@Shard

Doppel saw a final amount of blood splash from inside the garage where Louis led. Immediately he held Louis back and dipped his head in to check. Doppel's confidence drained as he saw that thing inside. He had heard rumors about the monster HERO was holding and they let it out for this mission. It was clear to him that the task was no longer eliminating the heroes, instead it was evacuating anyone possible. Whipping his head back to Louis, "head back into the mansion and protect Vinnie, if they see us together we are both dead. I'll try and get rid of some heroes, they brought out the big guns tonight." The look of genuine fear in Doppel's face was more than convincing enough for Louis to head back the long way into the mansion.

Popping his head back to check on the situation in the garage, all that was left was a crying boy no older than him (and a field of corpses). The other rumor about that what he had called a creature was just a normal person at the end of the day. Doppel almost felt bad, if it weren't for the corpses scattered all around the garage. Either way he had to confront his fears eventually. "Oh my god, are you ok? It's fine now, you are safe, the HERO reinforcements will be here any second." Doppel jogged into the warehouse toward Zee, but made sure to keep an arms distance just in case. "I'll stay here with you if you need the support, but you should stay put. I think this has been enough fighting for you." Pretending to be HERO reinforcements was a good idea, Doppel had a good reason for why he was here now.

Brie watched Will as he intently worked on trying to disable to plasma cage. She could see that it was straining him and she found herself chewing on her bottom lip apprehensively. A couple of times he turned back to look at her but she simply shot him an encouraging smile, not wanting him to know what she was worried. "Will, don't hurt yourself. It's okay if you ca-..." Placing a hand on his arm, Brie was about to tell him that it wasn't worth killing himself over, when a familiar face suddenly came crashing into the room.

"Brie? Will? What are you... oh! You're the ones we're saving. Got it. Yeah, yeah, lemme just..."

Peering around from behind Will, Bries face lit up in a mixture of excitement and relief when she saw Jamie & Rumi. "Jamie, Rumi! I can't believe you're here! Have you come to rescue us? The others are upstairs - or at least they were before. Thank you sooooo much for rescuing us!" She blurted this all out rather quickly in her eagerness, rushing over to them when the plasma wall finally shut down. "Oh...Jamie, your nose is bleeding. Are you okay?" Frowning at her friend, she was suddenly distracted by the sounds that were emitting from the warehouse. She could hear gunshots, screams, frantic running...and a laugh that sent a cold shiver racing down her spine. But almost as soon as it had started, did the noises cease, only to be replaced by an eery silence.

"Er well, that didn't sound good..." She muttered more to herself than anything. "But yeah, let's go before they try to lock us in another stupid cage." Reaching down to Will, she looped her arm under his, attempting (and somewhat failing) to help him up. "Are you okay to walk? Do you want me to carry you?" She laughed lightly at this last part, there obviously being no way she would be able to carry the 6ft 5 male, even under normal circumstances. Regardless, she followed after Rumi as he took the lead, doing her best to help Will along. As they made their way out of the small room, she couldn't help but feel a modicum of relief; although she wasn't claustrophobic per say, she hated the feeling of being trapped...especially when potential torture and death were on the table.

Rumi was clearly intent on going one way but Brie seemed oblivious to this, her gaze instead landing on the crumpled, sad-looking form that was Zee. Immediately she padded off in his direction, the path to him seeming to be littered with odd piles of clothes. "Zee?" Bries bright green eyes blinked uncertainly, unsure of what she was looking at. She didn't know the hero all that well but seeing him crying in the middle of a mafia lair was definitely not normal. "Are you okay?" Her words came out quietly as she moved closer, ignoring the fact that she was barefooted and stepping on what was likely a very unclean floor. It was nothing new to her anyway. She'd been shoeless plenty of times before.

As she approached, she noticed a man standing over him; one she didn't immediately recognise in the dimness of the half-destroyed warehouse. "Oi! Get away from him!" She yelled before unceremoniously lobbing one of her heels squarely at the back of his head. When the man turned around, she raised her eyebrows, having never expected this hero to be here. "Doppel? Have you come to rescue us as well?" She frowned in a moment of confusion but didn't take long to ponder on it, instead pushing past him so that she could crouch down next to Zee. It was horrible to see him looking so distraught, but Brie wasn't the best at comforting others and she immediately was at a loss over what to say.

"Please don't cry!" She eventually blurted out, her head spinning back to look at whoever was still with her, a panicked expression etched across her face.

@Infinite Cosmos @Canaryrose @Scarifar @Shard

At Patty's words, Tom glanced down at Grace's hand, and his eyes widened. What the fuck was that? Just something to add to the pile of injuries that this absolute disaster of a mission had produced. And they weren't getting very far now - he had forgotten how hard it actually was to carry someone along who couldn't walk themselves. Tom looked back, realising they had barely got any way down the corridor at all, the doors still seemed scarily close, as did the hole in the ceiling that Vinnie had been blasted through. Tom had almost forgotten about Vinnie, just trying to focus on dragging Angie away and escaping. He should have realised the glaringly obvious fact that being dropped once would not take out Vinnie, but he didn't actually realise until he heard -

"TOM, HE'S IN THE CEILING!"

"Wait, wha-" He was blasted with some harmless wood splinters, before he felt Angie be quickly dragged back, and then a crushing vice-like grip on his neck, which made him suddenly cough and choke. It took him a couple of seconds before he fully realised that he was being handled by Vinnie. Just when Tom thought he might choke from the grip, he was roughly thrown to the ground, which made his shoulder throb again in almost unbearable pain. He looked up at Patty, Grace and Angie, feeling blood beginning to drip from his nose again, and yelled as loudly as he could "RUN, DAMMIT, GET OUT OF HERE!" before he heard the knuckles cracking above him, and the ominous threat from Vinnie. He glanced up to see the fist raised, presumably about to pummel him into the floor.

Tom reacted fast, flipping gravity sideways and sliding across the floor away from the fist quickly, which had the unintended consequence of knocking Vinnie off his feet. Tom stood up shakily as he watched Vinnie do the same. "Yeah, but Powers beat you in a fistfight, and your ugly fat fists aren't gonna go anywhere near me!" Tom looked around frantically, determined to try and hold off Vinnie so the rest of them could escape. He glanced up and down, even as he heard Vinnie's heavy and loud foosteps getting closer. There was a coat stand nearby that had a nice sharp point on the end, probably ornamental. Tom quickly ran and grabbed it, holding it like a spear. When Vinnie got close enough Tom slid past, making Vinnie turn around. Now there was no chance of this going wrong and spearing one of his friends.

Tom let the coat stand go and sent it flying into Vinnie spearing his stomach. He was aiming for the chest, but Tom wasn't exactly able to aim stuff accurately right now. He knew this wouldn't kill him, but he hoped it would incapacitate him enough so Tom could catch up with the others - if they had run off like he shouted at them to, of course.

@Hitman @canaryrose @Amethyst

---

Joseph’s second rune had initiated its purpose, beyond Azhar’s knowledge. It was only when the boy’s bloodlust faded, and was replaced by nauseous melancholy that the pain in his hand trickled to the surface. Where droplets of black blood traced a path down the mutant’s pale appendage, Zee noted the wound’s shape slowly closing, yet again the courtesy of a man he had previously chastised. It was impossible to tell exactly how disastrous the outcome would have been if Azhar’s sanity remained fractured. Who would he have proceeded to hunt? Where would bloodlust and a desire for death have led him? The monster could not claim to be blissfully unaware of what had transpired. He remembered every second, every intoxicating moment of ever-growing power. The dark 'Hero' wanted to claim that someone else took control, that a different individual entirely wrapped their clawed hands around his throat and confiscated Azhar’s mind. That would, however, be a lie.

Throughout the boy’s life, Azhar had been told that he was a force of Death. He was the very opposite of Life, and a mockery of its visage. Something that could be dotted with a mere glance. Where Life radiated color, Azhar afforded onlookers little more than a monotone scale of grey, white, and black. Additionally, where a mother’s love had, however, maintained Azhar’s warm heart, he could not say the same for his father. A man he proved right, this day. A less than desirable gestalt in the young monster's life who had always waited for his son’s collapse, when the Devil truly took hold.

Trembling, it was a far-fetched feat for the deathly mutant to register his surroundings. Still in shock, the massive strike against his state of mind vibrated mercilessly against every thought. The creature's father echoed across ripples of time, a lapse from early years until recent, unwanted exchanges. Words of discouragement, warnings of what was to come if Azhar remained free.

Despite his ceaseless tears, voices were beginning to slowly caress Zee’s pointed ears, his attention stolen by an individual Azhar had yet to meet. A dark-skinned young man he could not place, nor identify. What was it that he had said? It was impossible to clarify. Though silence lingered between them, the boy was very much struggling to comprehend even the simplest of developments. A spoken word, an added presence, simplicity at its finest wrapping itself around complication and difficulty.

’You are safe now,’ Azhar managed to deduce, ’HERO reinforcements..,’ it continued. Slowly, the monster lifted his head, tears coating his cheeks, to fully meet the young man’s gaze with his own. Azhar was never unsafe. He didn’t require reinforcements, no. The situation was ironically reflective, but in another manner, entirely. No, Zee was never at risk. Everyone else was, however, and he was the unfortunate reason.

Attempting to speak through the sniffles, Azhar flinched as he saw a shoe heading towards the mysterious visitor. That voice, the string of words echoing across the warehouse only moments before footwear was being thrown, he could identify it. Brie. Mere seconds passed before she approached the broken mutant, her green eyes meeting his own. She called the stranger ‘Doppel’, a codename Azhar had heard in the past. However, he had never come across the Hero. "I..," Zee tried, raising a hand towards his face before wiping tears from silken pale skin. "The.., the others..," he continued, pointing a claw deeper into the warehouse. "They went that way..," he finished, completely ignoring questions aimed at him.

In truth, Zee did not know how to respond. ‘Stop crying’, and ‘Are you okay?’ Words he was unable to truly meet. How many had Azhar killed, only moments prior? Fifty people? More? One would have to count the many clothes scattered throughout, before settling on a number. Attempting to stand, Azhar still felt his heart pounding against the surface of his ribs. He dreaded the eventual count, rather lowering his gaze to the floor, before turning towards the Hero dubbed ‘Doppel’. Distance was being kept, which was a reaction Zee was all too familiar with. After what had come to pass, none could blame Doppel.

Raising his arms towards himself, the deathly boy attempted a pitiful embrace of his scrawny shape, those large, obsidian orbs shifting to Brie. "Are you..," once more, Azhar wiped his tears. "Are you okay..?" The situation was, despite everything, being handled. As Doppel had said, reinforcements were coming, and whoever else required aid in the mansion was most certainly getting it. As for Azhar, he required a moment to collect himself. A moment to brace his mind for the countless nightmares to come.

---

As he neared the sounds, Kanati could begin picking out voices. Patricia, Tom, Grace...It seemed a lot of them were in here. From the muffled tones, he could make out that they were likely being chased. That was when he noticed the man at the end of the hall. Most men who were unarmed weren’t so confident in approaching him so boldly. It was clear that this man had some sort of abilities.

Whether he was sent up here or not didn’t much matter. His companions needed him, and he was an obstacle. When the man reached into his pocket, Sam’s immediate instinct was that he was trying for a gun. So, he pulled his tomahawk from his belt. However, instead of being met with bullets, he found himself using the small axe to deflect a thrown knife.

In that short amount of time, he felt a fist at his chin. While the blow stung, it didn’t seem to rattle him much. It was an indicator of some sort of superior strength. Kanati leaned backward with the momentum of the blow, and extended one of his legs to kick the man’s chest to create a brief pocket of distance. It was also to gauge how his opponent responded to damage. Enough force to knock him out, was all that was needed.

-

Sal stumbled back a bit, knocked off balance briefly by the kick, but he quickly grasped the wall to regain his footing, glaring at Kanati with annoyance. Apparently for the mobster, it was all fun and games until he got hurt. He balled up his fists, glaring at Kanati, before charging directly at the taller man, throwing punch after punch at Kanati. This was no longer an exposition for him; it was an all-out assault as he pounded at Kanati, brutally striking at the hunter relentlessly.

-

Kanati pulled up his paws, doing what he could to block the blows with his hands and forearms. Due to his size, though, some body blows managed to connect, but he could guess that this would result in minimal bruising. In the time that the gangster was taking to wale on him, it was clear that his fighting style was boxing. Which meant the obvious weakness to target…

Once another punch was thrown, Kanati grabbed his wrist and tugged the man aside, again using his own momentum against him. To further destabilize him, the giant shoved a heel into the side of Sal’s knee with the intent to break bone.

-

There was an audible crack as Kanati shattered Sal’s knee with ease; however, just as soon as it broke, there was a second, less audible snap as his knee sprang back into position like magic. His power having worked its course, Sal charged at Samson, aiming his shoulder directly at the larger man and thrusting forwards, ramming towards Samson at max speed.

-

Initially, the hunter moved past the direction in which the man had stumbled. It was then that Kanati felt a small explosion beneath his feet. Something told him it wasn't a good sign, and he quickened his pace down the hall. Yet, just as quickly, he heard footsteps. His head whipped back around and here came the man again. The first snap seemed to confirm the man’s incapability of moving anymore, yet, this was a clear indication of otherwise.

This one was healer, it seemed. While he could likely knock the man out, the healing factor would prove to delay him. With the uncertainty of his teammates’ fate in mind, he decided that he had to end this confrontation quickly. Taking the man’s running speed in mind, Kanati timed it.

Once about two paces away, he bounced on one foot up into the air and spun into a 360 back kick directly into the man’s shoulder. The power of the blow took advantage of Sal’s inertia, and knocked the Guigliano from his feet in a clothesline like fashion. However, in a display of speed, while the man’s feet were still in the air, Sam took hold of his ankle and tossed the mobster out of one of the large second story windows.

Although this attack from Kanati would leave most with destroyed collarbones, he took into account the healing factor. Thus, he needed to buy time to get moving again, and running he was toward the sound of the conflict.

Hopefully he wasn’t too late.

"Oh, Rumi! You came, great! Don't worry about me, I'm fine," said Jamie upon Rumi's entrance. She waved off his worry, laughing a little. "Come on, Brie, let's get out of here- oh, it is?" She wiped at her nose with her hand. It came away streaked in deep scarlet- blood. A familiar sight. Jamie had not realized that blood was spurting out of her nose, but seemed to brush it off. She shrugged. "Oh. Well, not much of a big deal. Of course, I'm fine. You're the one who just got kidnapped, silly! I should be asking if you're okay. Are you guys okay?"

"Oh yeah, totally. You're smart, Rumi, I'll come with!" Jamie followed Rumi out the door behind Brie and Will, keeping up the rear of the group. She swayed a little as she walked, feeling a bit suddenly dizzy. But she righted herself in the end. She glanced at Brie and Will, worry shading her partially bloody face. They mostly looked okay, thankfully- but there was so much more going on here. There was a niggling feeling in the back of her mind that told her that something was not right.

Jamie went after Brie when she split off from the group, peeking over her shoulder to see Zee and... who was that? She wanted to say that it was something with a 'D'. Darren? Dominic? She approached with Brie, waving and smiling, but stopped smiling when she saw Zee's face. His eyes were red, and there were... clothes, strewn all about the room. Was he okay? He looked so sad.

"Hey, you guys!" Jamie greeted them cheerily, kneeling down next to Brie and Zee. "I think we're all okay. Just have to go save everyone else. Are you okay, Zee? You look sad. You know, whatever happened..." She glanced around at the clothes, taking a pretty good guess, "it'll be alright."

@Danvers@Scarifar@Shard@Infinite Cosmos

---

Patricia nodded weakly at Grace, running alongside her. Or half-running, actually- they weren't running as much as walking as fast as they could while dragging an injured person. She still didn't know what uri gangaji meant (Google Translate hates romanized Korean), but now was so not the time to ask. "Of course. Sorry, just worried. Let's go." She flashed a weak smile at Grace in return. She followed her gaze to the ceiling, eyes widening once she caught Grace's line of thinking. FUCK-

Vinnie crashed through the ceiling loudly and immediately grabbed Tom, Angelica (who had been being supported by him) falling back. Patricia, watching with dread and horror, caught her at the last moment, putting her arm around her shoulder. Watching Vinnie break out of the ceiling and grab Tom, she gulped. This could not end well. And no one was coming for them. At this rate... they were going to die here. In a mafia stronghold, with no one left the wiser.

When Tom screamed at them to run, she swiveled around (thank God she ditched those heels) and started dashing as fast she could down the hall. As fast as she could with a woman slung across her shoulder, that was- which was not too fast. Her heart was torn between going back to help Tom and getting away as quickly as possible. She was so... useless! Without her power, that was. Why hadn't she brought a gun? She would do that next time. If there was a next time.

Suddenly, heat filled the room. Grace stopped running and turned, so Patricia did too. What she saw shocked her. A certain red-haired guy. Blake! He had come! How had he known? She smiled, still holding up Angelica. If he knew they were here... well, everyone else had to know, too. Most of the gang never went anywhere without each other. They were going to be saved. Despite herself, a smile bloomed on her face as Blake blasted Vinnie with fire. That would definitely kill him. Right?

Patricia nodded along with Grace, staying silent. She was about to say something when-

That hadn't fucking killed him? Patricia's mouth dropped, stepping back with Angelica and Grace. He was... oh God. Blake was outmatched. Vinnie was squeezing his throat like a stress ball and then stepping on his ribs, crushing him. She glanced at Grace at her comment, looking down at her hand. Of course. Grace was out of power. Her heart hammered in her chest. And Tom was hurt. His power didn't have much of an effect on Vinnie. Which left only her. But... her power was gone! She couldn't do anything.

But, opening her mouth, Patricia found a spark of it still her. Small, tiny, not nearly at its full power, but... enough, maybe. If Vinnie's body wasn't weak, then maybe his mind would be. Against her better judgment, she stepped forward and sang loudly at Vinnie, putting the full force of what she had left in the song. This had to work.

She put her hand palm out towards Vinnie and Blake, shuddering with fear. "Vinnie, take your foot off of him and don't move. Stay there. Don't attack us. STAY," commanded Patricia, with extreme force in her words. She couldn't tell him to sleep, but maybe she could get him to stop.

@Hitman@Rabidporcupine@Amethyst@KaijuBaragon

---

Azhar’s slender tail limply hung down the length of his legs, its tip brushing against the cold floor beneath. An appendage that had previously moved in tune with the mutant’s excitement. Often described as having a life of its own, the boy’s tail was quite a perfect indicator of his emotional state, much to Zee’s embarrassment. Inhaling a deep breath, Azhar shifted his attention towards the vast interior of their surroundings. Blake had run through a door in the distance, alongside Joseph. Taking a step forward, the monstrous teen halted his stride. Was he going to help them, further? A once active bracelet lulling his powers to sleep was now broken, rendering Azhar unable to regulate the lethality of his abilities.

It would be a lie to claim that the bracelet’s absence didn’t afford comfort. Towards the end of its service, the trinket was choking Azhar, as if robbing him of air. A metaphor, of sorts, but one that adequately described the discomfort accompanying its embrace around his slim forearm.

With those black orbs fixed on a pathway previously burst open, Zee’s thoughts spiraled within his mind. He was in no shape to help anyone, least of all himself. The mutant could barely distinguish left from right, and found himself scarcely registering those circling him. Jamie, Brie, and this newly arrived individual, Doppel. "I just..," Azhar tried, "I need some air, I think..," he managed. The others were worried for him, clearly, and none of them knew what had transpired only moments prior. Despite its short duration, a massacre had taken place. An atrocity none would be able to identify. Echoing the lack of cadavers, each article of clothing was missing DNA. Every organic molecule had been erased, but for Azhar, he was standing in a mass grave.

Clenching his teeth, the boy turned his attention towards an exit that appeared far more attractive by the second. ’It’ll be alright’, Zee noted, a statement afforded by Jamie. Perhaps thanks to Joseph, it would be. Hopefully, he was doing well alongside Blake. However, the sounds of combat echoing from the mansion, a warcry seeping into the warehouse spoke of dangerous aggression. Uncomfortably, Azhar’s body stiffened, the mellow sway of his tail coming to a halt. If he used his powers again, he could lose himself to the sensation, a second time, and there was no telling if he’d be able to climb down from that high without one of Joseph’s runes. No, they would need to manage the situation without him. Azhar had read the file on this Mafia Family, a mandatory section of information that was distributed amongst HERO’s active employees. Vinnie Gugliano was, from what Azhar had gathered, a beast. Regeneration and physical capabilities, each one of a high tier. The others likely displayed difficulties when combating this specific power-set. Either way, they would need to pull through. They had to. At the moment, Zee was far more afraid of himself than any villain Castleburg had to offer. Where the young monster kept speaking of how he desired reliable companions on fields of battle, he most certainly didn’t live up to those requirements. Not now.

Shutting his eyes, the deathly creature expressed another sigh before starting towards the tunnel. Azhar never indulged in alcohol the way Joseph did, but taking a page from that man’s addictive habits did not appear all too ridiculous following transpired events. Making sure to avoid stepping on any of the scattered fabric spread across the now silent, empty warehouse, Zee slipped into the moonshine room where Blake had left an additional small group of cadavers. Again, Azhar clenched his sharp teeth. "We’re the fucking Heroes..?" he mumbled to himself as the boy continued into the darkness of an underground tunnel. Tears were still fighting against the mutant’s composure, eventually winning the bout with droplets repeating their ceaseless stride down Azhar’s cheeks. He needed to vacate the warehouse, and that ladder would make itself known, eventually.

Doppel gave a startled jump and switched into his clone, letting the heel thrown had his head pass through it. He turned to see Brookside and Jamie, both were a shock to him for different reasons. Anyone paying attention to him would see the gears turning in his brain as he processed it all. Doppel then switched back to his normal body, "uh yeah, I got a call from HERO about the mansion attack. Reinforcements should be here in about a half hour or sorry." Realizing that he took a while to reply, "sorry I didn't expect to see you here Brookside. I also didn't expect an S tier hero to be here, the situation must be serious."

"I just..," Azhar tried, "I need some air, I think.."

"I think that's best, the way out should be clear. You've done more than enough for your friends, I'll make sure to let them know you are safe." Was safe really the word to use there? Undoubtedly. Just by looking at Zee, Doppel could tell he wasn't alright. He was safe from anything more putting pressure on him, at least Doppel could hope.

Doppel was conflicted between feeling sorry for the guy or revealed to have him go as Zee walked down the tunnel. It was clear the guy did not have control of himself earlier and it was hitting him hard. At the same time the magnitude of what he let loose was nothing short of terrifying.

Sure Doppel was still conflicted on which side to choose. But if he could resolve it with the least deaths as possible that would be a win in his eyes.

But then there was Brookside. Doppel didn't know if anyone in the Gugliano's knew who she was yet. Doppel knew for sure that no one in HERO knew about his past and present against the Calavera's either. It was simple enough in his mind, if he could hand Brookside over to the Gugliano's, the Calavera's would come to get her back. The Calavera's would get crushed, problem solved.

It seems so easy and all he has to do is give a surprise attack. But, Brookside is innocent and has nothing to do with this except a blood relation. But its not like the Calavera's haven't done worse and its for the safety of many. But if he handed over an innocent hero to the Gugliano's he would be not better. His mind started going back and forth as he kept his facade. Doppel was once again lost at what to do.

Eliza took the proffered business card with a trembling hand, squinting nervously at it as Starbright spoke about being on stage in a month. Again, who did he think he even was, to suggest that she’d be able to perform…in a month? Terror filled her chest and made it hard to speak, so she offered a tiny terrified smile and a nod as the man swept off out of the room as quickly as he had entered.

Wordlessly, Eliza flopped down at the table, placing her instrument down carefully before she did. For several long moments, she sat there, staring blankly between the business card, her rosin cake, and the already overstuffed music binder in front of her, her thoughts racing far too fast to make heads or tails of.

After several moments of silent contemplation, she shook her head, mouthing something that could have been the word “stupid” and bringing the heel of her hand sharply against the side of her head. It ached, but her eyes refocused and she seemed to snap herself out of her stupor, placing the business card into the clear front pocket on the inside of her music binder, which had several other business cards in it. (Mostly of various violin instructors, and a few celebrity musicians she’d managed to get autographs of.)

Letting out a thin sigh, Eliza stretched her arms up behind her head, her back and shoulders popping. She rose from her seat once more, crouching down to finish organizing her looping pedals and plugging them into her laptop, absently shouldering her instrument and playing a few long tones to check and make sure that she’d gotten the setup done properly. If she’d been distracted before, she was completely absentminded now, her brain several years away on a very different stage.

The rising melody of Clara Schumann’s Allegretto began to slip out from her fingers, and she paused for a moment, breathless – it had been years since she’d even glanced at the music for it, the overly-ambitious piece having been intended for her eighth grade solo-ensemble festival, which she’d not even managed to perform at, having run away from the concert the night before… Her face colored at the memory and her bow slipped, a jarring screech between the delicate turns of the melody. She flinched, her body turning icy cold and invisible, and she had to take a moment to shake herself free from the thoughts, resetting and flipping through her notebook to the standard pop repertoire she was planning for the fundraiser. These melodies were simple enough at least, and floated easily from her fingertips, even without any real focus or effort.

---

---

For precisely three quarters of a second, Angelica thought that her plan had worked. Her mouth leveled into a smile and she caught a breath, hoping that she’d saved them.

And then, in the next three quarters of a second, she watched it all unravel.

The first thing that registered was the pain, a throbbing ache at first that bloomed in her thigh and at first seemed to just be an incredibly intense cramp. She tried to take a step forward, she thought, and only realized the true nature of the injury as she toppled to the ground, the pain turning fiery and incredibly intense as the leg folded up under her and she clasped her hands around the injury, blood flowing out between her fingers and running down her leg. A ragged breath, of pain, or surprise, or something, rattled around in her ears, sharp and audible and pitiful, and it took several moments for her to realize that it was her own.

She realized, after some length of contemplating her own injury that might have been five seconds or five hours, that the battle raged around her. Grace knelt down beside her, trying to wrap her leg in a very fancy jacket – Angie tried, weakly, to push the other girl’s hands away, but she found that feeling in her arms and hands ended abruptly in static. As Grace tied the cloth around her leg, tight enough to try to stop the bleeding or slow it some, she flinched, biting down on her tongue to stifle the cry of pain as tears leaked from the corners of her eyes. She had no idea how to handle this kind of pain, and it was obvious. Grace was in pain too, she imagined, as her eyes refocused somewhat and she caught a glimpse of the flakey grey skin on the other woman’s hand. She just had to get it together, and put a brave face on and get in there and fight. Everyone else was being hurt and taking it. She was the weak link.

She managed her bravado for what felt like three seconds before Tom hoisted her up. Stars burst behind her eyes and she cried out, collapsing against his side. Thankfully, he could use gravity to help carry her, and probably was, given that she’d effectively turned to deadweight in his hands. Her whole body trembled against his side but she – she had to try. No sooner had she managed to begin hobbling along, or at least move her legs in a way that didn’t seem immediately detrimental, than she suddenly lost her balance and was grabbed by Grace, or Patricia, or someone? and pulled away, Vinnie crashing through the ceiling and inciting another fight…

She cursed, trying to hold herself upright, every instinct screaming at her to try to help even though she could scarcely see, her vision blurring just beyond her nose as she peered at Patricia- or was it Grace? She couldn’t see, but she mumbled out a slurred apology with a tongue that wouldn’t quite cooperate, her limbs refusing to function and even try to help them carry her.

Dead weight, literally.

Dimly, she recognized a snarky voice behind them, though the onslaught of noise rattling around her brain had become as tinny and distorted as it was through the office intercom. Blake. She’d know him anywhere. The heat in the room rose sharply, for a moment warding off even the chill and numbness that filled her limbs and the back of her mind. A laugh, a confused and bitter laugh, bubbled up from somewhere in her chest as she watched the fire blooming around his hands.

Blake was here to save them.

As she watched, her eyes drying and once again fading to a blur, the terrified laughter and tears continued to build, sending waves of pain through her body with every moment and stealing her breath. She found she couldn’t stop it, not until Blake approached them, the battle seemingly won. Tears streaming down her face, body shaking with hiccups and adrenaline and pain, she leaned into his touch for the brief moment he was there, trying to say something to the effect of, “Hi, cupcake,” but managing only a pitiful whimper.

And then, inevitably, Vinnie returned.

She choked on a cry as Blake pulled away from her, her body weakly, dumbly trying to follow him. Her weight settled firmly on the injured leg which buckled under her, pulling her (and likely Grace, who had so far done an admirable job of holding her up) down to the ground. She hit the floor hard, choking on a cry as pain bloomed in her thigh and hip, but she tried vainly to push herself up onto her hands, and quickly found that her body seemed to weigh a thousand pounds, and her hands seemed made of rubber and utterly detached from the same plane of existence as the rest of her.

I have to help him. I have to.

She squirmed on the ground, fighting the waves of dizziness and nausea and pain that tried to keep her pinned, and in doing so rolled just wrong over the injury. Pain bloomed in white lightning bolts behind her eyes, and as Patricia began to sing, what was left of her vision darkened to black.

I’m sorry, everyone. I’ve let you all down.

For a single moment, Patricia thought it might have worked. Vinnie lifted his foot off of Blake's ribcage; his face relaxed, going blank. His mind was malleable, then. She could save them all, be useful- CRACK. Her head was snapped back by a backhand. She reeled for a moment, simply staring up in confusion. Hadn't she told him not to attack?! It hadn't worked then. Her stomach plummeted, and she raised her hands up in front of herself to protect herself from the next hit, rooting her feet in place. She eyed the machete she had left by Angelica. She could go for that and grab it... But before Vinnie could land another hit on Patricia, Blake jumped on top of him, pulling him to the ground. Relieved but not confident in Blake's wrestling abilities, Patricia lunged for the machete and held it in front of her defensively. She wasn't usually a sword person, but it would have to do until more backup got here.

She was about to take a swing at Vinnie when the strange red fog materialized around him. Her brows furrowed for a moment- she, unlike Blake, was not an idiot, and she knew that this was not a part of the legendary mobster's powerset. As Vinnie began to choke and cough, his hands going to his throat, Patricia's memory flashed back to when Martino had suddenly got sick earlier. Oh. This was the girl- Katharine. Fuck. She had been seriously hoping to avoid her and had secretly wanted to pretend their interaction had never happened. She took several steps away from the mobster and into the garden, hoping to avoid the smoke. But then she locked eyes with Katharine, and she suddenly felt nauseous- but not because of the smoke. Chills went down her spine.

Patricia listened to Katharine speak, electing not to respond. Instead, her mouth parted in confusion, and her grip tightened on the machete as she stared up at Katharine. When the envelope dropped she stepped forward and caught it with her shuddering left hand. She watched mutely as Katharine hopped away, only offering a raised hand and a half-wave as a goodbye.

"I wouldn't say that," muttered Patricia in response to Blake, standing in a patch of grass and staring at her name on the envelope blankly. I am in such deep shit. When she was sure no one was looking over her shoulder, she ripped it open and read its contents, tracing the inked letters with her index finger. It was... huh. She had half-expected an address, an invitation, but this was none of those. It was a cry for help. She gasped, raising her hand to her mouth and glancing at the now-empty rooftop. Sympathy tugged at her heart, but she folded it back up and tucked it and the envelope into her jacket. That sympathy was overridden by a shitton of fear. This villain seemed to be seriously insane- whether it was her fault or not. And maybe a little obsessed with Patricia.

This was not a situation she wanted to be in. She buried her face in her hands, shaking her head for a few seconds. "No no no no no..." she moaned, taking a brief moment to compose her racing, scared thoughts. But then she raised her head again and glanced around. After the battle, was there anything she could do? It didn't look like it. Grace was standing over the passed-out Angie, Blake seemed to be looking at Vinnie Gugliano's dead body, and Joseph was doing some vaguely healer-y things. She half-joined Blake, standing by Vinnie's body and staring at a random spot in the garden. She chewed her nails nervously, the adrenaline from the fight disappearing and leaving her only with a feeling of dread.

@Hitman@KaijuBaragon@Rabidporcupine

As Division X soldiers filled the mansion, Patricia stepped out of the way, leaning against the outside wall of the villa. She half-watched, mostly lost in her thoughts and distress. She continued to chew on her nails. When Christina arrived, she glanced at her and then to the ceiling, seeming to be at a loss for words. She'd tell Christina what had happened when she could get her alone, she reasoned. There was no reason for anyone else to overhear. So, hopefully, she'd tell her later. Yes, later. Before she knew it, Christina was there, and Patricia was wrapped in a tight hug. She offered a tight smile in response to Christina's praise, but it didn't quite reach her eyes.

Not leaving her any time to protest, Christina took her hand and dragged her off to the spot by the shed. She stared at her feet for most of the time Christina spoke, preparing herself to give her the letter and 'spill the beans', but her head snapped up when she mentioned coming out. That seemed to snap her out of it because she turned red as a tomato. She shook her head violently. "That's- no, that's not- not why- what? Why would you- no!" She stuttered her way through denials. Then, realizing that she pretty much had to tell her now, she shook her head and crossed her arms, squeezing her hands under her elbows. "Something happened. Do you... do you know who Malady is?"

Not waiting for an answer, Patricia shot into a very lengthy, stuttering description of what had just happened. Getting dragged out of the room, being told about her father's apparent connection to these Zero people, Kat's insistence that they were friends of some sort, the "Ultra Death Machine", Kat's tearful confession, the Spectator- all of it up until the encounter in the courtyard. At some point, tears started to fall from her eyes. She gestured erratically with her hands, electing not to make eye contact with Christina for most of it. Once she was done, she glanced back into Christina's eyes, wiping tears from her own hazel eyes.

She reached into her jacket, pulling out the envelope and handing it to Christina. "On the back," she said in explanation, gesturing for Christina to read the message on the back. She waited for her to read it until she spoke again, taking a deep, shuddering breath. "I- yeah. That's everything. I don't know what to think or, like, to do. I feel like I am in some deep, deep shit." Patricia laughed humorlessly, still crying a bit. "The stuff that girl said... Jesus. I'm... I'm scared. Should I be scared?"

@Hitman

For a moment, as Vinnie began to cough up blood with the coat rack speared into his hefty stomach, Tom thought somehow that he had done it. Maybe Vinnie's weakness was coat racks, or maybe he hit some kind of unhealable artery. Tom was about to say something cool and smug, like a hero one-liner, but this was cut short as Vinnie nonchalantly pulled the coat rack out of his stomach, the wound healing immediately. Tom felt himself gulp, and his mind raced as the mobster suddenly lunged forward. Tom was thinking about what he could do now, but the thought was snuffed out when his legs were suddenly swiped and he crashed to the floor, landing on his already injured shoulder. He cried out, pain throbbing down his arm, as he looked up at Vinnie, feeling too weak to even use his powers now.

Tom winced a few times as Vinnie prodded him in the chest with the spear-like rack, feeling the blood dripping out from these new wounds. And then Vinnie raised the wooden spear above him, and Tom felt a strange feeling wash over him. Vinnie was about to kill him - he was about to die in front of his friends, and there was nothing that he could do about it. Had he lived a good life? Hero work was definitely rewarding, he wasn't going to die a scumbag. But he felt a twinge of sadness that he wasn't going to have a girlfriend or a fiance or whatever to mourn for him after he was done. That twinge of sadness washed over him, and suddenly made him feel really hot. Wait, that wasn't normal... why was the room feeling so hot all of a sudden? Tom glanced up in time to see Vinnie blasted with an immense burst of fire. That could only mean one thing - Blake had arrived!

Tom watched from the floor as Vinnie was physically blasted out of the mansion by the fire, before Blake walked back over to him, and Tom simply nodded as Blake mentioned how fucked up he was. "Yeah... shit... It's not great." That was of course before Vinnie got up and Blake quickly left to get back to fighting Vinnie, telling Tom to get everyone out, which he was now in no position to do. "Yeah, I'll try..." But this was quickly cut out by Blake immediately getting grabbed by Vinnie. Tom managed to sit up, trying to quickly muster the strength to use his powers again and save Blake from getting his throat crushed. And then Patty walked past, and Tom weakly tried to grab at her so she couldn't be stupid and get herself killed, but she just kept on walking.

He heard Patty's song filling his eardrums and leaned back against the floor, feeling absolutely useless right now. But maybe Patty's song would work on Vinnie - Tom's hope for this was dashed when he heard a loud smacking sound, and he sat up again, seeing Patty reeling from the punch. This time, he tried to stand up, which he managed to do, and he began to walk over to the scene. He only got a few steps before he saw Vinnie suddenly surrounded by the fog, and the hulking mobster fall to the ground, coughing and spluttering... Holy shit, he was dying... but how? As Vinnie fell to the ground, still, Tom felt all his adrenaline leave his body, and he sat down on the corridor floor, before leaning back and passing out.

Tom woke up to the feeling of something being patted on his shoulder. "Huh... What..." He turned his head only to be face-to-face with Joseph, patting a rune onto his shoulder. "Oh shit... Thanks. That doesn't hurt much anymore..." Tom flexed his arm a little bit, still wincing as the movement around the socket felt weird. "I definitely think I need to go to the hospital still, though." He glanced down at his chest. His shirt had been opened slightly, and there was dressing on the wounds where Vinnie had poked the rack on his chest. There were Division X members and medics running around everywhere, and Tom sat up, looking around.

"Where's everybody else? There better be explanations for everything that happened here... Like why they kidnapped Will, and what the hell that fog was that killed Vinnie!"

@Hitman @canaryrose @Rabidporcupine

If Joseph was going to be honest, he was actually a little embarrassed. How long had it been so hard to run this much? He used to be able to run like this... well, not without breaking a sweat, but it'd been easier than this. Clearly, he'd been spending too much of his spare time working on his runes and not enough on cardio. He must've ended up neglecting it, because it wasn't like he was unfit... Or maybe that was just another of the many excuses he'd spent the last few years making.

Either way, the point was that when Blake asked him to help Angie with the pain from her bullet wound, he had been doubled over, literally wheezing. It was miserable. Pathetic, even.

However, eventually he managed to regain control of his muscles long enough to nod, wandering over to the woman and applying a number of tags around the injury. It wouldn't heal the injury, that was a job for the real medics, but it would numb the pain enough that she wouldn't have to be too miserable during the time it took them to get there. As he moved to do the same to Tom, he was distracted by who he now recognized as the Vinster himself.

The fact that he saw any features to recognize in the first place was a little odd, as it was fairly dark out. Also, the man had recently been reduced to charcoal. However, considering who they were dealing with, he quickly remembered why he really shouldn't be too surprised. Instead, after glancing at Tom and realising that, at least for the moment, his injuries didn't look too bad for him to leave, he turned his focus back to the giant glaring at them through the hole in his wall.

However, no sooner had he reached for his runes that Blake rushed through the hole, fireball in hand, and was immediately caught and beat the crap out of him. With that, he decided to change his tactics and try to free his friend from the gangsters clutches, but was once again interrupted by a brief but intense feeling of dizziness lethargy, and looked to see Patricia singing to Vincent, trying to command him to stop.

It took him a moment or two to regain his balance, but that was enough time for Vinnie to recover, sending the poor girl flying with a brutal backhand. For a moment, he turned to check on her, before immediately realising he had made the mistake of turning his back on his enemy. Quickly spinning back to face the criminal, it was only to see Blake had jumped on him, and when he'd finally been thrown off to give Joseph the opening he needed, he found himself on even higher alert as the mobster was surrounded by a red mist. However, this quickly turned out to be their salvation, having been produced by a young woman to trigger some form of anaphylaxis Vinnie had apparently had, killing him.

Before long, the situation was over, and Joseph could only ponder how little he'd actually done. That and try to take care of the others. Patty was already up and moving again, so at least she wasn't in too urgent a state. Instead he turned his attentions to Grace, whose hand had been injured, and Tom, who was currently passed out. Thankfully, Grace's only really bad injury was her hand, so a few tags wrapped around the wrist was all he really needed to numb her pain. Tom was a little more difficult, as he had ended up pretty beaten up, with less serious injuries, but scattered across his body. It took a few minutes to take care of, during which Chris had arrived with reinforcements, and eventually Joseph managed to finish applying the last one just as Tom woke up.

"Oh, nah, don't worry about it. I didn't really end up helping that much, but I can at least do this for you guys who did."

At that point, he walked over to Patty, who had just finished speaking with Chris from the looks of it.

"Hey Patty, is your face feelin' ok?" He asked, holding up a couple of runes. "I can put some of these on if you want. Should stop any pain you'll still be feeling, like that time at the wedding. You probably won't need to worry about getting anything from my blood this time though!"

He tried to sound less glum than he actually felt as he spoke to her. He was far from the best people person, true, but he didn't really need to be to see that what had happened today was eating at her. So he tried to distract her from it a little. Whether it got her calmed down, laughing at how she'd reacted to his blood being used for runes, or even annoyed at the memory and thinking he was an idiot, at least that was brain power that wasn't going towards thinking about what a miserable experience she'd been going through.

He may have realised he wasn't good enough to be a mentor in any way, but if nothing else, he could at least do this as a friend.

@Hitman@canaryrose@KaijuBaragon@Amethyst

@Amethyst@Danvers

---

A few days had passed since the events of the Gugliano mansion. To Midas' shock and surprise Vinnie was killed the very night he had recorded his speech. This brought up a few questions. Considering the raid was conducted by HERO, did HERO attack because of these 'new allies'? Or did these 'new allies' turn out to be a Judas in their midst. The whole thing left a sour taste in his mouth, something was very wrong about it.

Today, Midas sat in the South Brookside Boxing Gym on a fold out chair. Before him stood a table with a tape playing device and an ashtray. He did not smoke but he knew at least one of the arriving guests did (Koshiki Devils). On the other side sat another 3 foldout chairs. Midas invited 3 gangs to send a representative here this morning to hear the news about the Gugliano's 'new allies'. He had worked with them all at some point in the past and knew he could trust them for the most part.

The Koshiki Devils were the gang Midas has had the most involvement with. He had helped them out of quite a few sticky situations. Because of this Midas considers them completely reliable.

The Dogpack is an up and coming gang. To be honest, Midas hasn't done work with them in the past. They first came onto his radar when a member of theirs starting busting up other contenders in the Proving Ground. You tend to build up good relations when you give any gang a stable source of money. Plus he knew he could count on the Dogpack wanting to make their stake on Brookside. Midas offered that very thing.

The Calaveras were a group that Midas can't trust on faith alone. Luckily he invited them with an offer. Without Ringmaster in the lead, the Calaveras have been struggling in recent years. The offer was simple, Midas would free Ringmaster for the Calaveras allegiance. This was an offer Midas could count on.

The morning sun shone down from the high windows of the boxing gym. The call had gone out to all three so there was nothing left to do except wait for the representatives to arrive. Near the edges of the room stood a few of the fighters Midas had recruited, though he doubted he would need the protection.

There was a knock at the door, followed by the door sliding open. Chris, Rumi's secretary, had come down to check on his boss, who was currently in the middle of using his nanomachines to solder two small components together before closing the compartment of the device he was working on. Rumi sat down heavily onto a nearby rolling chair and leaned back, massaging his temples. He had been Overclocking his brain for the past few days now, and it the stress of the strain was exhausting him greatly.

"Sir, perhaps you should take a break," Chris suggested. "Working for this long is taking a toll on your health."

"Don't worry, Chris, I know what I'm doing," Rumi tiredly reassured him, dismissing Chris's worries with a wave of his hand. "By my calculations, I can keep this up for at least 2-3 more days, but I don't really need that long. I'm done, anyway."

Chris took a look at what Rumi had been working on, and continued to voice more concerns, "Sir, are you sure it's a good idea to release that to the world? You of all people should know-"

"Yes, Chris, I am aware of the risk, but it's one I have to take," Rumi said. Rumi was planning on releasing his Microbots, the prototype to his Nanobots, to the world. "They'll be a nice benefit to the world. They can offer great improvement to many different industries, from construction to medicine and so much more. I've also included plenty of safeguards to prevent misuse. If anyone was planning to tamper with or reverse-engineer them with malicious intent, I'd be the first to know, and will act accordingly to disable them."

Rumi then voiced, "Pop up Window 436," and his table projected a window screen revealing a counter with the number of Microbots in existence. Rolling himself toward a machine with a plexiglass container at the bottom, Rumi slammed a big red button with the bottom of his fist. It then began to hum and glow as a small number of thin metal appendages dropped down and began to whir and buzz, soon creating a new Microbot. The counter on the screen then counted up by one. "I've hardwired these Microbots so they show up immediately as soon as they're created. They won't get past my sensors."

"Even so, there will be many attempts to bypass your safeguards, use them in ways even you haven't anticipated," Chris argued. "I believe you to be the smartest man in this country, if not the entire world, but you're still only one man."

"Not to worry, I thought of that too," Rumi said. "Even if someone got a hold of enough microbots to pose a threat, they'd still need enough power in their brain to be able to move them fast enough. I've already hardwired these Microbots to only be able to move up to 20-25 miles per hour. It'd take someone with serious brainpower, like me for example, to be able to move them any faster, and even then it won't be by much. Maybe an extra ten at most, give or take."

Chris was still skeptical, but he could see that Rumi had put a considerable amount of effort into modifying the original prototype to make it safe for commercial use. "I assume the patents and other necessary paperwork are ready, then?" Chris asked. "If your plan of expanding the business is to move forward, then I'm sure..."

"Ehh, the patents, sure. The rest, well, you're more than capable of handling that," Rumi responded as he raised a thumbs up.

"Well, this might be somewhat above my, uh... current paygrade," Chris suggested, a smirk visible on his face.

"Hmph. I suppose that's only fair," Rumi said, smiling back. "Fine, I'll make sure you'll get an appropriate raise, but you better do it, Chris."

"I won't fail you, sir. Never have in all my time spent with you," Chris smugly said as he walked out the door.

"Yeah, yeah," Rumi said.