[ May 15, 2080 - 7:04 PM ]

The flames roared as the lab turned into an ever-increasing hell. A burglary gone awry had caused an entire floor of a large chemical research laboratory in Midtown to explode into a blazing inferno. The fire was spreading rapidly leaving several people trapped inside as firefighters outside struggled to extinguish the flames. The streets were littered with emergency and law enforcement personnel clamoring to get the situation under control.

It was soon discovered that the incident was caused by a few members associated with the group known as the Pariah Underground. Four Variants were spotted leaving the lab on foot with duffel bags that were assumed to contain stolen chemicals. Upon learning that they were being pursued by the law, they split into pairs and headed in different directions. Flea, an extremely short Variant with the ability to leap fifty times his height, and Noxia, a girl partially covered with reptilian scales who had the ability to spit acid, both headed toward Bywater. A bulky Variant, called Graffite, possessing stone skin that is near impenetrable, and a girl, Ruby, with the ability to construct blades and spears out of blood, were heading in the direction of Uptown. Each pair carried a bag and seemed to be very protective of their cargo. The chemicals weren't apparently volatile and were well secured within their duffels.

---

Lina stood in a darkened alleyway a few blocks from the burning lab. She closed the phone in her left hand after reading the Privy notification that popped up on her screen while casually twirling a knife in her right hand. She had been in the middle of researching the lab on the Nexus after tracking Graffite and the others to it. One of Lina’s favorite hobbies was sabotaging criminals in the act and taking the spoils for herself. She wouldn’t consider herself a ‘vigilante’ per say since she doesn’t really do it to uphold any kind of order…she just likes fucking with people who do a bad job and taking their shit. But tonight was different because the Scourge was involved. Those four lunatics were always giving the Underground a bad name.

No matter how hard we try to stay out of NOVA’s face, these idiots are always making trouble for us…

Lina carefully peered down the street awaiting signs of the Scourge while trying to keep a low profile in case MAD happened to pass through. She really didn’t want to be associated with the crime in progress, but she couldn’t help but find out what the idiots were up to. She chose this spot on a whim and figured it was the path of least resistance if they were to flee the lab. As it turned out, her instincts proved correct, because she saw Graffite himself dart around a far corner accompanied by Ruby. Just as fate would have it, they were running in the direction of her little hiding spot. Graffite appeared to be carrying a duffel bag slung over his back with the strap running across his chest. Lina considered letting them pass without interfering in order to continue tracking them. The day had been overcast and she hadn’t gotten much sunlight, so she felt a bit underpowered…but the opportunity was too juicy to pass up.

At times, Lina felt the need to add some flair to her little skirmishes, so she leapt from the alley with a front flip as the two Variants were crossing and landed in a ‘superhero crouch’ brandishing her dual karambits.

”Sup, Graff? Whatcha got there?”

The two Scourge stopped dead in their tracks, both very visibly annoyed.

“Out of the way, Sear! Mind your damn business!” Graffite shouted with clenched fists.

”Nah, I don’t think so. I’ll just take that bag instead. Not much time before MAD shows up, so I won’t be long.”

“We don’t have time for your bullshit!” Ruby yelled as she conjured two large blades of crystallized blood. She dashed at Sear swinging both blades toward her upper body. Sear ducked and parried the attack with her karambit then sent Ruby flying with a well-placed kick before making a beeline for Graffite. Sear knew he was slower than she, so she was able to get close enough to cut the strap of the duffel, front flip over him, and grab the bag before he could grab her. She leapt back and immediately hurled the bag in a high arc toward a wall in the alley she had just left. In one swift motion, Sear holstered one of her karambits and pulled out a throwing knife, infusing it with heat. She threw the knife at the bag just as it had hit the wall, and the heat allowed it to pierce both bag and brick with ease, pinning the duffel and leaving it dangling high above the action.

“Ugh, you bitch!” Ruby screamed as her temper flared. She sprinted toward Sear who had re-equipped her other karambit, ready for a fight.

Here we go…gotta make this quick…

Zahariel smirked as Shawn left the shop at last, his lone employee disappearing into the night. He took his time, taking the cash register's contents and placing them into his bag in order to deposit them in the bank later on. A few hundred dollars

Today was a good day for business. An elderly couple came in, looking for the biggest and baddest cactus Zah had in sale, so naturally he directed them to an absolutely enormous specimen in the back of the shop. It was easily as big as the average person, and the spines could be used as deadly weapons. Zah mused that they wanted to use it for self defense as well as house decoration, but alas, they bought it along with some of the water lilies.

Anyway, Zah had been looking at the news. The Scourge seemed to be pretty busy nowadays, seeing as how they had just burned down a laboratory. Plus, they've stolen some chemicals.

Zah sighed. Why can't they be content with living in isolation from the rest of humanity? Why must they pull these antics and ruin the lives of everyone else in the Pariah Underground? Things are bad enough as is…

Taking his cane, Zah walked to the back of his shop. It was open and had a telescope in it, lending him a view of the stars. Sometimes, he'd catch a glimpse of his old homeworld, the Red Planet, glinting in the night sky. He remembered how he lived underground, and only ever got out of that little world on a world with a suit on.

Now, here he was, on Earth. He could sense that his body was still having trouble with the gravity, even after a whole decade. Zah quickly downed one of those pills with a glass of water, making sure that he didn't suffer any health issues when he got home.

Speaking of which, it was getting dark. And so…

A dark mist surrounded Zah. Out of the black smoke emerged his transformation; an eldritch raven, exuding pure shadow.

The news reported that the Scourge members went in different directions. He didn't want to deal with Flea, as she could jump up and catch him in mid-air, so he'd rather deal with Graphite and Ruby. True, his raven swarm cannot harm Graphite, but he didn't need to harm them- not yet, anyway. They needed a good talk.

"Well that's relieving," Zah thought as he witnessed a bunch of small shapes fight in the dark alley below him. Let's see, a pyromancer, a smoking skeleton, then those two. Must be… Sear and Grassbones.

Zah flew down, perching on one of the nearby rooftops, deciding not to interfere- yet. Though to those four, he's not exactly hard to miss.

"Cute…" Zah simply mused, watching Ruby and Graphite's irritation.

---

"Sir. SIR! Please step away from the-"

"Step away or you'll, what, shoot me?"

The Collector stood in front of the set of jewels, his eyes filled with greed and exquisite taste. The glass box was an easy matter. He could just take it along with the set, as the Tesseract Labyrinth would have no trouble swallowing the whole thing into its unfathomable dimensions.

Either that, or let his pets break it.

"Uh…"

"Darling," the Collector said, stepping forward while Satan and Lucifer, those mechanical centipedes, crawled beside him. "I tell you this. Are you implying that you, a man who in most likelihood, has a family to feed, an ambition to reach, will willingly fight me? And for what? How much do these people pay you anyway? Minimum wage?"

Collector lazily tossed a black cube at the jewel set, causing the precious relics to disappear into a pocket dimension. "Word of advice, my dear. You shouldn't do for others what they aren't willing to do for you. For instance, fighting to the death. You know who I am, no? You know what I can do? Bullets simply… stop."

The security guard whimpered, though he still pointed his gun at the completely unfazed Collector.

"You know, with a face like that, my parents would be telling you to marry my sister," Collector said, giggling. As if in cue, Gloriana Hellas and Sol Invictus floated towards from elsewhere in the mansion, bearing news.

"Gold plates and vintage wine bottles have been found," Gloriana Hellas said in a monotone, robotic voice. "On the second floor."

"Most excellent, my love," the Collector said with an amused tone. He then looked back at the security guard, who was still standing there, scared. "How old are you? 20? 25? You have a long way to go, my good sir! I suppose that your cooperation and generosity should be rewarded here and now, no?"

"...what?"

"Oh, you misunderstand," the Collector said, taking out another of the cubes from his pocket. "Here, take a peak."

The Collector plunged his right hand into the cube, the point that he touched turning into a semi-liquid. He then pulled out a large, glowing ruby that reflected the light of the nearby chandeliers with absolute beauty.

"Glorious, isn't it," the Collector answered, holding out the ruby. "This is worth more than the salary you'll get in a whole year. Or your life, depending on how brain-dead your owner, err, employer is. Anyway, if you'd kindly just leave, you can have this."

Satan loomed behind the Collector, its mandibles excitedly clicking. Its eyes alternated between red, green, and yellow, as if they were a set of Christmas lights.

"Satan, don't scare him, can you?" The Collector chided the machine.

Satan looked dismayed, and crawled away. The Collector turned his attention back to the guard, who had his gun down now. Not waiting for anything else, the Collector took the man's hand, and placed the ruby on his palm.

"Go on now! Be free!"

Surely enough, the guard ran away, leaving his gun behind.

And so the ransacking continued. The Collector was very, very pleased.

Mikael Peacemaker: Anadine District

The paperwork was done, the Company was officially listed in the city archives, and Mikael purchased office space in New Haven's Business/Midtown District in order to store archives relating to employees' resumes, accounts of income and expense, and basically record everything related to administration, management, and finance. He had purchased land for a laboratory elsewhere; it was an amateur mistake to have both the business and research ends of any given firm in the same building, especially with terrorists moving about and razing any attempts at researching one's way to resolve the coming tensions between Variants and Non-Variants.

Where did he plan on setting up said laboratory, by the way? It was initially going to be in Vines, but Anadine was easier to overlook by both legitimate businessmen and wannabe criminals alike. And the Breaking News had shown up on his Omni-Tool as his Self-Driving Limousine drove to the site where behind a grove of old oaks, an old schoolhouse was being repurposed into a state-of-the-art laboratory. This was where his research was going to be done, where he'd prove to the world that peace was possible between Variants and Non-Variants by replicating the powers of the former, resulting in a new age of symbiosis. All he had to do was wait, hope... And get a decent partner.

Even as his car drove up and parked at the building, Mikael was sending a flurry of online messages to potential allies and contacts and a few actual friends, requesting info on various Nobles and Vigilantes who were not too public but had both a strong powerset and a lot of combat experience. He also put in a request for more information on the disappearance of 'Maximus' and 'Kid Kilowatt'; he was suspecting that this was a program of deliberate kidnapping, not murder, otherwise their bodies would be floating up in the Bayou by now.

Yes; he was willing to pay, his family wasn't descended from Gilded Age Industrialists for nothing. He noticed the small woosh of his car's doors opening, allowing him and his security detail - All normal folk for now - to walk out and inspect the building as a small renovation and construction crew, paid extra to sign a Non-Disclosure Agreement which was as binding as it could be without breaking the law, installed an ammonia-powered generator at the back of the former schoolhouse.

The foreman was a nice person, a resident of the Warehouse District trying to keep his family away from Shanty; Mikael knew that he was competent enough to deserve help in that. So the small blond boy approached the tall black man in worker's overalls, a polymer vest that was incidentally bulletproof, and a hard hat that was much the same, waved his hand in greeting, and asked, "Hey, Pierre, how's it going?"

Pierre responded a little gruffly, "Shift's almost over; it's getting late. Also, have you seen the news? Fire in Midtown; laboratory like this one got burnt down."

Mikael's eyes widened a little in response as he asked, "Worried about anything? I can increase security arrangements..."

Pierre looked at him as though he was an idiot and said, "You should be more worried about yourself, kid. You're sixteen; Noble or no Noble. Get a bodyguard; Ignoble might spare us if he or she attacks but not you." He sighed and said, "Kid, you've been good to us; better than most other employers. But the world will chew people like that and spit them out if they're not careful, so get someone who can watch your back."

The boy nodded and said, "Most folk who fit the bill are from the Pariah Underground; I don't think I can hire them. And I don't trust most Nobles; they like being special." He then looked at Pierre and said, "Been thinking of 'sponsoring' a Street Kid. Getting them registered and taken care of in exchange for them helping me."

Pierre nodded and said, "I know the rumors. Some kids named Remy the Rat and another named Flip are roaming around the less well-off districts using their fancy powers to do what they want. Don't tell anyone this, but I think Flip's an 'illegal'; you might have luck catching him with the promise of a Green Card and cash." He chuckled, "Not to stereotype, though. That said, fair warning; I'm a working man, not a gossip column, and definitely not a 'trafficker'. If you want eyes trained on them, that's your circus; keep me out of it."

Mikael was now speed-typing on his phone, offering $150 for any bit of discreet information about Remy and Flip, and $200 for videos of them using their abilities to various 'interested parties' looking for a quick buck. But deep inside, he had decided against trying to employ Remy the Rat except in the most desperate instance. No, after reviewing what he could about Flip, the latter could serve his ends well, but just in case, Mikael also sent a message to his contacts in the US Immigration Service inquiring about Variant Illegal Migrants or Asylum Seekers...

@Eclektik@Expendable@RBYDark

The jukebox in the bar was playing some old hit by Treachery, Remy could feel the beat through the wall bricks. Really the only thing that made them standout was the drummer's self-generated light show, otherwise they weren't any different from any of the mundane bands. Not that he really cared, he was just settling into the shadows, eyeing the door on the other side of the alley.

The jukebox was spewing out some C&W ballad of a guy crying over his AI truck leaving him on the side of the road some lonely night when the door he'd been waiting for swung open. Standing in the kitchen light was a guy wearing a white t-shirt, apron, and one of those stupid paper hats, with a bag of garbage at his feet. Remy ducked his head down a bit, listened as the bag was tossed into the dumpster and the plastic lid thudded down, and the light from the door vanished as it slammed shut.

He waited for a moment, then dared to glance over the lid of the bar's dumpster to see if the kitchen guy was still there, but there wasn't a sign of him.

Remy sighed, then darted over to the restaurant's dumpster, feeling his stomach growl at him as he flipped the dumpster lid open and went digging for the new bag, searching the discarded wrappers and bioplas cups of half-melted ice for a half-eaten burger or cold fries. And he found it - a discarded burger with just a bite out of it!

It was then the hands grabbed him, hauling him out and slamming him against the dumpster, three big guys, reeking of booze.
"Well, lookit what I got, boys!" the man holding onto him smirked. "One of those street brats!"
"I dunno Joe," one laughed. "Kinda looks a bit scrawny, meybe you oughta throw him back."

It was too late, Remy could feel something heavy drop into his jacket pocket.

"Throw him back?" his captor scowled. "The hell I will! Boy's gotta learn his lumps! Stealin' outta dumpsters, that's just nasty!"
"Joe, he's just a kid!"
"So?"

This is gonna hurt, Remy flinched.

Location: Business District/Midtown --> Lab Crisis

---

Closing the door of her driver's car, the pinkette young woman groaned, as she slumped languidly down into the cushioned backseat area. Oak-brown eyes slipped closed, as she leaned back, savoring the low thrum of the vehicle's electric engine, a comfortable quiet settling over the private interior, the front seats separated from the back by a divider with a tinted -and currently closed- window set into it. She wasn't in the mood for idle chatter, and VERONICA had clearly conveyed so beforehand to Xavier, the driver, hence the lack of so much as a greeting inquiring on welfare.

Not that she needed the meddlesome old-timer to worry about her, but she supposed it was nice that he cared.

Whether that was because she didn't treat him like garbage... or because she was the reason for his paycheck? Who could say.

"Severance packages delivered," came a familiar smooth, feminine voice with a hint of buzzing to it, much to the pinkette's restrained groan of irritation. The last thing she wanted to think about right now was the hassle the day had been. Too many good workers had been fired today. She would admit that freely, but it had to be done, irregardless of their otherwise laudable competence and technical expertise. Allowing themselves to be bribed for corporate espionage? Divulging company secrets? Could they be any more foolish? She was not in any position to show mercy to those that broke their contracts, and to expect anything else from her was the height of arrogance.

Certainly, some had had their reasons, ones that even made them victims of a sort in all this, but an example had to be made, a no-tolerance policy enforced. And of course, she wasn't going to stop at just firing them. No no, compromising their contracts? Potentially endangering the bank's integrity and reputation? Her legal teams were already chomping at the bit to take them for everything they were worth, perhaps badly enough to take back what they had earned from the company and more. It was nasty business, but it was necessary. In this age of marvels, you couldn't allow a single chink in the armor to fester, couldn't show weakness. Not to the public. Not to your allies and subordinates. And most especially not to your enemies... and the opportunistic worms and dregs writhing beneath the surface of society.

"Excellent work as always," Sighing, Kasumi favored the personal AI's report with a nod, which she knew had been seen of course. Her sunshades functioned as a form of visor, an Omni-Lens, allowing seamless wireless access to The Nexus and projecting a one-way holographic interface for her private viewing on the inner lenses. Naturally, with a personal AI at the helm, modded most especially for security, she had little reason to worry about being compromised... even if she did sometimes wish it was a little more feasible to operate "off the grid" in a productive manner.

"Of course, Ma'am," VERONICA replied easily.

A familiar buzzing from her phone brought Kasumi's attention to the screen with a frown. Swiping through the lock screen, her pink brows furrowed at the general alert of a major fire. Lips pursing lightly, she skimmed several related articles. The disaster in the making was yet ongoing and by no means appearing to be any closer to handled, such was the intensity of the blaze. "A laboratory, huh? I wonder if a chemical spill has anything to do with how the fire got out of hand so quickly..."

"Undoubtably, Ma'am," VERONICA chirped.

Kasumi sighed... again. She seemed to have been doing that a lot today. The (un)natural pinkette shifted in her seat, right leg crossing atop her left. Her newsfeed, helpfully curated by VERONICA for the sake of relevancy, made mention of several other incidents in progress... including a major jewelry robbery. Honestly, sometimes Kasumi wondered if today was just one of those days or if New Haven was always like this... and she simply too busy and ... sheltered to notice it. "Should I be worried about this?" It was a general question but more directed towards the fire. The jewelry was insured... probably, and it was exactly none of her business to be going out of her way to make enemies with the latest flamboyant nutjob on the block.

The holographic image of a brunette secretary, smartly-dressed for an office environment, briefly flickered into the corner of her sunshades' view. "Xavier has already been informed to correct our course. Due to detours, regrettably, arrival to the estate shall be 4.2069 minutes diverged from your arranged schedule." Kasumi rolled her eyes lightly. She wasn't that anal about her time management, but try telling that to VERONICA. The AI seemed to take even understandably unpredictable delays personally. Honestly, Kasumi supposed there were worse quirks for an AI to develop in its lifetime, Terminator homicide tendencies among them. Frankly, she could handle some nagging over punctuality. It was even helpful most of the time.

Regardless... "Belay that directive," Kasumi slowly inhaled steadily and then exhaled sharply through her nose.

"Ma'am?" VERONICA inquired with a tone of confusion and... resignation? It really was impressive what technology could accomplish these days.

"Resume our prior course," Kasumi ordered easily, a wry smile accompanying drooping eyelids. Her own tone contained a spark of resignation, itself. The "did I stutter" went unsaid and would remain so. She didn't even have to repeat herself. She had given her orders, and she knew VERONICA and Xavier would carry them out without fail. VERONICA went silent for a small time, clearly conversing with Xavier, and Kasumi's gaze tracked the world outside, the scenery soon shifting into a familiar route through the city streets. The interior remained quiet once more for a time, disturbed only by the calming thrum for the mostly silent vehicle. The AI certainly had enough processing power to carry out two conversations at once, of course, but there were no more inquiries to be had. An AI of such high quality had plenty of pattern recognition to spare to see where this was going.

The crowded sidewalks passed by without incident, as the car navigated the city streets, citizenry hardly sparing the vehicle any more attention than they would any other. As intended, of course. Kasumi may have come from means... but she had long since learned her lesson. Flaunting those means so easily drew attention, and attention drew trouble and enemies, foes and obstacles that could only be dealt with by extrajudicial methods. Therefore, as a rational, productive and law-abiding citizen, it behooved her to make her comings and goings within the same sort of vehicles as any average civilian... within a certain reason, of course.

While the car was a navy-blue affair and generally reminiscent of the average five-seater, it was naturally high-end. She had spared no expense in ensuring the windows were very much bulletproof, never mind the rest of the vehicle. Extensively internally modified as it was, it might as well have been an armored assault transport. EMP shielding was a sensible expense for the essential functions, as was enough horsepower to clear 200 mph on a good day. In addition, it naturally was installed with the capacity to be piloted by an AI -specifically VERONICA- so that she could take over for the "fatally human" driver, Xavier, if need be. Simply put, Kasumi had taken as many covert precautions as she could manage to create the most efficient and robust getaway car she could without getting into Architect levels of bullshittery. After all, the priority was never to fight if she could avoid it. She was a law-abiding businesswoman. It only made sense.

Luckily, as so happened to be the case today, she wasn't expecting a fight.

---

Traffic had thinned, as the crisis crept into visual range. Rolling down her window, Kasumi grimaced at the stench of smoke and the acrid scent of chemicals in the air that impacted her senses from afar, her spirit partially manifested beside her to take better stock of the situation. By now, she could see the cordon of law enforcers and emergency responders, along with the various gawkers and news crews stationed outside it, contributing nothing productive to the situation but beady eyes scrambling pathetically for their next fix of excitement as do-nothing bystanders. If anything, they were a hinderance, wasting the trained professionals' time and energy, instead of leaving them to actually help the people in need.

"Filthy hyenas," the pinkette scoffed, as Xavier turned them perpendicular to the masses. His read of the situation was in accordance with her own it seemed. They certainly weren't driving through that useless mass that was wasting whatever oxygen the fire wasn't inhaling, at least not without making a serious scene to clear the way. But that was fine. Calling through the dividing window, she said, "I'll depart here, Xavier. In the meantime, feel free to find somewhere quiet to wait things out. Pick up a snack if you like. This may take a while."

The transport slid to a buttery-smooth stop, and Kasumi disembarked promptly, shutting the door behind her and straightening her light grey suit-jacket and purple tie. The car pulled away with the almost frightening silence electric vehicles were often prone to, practically a ghost underneath the clamor of the crowds and the chaos of the calamity. Striding through the crowds towards the cordon, the pinkette made little attempt to be polite about it. While she was hardly shoulder-checking people, if they were in the way of her beeline, her presently invisible spirit quite firmly and inexorably moved them with a guiding hand on a shoulder or otherwise.

Approaching the officers briskly, Kasumi reached into her pocket and drew out identification, more specifically her license card as a registered Noble. "I'd say good day to you, but I can't help but feel it would be misplaced in the present circumstances. So, let's skip the pleasantries, officers. There's people in need, and I'm licensed to help them." So spoke the young woman in casual business attire, as pink petals began to peel off the palms of her hands. "Point me to the problem areas, and I'll handle the rest, lighten your load." The smile she shot them wasn't her "winning" PR best, but instead a facade of humble, cautious optimism, designed to stoke hearts to "do their best" in a seemingly hopeless situation. She didn't feel a whit of what she was projecting, of course, but the job of a "hero" was to save hearts as much as lives.

And Kasumi was a prideful sort. She knew it well, but she couldn't help it. The only things in life worth expending effort on were those one intended to do well. Not just well, but to an exceptional standard. It was a completely unnecessary responsibility she was foisting upon herself at times, but she was nothing if not committed to doubling down once she finally decided to become involved. So it had been in the past, and so it would be today. The possibility of genuine failure wasn't even a consideration. She decreed it.

Arthur (Miguel his heart whispered) hated closing the bakery so early but with the city having a lively night there wasn't any point on staying open and waiting for costumers that would never come, even here on Brigitte people knew better than to be outside when there was Variant activity (no matter that it was happening on the other side of the city or that they were more focused on getting away and outrunning M.A.D) accidental casualties were rare in this kind of events but why risk it?.

Still, it was if not a good day at least a normal one and for that he was grateful.

He sighed one last time and blocked the reinforced doors, some may think it was overkill to have so much protection for just a simple bakery but he wasn't keen on having a repeat of that night if he could help it.

He gave a nod after doing a final check to make sure everything was in order then he opened a portal on the wall next to the counter, crossing it he came across the familiar little basement he used as a secret base, well as much as a his costume and a few set of clothes, his spare laptop, his combat gear and the many, many burner phones he owned could amount to a secret base.

Turning on the laptop he allowed himself a moment to reflect back on the last few years, setting himself as a neutral party on the Underground was easier and harder than he expected, the hardest part had been getting actually started and setting a name for himself, then it was a matter of keeping momentum and attracting more costumers while trying to keep his business as clean as possible. Hell setting up his bakery was more complicated than everything Variant related once more he realized that this city really had a problem (but he loved it anyway).

A blinking notification on the screen brought him back to reality

"Oh? So Reflector is finally making a move then?"

From the few small conversations they had when he was hired to move merchandise discretly he knew that Reflector had some sort of 'Big plan', he didn't seem like a world domination or sudden bout of madness guy so good for him to start working towards it. Still information gathering was definitely not his forte and something he stayed well away from, everybody liked the information broker until he started selling your info to your enemies, then he was just another loose end you had to take care of.

"Welp, better get ready then"

The downside of his costume and a thing people rarely realized was that the Variants with the more elaborated costumes usually had to take some time to get into them but it made him look cool so he didn't mind too much, besides, Oli-Vanessa was having a sleepover with some of her friends so he had all the time in the world to have a productive night, with some luck a job will come his way.

May 15, 2080 - 2:43 PM-Lakeview

"Mom? You doin' alright?"

Eli shook herself back into action, blinking as she turned to face her son.

"Of course I am." She waved off the concern by knocking back what little remained of her beer. She found most alcohol unpleasant and anything weaker than paint thinner wouldn't even get her buzzed, but people cracked open cold ones at family gatherings which meant she did too.

That was the name of the game, blending in. Hanging out with her son's family while pretending to be a normal person, putting aside her status as a disgruntled veteran, cold-blooded mercenary and larger-than-life superhero. There sat Eli Ford, mingling with ex-cousins in the backyard of some nephew's house. She acted like she had put it all behind her and they believed it, most of the Nielsens happy to have her around despite the breakup with one of their own.

"If you say so."

Jamie knew better than to question her, he had long grown used to watching her bottle everything up. He knew his mother was an odd beast and accepted her for it. He was a far better son than she deserved.

"So, when were you going to tell me?"

"Tell you what?"

"That you made detective!" Eli had to stop herself from shouting, pride nearly overcoming her socially-induced unease. "Your dad had to text me, and he found out from your watch commander? Come the fuck on!"

Jamie smiled sheepishly, looking at the grass as he took a sip of his drink. "It wasn't that important-"

"Nope. Nuh-uh. None of that self-deprecation 'oh it was no biggie' stuff right now. Detective Nielsen of the Major Crimes Division, not that important..."

She let the words hang in the air for a moment before pulling Jamie in, trapping him in a properly suffocating bear hug.

"I'm so proud of you. We both are, and we know how hard you've worked. The city's lucky to have you."

She got only a muffled squeak in return, the air in Jaime's lungs having been forced out of him by her death grip. Eli held him juuust a bit longer, finally releasing him with a laugh.

"When are you getting your implants?"

"I've had them for the past six months, or some of them anyway. Apparently, they'd rather spend money upfront to make sure I'm acclimated to all the new bits and pieces instead of letting me figure it out on the job."

"Makes sense."

Eli had more to say, questions to ask or comments to make, all the remarks a proud parent would make flittering about her head. But more distant relations had just arrived, a small group making their way over to intrude on her and her son. As the hellos and how are yous swarmed in Eli did her best to keep up, answering with faint smiles.

Once again Jaime wasn't fooled.

"Oh, Mom you're meeting with your PR people, right? You should get a move on."

The excuse was flimsy but Eli wasn't about to complain. Goodbyes left her mouth without her input, body drifting away on autopilot. Edging through the throng of relatives with gritted teeth she managed to make it just out of view of the party before sprinting off beyond the speed of sound.
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May 15, 2080 - 6:27 PM - Brigitte

When the man opened the door to his garage his eyes took a moment to adjust. The lights weren't on and the windows were dusty and blocked off by boxes, rendering the room twilight-dark. Ignoble was counting on this fact to give them the element of surprise, and it worked. Marcus Miller saw only the vague outline before they lunged, one hand pulling him in by the jacket as the other pushed the door shut behind him.

"Hello, Doctor."

The words came out distorted, the mechanical scramblers in Ignoble's mask rendering their voice a guttural snarl. The sound, low in volume but high in menace, seemed much louder in the little garage.

"I apologize for startling you."

Miller didn't respond, staring slack-jawed at the skull-headed specter before him. A lazy shove sent him sprawling to the ground, Ignoble unhooking a pistol and leveling it at his heart.

"I understand you habitually carry a weapon? Keep it hidden for now, unless you want the missus to find you with two in the head."

From inside the house came peppy instructions, the encouraging voice of a virtual instructor.

"Almost done! Strong finish gang, strong finish!"

"If you cooperate I'll be out of here before she's showered."

Miller swallowed, grimaced, looked back toward the sound of an in-progress exercise routine...and relented.

"How'd you know where-"

"You didn't hide." Ignoble said dismissively. "I found your address, your life story, figured out your household routine, the works. You're a former second lieutenant who got tired of army life after one term, went back to school where you met your wife Margaret and got a job as head of security for the bank she works at. Recently you graduated with a doctorate in Genetics and have begun work on identifying which, if any, gene is responsible for Variance. Margaret goes out with her girlfriends every Wednesday at eight, you take a half-hour walk around the neighborhood each day around six."

They thumbed back the hammer, a mechanically useless gesture since the pistol was double-action but one that signified evil intentions. The click clarified how serious Ignoble was, just in case there was any doubt.

"Which brings us to now. Margaret finishes her workout in about five minutes and after she grabs a snack and a shower she'll be leaving. In the meantime, we're going to negotiate."

Miller didn't respond for a moment, simply staring down the barrel of the suppressed .45 holding him hostage. Ignoble allowed him to run down the timer as much as he wished, an impassive skull hiding the careful calculations they were running. They were taking a risk by being here but it would be worth it if Miller cooperated.

"You want money then?"

"Not yours. I have three demands. The first is quite simple: quit your research and destroy any progress you might have made."

"Fine."

"It goes without saying that I will be doing my due diligence to make sure you don't hand anything off to your colleagues."

"I assumed as much. Not that it matters, I haven't learned anything we didn't already know."

Ignoble had known this already, their Syndicate sources having pulled Miller's portfolio days ago. Still, better to be safe than sorry.

"Second, Ike Murray."

Miller put on a look of confusion, a gambit that didn't fool Ignoble for an instant.

"Isaac Murray? Your advisor in the doctoral program? An older gentleman, mid-sixties?"

Ignoble cocked their head, modulated voice adopting an air of faux confusion.

"It seems I've wasted my time. Margaret might be late to karaoke, she'll have a mess to clean."

Miller swore under his breath, his last-ditch attempt a failure. Ignoble noted that he was far angrier than he was scared, their sharp senses picking up on the subtle flushing of his face and the rapid rise and fall of his chest. He felt fear of course, but it was purely for his family.

They were making the right choice.

"Fine, what about him?"

"I need access to his lab. I know you have a current keycard to the facility, and if you're as intelligent as I believe you to be you'll leave it under that birdbath in your backyard tonight."

"I suppose you'll kill me if I refuse."

"And leave your body for Margaret to find, yes."

They could see the conflict raging inside the poor man. His features, already worn from a life of rigorous study, were drawn and haggard, eyes filled with the sort of desperation one felt when presented with two horrible choices. But there was only one real option.

"Fine! Just-just leave us alone."

Ignoble simply nodded. The cheery chanting had died down only to be replaced by running water, the lady of the house now freshening up for her night on the town.

"Provided you heed my second demand: Liam."

The unspoken anger flared into properly verbalized outrage, Miller propping himself up as he spat "How da-!"

The outburst died out as suddenly as it started, the unfortunate doctor shooting a look back towards the door to the house.

"That's right, take it easy Doctor. I'd prefer if we kept this discussion calm, I wouldn't want to...rebuke any outside parties."

"You expect me to turn over my son?" Miller asked, now deathly quiet.

"Quite the opposite. I'd prefer not to deal with him at all but his focus on the Variance makes it difficult for me to ignore. I'd like for you to save him. Murray will be dead in, oh, one-to-three days. You would be wise to take the opportunity to convince Liam his talents are better suited to a different field of genetic biology. Curing Alzheimer's perhaps."

Miller shook his head once more, this time genuinely.

"He's brave, stubborn...not the sorta kid to let himself be bullied out of what he wants by a terrorist thug."

He quite literally spat the words, Ignoble deftly stepping out of phlegm range. They didn't doubt Miller, if Liam was anything like his father he'd be quite stubborn indeed.

"Then be authoritarian. Put your foot down. You pay his tuition, you tell him to change his focus or come home."

"And when he asks why, what am I supposed to tell him?"

Ignoble shrugged, placing their back against the exterior door.

"The truth. Mundanes who try to mold or master the Variance are my enemies, and you don't want him to wake up with a slit throat."

The vigilante paused, a chuckle escaping them.

"Or so I assume."

The pistol remained trained on Miller until the door closed between them, Ignoble disappearing into New Haven East. They had sent a clear message and could now do nothing but hope that it would be heeded. If not things became much simpler.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


May 15, 2080 - 7:04 PM - The Shanty

Redecker Stadium was supposed to have been the nucleus of a great change in the Shanty, the beginning of a revolution in body and soul.

An industrialist by the name of Thomas Redecker had earmarked millions and millions of dollars in his will for the building of gyms, the establishment of little league teams, an overhaul of the local parks, a gift from beyond the grave to the poor people of the Shanty. And at the center of it all was to be his stadium, a place where future Olympians would be cheered on by their peers.

After thirty years there was precious little to show for it, the money siphoned away by greedy contractors and con artists, a flock of vultures all snagging their piece of the carcass before flying away. The only remnant of Redecker's gift was his stadium, unfinished and rotting at the foundational level. There were no crowds, no young athletes racing towards a brighter future. The only people in Redecker Stadium were New Haven's favorite fighter pilot and her staff.

"Point zero nine eight, one thousandth less than your last go."

"Shoot, really? I could've sworn I was going faster than that!"

The young woman holding the timer nodded. Breakneck scowled at the offered tablet from behind a pair of aviators, trying to will the numbers into correcting themselves. But there was no point in arguing with the sensors. They were custom-made for someone of her speed, capable of clocking something moving at Mach 10. Operator error was also out, her people had set the system up dozens of times by now.

"That's still barely above my average."

A lackey materialized as if out of thin air with water bottle in hand, Breakneck taking and draining it in seconds before tossing it back with a nod of thanks.

"Boss, you're moving at around triple the cruising speed of the average jet, I think you're doing fine."

That particular speaker was Emma, Bn's personal assistant. Her duties included arranging interviews, organizing accommodations, sorting through crank calls, paying bills and generally making sure her boss wasn't biting off more than she could chew. She generally failed in that final task but the attempt was appreciated nonetheless.

"Emma I wasn't even twenty-three when I broke the sound barrier. I've been running for nearly a quarter-century, I should be past cruising speed!" The scowl had softened into a look of genuine disappointment. "Well past it."

There had been a time where Bn would have been content to rest on her laurels but breaking her own land speed record just wasn't going to cut it. She needed to go faster, for the sake of her pride! Subsonic was shameful, supersonic was passé. Hypersonic was her new goal, Mach 5 her calling.

The upsetting thing was that it wasn't a question of effort but reality. BN wasn't even winded after her hundred meter dash, she just could not go any faster. Her Variance limited itself to a measly three times the speed of sound and until she figured out how to overclock herself she'd be stuck in the slow lane.

"Ma'am you're gonna wanna check this out!"

Bn caught the helmet tossed her way by another member of staff, shutting out all background chatter by slipping on the familiar bit of headgear. It was already tuned to police frequencies, overlapping streams of information collected and parsed near-instantaneously. There was a serious blaze burning in Midtown with Scourge fleeing the scene, pursued by Sear, Grassbones and the Murder Express.

And of course none of the vigilantes were doing a thing to help those trapped inside the chemical-laced bonfire.

"Apparently it's amateur hour for Pariah Underground. Dispatch this is Breakneck, I'm headed for the lab."

She wasted no time in speaking to her team, trusting them to pack everything away as she geared up. Breakneck wearing her civvies in the middle of stadium one moment and midair the next, coming down in her combat gear. Her running leap had carried her above the tenements of Shantytown and into the maze of creole cottages that made up the Bywater. She weaved her way through the evening crowds and around moving cars, the momentum of objects around so slow as to be functionally non-existent.

She was there before the dispatcher had even relayed her intentions, coming to a dead stop next to the pink-haired stranger. "I'm going straight for the source of the flames, working my way out from there.

The Omni-Lens built into her various flashed all sorts of dire warnings, known carcinogens this and arsenate leak that, the kinds of warnings she'd have been more worried about had she not been immune to poisons.

"I'd stay out of the smoke!"

And then she was gone, disappearing into the furnace in search of the weak and desperate.

@Lewascan2

"Who wants to bet my brother can't reach that window ledge? Any takers?"

Diarmi posed confidently, glancing upwards at the second-story window ledge his little sister had pointed to. Maybe three inches wide, a foot and a half long, set into the brick exterior of some deli he knew nothing about (though its broad windows certainly invited inspection).

Yeah. He could make that.

He stretched, feeling the familiar popping of bones shifting around their joints, as his little sister collected bets. Some were genuine, he knew, though others were 'betting' just for the pleasure of seeing him either fall flat on his face, or out of spite towards those people. Most people were betting against him, and Zola absolutely did not carry enough cash to pay out if he failed.

He couldn't fail. He wouldn't fail.

And when she said 'Dimi?', off he went. Personally, he thought leaping at the deli window without actually smacking into it was far more impressive than getting up to a second-story window, but that's not what the people were betting on, was it? Out of the corner of his eye, he could see someone, probably an employee, startle at his presence, but he refused to allow it to distract him. It took only a slight bend of the knee to launch himself up, grab the upper ledge, and twist his body to land above it. This next part would be tricky, but it was simple to him: just move quick enough and gravity would lag behind. His fingers, callused from hours of stunts like these, gripped onto the rough bricks and he skittered along the surface, grabbing the ledge from beneath, and pushing off the wall to flip up onto the ledge, where he turned and waved down to the crowd, in varying states of flabberghast (was that a word?), amusement, and awe. His parents, who'd been watching with only mild interest, gave a polite applause in contrast to the whoops and cheers from the crowd. Zola went among them to pay out the handful of winners. And in the back of the crowd, he could see his two oldest siblings moving about.

His stomach dropped, but his grin didn't. He stood, catching the top of the window, and bowed, encouraging their excitement and their attention on him. Better him than Zola, he'd decided all those months ago. Let her stay innocent in all this. He leaped off from the ledge, taking the second to pose in the air before landing in a tumble and springing back to his feet. The crowd went nuts - well, most. Some were beginning to leave, down the street or into the deli where he suspected they'd tell that poor employee about the stunt that weird kid had just pulled. While it wasn't like the family couldn't hold people captive, them leaving was never good. It meant less money, and, to his own disgust, fewer targets.

Not that such feelings showed on his face. Instead, he bowed and gestured to his parents - his father had already drawn out the old in-desperate-need-of-a-polish fiddle to play, and his mother was promising "magic like you've never seen before!"

Which, Diarmi supposed, was a fair claim to make. How often did money vanish from people's wallets anyways?

Near the middle, someone was checking their cellphone and audibly swore - so he assumed anyhow, it wasn't a word he was familiar with. He edged a bit closer as their companion asked what was wrong.

"Burglary in progress in Midtown. Variants reported. I have to go that way for work."

"Damn. Maybe your boss will understand if you're late?"

"Like that bastard's that nice."

Diarmi tuned out the rest of their conversation, nerves buzzing. Variants! Mainly, other Variants! He'd stretched his muscles and brain only a couple of times since the family had arrived in New Haven three weeks ago but only against non-Variants. He glanced to his parents, then to Zola who was watching him curiously. He quickly schooled his expression into something less excited.

"Hey, Zol, I need to go to the RV. Cover for me?" It was more an expression than an actual desire - after all, his parents wouldn't need his parkour again for some time. It was more likely they'd bring Zola up front and have her demonstrate some parlor tricks. (And, ok, he didn't have to like it, but his little sister was adorable.) She nodded, offering him a thumbs-up, and he dashed away to get changed and head on over. It was hard, maintaining a secret identity, but his family simply could not know.

(Alessa saw him running to the RV. Probably to play superhero again. One day, she'd have to sit him down and explain how inaccurate the comics were when it came to the real world.)

---

A change of attire and multiple rooftops later, the burglary had apparently evolved into a fire. Flip only took a moment to breathe through his nose as he surveyed the scene - he wasn't pyrophobic, no, but he was pretty sure it was rational to be nervous around blazes like this. Besides, this was going to be his last bit of fresh air for a while. He had to be sure no one was trapped inside - that’s what a real hero would do first, and if there was anyone, he had to save them. Simple enough. Cops were present, no firefighters yet, a blur that stopped and then headed in - oh wow, was that actually Breakneck? ... would she be in the mood for an autograph later?

Flip launched himself off the rooftop, executing a series of flashy flips that doubled to slow his fall and get some horizontal distance. Just before he would've hit the ground palm-first, he summoned a levitation bubble to bounce off of, just behind the police tape, and performed one last aerial somersault before landing on his feet. No cheers or applause greeted his performance this time, but he didn't expect it to. He was still new after all, and this was a crisis situation. He was about to ask the nearest cop if anyone was still inside when he realized he recognized the pink-haired young lady nearby. Two Nobles at one site - his knees felt like they'd give out any second, but he shoved the feeling down. Couldn't let the performance anxiety show. He hurried to her side instead.

"Anything I can do to help, uh-" Ms or Mrs? "-Madame Senbonzakura?" God that sounded awkward. He needed to distract from that and fast. "I've got telekinesis." There, landed it. Hopefully.

---

Jimi's a bad person. Always has been, always will be. But he knows that. He wouldn't dare delude himself into thinking he's good. Good people don't burglarize homes-

"It was robbery. No one was home," Jimi muttered back to the voice in his head. He knew it was in his head, no one else ever heard it, but it didn't stop him from snapping at it once in a blue moon.

Good people don't talk back or interrupt either. Very bad person.

Jimi kept quiet. He couldn't argue with that. Nor the fact that he had been a lookout for a robbery earlier in the day. It had been a bit of an impulsive thing - one of his contacts rang him up on the burner phone and asked if he wanted to make a quick buck. He glanced at his dead and empty fridge and said sure, why not. 'It'll set off the demon that lives in my head' was why not, but that just sounded crazy. His contacts didn't do 'crazy'. Now he had a roll of cash in his pocket and a tirade going off in his brain. It maybe wasn't the best deal Jimi had ever made. Still, now he could buy some groceries. And if it happened again tomorrow, he could get the electricity back on. He did miss having a cool place when the sun got too hot. Wolfy probably missed it too, he bet.

Lost as he was in his musings, deafened by the internal rant, he very nearly missed the rattle that came from the alley ahead. It was enough to make him pause. The voices he could hear, neither friendly nor concerned, made him reach for the electrical-taped metal pipe he kept tucked into his belt. Even the demon had fallen silent as Jimi tried to figure out if it was safe to pass by. He crept closer, grabbing onto the corner of the wall. It grew chilly at his touch while the pipe began to crackle with electric current.

Then came the sound of someone getting hit.

Jimi wasn't a good person. It was something beat into the inside of his skull daily, and it was never argued with. He knew better than to try. Trying had led him here. Because a good person didn't want to hurt others or let others get hurt.

Jimi couldn't stand by knowing someone was getting hurt.

He rounded the corner, wall cooling even further as he stared down the alleyway. Three against one? Hardly fair.

"Hey!" He smacked the pipe against the wall to ensure he had their attention. It wasn't enough to dispel the pipe's charge but enough to draw some attention to its crackling. "What's going on here?" And what a figure he must cut, with his stitched-up hoodie and worn-at-the-knees jeans. Hardly intimidating. Now that he thought of it, he realized he didn't even know if those three were Variants or not.

Well. He had yet to meet a Variant who dealt well with hypothermia, heatstroke, and tasing.

Wednesday May 15^th, 7:00pm- south New Haven

Surge had managed to finish up at the gym a little earlier than usual, well to say finish up wouldn’t be quite right. He had however decided to push the paperwork that he had been working on off until tomorrow. So it was that the push notification from Privy flashed across the screen in his helmet as he sped through Ville Rogue along River Street. Before he could even open the notification the built in headset on his helmet began signaling that he had a phone call.

“Incoming Call from Barry” The notification both showed as text at the top of his visor and chimed in his ear in a vaguely robotic but yet still pleasant voice. Sighing inwardly Surge gave the necessary eye movements to answer the call.

As he expected before he had any chance to greet his former teammate and friend Barry launched into a near rambling cacophony “Man, ohmandidjasee, didya? They got maxndthkid. Fucking Syndicate. Fucking Nova. It just had to be oneuv‘em, yaknow? Ogawdman what if we’re next?…. Surge ya there? Surge?” It all came out in one breath and was for the most part completely unintelligible.

“Yeah, Bear, I’m here man,” Surge replied, sighing outwardly he continued. “But if you want me to get any of that I’m gonna need you to slow the fuck down.”

“Maximus and Kid, they’re gone. They’ve moved up. The disappearances, they were just grabbing nobodies but now they’ve taken Maximus and Kid.” Barry had actually managed to slow down well enough that his words were actually parse-able.

“What do you mean gone? Who’s ‘they’? Bear you’re making no sense.”

And that’s how the conversation progressed, honestly how most of Surge’s conversations with Barry progressed these days, Barry jumping to conclusions and expecting Surge to keep up and Surge having to back track and ask for clarity. This time it turned out that Maximus and Kid Kilowatt had been officially declared missing and Barry had reached the immediate conclusion that it was Nova or the Syndicate or both working together. On top of that Barry jumped from “Top Nobles Missing” to “Oh god what if they come for us, you know the retired former Nobles who were never involved with the Alliance”.

He continued to reassure Barry all through the rest of his commute home that nobody was going to be looking to abduct either of them. He was still on the call with Barry as he walked into his duplex near the western edge of Bywater, he tossed his motorcycle jacket and helmet onto the couch while seamlessly transferring the call to Bluetooth. By the time Barry had finally been assured that he was safe, at least for now, and the call had ended Surge had managed to change clothes and fix a quick dinner of stir-fry.

Flopping on to the worn gray sofa with a bowl of stir-fry. Surge finally found the time to check the Privy notification that had chimed in his helmet as a herald of Barry’s call. Clicking open the article from Privy Surge found the source material for Barry’s latest conspiracy-minded episode. Maximus, an acquaintance of everyone who once counted themselves among the Super Sentry Squad, and Kid Kilowatt, a newer Noble, had both indeed been declared missing. But Barry had conveniently left out the fact that it was in fact N.O.V.A that had made that announcement, which would at least in Surge’s mind be counter-intuitive if they had been involved in the disappearances. He would be the last to claim that N.O.V.A. had nothing suspect going on, he even had his conspiracies regarding the government organization, but there was just no logic in them disappearing Max and Kid Kilowatt and then publicly announcing their disappearances.

Finishing his bowl of stir-fry Surge opened the second story that Privy had pinged him with before Barry’s call. A lab explosion in Midtown, nothing he could do about that but it would mean less Nobles and potentially less vigilantes out keeping the streets safe, especially in southern New Haven. With that realization he cast a live news feed from his phone to the speakers throughout the duplex and hurriedly hopped into the shower. After the shower Surge put on a pair of shorts and a plain tank top, his normal attire for his after work run.

The after work run was in many ways a lie, an act, an alibi (even if a shitty one). The run had the same destination every evening even if the route he took was always a little different, it always ended outside a run down two-story building on the edge of Bywater and the Shanty. And as usual approaching the alley between the two-story building and it’s neighbor, a similarly run down apartment complex, Surge amped himself up increasing his speed and the potential output for the muscles in his legs. With the running lead up he jumped, kicked of the apartment building and just managed to get enough height to reach the busted out window of the second story home. Pulling himself up and over the ledge Surge tumbled into the unlit floor that served as Witchfire’s based of operations.

Moments later a figure clothed in black armored pants and a sleeveless hoodie fell from the window and landed in the alleyway. It was still early, the sun’s light still filtered through the horizon despite having mostly sank below it but with the Nobles and possibly other vigilantes distracted by the lab fire Witchfire felt the Shanty call to him seeking his protection.

Wednesday May 15^th, 8:07pm- the Shanty

The blow made pain blossom in Remy's left cheek and the world to spin as the metallic taste of blood trickles down his tongue. He also felt something else dropping into another pocket....

"Like it, punk?" Joe sneers. "That's just a love tap."
"Joe! C'mon man, it's just a kid!"
"Harry, if we don't teach this gutter punk a lesson now, we'll have an alley full of 'em, stinking up the Watershed, begging in the street."

"Carl, you just gonna stand by?" Harry demanded. The third, a reddish glow to his cheeks, shrugged.
"Joe's right," he slurs, a happy dumb smile on his face as he shrugs. "Gotta stomp them down before they move in."

"Ya see?" Joe smirks, swinging his right fist back, "This is just sanitation!"

There was a dull clunk as a pipe hit the wall, and a gruff voice calling out, "Hey! What's going on here?" Remy glanced at Jimi, his eyes wide as he struggled in the big man's grip.

"Joe, it's one of them heroes," Harry said, spinning around, taking in the crackling pipe in Jimi's hand. Carl's happy smile became a frown.
"Hey!" Joe replies, glancing back at Jimi, "Thanks! We don't need yer help, I've got this!"

Jimi was dumbfounded for a second before he sauntered into the alleyway, trailing his fingers along the wall and shaking his head. "Oh, you've got it all wrong. I'm a very bad person." He bared his teeth in a mirthless grin. "And I don't think I like what I see here. You get one chance to walk away from this before I start swinging, got it?" The electrical charge almost seemed to hiss in agreement.

Harry, sweat beading on his bald forehead, stepped in front of Jimi with his arms outstretched. "Hey, guy, I'm sorry about Joe and him punching the kid, he got all upset and I was hoping to get him down to the gym so he could work out his anger."

"Joe, put the kid down!" he yells behind him.

"Yeah, Joe, listen to your friend." Jimi dropped the mirthless grin at least. He liked to think he was rational - that if they were willing to walk away without a fight, he was too. Of course, there was that part that hoped Joe wouldn't listen, that wanted this to break into a fight he knew he'd win. He stomped down on that part, but the pipe remained charged and crackling with electricity.

"Alright," Joe smiled, releasing his grip on Remy's coat. He fell back into the dumpster with a squawk.
"I know that look," Joe continued, turning to face Jimi. "You willin' ta drop that stick and make it a fair fight?"
"Joe! No!" Harry cried out. "Carl, drag him back!"
Carl glanced between Jimi then back at Joe, then started lumbering towards Joe.
"Keep outta this, Harry! You too, Carl. I want him."

Jimi scowled as Remy fell in. Oh, yeah, he wanted a piece of this guy. And when Joe offered himself on a platter, he dumbly blinked before barking out a laugh. He reabsorbed the electricity from the pipe and let it fall with a clatter.

"That's quite an idea, isn't it? A fair fight." He walked up to 'Joe', still chuckling. "Just a tiny problem is all. Just one." He put a hand on Joe's shoulder.

"With me, it's never fair." He dug his nails in, and the contact was enough to start pumping the heat energy into Joe. Fever, heatstroke, sun sickness - there were a few names for what he was doing. It all led to the same basic principle, though: if Joe didn't surrender, no fakeouts, he would have his brain poached in its own fluids.

Joe screams, falling to his knees while trying to use his hand to fend Jimi off.
"Joe!" Harry calls out, when Carl brushes past him, swinging at Jimi.
"Stop!" Harry yells.

Jimi did let go of Joe, only to grab at Carl. This time, instead of infusing heat energy, he was draining it. Hypothermia, they'd call it if they made it to the hospital. He probably would - it would just manifest as some very bad chills right now, only worsening if he kept his grip.

"Energy transfer. Never learned how to shut it off," he lied, but as long as he kept the same casual tone, how would any of them know? "Not to blame you, but you might've asked why I'm a very bad person."

Carl too had fallen to his knees, the big man wrapping his arms around him as he shook with cold.

"Mister, please, just let Carl go!" Harry begged. He pulls out his wallet and produces a couple of c-notes, handing them to Remy who was looking over the edge of the dumpster with a little awe. "Kid, just take the money, I'm sorry about Joe punching you, okay?"

Jimi looked suspiciously at Harry, then Carl, then released Carl and hopped back, lest the man decide it was a good opportunity to take a swing. He gave Carl as wide a breadth as he could as he collected his pipe from the ground. "Well. At least we've got one good person here." He pointed with the pipe to Harry - a gesture, not a threat. "They probably won't need the hospital. I didn't hold on long enough. Just treat 'em as if they got really sick. Fluids, bedrest, that good stuff."

"Thank you," Harry says humbly. He offers a hand to Remy, but the boy just jerks back, wide eyed. "Can't say I blame you," the trucker sighs. "Carl, can you walk or do I gotta call a cab?"
Carl just nods dumbly, stumbling to his feet and back towards the other two.
Harry knelt down and wrapped his arm around Joe, helping him up. "Joe, you gotta stop taking it out on the world! Sharon left you for that bit of flash. We know you're hurting, but you gotta let it go!"
"Seven years," Joe gasps, hand rubbing where Jimi stuck his fingernails in. "Partners for seven years, and she just drove off with him!"
The three truckers take a wide berth around Jimi and head towards the street.

"....world sucks," Jimi managed as the three passed. It was about as much sympathy as he could muster, given the scene he'd walked into.

He walked up to the dumpster Remy was still in as the trio left, putting his pipe back into his belt. "Seriously, you need a hand to get out of there?" It then occurred to him that the younger teen (he seemed younger at least, but not a full-on child) would've heard what he said. "My powers are actually at will, but things tend to work out better when people believe you can't stop it."

"Thanks," Remy says, shaking his head. "I uh, can't control mine. Please mister, step back."

Jimi nodded and stepped back. Ok, now he felt like a bit of a dick for pretending his powers couldn't be controlled if the guy here actually couldn't control them. "Mind if I ask what you got?"

Remy glances back at where the burger used to be, but a smear was all that was left. He sighs, then climbs out, the two c-notes tucked away in a top pocket.

"If someone bumps into me, I get something of theirs," Remy admitted, digging in his pockets to produce Joe's smartwatch. Remy scowls and tosses it into the dumpster. The other pocket had Joe's wallet. He glanced inside and whistled at the bills, then up at Jimi. "Want half?"

Jimi's eyebrows lifted as he saw the amount. "If you don't mind." Heck, if he was stringy with his groceries, he could get the electricity back on today - well, in a few days, considering mail and everything, but point was!

Good people don't profit off stealing from others. Bad.

Nope not addressing that right now. More like- "Not gonna lie, hoping you have a place to get cleaned up."

"Yeah, " Remy nods, handing over half the bills and tossing the wallet under the dumpster. "I'll just hit a vending machine on the way, can't go in someplace like this."
His stomach did a loud grumble.

Jimi wasn't sure what that meant but nodded anyways. "I'd offer, but the water got shut off a while ago. Been making do with air fresheners." That was third on his priority list, after rent and electricity. Laundromats existed after all. He paused at Remy's stomach making itself known.

"...sure you don't want me to run in and get you something?"

"Ah, no, thanks," Remy says, glancing at the kitchen door. "There's a Wenyi's and a Chef's pizza machine just past the bar."

I can get washing up tabs from the Boots drugs machine, too, Remy mused. It was a pain washing everything at home by hand, but he didn't want to wash everything but his coat while standing in the laundromat with people giving him the bent eye. All he needed was some karen on the warpath about a nearly naked homeless kid exposing himself. After what happened in the park, he wanted to stay off the police radar.

Jimi nodded - couldn't really argue with that logic. "Alright. Hope ya don't mind, but I still need to get to the store before it closes." He paused and then dug into his pockets, eventually coming up with a broken-off pen and an old receipt. He jotted down something on the receipt and handed it to Remy - an address, located in the Shanty, and a series of three numbers. "Just in case Joe doesn't learn his lesson or someone else decides to be a bag of dicks."

"Uh, thanks," Remy says, taking the slip of paper carefully. "I'm Remy, everyone calls me "the rat.""

"....I don't get it, but ok." Jimi nodded. "Just 'Jimi' is fine. You stay safe, alright?"

Sear’s gaze shot skyward as she spotted a figure dropping down from the rooftop above. She half-expected it to be Flea coming to help his fellow Scourge, but she was slightly relieved to see it was a certain smoky skeleton.

”Good to see a friendly…face?” Sear wasn’t above throwing in a joke of her own. There was a sense of humor somewhere behind the fiery glare and steely focus.

Ruby had been slightly disoriented after crashing to the pavement so suddenly. Her bottom lip had been busted and her chin was now sporting quite a nasty scrape. This stunt only served to fuel her rage further. She managed to roll her way out from underneath Grassbones’ feet and toward Sear, who was just within reach of her blood blade. Ruby took a wild swing at Sear’s feet while attempting to get to her feet but the swing had been low enough for Sear to dodge the attack with a leaping side flip. Unfortunately, however, Sear landed directly within Graffite’s reach.

“Not so fast, girl!” Graffite yelled as he motioned to grab Sear from behind. Sear was quick to react and managed to duck under what would’ve been a chokehold. She hooked a karambit around his right wrist and gave it a hard yank toward the ground. Graffite’s stone skin prevented his hand from being instantly severed but the pull instead brought him down to one knee. However, Sear had immediately realized her mistake in leaving Graff’s left arm open for an attack, and she caught a brutal backhand to the chin. Now, he had finally grabbed her and proceeded to toss her into the side of a dumpster that was against a wall in the alley. When Sear collided with the dumpster, the wind was knocked out of her for a few seconds. As she was recovering, she could hear the sound of sirens beginning to close in.

Shit…time’s up…

Lina’s gaze darted rapidly between Graffite, who had begun to charge towards her, and the bag that was still pinned to the alley wall. She had caught a glimpse of a shadowy figure on a nearby rooftop over Graffite’s shoulder as he made his way towards her. She recognized that creepy bird anywhere, and couldn’t decide if he was planning to simply spectate or to jump into the fray. She bet on the latter and decided to leave the Scourge to the other two Variants. She couldn’t afford to get caught up with the authorities after managing to steer clear for as long as she had. Before Graffite could reach Sear, she unsheathed a few throwing knives, infused them with heat and hurled them directly at Graff’s face. He threw an arm up to shield his face and deflected the knives without incident. However, this was just enough of a distraction to allow Lina to get to her feet and scale the alley wall with a few fancy parkour moves. She was able to retrieve the bag while dangling from the ledge of the rooftop above it, and she threw its strap over her shoulder before pulling herself up onto the roof. A very angry Graffite grabbed one of the knives he deflected from Sear’s attack and threw it up at Sear as she went over, and the knife nearly connected with her leg.

“Dammit, Sear! Why can’t you just leave shit alone?!” Graffite screamed as he punched a dent in the nearby dumpster.

”I’d say you have other things to worry about right now…” Sear slyly commented as the authorities began to round the corner a few blocks down.

Lina stared Graff down for a couple seconds before giving him the finger and escaping before the New Haven PD and MADmen made their appearance.

Seeing that Sear had decided to leave the field of battle, Zahariel reconsidered his stance in the fight. It was now just Grassbones facing off against the two Scourge members; he doubted that Grassy (as he had come to nickname the skeletal Variant) would be able to ever defeat or even delay them. Giraffe… Graffiti, no, Graphite would just keep backhanding him back and forth with those stony hands of his. Sure, he wouldn't get hurt, as he doesn't have a nervous system to feel any pain with, and no flesh to speak of (though Zah wondered if a fractured bone could make him feel something?), but he's just a smoking skeleton.

As for Zah, he's an eldritch raven, and he has a surprise of his own.

The dark mist that exuded from his form intensified, spectral ravens coalescing from the black smoke. With a single thought, the flock of forty shadow ravens flew forth, pestering Ruby and Graphite. Mostly Ruby, because Graphite has stony skin and wouldn't get affected by their attacks in the slightest.

With his partner sufficiently distracted, Zah set his eyes on Graphite. Without a word, he spread his vast wings, casting a shadow in the moonlight. He flew down with the grace of any bird of prey (nevermind that ravens are carrion birds…), talons seeking out Graphite. He sought to take hold of the stony Metamorphic Variant, and fly with him in tow. Zah wondered what he'll do. Maybe they could have a little chat before he drops Graphite to a garbage disposal, right where he belongs?

"Oh, hello, Grassbones," Zah said as he tried to clamp down on Graphite, his voice echoing as if there were a dozen speakers in his avian throat. He sounded pretty serene, at least. "The authorities draw close. Care for a joint departure?"

Mikael Peacemaker

Mikael got a live feed from an amateur blogger who had accepted his offer, and was eavesdropping close to where Remy and Mysterious Guy were talking about their powers. And Mikael was pleased to know that Remy's powers worked by touching the target... Which meant that he can deflect said powers with his passive 'Power Deflection'. It seemed that if he can get the other kid trained, he might change his mind about recruiting 'The Rat', especially as he had received word that Flip had been sighted trying to rescue civilians from the fire in Uptown and was making friends with a few actual Nobles.

It didn't matter; Mikael had decided to go for both now that he knew Remy's powers and that he was able to prevent himself being stolen from, while Flip, well, Flip provided brawn. He sent a message to the amateur blogger, saying: $150 is to be sent to your bank account. I'll pay $1000 if you can follow that guy and Remy around to that building they're going to, and $1500 if you get caught and potentially hurt, and $2000 if you get caught yet persuade that guy and Remy that you're taking money from someone who can ensure that kid is fed three meals a day, has a warm and clean bed and clean clothes too.

Now, back to Flip and his pals; it seemed that Senbonsakura (?) was there too, as well as Breakneck. It was too dangerous for mundane journalists and bloggers to gather information, so he withdrew his requests for more info on Flip for the time being. Instead, he focused on his plans to build his lair, the laboratory where he was going to work to prevent all-out-war between Variants and Non-Variants, as well as for the eventual confrontation with 'Mr./Ms./Them. with bad logic with Grand Canyon-sized holes in it', aka Ignoble. He, with his hard hat on, spoke to Pierre and continued, "Make sure this lab is easily demolishable, by the way, just in case Ignoble does force me to destroy my research."

As Pierre nodded, Mikael sighed and muttered, "I wonder if Ignoble has ever considered that the research she is stopping could have helped Behemoth keep control of his powers..."

Either way, he waited for his amateur blogger to follow Remy and his new friend...

Remy nods and waves at Jimi. Glancing towards the street that the three truckers went, he turns in the opposite direction towards the back alley that ran behind the bar, leaving Jimi behind. As he rounds the corner, he took a couple of steps past it, then pauses to lean against the vibrating wall of the Watershed, rubbing his aching cheek.

Please don't let it be a fracture, he winces as he gingerly pressed on the bone. The ache became sharper, but his cheek bone didn't budge. He sighs with relief.

A couple of pain killers would be nice, but the drug store would want an ID for anything stronger than baby aspirin. And buying it so close to the alley might be trouble....

Remy pushes himself off of the wall and glances around, then heads up the alley towards downtown. Food and meds was going to have to wait while he got away from the alley. Slipping his hands into his pockets, he began rolling up the bills a few at a time in the one pocket and sliding them through a small hole in the fabric so they'd slip between the liner and the shell.

That was lucky. Guy must have been gambling, Remy nods to himself. Or going gambling. If it was legit, they'd use their banking app. So they're not likely to call the cops...

He pauses for a moment to glance at the burned out preschool yard through the broken wall. They just had to put up those D-Corp princesses on a mural. And instead of threatening to sue, they had a couple of those troopers with the big ears on their helmets raid the place. Pity, it looked nice.

By the time he reached the end of the alley, he could hear the sirens and the bright flickering lights somewhere ahead. Some sort of opening? Not another disaster 3D?! Did they pay for the trucks to show up or did someone trip a fire alarm?

Well, it might be fun to watch, Remy decides, heading towards the burning labs.

This was not the sort of situation that required much coordination, not on Breakneck's part anyway. Any value gained by waiting for her fellow Nobles would not be worth the lives lost because she hadn't made it in time. The faster she got inside, the faster she could start getting people outside.

Her body being as hardened as it was meant she didn't have to worry when she busted through the wall, nor when she started getting lungfuls of whatever foul concoction was filling the air. Breakneck was free to consider her situation, retreating into herself to take stock in slow motion.

The mundanes would never understand what it felt like to be so attuned to the world around them. Breakneck could make out individual sparks hovering amidst clouds of smoke, count the specks of burning tile that hung near-frozen in time. The lobby was more like a diorama than it was a live scene, all motion within it sluggish to the extreme.

To work then.

There was a janitor mid-stumble a few feet from her, a nonconcern if not for the fact that his overalls had caught fire. Bn hopped the reception desk and snuffed the flames, bits of charred fabric coming away with her hands as she moved on.

Down the stairs came a security guard of some sort, her cute little cap and pressed shirt all soot-stained and disheveled. Sweat ran down her face, unsurprisingly considering her condition. Whatever skinflint, minimum-wage-plus-tenure paycheck she was getting wasn't worth the vapors she had sucked down by the liter.

Also, she had totally missed a step and was now plummeting to the ground floor. Breakneck snickered to herself, the sound echoing inside her helmet as she turned to take a look at the papers fluttering up in her wake.

Imperial Bioengineering was the header on the roster, a list of names dutifully memorized. She'd have to send them to her Syndicate contacts, have them do a background check on the employees. Hopefully, there'd be some sample or research notes lying around, something that could be snatched up and written off as lost to the inferno. In the meantime, how was the guard doing?

Not great as it turned out. She had missed her chance to recover and was now perpendicular to the stairs, arms dragging through the air to try and stop herself. Breakneck got involved before she broke something, strolling over to scoop up the stranger as if she were nothing more than a cardboard cutout.

The guard didn't even have time to scream, plunked onto the curb outside by the line of cops.

"Easy, you're safe now." the Noble said softly, trying to offset the facelessness of her outfit with gentle words.

"Please, Mitchell's trapped in the elevator! He had just gotten in when the fire started!"

"He'll be out momentarily, just try and stay calm. Paramedics are gonna be here, they'll check you out."

"You have to help him, his heart can handle all this!"

Her slowed perception clicked back in as she turned to go back to work, aware of Flip and Senbonzakura but focused on the job at hand. Her eyes narrowed in annoyance as she saw the same guard from moments ago once again on fire. More sparks must have soaked into his uniform, catching some of the grease smears staining the denim.

This time Bn didn't bother to preserve his clothing, her momentum simply tearing them from his body before a firm push sent him stumbling through the door. A crowd of terrified staff was now clogging the stairwell but they seemed to be more or less unharmed, all in good enough shape to make it to safety on their own.

Elevator.

Back over the desk and towards the lift, ignoring the buttons that were certainly out of order. Come to think of it, so was the fire suppression system. A fancy lab like this had to have a multimillion-dollar HVAC setup, probably with a fancy gas suppression system to snuff out a blaze.

The Scourgies must have killed it.

Fair enough if so, Breakneck would have done the same had she been in their shoes.

Wrenching apart the elevator doors took only a fraction of her strength, stainless steel crumpling under her fingers as she jammed the entrance open. New Haven's hastiest hero stepped into the shaft and looked up at the hoist stuck four floors above, dropping into a low crouch before exploding upwards.

Fingertips breached through the platform, Breakneck tearing a hole large enough for her to wiggle herself up and through. There was in fact someone else inside, a middle-aged gentleman slumped over in the corner. He didn't respond as Bn clambered towards him, the Noble swearing under her breath before slinging Mitchell over her shoulder.

Technically chest compressions needed to begin as soon as possible, but as Breakneck hopped from ledge to ledge towards the ground floor she figured it would be better to do them outside of an oven.

"Right- Now lets scramble. Mind dropping me in Bywater?"

"Sure, my good sir," Murder Express answered with the same echoing voice. The swarm of spectral ravens returned to him, melting back into the black mist that permeated his eldritch body. Strangely enough, though, one of them stayed, flying in a circle before perching itself on top of Murder Express' head.

It would appear that Zah liked his pets, even if they were but pale imitations of himself that are made out of shadow, imagination, and spite.

"Bywater, huh," Zah remarked as he began to lift off from the alley, blowing dust and other nasty particulates at Ruby. He took a moment to hover over the Scourge Variant, whom he had no love for.

"You really like ruining things for everyone else, don't you?" Zah grumbled at Ruby, his tone sounding as if he was her disappointed father. Considering the fact that no one actually knew who Murder Express was, a theory like that might have a lot of support backing it, though it would ultimately be proven false.

"The rest of us are just trying to live honest lives, and yet, here you are, doing the opposite of laying low. What part of 'lay low' and 'keep a low profile' don't you understand, anyway? If he were still alive, Imrahil would be fuming!"

Imrahil was his late brother, of course, but it's not like anyone else in the Underground knew their exact relationship. Most would just assume that they found a reason to bond when one turns into a giant tentacle monster, and the other is a titanic raven.

"Anyway," Murder Express croaked, "Congratulations, on being the reason why we're screwed!"

With that, the giant raven and his two passengers flew off, heading to Bywater.

"Oh, right, you," Zahariel looked down at Graphite who was firmly in his grip. "Goodbye!"

Graphite landed with a resounding plop as he got dropped into a pile of mud as Murder Express flew past. Zah knew that he can't really hurt Graphite, so he decided to simply inconvenience him as much as possible.

"So," Murder Express began, his lone spectral raven intensely staring at Grassbones. "How are you, Grassy?"