been taken by one particularly unfortunate colleague of mine. Very flattered though, honestly."

Brianna looked up as the others arrived, pouting a little when Grace chastised her. "I was being cautious. That's why I-" She gestured kneeing him in the groin, "hit him where it hurts." Sure, it had been a bit of a messy takedown but the guy was knocked out, wasn't he? "And I'd never have let him escape. I'm real good at tackling people y'know." This was said with surprising confidence for someone who was several times lighter and much shorter than the man in question. Unfortunately, they would never find out if this was true as the mobster was soon dumped in the Chick-Fil-A women's bathroom.

Ignoring Grace's quip about getting discovered, she followed her to the meeting room, impatiently bouncing on her heels as the other hero took a peek in. "Woah, a hostage! I wanna look. Let me see!" Brie whined almost childishly, standing on her tiptoes as she tried to take a glance over Graces head. "Grace, your head is too big!" Luckily she was still speaking in a hushed tone or everyone in the nearby vicinity would have heard her.

Brie's head tilted to the side as Grace described the kidnapee, wondering who she was talking about. "But that sounds like..." Her eyebrows furrowed as her brain finally caught up with the significance of the description. "No way! It can't be. Maybe Thundering Whisper just dyed his hair or something!" Brie surmised confidently before unceremoniously wedging herself between Grace and the door so that she could see for herself. It had sounded like the Korean hero was describing Will but it couldn't be. She'd seen him only this morning and he definitely had not been kidnapped then. It was probably just another hero or maybe even some civilian that happened to look hero...ish. Yep, that was definitely it.

Peering into the room, she momentarily wondered why it was so dark before remembering that she had sunglasses on. "Oh, right..." She muttered under her breath as she propped them atop her head again, now able to actually see the room properly. Her gaze scanned over the very full and suddenly much brighter room, barely acknowledging anyone else until her eyes focused on the super tall blonde guy with the pretty face.

Will...
It actually was him.
Fuck.

Her stomach dropped as she stared at her boyfriend, who did not look at all like he was in a good state. "Will?" The words slipped from her mouth surprisingly quietly, her eyes widening as she saw him there. Letting out a quiet moan as she dug her nails into her palms, she tried and failed to keep calm. Anyone with a phone, or similar electrical device, would notice that they had suddenly started to power on & off, screens flickering madly. Perhaps someone of a more level headed disposition would have taken a step back, considered the situation calmly...logically, and realised that the mission was the priority here. Unfortunately, that person was not Brie...

"What the fuck!? Those bastards - I'm gonna kill them!" She finally exploded, her voice loud enough that anyone in the adjacent room would have clearly heard her. Unfortunately, Brie's upbringing had also left her with questionable emotional self-regulation and before the logical part of her brain could catch up, she had slammed the door wide open, knocking over a very surprised looking guard in the process. In any other circumstances it probably would have been amusing to see a 6ft something tattooed mobster sent sprawling across the floor, however, now was sadly not that time. Instead, she charged into the room after him, about to demand that they let Will go when she suddenly became acutely aware that everyone in the room was looking at her.

Fuck again.

Well, if the Guglianos didn't kill her, she knew that Powers definitely would.

"Sorry I'm late?" She ventured hesitantly as she came to a halt, her voice breaking through the stunned silence. "We, er...ran into some heroes on the road and had to take care of them. Total assholes y'know!" Brie smiled gingerly as she spoke, her gaze flitting between Vinnie and Will. To her merit, and despite having likely ruined the mission completely, she did not seem much intimidated by the situation she had landed herself in. Afterall, she'd definitely gotten herself out of worse scenarios before...sort of.

@Hitman@KaijuBaragon@Canaryrose@Amethyst@Infinite Cosmos

Blake and Jamie handled the guards with ease, allowing Rumi to hang back and watch as the action unfolded before him. The mention of kidnapping heroes made him raise an eyebrow, realizing he had obtained another piece of the puzzle that was the Gugliano family's plans. Following the two into the Control Room, Rumi examined the damages Blake caused within it. He whistled, and said, "Goodness me, you're either getting better at controlling those flames, or you're really lucky that nothing vital got damaged." He looked down at the goons on the ground, wondering if he should check for vitals, but decided that he need not bother.

Placing a hand on one of the control panels, he wondered just how many secrets this one room held. Looking over at the computer Blake pointed out, he walked over to it while saying, "Leave it to me. I'll crack it open." He pulled out a black box with a wire attached to it, connecting it to the computer. The programs within it began to work their magic, bypassing the computer's security and unlocking it. Opening the folder named "Hero Plan", he opened a "missionletter.doc" where it talked about the change in plans. Rumi began to search for more details involving the hero abductions and come across a document labeled, "ZERO". He began running his decryption program, only to be greeted with a popup window. Rumi was surprised to see it pop up, as it had seemingly been prepared for him, and then the computer began to force a shutdown. Knowing he had hardly any time to act, Rumi forced his brain into Overclocking, having his nanobots form a pair of hands. He entertained the possibility of halting the shutdown, but decided there wasn't enough time for that and instead began to make a copy of the "ZERO" document and save it into his black box's storage.

After the computer shut down, Rumi sighed and disconnected his black box, placing it back into his utility belt. "I've done what I could," Rumi reported. "And whoever these people are, they're going to regret insulting my intelligence."

Tom snickered again as the fourth mobster was pushed into the portal to wake up to an unexpected fate later on. Tom amusingly wondered if when they did wake up, they'd go and order a meal out of boredom. It was an amusing image. But Grace had found the location of the meeting! The cool undercover action could continue! The meeting's discovery was undoubtedly a good thing, Tom didn't think he could get away with nodding at any more mobsters he encountered in the corridors to make it look like he should have been there. The corridor leading to the big doors into the meeting was just as ornate as the last, perhaps even more so, a small chandelier hanging from the corridor ceiling. Tom also thought he noted some kind of hatch on the ceiling as he looking around, but of course that was the least of his concerns right now, as Grace peeked her head into the meeting hall.

"Blonde, tall, pretty face..." Tom muttered as he scratched his chin. That sounded familiar... who did he know who was blonde, tall, and handsome. He knew Samson who was tall and maybe handsome depending on who you asked, but he of course wasn't blonde. Tom continued to rack his brains. He knew that he knew someone by that description, dammit! But who? He didn't really register Brie and Grace talking as he tried to think about who the hostage could be. He shrugged internally and turned towards the door, as he watched Brie slip her head inside. Then it suddenly dawned on him... He knew who that description fit. But surely not, it couldn't be. That would be the most unfortunate set of circumstances possible, Tom knew that Brie wouldn't be able to hold herself composed if the hostage really was...

Tom heard her say the name, and he hissed loudly. "Oh, fuck! Brie-"

But of course, both Tom and Grace were too late, and Brie went barging into the meeting like a goddamn passionate idiot, now leaving Tom and Grace along out in the corridor. The cool undercover mission had come crashing down around them, and Tom heard the wave of noise coming out from the interrupted meeting, and then he heard Vinnie's booming voice commanding the rest to search the property. He also heard what sounded like Brie screaming, or maybe a yell. Whatever it was, Tom knew that Brie had most likely just been taken out. But how? Unless there was a powered individual in there, someone who was pretty powerful.

Tom put his head in his hands and groaned. "Fuck, fuck, fuck! Shit, no, we can't leave. We can't leave Will and Brie here to get kidnapped, we have to stay and get them back somehow... but we can't bust in there, we'd be fucked immediately." Tom glanced upwards and his eyes widened. He once again noticed the hatch. "Okay, okay, here's what we do. We hide out until the lockdown is over, then we come back out and bust everybody out. Okay? Okay, Angie can probably use her power to make herself look like somebody who doesn't need to be ID checked, or some shit, and then she can cover for Patty. Fuck, if they hurt Patty they're absolutely getting slammed into the ground..."

But Tom didn't wait for answer, and he grabbed Grace's hand and flipped gravity upside down, hitting the ceiling a couple of seconds later with a thump. He opened the hatch and crawled inside, then extended a hand to help Grace through as well. Once Grace was through, he flipped gravity back up the right way and closed the hatch as quietly as he could. "You got a torch, or something?".

@Danvers @Hitman

"Yeah, sure, give it here," Rumi said, taking the pamphlet. Early on, Rumi had thought it good for business if he was multi-lingual, so he had taken it upon himself to learn every spoken language he could think of, from Spanish to French to Cherokee. He had given up after learning 12, though, considering it to be too much of a waste of time at that point. Opening the phamphet, Rumi began reading its contents out loud, translating it into a language Blake and Jamir could understand. Much of it was nonsense, as it was quite clearly a poorly-disguised front. The phone number and address, though, was of notable interest to Rumi. "15 Running River Lane... I believe we have just found our next destination," Rumi said to Blake and Jamie. Gesturing at the Leftovers, Rumi added, "I'll call the proper authorities to take care of this. We'll continue investigating the Gugliano family's plans after they arrive." Taking out his phone, he speed-dialed the number and began to report what they had found in the warehouse.