… Swarm had followed her. She didn’t know his intentions, but surely, it was no good. Perhaps he had intended on attacking her after they came to a less public street. Fortunately, Creep had the tools to vanish forever, without which she was unsure what she would have done. Thunderbolt appeared… what had he been intending? To protect his investment? It must have been because of seeing Swarm following Creep that he came along. She hadn’t heard their conversation, and said conversation ended the moment they came past the corner. … Okay, then. Sheila simply resolved to keep this event in mind, and then keep going. At the very least, Swarm did not have a power that could see her.
Despite being invisible, Creep took a monstrous detour through town just in case someone unseen still followed her. There was only one place she could safely store the vials, and that was by the house she now lived. Sneaking in without alerting Viola, she hid them behind a couple books in the bookshelf. They’d be safe enough there for the moment, Viola never looked through these books. Sheila never informed Viola that she had come home, simply departing again. Her sister was way too busy with her current video-game to notice, headphones on and all that. With that, Creep departed through the streets of Denver once again.
On her walk, she had a lot to think about, besides watching for potential followers. She had isolated a group of people as the only ones she could imagine giving these two vials to; her own friends from her former life. She’d actually drag two of them into this hellish life? Could she do that to them? … If they wanted it, she decided. She would give them a refusable offer. If they wanted it, she could give it to them. She really needed allies, after all, and this was perhaps her one chance to earn one that was more than just temporary. Actual allies, who she was willing to put in danger, unlike Viola. … She grit her teeth, thinking of them one at a time.
Briefly appearing within her mind, there was the boy that had once been her boyfriend. It had been only for a very short period of time, they never really did anything other than go on numerous dates. … Was he an option?
‘I’ve fallen in love with you! Please, go out with me!’
So the boy had called to Sheila, at a time when she was still yellow blonde and didn’t have any powers, right after school. She had staggered, eyes wide looking at him. He held forward two tickets to a local, rather fancy restaurant. Assumingly, it was to show how serious he was that he had already bought them.
It wasn’t that Sheila didn’t know who he was. A classmate, not a particularly close classmate but a classmate all the same. She didn’t think that much of him, certainly wasn’t attracted to him, but he wasn’t a bad kind of person. Yet, here she was, feeling her heart all aflutter because someone had actually asked her out!
‘S-sure! I’m…’ Sheila gave him a smile, feeling the joy of an innocent young romantic. ‘I’m willing to give you a chance,’ she said. Hey, springtime of youth and all, right? She was willing to give it a shot. Seeing his face brighten up and that he then started jumping in celebration right after, she felt she had done a good deed. If nothing else, it would be a good memory.
They became boyfriend and girlfriend, and they told all their friends. They were congratulated, and all was nice for a bit. Viola teased about them doing all the things they obviously hadn’t done yet. For a time, it was nice. Sheila got to experience the excitement of having a boyfriend without actually having to put in the effort of finding a boy she liked and confessing, which suited her introverted self nicely. He seemed more than happy to shower her with gifts and attention, call her a lot and taking her on an excessive amount of dates…
… It was too much.
Sometimes, she just wanted to hang out with her normal friends. Sometimes, she just wanted to relax in the quiet solitude of her home, reading, watching TV, any number of activities. He kept calling her, and far too often he had bought tickets for both of them without asking her because he wanted to surprise her. He showered her with gifts, to the degree Sheila started wondering how much money he really had. Her parents liked him fine, but over time, the flutter in her heart died down, and it became… troublesome.
Sheila became deeply aware she wasn’t attracted to him. His friends had been telling her how he spent less and less time with them to focus on her, how he was disregarding parts of his life entirely so he could devote himself to her… it felt wrong. He was nice, and it was very annoying to her that she couldn’t reward him being nice. She didn’t want to seem ungrateful to all his gifts and affection, but eventually she had to put her foot down. She had to explain she wasn’t comfortable with all of it. He was understanding, and kept his distance. Except, now she already associated him with the creepiness of his amount of affection.
She felt guilty, him giving her so much when she couldn’t return the affection. There was a balance, she wanted to reward him for being nice but at the same time, doing so would be at the expense of her own happiness. She realized he wasn't the kind to usually attract girls and Sheila didn’t particularly want to become one of “those girls” that ignored nice men but went for the more exciting bad ones or so, but ultimately she realized she couldn’t be happy with him. This was no basis for a healthy relationship. As such, she felt forced to call him, telling him she was coming over to his house. This had been the first time she called him and not the other way around.
‘I’m sorry. The truth is, I’m not attracted to you. I gave you a shot, and I am happy that I did. I want to make it clear I am really, really thankful for all that you’ve given me, but in the end… I don’t feel like you’re the one for me. I’m sorry.’
So she told him, feeling guilty but nonetheless determined to say her mind. They couldn’t be in a relationship she was unhappy with.
‘W-was it something I did? Anything I said? I can change for you. Just let me know, and I’ll-’
She held up a hand for him to stop. The bargaining reminded her of why she was doing this.
‘No. I don’t want you to be anyone but who you are. Trust me, you’re great, but you’re wasted on someone who doesn’t appreciate you fully. On me.’
‘I don’t feel so. I couldn’t be this invested in anyone but you. You’re the only one I feel this way towards.’
That stung. She was going to be breaking his heart. She was already breaking his heart. The guilt within her was palpable. But ultimately…
‘If you let me, I’ll-’
‘Stop,’ she told him, her voice forceful, showing her first hint of annoyance. He stiffened, despite already having quieted. ‘I… don’t love you. There’s our fundamental problem. I won’t stick to a relationship in which I’m not happy.’
He got quiet. He had no rebuttal to that. That… might have come out harsher than she intended, but it got the point across.
‘I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry. F-fortunately, we’re still young. I hope you find someone better suited for you, who rewards the effort you put in, because I cannot,’ she said, for some reason feeling a couple of tears from the guilt and sadness she was causing him. She stood up from the chair, legs shaking a little as she stepped away from him. ‘Thank you for everything. When we meet next, we’ll be normal classmates again. … Friends, if you so desire. I’m sorry.’
So she said, without him returning any words, as she walked away. She put on her shoes and her jacket, for this was during the winter months, and didn’t say another word to him as she walked out. On the streets, she felt sorry and guilty for the heartbreak she had caused him… but also relieved, she had gotten it out, she was now free. Suppose that last part proved that what she had done was right for her.
Two months later, Sheila vanished from school, from their lives, her house suddenly standing empty. This was due to her trigger-event and the events after, her father having sold her out to villains for his own skin and so on after she had confronted the villains he was helping. Her trigger event had been seven or eight months ago, she hadn’t entirely kept track of dates since. Sheila really hoped that her disappearance hadn’t impacted the boy too harshly. It was out of her hands, and it had been the same for everyone. Now that she was intending to go back and share the vials with people she trusted from her previous life…
… No. She couldn’t go to him. The reason was simple; if she did, it was possible he’d throw away his life, drink the vial, all because he wanted to be with her. They’d be back in that unhealthy relationship all over again. Sheila would feel the guilt for having strung him along when she knew for a fact she didn’t love him, but at the same time he’d be fighting, abandoning all he had and risking his life, all for her. She couldn’t subject him to that, and more importantly, she couldn’t subject herself to that. That had to be her absolutely last option, if she really and truly became that desperate…
She shook her head, discarding the line of thoughts and kept going. She headed towards the Rocker’s current base of operations, intent on seeing how they were currently doing. Depending on what condition she found them in, she had to prepare herself for what was to come. Creep would have to announce herself as their new leader, and with that… she’d just have to see how it’d go. She briefly thought of Visage, but Visage was her junior in the group, but perhaps it wouldn’t appear so for the Rockers. It was too early to tell. For now, she simply had to head to them, and see how the place looked.
Creep went to the hideout and headed in, still invisible as she scanned the current situation. To ensure she wasn’t taken by surprise by anything.
Even from the bathroom Silvia was able to hear the hungry reporters still scrabbling for any bit of information that the PRT or Protectorate would provide. And it seemed that it wasn’t too much info given how long the noise persisted. Like a frightened cat Silvia krept out of the bathroom cubicle and peaked her head out of the bathroom. Seeing no immediate people she’d need to worry about she let out a brief sigh and walked out of the bathroom.
Silvia slowly made her way outside, and while there were still reporters looming around they were mostly packing up and headed out, their thirst for the next big scoop seemingly sated for now. Silvia then thought about what she would do for the rest of the day, and was honestly stumped. Rug had been fed and was mostly too lazy to walk despite being so young.
She decided to take to the air, crouching down before launching herself skyward, her wings powering her flight. It was always peaceful up in the sky, just birds and the occasional aircraft. Though this time she saw a massive alien squid monster. Knowing it was Outsider Silvia couldn’t help but be curious as to what he was doing.
Being the socially awkward dragon she was she couldn’t just fly down and ask him what he was doing, oh no she’d just have to follow him. Yes that was the logical way to deal with her curiosity.
Outsider on the other hand followed the ambulance taking G4M3R to the hospital. When it arrived he shifted back to his human form and helped check the man in. Once things were taken care of--which unfortunately coincided with his emotions fading back to their natural state--he exited the building, still in costume.
He took stock of the time he had left in the day since the main event on his mental itinerary had been effectively canceled. It turned out there wasn’t much else to be done. So he took a walk and eventually found himself in a less suburban park, where he took a seat on a bench and relaxed a bit. He found that he was feeling a bit tired and so rather than go home or walk more he just let his mind wander.
Silvia’s creeping seemed to go unnoticed by Outsider, Silvia was pleased by this. She had no idea how she would explain her decision to follow him around. She couldn’t place her finger on why she was so eager to follow him either, the two had hardly spoken. Silvia did recognise that Outsider was indeed good looking, but Silvia wasn’t enthralled by looks alone. Perhaps it was his abilities that were interesting? How he used them? Why he used them? Good heavens Silvia had so many questions for him now.
Snapping back to reality Silvia focused in on the now stationary Outsider. He looked like his head was closer to the clouds than Silvia’s, perhaps he was more distressed by the events with the rockers than he was letting on. Silvia had to talk to him now. But not to figure out things about him, now it was to check if he was alright.
Slowly descending Silvia made her way towards Outsider, avoiding trees and civilians. She landed on the grass behind Outsider, and for once her landing didn’t make a jarring clang. ”H-hello again!”
The corner of his lips twitching down, Outsider turned his head, caught a glimpse of something metallic and vaguely person shaped, before he turned further to get a better look at her. His eyebrows raised slightly, then he turned away, “Hey there Sylph,” he responded, his voice only several shades away from monotone. He sounded disinterested, but not in any personal way. Just like he’d acknowledged her and there was little else to say.
“What brings you here?” He asked, but there was no emotion in it. No curiosity, though the question implied such.
Silvia circled the bench and took a seat next to Outsider, shifting her tail so it would rest in a semi comfortable position while making sure her wings didn’t bump into him. ”I was just wondering how you were doing. I-uhh saw you sitting here looking a little distant. Wanted to check in on you.” She was careful not to let any info out that might make it obvious she’d followed him. Admittedly even leaving out the full truth made her stomach churn a little.
Glancing at her from the corner of his vision, he shrugged faintly and turned his gaze forwards again. As he stared into the trees of the quiet park he spoke, “I’m alright. I guess I’m...” he paused a moment, assessing the far away echoes of his feelings, “...a little weird about the other Minutemen. Or well...I guess they’re not Minutemen anymore.” His lips turned down slightly and there was the briefest moment of tension before he let out a sigh.
“I guess the Minutemen are done, actually. Can’t be a team on your own after all.” The words rang of sadness, but his tone sounded bored, disinterested even.
Silvia’s face dropped as Outsider spoke. Slowly her hand drifted onto Outsider’s shoulder leaving a soft chill on the area of contact. “I-I’m sorry to hear that… Being alone is never good…” Retracting her hand she shifted on the bench awkwardly. ”Maybe sometime in the future we could make a team together. Heh…” Silvia actually hoped she’d be able to at the very least work with Outsider every now and then, or that he got some other people to form a team with. She didn’t want to see Outsider sadden due to being alone, though at the moment he seemed to be handling it in some capacity. Acting detached might be his coping mechanism…
While most might tense at the strange effect of contact with Silvia, Jake didn’t seem to notice. He let her say her piece, but as she trailed off he remained silent for a time. His attention seemed set on the swaying of trees in the wind, and the faint echoes of conversation carried to them from afar as people went about their days. They got some looks, but the park was empty enough that they weren’t drawing too much attention.
Straightening, Outsider got up from the bench. Looking back down at Sylph he forced the slightest of smiles onto his lips. It was faint and it only just touched his eyes, but it was better than nothing...not that she’d know. “Perhaps we can someday. For now it looks like I’m flying solo and you’re with the Protectorate.” He turned his eyes away, but before he left something occurred to him. How would she contact him if she wanted to discuss a team?
He looked back to her, “If you want to talk or meet up again, you can contact me on PHO, my user handle is Outsider.” He paused a moment, considering that there might be a handful of people with similar usernames, “Ah...my account is verified, so you’ll be able to tell which one is me.”
Silvia watched Outsider stand and smiled up at him as he didn’t seem against the idea of them working together. But he made the point that he was running solo and that Silvia was with the protectorate, but that wouldn’t get in the way of them being a team would it? And if it did they could at the very least be temporary partners right? Something to ask Inkscape or someone else high up later.
Silvia held in a sigh when Outsider brought up the PHO, she’d tried her best to avoid it. So many people so many words… Well at least she had a good reason for using it now. ”I’m called Steel Tempest…” Silvia rubbed her shoulder. ”I thought it sounded cool…” Silvia then stood up, stretching out her wings briefly. ”I do hope we end up working together. Flying solo can get lonely.”
He felt the echo of a laugh in his mind, but the emotion never built in his stomach, never overflowed, and so was never heard. Instead his lips quirked up faintly and a brief glimmer passed through his eyes. “I don’t let it bother me,” he said in response. He liked the username she’d chosen as well, but he wasn’t sure how important that was. “I like the name by the way. Good choice, I’d say,” he shrugged a bit and took a few steps forwards and away from her.
“Well...keep in touch. I’ve got some civvy business to take care of,” he forced a small smile onto his lips, then gave her a short two-finger salute, before his body became a blur of light before vanishing. In less than a second the air distorted and then pushed out in a gentle breeze as his Second Vessel appeared.
His hollow voice echoed out, even as emotion surged through him in a reassuring wave of sensation. “It was nice talking to you,” he commented, and this time it sounded genuine, like she’d heard him earlier. Turning from her, he began swimming through the air, accelerating rapidly into the air...and then into the distance. He would perhaps head to a secluded spot, just big enough for his form. Then transform and change out of sight.
Accompanying Headhunter, Chatterbox oddly did not find himself wondering whether or not their captive would wake and once more become a threat. No, instead he was looking forwards to him waking up. He had the impression that what the boss did was more than just temporarily shortcircuiting powers. He couldn't put his finger on exactly what he did, even with more data than he'd had before, but he was fairly sure that the man wouldn't risk two parahuman assets and a valuable captive. It just wouldn't make sense.
Glancing to his teammate, Chatterbox let out a bitter laugh, before looking away. He'd asked himself that question once...and found out the answer. He'd never liked the result. "Much to my chagrin my power doesn't work ont he unconscious, though frankly I don't think we've anything to worry about from this particular parahuman."
He glanced at Xolotl and then away, following Headhunter. After a moment he clarified, "It wouldn't make sense for the Broker to risk losing three valuable assets at once. He has more forethought than that, don't you think?" He flashed a smile in Headhunter's direction, before he felt his phone go off. Casually he retrieved it and read the message. Chuckling to himself, he pocketed the device.
"That message is as good as confirmation for me. I do believe we can take this poor sod back to base and bind him good. When sleeping beauty wakes, I'll work some magic on him." His grin stayed and he seemed quite pleased with himself now as, absently, he tapped his pager. In a few minutes one of his fans would pick them up.
Sofia was happy that the meeting finally ended and she was able to go home again. Feeling slightly drained from doing nothing but listening to people she didn't care about talk about things she didn't care about, Sofia intended to head directly back to the warehouse and did just that. The text to indicate they should go there didn't change her plans at all, simply informed her that they would probably have to start getting ready for another job. Hopefully it wasn't as bad as the last one... Surely nothing that had to do would be that bad. Sofia found herself musing over what their mission could be as she walked back to the hideout.
Whip nodded her approval, hardening the string connected to her still and making it pointed, throwing it into the train car herself.
“Whipstitch.”
Sparce slid over the car hood and landed on the ground, drawing his pistol and raising it up to the air.
”Spar-” Then he was suddenly cut off by his twin.
”and Farce!” Farce paused suddenly after.
Judah grinned at Allison. Then he spread his arms wide and stated, ”Call me Mantis. Welcome to Lethal Force.”
Farce stops for a moment as she looks around her, seemingly super confused. She swapped a minute ago, right? Why was she back so soon? ”Uh… why am I here so soon?”
Allison blinked a few times at the odd change in Farce/”Spar”, but nonetheless gave a smile in regards to being welcomed onto this….hero team? Er, whatever they were, she hoped it wasn’t villains. Though even if they were, they at least they were being friendly about it all, eh? But wait a second, there was one important thing she needed to ask on this occasion….
“Er, what happens now?”
Whip glanced at Mantis expectantly. “You said we could hit the Community.”
Judah was surprised as SpFarce changed so quickly. Something was different about their ability. Was it the villain meeting? ”Try changing again Farce.”
At the mention of hitting the Community Judah grinned. He pulled his balaclava back over his face. Then Mantis jerked his head toward his car. He began walking toward it and replied, ”Get in or follow. Our target is not far from here.” As he opened his driver side door he turned to Excaliblast and said, ”The Community has been a blight on Denver for far too long. We are going to help put them out of commission. Permanently.”
Once everyone was either inside or swinging overhead, Mantis drove closer to their destination. Once they were a few blocks away Mantis pulled over and parked. They didn't want to alert their enemies before they had a chance to strike.
The entire car ride, Farce and Sparce were riding shotgun, trying to figure out the mechanics of their swapping. For about thirty uneventful seconds, nothing happened, but after that, Sparce had appeared, uttering his name ”Sparce?”. After that, it was all uphill from there. The two must’ve swapped at least ten times after they figured out how the switching worked. They were definitely excited, though.
Wait…..waitwaitwait. She was already being taken to a BATTLE?! She had no experience in this stuff, she was just a student, now with a quirky hero name, who….ahhhhh. Why was this a thing, now of all times? She supposed it was the price of superpowers, and she was slightly too nervous to complain considering she had drunk something potentially way too valuable for her to ever pay for. At least, in cash. So going along with things, she got in the car with the others and began to ride with them.
Though at least the Sparce/Farce thing was kinda entertaining, if she had to say so herself.
Whip slid into the seat next to Allison, watching the twins with something akin to disgust and apprehension on her face.
The drive, however, was short. Not even five minutes later and they were at the ‘entrance’ on the map: a staircase into the subway system. This stop seemed to have been abandoned, however, showing signs of decay and having been boarded up a few too many times to actually stop Intruders.
Whip, naturally, pulled Allison from the car and pointed at the flimsy plywood barricade blocking the entrance. Her intent was obvious: break it.
The stairs were cracked, paint chipped and peeling on the walls, and a strong smell of urine and rotting garbage was floating upwards towards them. The bottom of the stairs was dark besides where the midday sun shined through. Briefly a fat rat flitted across the light, scampering off as fast as it had come.
The directions said to go in and follow the tracks east.
Mantis gathered his equipment; mp5, silencer, flashbangs, smoke grenade, extra magazines, combat knife, sidearm, and two fragmentation grenades. He walked down the steps while looking at his map, ”Here's the entrance.”
Whip glanced at Mantis before sliding down the handrail. Down below…. It was dark. There were intermittent lights on the walls where the trains would go, but they really didn't provide much in the way of light. A bum was passed out, or maybe drugged up, in a corner. They didn't need to guess where the smell of urine was coming from anymore.
“Sure your information is accurate? Do we even know when a train is coming? I might be able to not get splattered by them, but you would. Actually, yeah, let's walk down the tracks.”
”One sec.” Farce commented as she was suddenly replaced by a ”Sparce!”, who began rummaging through his bag in pursuits of a flashlight. Of course, like any good law-enforcement trainee, he always carried one, in case he was in a situation like this. Wow, good thing he had it on him, huh?
He shined the light into the subway before clipping it onto his shirt. ”Hopefully this should help.” Sparce willingly stepped onto the tracks after and began leading the way. ”We’ll know when a train comes because we can hear the echoes.”
I’m not gonna swap. You’re the main light source right now.
The college student was a bit nervous about the situation, though felt it was best to comply with things right now. They were the good guys, right? So it would make sense then to do all of this. Allison thus pointed her wrists appropriately at the barricade, before a small barrage of metal blades flew out and shattered the flimpy barricade like a knife cutting through wet paper. It hadn’t been too hard, though she kept her mouth shut for the time being. This was all new to her, after all.
Mantis nodded approvingly as Allison blasted the barrier apart. Then Mantis replied to Whipstitch, ”The Questioner gave me the info. I was led there from the other intel we got from the warehouse. So...no I'm not sure it's completely accurate. For all we know we could be heading into a trap.” He chuckled to himself, ”But it's worth the risk, right?”
Mantis looked over the map again and pointed, ”It says we need to head east. Everyone, stay on your toes. I'll alert you if I sense anything ahead.” Then Mantis removed his 1911 sidearm from its holster as he led the way down the tracks. He continuously sensed for any emotions where they were headed. He could easily distinguish between animals like rats and a human being. He had gotten much better at it over practice.
As the group headed deeper, Whip lagging behind while staying close to Allison, the relatively closed in space of the tunnels may have started to dampen some moods. Hopefully no one was claustrophobic.
Mantis could pick up on the usual rats, bright flashes of fear and hunger as they scampered away relatively unseen, and Sparce's light giving them ample forward light to avoid the live rail that would, if touched, kill any of those present.
They walked through seemingly uniform darkness and tunnel, a slight curve to it, with little issues. It was eerily quiet, all things considered, and soon Mantis lost the faint feeling of giddy happiness that had been the squatting hobo. The directions, while not very detailed, indicated that they would be looking for a hidden entrance, but didn't specify what it was. The details stopped there besides a vague “They're in the main camp down there with supplies.” Would they be able to see anything out of the ordinary in this darkness? Mantis certainly wasn't picking up on anything in particular.
”Anyone else feel like this was a bad idea?” Sparce asked. ”Just saying, it doesn’t feel right to be down here without much of a note to work on.” Sparce was intimidated. He knew he’d been in more dangerous situations, but this was something else. Mantis better have had good intel, or this entire situation was shitty to him. Even Farce felt the same way about the chaos that was stirring. It wasn’t good, not one bit.
Mantis was totally focused on finding the entrance and barely heard Sparce. ”It has got to be around this area here..” He was barely audible. Like he was speaking to himself. He looked around and watched where Sparce’s flashlight went. Mantis hoped to spot any abnormalities on the tunnel walls.
Allison internally agreed with Sparce’s question, more than she was perhaps willing to let on. The atmosphere of the tunnel, even in all its darkness, the mentions of risk and potential traps before by Mantis, it was all leaving a bad taste in her mouth and a chill running up and down her spine. Sure she had powers now, and could us them, but without any proper experience in this sorta stuff it was….well, not the best situation regardless for her personally. Further, how many enemies were there? What types of powers did they possess, and what kinds of powers would give them the advantage here?
“Honestly, if there was a secret entrance, wouldn’t they leave something like a mark on the wall or such? Just so their own people can find it?”
“Thinking with the wrong head, as usual,” Whip snarked from the back. Turning towards Allison, she continued in a much calmer tone. “Now you, dear, had a phenomenally brilliant idea. Maybe scuff marks or an erroneous line….”
The group were easily a mile from their entrance at this point and tensions were rising. Could they pull together long enough to find the entrance?
The answer was yes.
Mere moments later Mantis’ keen vigilance paid off as he noticed something that both girls had just moments ago mentioned. There were small grooves running vertically along a wall, a slightly darker 'x’ barely visible, and some signs of frequent weight being added right at the wall. In fact the depressions went through the wall!
Now the challenge of opening the entrance. How did they plan to figure that out?
And to make matters worse, there was a distinctive rumble approaching their position. Just as Whip had warned: there was a train coming.
And there it was. A slight set of lines indicating an entrance of sorts. Mantis made his way over and began to examine the area with his gloves. Then he turned to his team, ”There's definitely something here. See if one of you can pry it open, we don't have much time!” He gestured toward Whipstitch and Excaliblast with urgency. Perhaps the combination of their powerful string and steel could break it open before the train got them.
”God… fucking… dammit.” G o d... f u c k i n g... d a m m i t...! Sparce immediately got to work on trying to find the door lock, looking everywhere around the wall with his flashlight in attempts to find what was going to be the way to get in.
With a bit of light panic, though attempting to remain as calm as she could, Allison moved over to the “door” Mantis had found and stuck her wrist near the left edge. She began to extend a blade from her wrist, attempting to push it deeper into the small cap. Maybe this would help in prying it open? Maybe it would trigger a switch on the other side to gain entrance? For all she knew the sword blade could act as a useful wedge if naught else….
….hopefully they didn’t all die, though. She really didn’t want to die, personally.
She didn’t even get the chance yet to flirt with even more cute girls, or finish her degrees at that!!!
Whip pushed past Mantis and Sparce roughly, joining Allison in her efforts to force open the door. String, barely visible, snaked along the blade and across the ground to squeeze into the gaps. They hardened as she broke them from her, tossing the ends at the men. “Pull!” she commanded urgently, running more string along the blade and adding her own strength and leverage to Allison's attempts.
Between all their combined efforts they managed to make the doorway slide sideways into the wall, revealing a roughly created passageway of dirt and stone. There was a faint glow of light a ways ahead, otherwise the tunnel was dark beyond their flashlight.
The group stumbled in, the train passing by and knocking them to the ground moments later, before the door slid shut on its own with a resounding click.
Whip was the first to her feet, looking warily at the seemingly seamless wall behind them as her chest hiked from exertion. “Fucking BULLSHIT,” she muttered angrily, pacing back and forth across the narrow tunnel.
Speaking of, they'd need to file one by one in order to advance. And Mantis could pick up on strong emotions from ahead. It seemed that they were expected.
Mantis stood up, holstered his pistol and unstrapped his mp5 from his back ”They know we're here,” he whispered, ”I'll take point and flash the entrance. Excal, come up behind me and build us some cover when we breach. Whip, we need you to use your mobility once inside to pick them off from above. Sparce, provide covering fire for us and take these.” Mantis took one flashbang, and a fragmentation grenade from his belt and handed them to Sparce. ”You know how to use these right? Pull the pin and throw. The flashbang flashes, the frag..frags. Only use as a last resort.”
With his instructions given out, Mantis began to walk through the tunnel after his allies followed. This would be a dangerous battle. He could feel it. At closer distances Mantis could perceive the location of living beings. It would help him when he threw two flashbangs into the entrance to determine where his targets were.
”Okay, no problem, just give me a moment… to catch my breath.” Sparce was heaving in the back of the entrance behind everyone. He was pumped full of adrenaline from that train missing them. He still grabbed the grenades that were given to him, but he was just trying to calm down. The flashlight he had was out of his hands, and he was sitting down.
”Farce!” Then the replacement came. ”I got this, Sparcey. Lemme take over for a bit.” Farce went right into grabbing the flashlight and the grenades, clipping them to her bag’s straps and pulling her magnum revolver out. It was the gun she lifted off of the warehouse thugs a week or two ago, and it just felt like the perfect gun for her to use. She was ready to go, so there wasn’t any time to be wasted.
It was a narrow passage, so that wasn’t exactly a good sign if any movie or video game tropes were remotely applicable to this situation. The feeling this was all leading into something bad was something Allison could not shake from her gut and mind. Perhaps she was being paranoid. They were the good guys, right? …...Right? Regardless of the other thoughts crossing her mind, the words of the famous Admiral Akbar crossing her mind was not a good sign in her opinion. How many did their enemies number again? Wait, had she even asked questions about this stuff before right now?!
Plus they’d almost been hit by a train….ah.
This was turning out to be an interesting day as it was already.
“I’ll do my best.
But….er, i know i am new to this, but if shit hits the fan do we have an escape plan?”
Mantis turned to Allison and replied, ”Back the way we came.” He looked forward once more and asked, ”Is everyone ready?” If not.. that would become an issue. They needed everyone working together to get this thing done. Mantis sensed again for the location of people to ready his throws.
The entirety of Ira’s body was a live wire. It wasn’t conscious, she just couldn’t stop shaking. It wasn’t just the master protocol, though that certainly wasn’t helping. In the pits of her own self doubt, she found inspiration. Ira stumbled into her workshop, and began work. Frantically, she opened the fridge, grabbing seemingly arbitrary chemicals. Throughout the process, her mind didn’t wander. Every step played over and over in her head, the formula solidifying in form as it neared completion. It was rushed, it was sloppy, but it would get the job down.
Lillian excused herself reluctantly from the couch with a soft promise of returning later to Alessa, and began the walk towards Sonar. This was an overdue visit, and her steps carried her quickly. She couldn't help but linger on the last few hours, from the event to the movie and nice cuddling, as she walked. What would he be like, she wondered idly? The 250ml beaker was almost filled to the brim, the contents thick, with a chalk-like precipitate floating throughout. She eye’d it for a second, before transferring it to an opaque reusable water bottle. The mix shouldn’t matter, as long it was consumed in its entirety. It would settle based on density regardless. Ira threw open her workshop door with her shoulder against it, doing a poor job of being inconspicuous.
Closing the door behind her, Ira kept her eyes on the floor as she traveled to Collin’s room. Overthinking it, she raised her eyes to seem more natural, but her thoughts wandered. Her eyes returned to the floor, the effort proving useless. ”I want to leave this department.” The words had interrupted what Alina, the nice Parahuman Expert had been trying to explain. Ira felt guilty, she hadn’t meant to throw it out there like that, she needed to think it over more, but. . . She had just said it and now here they were. The message was conveyed to the director, and the process had started. That offered her the slightest bit of relief, despite her uncertainty. As Ira took the last corner, she raised her eyes to a door, behind which was Sonar. Behind which was Collin. Lillian rounded a corner and raised her eyes in surprise. Ira? What was…. Visiting Sonar, too? Her steps slowed with an ounce of doubt, nervousness, as she contemplated how to announce her arrival.
After her first step, a small bit of movement at the other side of the hallway drew Ira’s eyes. Lillian? "Oh, um, Lillian! Going to visit C-Collin too, I see. Have you met hi-he’s wonderful!” Ira sputtered out, looking between the younger Ward and the door. Ira started moving again, quickly moving to the door, and putting her hand on the handle, but not opening it yet. She actually froze there, watching Lillian carefully. Without meaning to, she blocked the door.
”Y-yeah. I just thought - I figured it would be good to connect. I feel like I've been ignoring people since….” her voice trailed off as she ran a hand through her hair. ”I didn't think anyone else would be here.” A small voice screamed in Ira’s head ”That makes two of us!” Ira tried to smile, but instead she gritted her teeth like she had a tack in her shoe. She didn’t move, she just continued to stare.
Lillian coughed lightly, running a hand along the nape of her neck. ”Awkward…” she muttered. ”Then, uh, shall we go in?”
Looking confused, Ira glanced at the door, and then back at Lillian. After a beat, she said "Oh!”, and turned the handle. The door swung open, and the tinker held it open for her teammate before looking at the water bottle in her left hand. Grasping it tighter, she moved into the room, wondering how she was going to present the solution she had created. The door opened to a modest room, but a well furnished one. There was little space for moving about, but it had a decent bed, a large television mounted on the wall, and numerous video game systems. A small bookshelf in the corner contained a collection of fantasy and young adult novels, as well as some comics. Plastered all along the walls, save the doorway that led directly to a private bathroom, were posters of various heroes from around the country. The Triumvirate of course, along with other big names like Armsmaster from Brockton Bay, Chevalier from Philadelphia, and Bastion from Boston. However none were more prevalent than Hero, the original tinker, and co-founder of the Protectorate.
Sitting on his bed, game controller in hand, was the boy of the hour. Collin glanced over to the girls, then paused his game. ”I was wondering when you were going to come in. I could hear your whole conversation, you know.” After a moment decided to add, ”You weren’t being all that quiet, your voices carried under the door. My power is still, uh, turned off thanks to the gizmo you made for me, Ira. Thanks again for that.”
He then slid off of the bed and approached them, holding his hand out to Lillian. ”I saw you on the news, and Protean has been telling me about you when he visits. It’s nice to finally meet you, Tiger Lily.”
Lillian raised a hand, embarrassed, while she looked around the room. Had they really been that loud? She didn't think they had been...
”Uh, thanks. It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Sonar. I've been meaning to visit, but things have been busy I guess.” She glanced at Ira nervously, her gaze lingering on her bottle.
Collin thanking Ira elicited a small response in the way of the young tinker averting her eyes momentarily. "Sorry-I haven’t visited you in a bit.” Ira said, as she considering taking the initiative and moving to hug him. Decided against it, she closed the door behind her, and moved to take a seat. She kept her eyes on her hands, fidgeting with the water bottle a bit. Conflicted.
The young boy sheepishly rubbed the back of his head in response, cheeks turning the slightest twinge of pink. ”Don’t worry about when you have or haven’t visited me, it’s cool. You’ve all been really busy, I know how it goes. I mean, I was your leader, after all, I’d know better than most. And please, don’t call me Sonar. That name…” He suddenly looked a bit forlorn, glancing toward the nearest of his posters of Hero. ”Doesn’t mean anything anymore. Just Collin now, right? Hahaha.”
Lillian’s ears turned a mild pink as she muttered an apology. ”Everything been…. Alright?” she asked awkwardly, wincing slightly.
Coming to the conclusion with Collin’s last words, Ira decided to lay her cards on the table. She waited for him to answer Lillian's question before speaking up. "I made a more permanent solution to your power problem. I won’t be able to recreate your helmet, but. . .” Ira met Collin’s eyes and raised the water bottle. ”This will sever the connection between your Corona Pollentia and your-um I mean, it will remove your power in its entirety. Permanently.” She couldn’t meet his eyes anymore.
”Fine, I guess. It’s just hard to live a normal life when I can’t go too far from Ira so she can keep the power nullifier working, you know?” And that was when Ira cut in, saying something… Well, something truly remarkable, really. The words she spoke felt unreal, a permanent solution to the plague of his untameable power. She herself appeared to be rather unconfident, or maybe she felt ashamed of whatever she had designed? He couldn’t quite tell. Carefully he reached out, taking the water bottle as though it were some delicate thing made of sugar barely holding together.
”Wow… Really? Just… Wow.” The words didn’t seem to match with his body language. Was he truly not excited at the prospect of being freed from this curse? Or was the shock preventing him from fully registering this news? ”That's intense, Ira. Wow. You'll be able to leave, Collin!” Lillian gushed, keeping her eyes on him.
Despite how hesitant she seemed about the formula, she let go of the water bottle instantly. Raising her eyes again, she met Collin’s with an unsteady, forced gaze. ”The people who manage the Wards, they're good people. They truly think they want the best for us, but-I-I want it to be your decision. If they knew, I think they would try to present you with all the options, but it'll twist it. You've had so much time to think about your power, I don't want them twisting your own personal decision. I want it to be yours.” Ira motioned towards the bottle, ”If you do decide to drink it, it’s going to taste really bad. Just a warning.
Ira glanced nervously towards the door, as if she expected it to be broken down any second. She half did. What she had just said was true, but she forgot to mention that she would be leaving soon. Now the moment had passed and she didn’t know if she ever would. Collin just stared, blankly, at the gray tube in his hand. He gave it a little swirl, listening to the contents inside. After a moment, he looked up. Clearly he was torn. ”To be normal, to walk around and be able to just hear what I need to… It sounds glorious. But at the same time, I… Would it still be me? I don’t know. Leaving these four walls would be terrific, but… I don’t know if I want to mutilate my brain to do that.”
There was so much Ira wanted to say, but she couldn’t try and convince him. ”It’s your choice, Collin.” Ira said, not meeting his eyes. ”You can take your time and think it over.” Honestly, she didn’t know if that was true, but she doubted Decoy watched all the cameras at all times. They probably had times.
Lillian bit her lip lightly, her confusion growing. She didn't really understand why he'd be considering staying in such confined of a situation, threat of a lifelong coma hanging over his head. It seemed like a straightforward decision to her. Though she trusted Ira to know her little drink was safe. His concern about being him, still, though…. She supposed she could understand that fear. At least a little. How much of her own personality was derived from the bullies back at school before her powers? She'd always wanted to be someone else, but now she couldn't imagine being anything but herself. Alessa liked her enough as she was, right?
With that train of thought it didn't seem quite so cut and dry of a choice, she mused. Freedom at the risk of losing something integral to who you were. Now that she thought about it, actually, she didn't know how long he'd had his powers. Years, at least, since Hero had built that helmet before he'd been brutally murdered by that monster Siberian. Almost like her gymnastics, in an abstract way. She couldn't imagine giving that up just to be normal.
”Hey Tiger,” Collin said, addressing Lillian. ”You doing ok? Heh. Even though I’m the one handed a big complicated decision, you look like the one doing mental gymnastics.”
Lillian started slightly, flashing an apologetic smile. ”I was just thinking about a normal life. How awesome it would've been. I can't say I regret the powers, I wouldn't have met the other Wards without them, but that doesn't make it easy. I kinda envy you right now, just a little. But it's still a complicated choice to make.”
Collin’s face contorted in a number of ways as he clearly attempted to process a great deal. After a moment he seemed to come to a realization, and turned back to Ira. ”Something is off about you and this gift. You never mentioned that you were working on anything like it before, like it’s a last minute sort of thing. What’s going on?”
Ira appreciated Lillian staying honest, and at least a bit impartial. At Collin’s question, she considered a bit before answering, trying to stave off the panic rising in her chest. ”As far as creating it-um-you know how my power is. There was the situation with Shatterpoint, and the way his power seems to have warped his mind. Actually, I don’t know that it’s his power, maybe he’s always been like that, but I found the inspiration and my power guided me to a solution. Something that removes the power, helps someone be themselves again. Obviously you’ll always be different from the experiences you had with your power, but at least you won’t be controlled by it. It takes the glasses off.”
It was true, not the whole truth, but still. Ira couldn’t meet Collin’s eyes. If she told him that she was leaving, would it change his decision? That would be unfair, he should make the decision that is best for him, not the best for others.
”I guess that makes sense, yeah.” Collin swirled the bottle around some more, placing it up closer to his ear. The action was a bit awkward, but then again he wasn’t used to having to move his ear closer to something in order to hear it, was he? ”Your power was always a bit funny that way, I guess.”
He took another moment to just enjoy the silence, to enjoy nothing interfering with his ability to listen to the contents of the bottle. Once he was done, he let his arms fall back to his sides. ”I guess I’ve got all the time in the world to think about it. After all, you keep the nullifier working, so I can at least have something like a normal life in this room, and that’s not going anywhere.”
”The solution might not last that long, a week at most, besides I. . .” The rest of what Ira said was inaudible, not even voiced, just her lips moving.
Lillian was more confused than ever at this point. ”A week? Ira, what are you talking about?” she asked slowly. Collin cut in to answer the question for Ira, seeing how uncomfortable she was at the moment. ”She means that this-” He jiggled the water bottle to catch Lillian’s attention, ”May only last about a week before it doesn’t work anymore.”
He let his arm fall to his side once again, then turned his attention back to Ira. ”But you’re trying to hide something. When I said that I had all the time in the world to think about it, you gave a time limit instead of offering to make a new one later. And you didn’t even acknowledge that you’ll continue servicing the nullifier. So…” Collin put a hand on Ira’s shoulder, a soft and friendly touch, as he did his best to make eye contact with the older girl. ”Ira, we’ve worked together in life and death situations. We’ve known each other long enough to be really good friends. Whatever it is, you can tell me. I won’t be mad.”
Silently, Ira appreciated Collin answering the question for her, turning over in her head ways to say what she had to say. She was actually surprised that she hadn’t started crying yet. Ira took a breath to calm her nerves, though she continued wringing her hands. At Collin’s touch she flinched slightly, but didn’t protest or move away from it. ”I-I’m transferring. I’m transferring d-departments” She paused for a moment, before adding ”S-soon.” Still she didn’t meet their eyes, keeping her eyes on her lap.
Lillian stood in shock, struck dumb at the revelation. ”Leaving?” she muttered with a shake of her head like a wet dog. ”I don't understand.”
Collin suddenly released Ira’s shoulder, his arm flapping uselessly down like a wet noodle. His eyes grew very distant. Once a few seconds had passed, he spoke. ”I’m very sorry to hear that.I hope I had nothing to… Do with… It.” Stumbling back, he flumped onto his bed butt first, then fell on his back, eyes staring straight up at the ceiling lights. ”Was it… The warehouse?” Lillian asked in a small voice, watching Collin and the posters and the walls so she didn't have to look at Ira.
Collin’s shift in mood was expected, but Ira still felt useless for not being emotionally competent enough to have the slightest idea how to help him. At Lillian’s question she visibly started, looking up at her momentarily. ”I-I really can’t talk about it, but that was not a great experience.” She said, again trying to stay vague. It was definitely not a great idea to increase Lillian’s trauma with that experience further with the fact that they were sentient creatures she rampaged over. The thought made her shaking more evident.
Collin sat up with unexpected speed. ”I heard about the warehouse from Protean, but since I’m officially resigned he couldn’t tell me anything that wasn’t public. What… Happened?”
Lillian glanced at Ira for a second, before staring at her feet. ”They said not to talk about it. I...I don't want to, either. My therapist said I shouldn't dwell on it.” Her words were subdued as she absently touched the side of her face that the bruising had been on.
The response Lillian gave elicited a nod from Ira. ”Don’t let our troubles become yours. You have enough to worry about, after all.” She said, trying to meet their eyes, but backing down immediately. ”I-I should go. I need t-I have some stuff to take c-care of.” Ira couldn’t stand it anymore. She needed to retreat, to reflect, anything. Even if it meant retreating into herself, she wanted to be alone for now. She stood up, and moved to the door slowly, her mind spinning.
Turning back slightly, she looked at Lillian. ”There’s something else. I-I-I don’t think I’m supposed to talk about it, b-but I think you need to know. Someone is leaking PRT data to the outside, someone higher than us. She said, thinking it over again. ”I trust you Lillian, to do the right thing with that information. Before anyone could stop her, she opened the door, running away again. The door hung open, her footsteps fading down the hallway.
Lillian looked between Collin and the door, her mouth open in confusion. ”What just happened?”
Collin just blinked a few moments, his eyes darting to the left, then to the right, indicating that he was deep in thought. After a few seconds he finally seemed to register that Lillian had spoken to him. ”Sorry, what? Agh, I’m sorry, I was just… I didn’t hear you because of the…” His voice trailed off.
”Never mind. I'm just in shock that Ira’s leaving. I don't know what to say.” She sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. ”Wait, because of the what?” she asked in confusion. She hadn't heard anything. ”Same thing. I was just thinking about… The same thing…” Again his voice trailed off. ”Wow. She’s leaving, and thinks there’s a mole? Crazy.” Collin shook his head. ”As long as you’re here, want to get to know each other with Mario Kart?”
”Yeah…. It's crazy…” she trailed off in thought before being stuck by a sudden thought. ”I'd love to, but what about the mixture she gave you?”
Collin shrugged. ”I’ve got about a week to think about it, right? It might come as a surprise, or maybe it won’t since it’s coming from the kid who’s used to a billion thoughts in his head at once, but I think better when I’m distracted.” He went ahead and started setting up the Nintendo game console as he spoke, getting ready to play whether or not Lillian agreed to join.
”Yeah, I can only imagine what it's like compared to my own hearing. But what if the mixture doesn't… I don't know, stay together? I don't understand Tinker stuff…” She let out a sigh. ”I'm thinking about this too much. It's your life. I'll just kick your butt at Mario Kart instead.”
James
6745 W Colfax. The address seemed very familar, but the specifics escaped James. Shrugging, he moved to the fridge. He passed the time as best as he could, grabbing a beer and watching a local news channel. Giving it about twenty minutes, he decided it was time to go. James crouched down. Preparing himself mentally, he focused on a gas station he had used a couple of times before. The image of the Diamond Shamrock's roof appeared clearly in his head, and he pushed against his power. The mental barrier was easy to overcome, and he was thrust into a world of nothing. Easy as two steps to the left, his shoes scraped against the roof of the gas station. Moving to the edge, he glanced around before teleporting to the ground, and beginning the short walk.
The Casa Bonita's tower was prevalent, and after a bit of considering James came to the conclusion that that was the reason the address stood out in his head. Curious. It was about a block's walk away, so he didn't even work up a sweat. Still, walking that far was unusual for him, his power had deprived him of that exercise in all honesty. Moving through the front entrance, payed the fee without thinking (despite some of the ill-gotten gains he lost during the plea deal he was still loaded), and got some Mexican food. It was quite the change of pace honestly, in a good way though. Once he was in the dining area, he glanced around. Despite the decor which bordered on gaudy in his opinion, no flashy superhero was visible. Sitting down alone at a two person table, he began eating. Furnace or no, the food was good.
What a mess. What a god damn fucking mess. Director Kens stormed through the halls of the PRT in a half-rage. The Rockers had made a monumentally stupid decision to attack the PRT fundraiser with every hero in the city in attendance, like they had the firepower to actually win such a skirmish. How they had ever ended up taking over the city of Boulder was a complete mystery. And sure, they had been summarily trounced by the heroes stationed on site, but the Denver Arts Center had suffered in the battle. Why, even if the event had been allowed to somehow continue and raise the funds, it still wouldn't have covered the property damages! At least since parahumans had become a public commonality property insurance had been completely restructured to accommodate these events, but still, there was the medical costs for Overlook, and that independent hero G4M3R would have to be treated on their own insurance since he had suffered injuries during the PRT's event...
The director arrived at his final destination, just outside the holding cells where Ceramix and Shatterpoint were being processed. Nearby were Inkscape, Protean, and Captain Morales directing the PRT staff in their duties. Noble was nowhere to be found, but the director didn't dwell on this. "Update me on the situation," he commented, keeping his tone even out of concern that if he didn't overcorrect, his fury would take hold and he'd go home with another dry, cracked throat.
"Neither have been putting up a fight since they've been contained," Inkscape began. "And Decoy has been able to identify them."
Captain Morales handed Kens a docket, which he quickly began flipping through. His rage immediately subsided as the details had become clear to him. "Jesus Christ..." he muttered. "They're fucking kids."
Inkscape nodded in acknowledgement, while Protean shrugged. Morales offered a differing opinion. "Age aside, once you're pointing a gun at someone, taking hostages, and threatening lives, you've left your childhood behind."
Kens waved him off. "You've been a soldier too long, lost sight of what's important. We as a society, we failed these kids. If we hadn't, they wouldn't have turned out this way."
Nobody tried to fight the director on this point as he leafed through the details one more time, then glanced back into the one-way viewing glass of the two separate cells. Ceramix had taken to angrily punching the metal walls, frustration clear on his large, meaty face. Shatterpoint though, he was sitting on the mattress provided in his cell, legs crossed, counting the vertical lines in the mattress fibers and visibly shaking.
"Brock Jacks. Seventeen years old, his birthday is next month." Kens sighed. "This is his third offense. Combine that with his hostage tactic today, and there's not a jury or judge in this country that'll go soft on him. He's headed for the Birdcage for certain. Nothing we can do about it."
"Not to discredit your feelings director, but the punk deserves it," Protean commented. "He almost killed a lot of people today, and almost made good on his promise to kill his own people. That's just..." He trailed off, unable to finish the thought.
"Your input is... Acknowledged, Protean." The director didn't feel like fighting this time, and went back to checking the second profile they had dug up. He then focused on Shatterpoint in the cell. "Dexter Quintana. Fifteen years old, diagnosed with acute-to-moderate autism. First strike was busting Brock out of prison transport. This is his second. Maybe we can-"
"You're joking?" Morales cut in. "You want to show mercy to an enemy that's hospitalized two heroes today alone?"
Protean grit his teeth and leaned back, preparing for the tongue lashing that was sure to come. He didn't want any part of it. Inkscape merely stood by observing quietly. A nerve twitched in Kens' forehead as he shot a glance over to Morales. "How do you want to figure he triggered, Captain? The Boulder records indicate Shatterpoint has been active for nearly two years. Now you tell me, how do you think a thirteen year old kid with autism was treated? We have his hospital record right here! That boy was beaten so hard he had four cracked ribs, a punctured lung, and a severe concussion! Three months! Three months before the first appearance of Shatterpoint! Now do you think for one god damn second that he'd have done any of this if he had a supporting environment that helped his disability?!"
Kens had tossed the docket on the floor at the captain's feet. Protean started to inch away slowly, but the director got in the way to stop him.
"Rehabilitation is an avenue we should consider, yes," Inkscape jumped in to prevent the scene from escalating further. "But how do you recommend we go about it?"
Kens turned back to Ink. "Conversion. Integrate him in, issue mandatory therapy, and rebrand him. Of course, we'll need to reach out to his parents."
"Excuse me, sir," Morales spoke up again. "Are you suggesting that we recruit Mr. Quintana into the Wards program?"
Returning back to the Icehouse wasn't a long trip, despite the day having moved on to a busier time of day. Quite the opposite, in fact. It had seemed as though the Rocker's little disturbance at the hero fund raiser had gathered a great deal of attention, lessening traffic in their own section of town. The little things in life, right? Once they got back to base though, it was a whole other story. There were some boons to working out of a large bar, but there were some downsides too. Today's downside being the early day business crowd, the daydrinkers with nothing better to do with their time. It made meeting for business... Frustrating, since it couldn't be done in the main barroom proper. They would have to ascend to the upper level lofts where their private rooms had been setup, or head into the basement chambers. Of course since that's where the meeting room had been setup, along with the other illicit supplies the Broker had fashioned for the Jacks, no doubt that's where the instructions promised would have been left.
Xolotl remained unconscious the entire trip thanks to the concussion the Jacks had given him. Thankfully, to be sure. As he was it would have been easy to explain to passers by that he had simply had too much to drink too early, but if he had awoken and made a scene, well... Best not to dwell on consequences that never came up. He was easily secured in the basement, where the Jacks had found a normal manila envelope sitting on the briefing table, as per usual when the Broker had an assignment for them.
Each of the Jacks arrived in their own way. Chatterbox, Headhunter, Thunderbolt, and Whimsy... But one seemed conspicuously absent. Heartless was not present. Perhaps he was luring about in his shadow form? But such behavior was unusual for him, so it felt unlikely. Why was he missing? Regardless, the answer came as soon as someone had decided it was time to check the mission orders.
Esteemed employees,
One of your number will not be present during the reading of this mission briefing. No alarm is necessary, I have simply deemed that Heartless would be best deployed with another of my business ventures. In order to make up to you, I have hired on a new replacement who should make their presence known shortly after your own arrival. They have already been provided their own set of keys and fully briefed on the nature of your group. Enclosed is a photograph of the one you should be expecting, subsequently known as Alloy.
You likely have questions as to my social tactics in the meeting. Rest assured my favorite employees, the one who presented himself today is also in my employ, my doppelganger if you will, a volunteer who takes public risks deemed inappropriate for myself. Should you meet this man on the streets, provide no indication you recognize him, for he is a ghost, and as far as government documentation is concerned he does not exist.
Onto more relevant and pressing concerns, I thank each of you for setting up this meeting with Denver's underworld. I have gained a great deal, and shall only gain more as the investment continues to accrue interest. I indeed have another task for The Jacks to tackle. However, this task will not take place for another fifteen days, providing you each ample time in preparation. Until this day passes I ask that you maintain communication in the event that critical information regarding Patriarch's Community comes up, so that we might capitalize on such an opportunity.
Regarding your task in fifteen days, I must state that it is imperative you each maintain as strong public relations as is possible, given your respective backgrounds. This means not engaging in law enforcement whenever possible, and leaving injuries to a minimum when conflict is impossible. The importance of this instruction cannot be overstated. Your task, in fifteen days, relies upon not being despised by the public, for there is guaranteed to be a Class-A villain attack on Denver International Airport on that day, most likely around the noon hour. The Protectorate will not be able to mobilize quickly enough to engage this threat, and the airport provides vital transportation my network relies upon. Naturally you shall require public support for this engagement, and the Protectorate shall be incapable of bringing their full might against the Jacks in the event you are public heroes.
Jason was the last to enter and he quickly went downstairs to ignore the patrons of the bar. At least getting here had been simple enough.
Their instructions were.... Interesting, to say the least. Basically play low and be the not so bad guys. He could get behind this without hesitation.
"Well, this is.... Interesting." he said to the others. "New member and all that. I can increase my presence on PHO and start interfering in crimes. Take the money from them and turn them over and shit, I guess?"
Lillian left Collin after a little while of Mario Kart, feeling conflicted about everything. Ira was leaving, there was a supposed mole, there were some weird things on her mind... But who was she supposed to talk to about anything? Alessa already took too much on her shoulders and talking about this stuff with her therapist just felt weird.
"Decoy? I don't know if you can hear me without my communicator down here but....I need someone to talk to and I don't know who to go to." she murmured into the air.
She'd almost been able to forget the charity event from earlier between all this and the movie cuddling with Alessa. Her cheeks turned a slight pink at the thought before she registered the voices of several heroes and the Director? Curiosity took hold and she walked closer, following the conversation. She hadn't realized she was so close to the holding cells in her wandering.
She finished the text message she'd be typing up idly.
Hey, Alessa, can we meet? I'm feeling a little down and bit distracted. I think I'm.... Yeah, I'm by the cells. Something's up.
But that the Rocker leadership was just kids? That was more than "something is up" and she was nervous. She felt even worse about Shatterpoint's crying now, and his current situation. At least neither of them were causing problems, right? But to be sent to the Birdcage as a teenager..... That was crazy!
And then the bombshell dropped. Make him a Ward? Her brow furrowed as she restarted her feet, coming into view of the adults with an air of determination.
"We owe him it." She had spoken without preamble, flushing as she realized she was butting in. She cleared her throat nervously before continuing. "Sorry, I was walking and overheard a lot and I wasn't thinking. But he deserves a chance, right? It's not his fault he went bad and it's not like he actually killed someone right? He was just doing what he thought he had to do, I think. I... Don't want him to cry like that again..." She drifted off, looking at her feet. "Please? I know it's the right thing to do."
Arriving with the rest, Chatterbox took to reading the document once they'd taken care to bind Xolotl, he'd take care of the enthralling the man later. Let him...stew for a time. Looking things over he was initially slightly put off and confused, but as he considered the possibilities he warmed to the idea.
Then Thunderbolt spoke up. A small grin formed on his lips as he turned to the man, hooking his thumbs into his pockets. "Well, that sounds like a good start, but really I think we could do even better than that," His gaze passed over those present and his grin grew into something more malevolent. There was a devious glint in his eyes, "Using my...extensive network of thralls I think we can get to crimes before the Protectorate or authorities do. We can stop them...publicly, then leave. Even better, I can spread my influence as we do." He chuckled, "In fact, I'll have a whole new setup for it. We can stage crimes and catch those in progress, and then stop them cold. Occasionally we can steal or hurt maybe just a little too much. Can't let the negative view get too low. We need fear and respect or adoration in equal measures I think."
He put a hand on Thunderbolt's shoulder, metting his eyes, "What do ya say we do this as a team, rather than individually?"
Whether the others consented or not was of no consequence to him. He was going to do it anyways and he was going to have just the most fun doing it.
Evelyn Chambers – Tulpa
Having returned home with her parents to eat and have a bit of off time, Evelyn decided she wanted to head back to base. Feeling better after the meal, she said farewell to her mom and dad, getting much needed hugs, before she departed. There was a lot on her mind. Why had the Rockers attacked such a well defended event? It didn't make any sense. Was Ceramix really that stupid? Was Shatterpoint?
Finding a small alcove nearby she shed her outer clothes, revealing her costume. She put her civvies in her backpack and then, briefly, manifested her projection. It was much larger than her, but more in the space it filled, rather than its own size. It had long spindly limbs, and a lot of them. Its back was covered in spines. She grabbed onto its back and held on tight, positioning her feet as it casually climbed into the wall of the alley and began hoisting her up with it. After a few brief moments they were on the roof. With a shudder, she willed it to return to its inert state.
Hugging herself she closed her eyes, for though she was reassured by its departure, the presence of her tulpa still bothered her to a degree. It wasn't as bad as it had been, but she had to take a moment to calm her beating heart. While she took that time she willed her projection in the direction of HQ. It took about three seconds for it to arrive. Once it had she spread it out into a wide web-like network of hyper thin strands of silver light. It swept through the building, scanning materials and any capes present—she tried to avoid Collin's room, but still she got a read on him. Confused that she hadn't gotten hit with a headache, she tilted her head.
She even staggered back a bit. What the hell? She either got blank space or a headache from the nullification field, but she'd...scanned him? Her brow screwing up in a frown, Evelyn tried to grasp at what that might mean.
Had Ira maybe found a way to stabilize his power with her tinkertech? She should check in with him, but more important, she needed to check in with the higher ups about the two villains in holding.
"Hmm, Captain Morales, Inkscape, Protean, Decoy, Sylph, Tiger Lily, Messiah, Epsilon, Sonar, Shatterpoint, aand Ceramix," she counted them on her fingers, putting her thumb down as she hit eleven. It was a good amount to work with. Probably more than enough. She hadn't expected to get access to Sylph or Sonar.
First, she formulated what she wanted. Something fast, but that wouldn't jostle her around or garner the city's attention too much. Maneuverable.
She gave it the traits of gas and rubber and stone. It would be sturdy and flexible, but far lighter than it ought to be. It would draw on energy faintly with Messiah's power, transmutating it into high precision blasts of Wind with mechanics from Protean and a focus from Shatterpoint and Sylph. She crafted it with wings and frills. It would wrap around her like a suit or Epsilon's jetpack, giving her a tail, wings and frills coming from her back. For fun she had its base color scheme match her costume. It would move silently, using a combination of Sonar's power and Messiah's to absorb the vibration energy and have that fuel other part of its power. Its form could vary somewhat, shifting to help it fly. She gave it a bit from Decoy, mixing the focus ot the tinker power with Protean's, giving it—and her—something like a cloaking field. She even worked Epsilon's trump powers into there. She didn't want to end up having to deal with the incredible G-forces of moving as fast as she planned to go.
Everything formulated, she opened her eyes. A whole minute and thirty had passed. Laughing a bit to herself she took a breath and manifested her projection. It appeared in the air, wrapping parts of itself around her shoulders, waist, and torso like a living climbing harness. When she felt sufficiently secured she got a running start and found that her footsteps made no sound.
It was working!
The deciding moment came when she jumped off the roof. The tulpa's body unfurled into wings and frills, catching the natural wind, but she kept falling. A look of panic briefly crossed her face before—rather suddenly—it angled off and soared upwards. She squeeled and laughed, the panic turning into excitement. This felt great!
The projection turned and headed towards HQ with her in its embrace. It accelerated rapidly, but strangely she wasn't being buffetted by the wind or struck by bugs, dust, or other detritus. She closed her eyes, finally finding enough trust in her power to focus on its innerworkings for a moment.
"Huh," she exclaimed thoughtfully. Apparently it was redirecting the non-air material around her and elsewhere as a natural extension of its prime function: Defending her. Interesting.
Minutes passed and she soon noticed that she had an bird's eye view of PRT Headquarters. Smiling, her face still a bit flushed and her hair wild from the flight, she directed her projection to land right at the doors, but to avoid any collisions. It did so swiftly and easily, dust and air pushing out as she set foot on the ground. Her heart still beating fast, she focused and her projection vanished, dispersing into silver light.
A smile on her face, she entered the building, greeting some of the office workers and civilians as she did. That had really done wonders for her mood. Still, to business! Casting out with her senses, Evelyn located the two villains and—as she did—noticed that some of the members of the Protectorate were also in that area. 'Score~' She thought happily. She loved seeing them, almost regardless of the situation.
Making her way through HQ she soon heard voices carrying through the hall and to her ears. She tilted her head and continued her approach, noticing Lillian as she did.
She raised her hand, opening her mouth to form a greeting just as Director Kens responsed to Captain Morales.
She slowed, and then stopped. Lillian cut in and confusion flashed across Evelyn's face—she wasn't wearing her mask anymore.
"Please? I know it's the right thing to do."
Her breath caught in her throat, but still she managed to get one word out and that single word—more than anything else she could have said—was filled with such hurt, outrage, disgust, and confusion that it rang almost violently through the hall.
"What?"
There was a question there, but it was rhetorical. Anyone looking at her could tell from her body language, and the look on her face. Eyebrows creased, lips pursed. Anger, disgust, outrage.
Betrayal.
Silver light flashed through the room...then vanished.
Her hands were balled tightly into fists, nails digging into her palms viciously. Her jaw was clenched, teeth grinding faintly. Her throat and chest felt tight and hot as the emotions raged through her. She didn't look like someone who had just been insulted or someone who had misunderstood something and overreacted.
The sound of the door to the Jacks' lair would likely be easily heard by the others, alongside the clanging of keys, before the sound of it closing and locking again came shortly after. The sound of shoes coming down the steps then began, albeit with a potentially higher weight behind them than the normal. Sometimes the steps taken nearly sounded like a "thunk" sound of some sort. But before reaching the bottom a voice finally rang out-
"Eh? I guess you all are down here now, accordin' to Broker. Saw ya walk through the bar, but i was getting somethin' to drink before i came down."
-....rather casually, actually, in both tone and manner.
As Mina got near the bottom of the stairs, into the view of others, her appearance was...potentially normal, or potentially odd. For the Jacks, perhaps the former was the case. It was firstly obvious what she was drinking something...wait was that a virgin Bloody Mary she was sipping in her hand? Second thing to potentially hit was the fact she was dressed in baggy, black sweat pants (sewn pockets having been obviously modded onto them sometime prior) and a light gray exercise top. Though aside from her brown hair color stuck into a ponytail, most of her face seemed to be covered in shiny metal. In fact, even though her right hand was in a pocket it was easy to see her left hand looked like entirely like metal as well. Only her hair and the top left part of her face, including her icy blue left eye, seemed to be normal.
Glancing around at the assembled members of the Jacks, Mina gave them a general, casual wave after taking her right hand out of her pocket. It too shone like it was made of metal, but was swiftly put back into the pocket it had been in prior before more could be seen. After taking another sip of her oddly non-alcoholic drink, she seemed to decide to speak up again.
"I'm the newbie, just call me Alloy. I like pizza and cute girls, got enough experience on the streets and such, and hell if i thought about what else i'd say right now because its been a hella' long day."
Sofia was a bit happy to find out that they were planning on doin something less... murder-y. Even if they were only doing it for other nefarious deeds, it made her feel better in the short term. She had snagged a carton of chocolate milk from the refrigerator and was slowly drinking it via straw as the group talked about the letter. It was kind of sad Heartloss was gone. It seemed people kept leaving the Jacks. Sofia hoped Thunderbird wouldn't leave her too. As that thought came to a close someone else strolled in. They matched the information in the letter, both in appearance and in name. Sofia glanced at her drink, surprised that it wasn't something for alocholy, given her lax attitude. Sofia stared at Allo's mask interested in the design. The only noise she made to accompany her gaze was the occasional slurp of chocolate milk going up the straw.
The film, Alessa found, was a good time all told, and she left on patrol feeling much better than she had, moreso even than she already was. That lasted just a little while, as at no point did she note even an inkling of criminal activity. Who’d be silly enough to commit a crime, after all, after a huge event like the fundraiser was attacked? Everyone would be on high alert.
And so she returned to the HQ again, this time for good, or so she imagined. She couldn’t think of anything that might call her away again... and this time around, she had Lillian calling her to her side again. Or at least a text message from her: Hey, Alessa, can we meet? I'm feeling a little down and bit distracted. I think I'm.... Yeah, I'm by the cells. Something's up. And frankly, what could Alessa do but go to her new girlfriend? Lillian needed somebody to talk to, Alessa wasn’t doing anything right then.
The whole situation got a bit more complicated as she approached. She caught, from a corner or so away, the tail end of Director Kens yelling about Shatterpoint, and how he’d never have started acting as Shatterpoint if his disability were managed properly; next, as she turned, she overheard Lillian suggesting... from the sound of things, it seemed like she was actually advocating for Shatterpoint, in a sense? But why, what was the context... from the snippets she caught, “he deserves a chance”, “just doing what he thought he had to”, “the right thing to do”, it almost sounded like she was-
"What?"
That one word had Alessa running the rest of the way to the cells and to the scene proper. On the one hand, the director, along with Inkscape, Protean, and Morales were stood just by Ceramix and Shatterpoint’s cells; then there was Lillian, standing just nearby, having apparently overheard their conversation; and then… Evelyn.
Alessa didn’t think she’d ever seen an angrier person in her life. Or, for that matter, the sort of bright flash of light she’d expect from her own powers, not Lyn’s. Somebody was going to get hurt if she didn’t intervene, she could feel it.
‘Er, before I say anything else, I think we should all just take a moment to relax,’ Alessa uttered, stepping deftly between Evelyn and Lillian, just as a barrier. She doubted Lillian or really anyone else needed her there, but given what Lyn could do with her powers, well... better to be safe than sorry. ‘I’m not entirely sure what we’re getting upset about, but it seems like it has something to do with Shatterpoint. I think as far as he goes, if he’s not been totally reprehensible, it might be worth giving him another chance? As far as I’m aware, he’s dealt out some injury, but no death...’ She left her sentence hanging, wanting to gauge everybody’s reactions before saying anything else, and definitely not wanting to upset anybody unduly.
Raymond Haywood: The Cruise Room
Frankly, moving Xolotl into the basement was a simple enough task. He remained unconscious for... well, far longer than Raymond would have expected him to. Actually, he was becoming mildly concerned at just how long the man had remained out for; it made transporting and restraining him simple, but brought to mind concerns about long-term brain damage, and he certainly wouldn’t have been worth taking all that way if he were a vegetable.
That, however, was an issue for later. More pertinently, they were switching out team members again: Heartless had been reassigned, and in his place, they were getting somebody called Alloy, along with a mission in just over a fortnight’s time intended to boost their credibility as a “good” faction: an A-Class villain attack, in a public place, that they would thwart in order to further the Broker’s interests and render themselves heroes in the eyes of the public. Only mildly byzantine intentions, then, though the note did tell Raymond something important: the Broker had access to long-term precognition, through some means or another, or else had very reliable informants. Perhaps that was to be expected, but then not everybody did.
Thunderbolt’s response was immediate - seek out crimes to stop, take the money, and turn the criminals over to authorities. Chatterbox’s idea only expanded upon this, reaching crimes before the Protectorate or local law enforcement whilst setting up his enthrallment in those within the area, and even setting up their own crime scenes specifically to thwart those crimes personally. Crafty bastard, wasn’t he? Exactly the sort of Thinker who’d normally be in a leadership position... and only now did it occur to Raymond that maybe he’d skipped being the field leader for precisely the same reason the true leader remained anonymous, in order to deflect attention from himself in case a tactical strike was performed. Hrm.
‘Good plan,’ he muttered, eyeing Chatterbox discreetly. Not for long, though - the sound of thudding footsteps made themselves known, and the eponymous Alloy finally unveiled herself, complete with mocktail. She certainly had the looks to match her name, seeming to be essentially made entirely of metal save her hair and one arm, though her outfit was ruthlessly casual. He hoped she wouldn’t be so at ease in the midst of their next assignment.
‘Jack Selser, field leader of the Jacks,’ he murmured, raising his voice just loud enough to carry to the woman who’d just come down to meet them. ‘I hope your combat experience matches the ease with which you carry yourself. We had another member who got too relaxed. Then they got captured.’ His mind flitted to the former member Love Craft for a time, and he ground his teeth at the thought of how much the PRT might know about him and the rest of the team as a result. It wouldn’t be a problem for Raymond if he’d moved on by now, but... to ease his mind, he went to grab a glass of water. Nothing he could do about it now, and if Drake’s plan went off without a hitch, their perceptions might be good enough that it wouldn’t matter either way.
Director Kens and the three assembled heroes turned to face Lillian as she offered her own input as to the situation, each one apparently taken aback. They hadn't expected someone else to be showing up, much less offering their own input. Normally this would be the sort of situation that Kens would say was nothing the young girl need worry about, but truth be told he felt elated his motives were vindicated by one of the Wards. After all, they should be comfortable as well with the situation, should they not? Otherwise it could create a problematic situat-
"What?"
Just like that all eyes were on Evelyn. The pure, undiluted fury in her gaze was unmistakable. The director's sharp, eagle-like features braced themselves for an instant, an old reflex from his military service, before softening again when conscience thought caught up to the situation. This was one of his precious Wards, the kids he couldn't let suffer.
The heroes had entirely different reactions in mind. Whilst Protean slunk back against the one-way viewing glass cell wall, his left arm already a goop of raw protein liquid, but not yet reshaping, Captain Morales and Inkscape took a far more action-oriented stance. The captain had a hand on two pistols and switched the safeties off. Everyone knew them to be containment foam pistols, but the threat of intent was quite clear. Meanwhile Inkscape held up a single tentacle-arm as if to gesture to relax. She's expressed an interest in her own ideals above orders in the field before. If this truly crosses the line for her...
"Down, Morales. Evelyn, you've wandered into a situation you don't entirely understand. Why don't you relax and listen before jumping the gun?" the octo-man suggested, his voice firm and even, but cautious. He clearly understood the ramifications of Evelyn's power if she were to go on a rampage.
Then Alessa made her presence known, further attempting to diffuse the situation. As she spoke, Captain Morales headed the command of his C.O., relaxing his stance and removing his grip from the pistols at his side. Still, he never took his eyes off of Evelyn. She showed herself to be a clear and present threat. His lifetime of training, his experiences, simply would not allow him to ignore this. Not right now.
"This has gotten out of hand entirely. The matter would best be discussed behind closed doors, so as not to make a scene. Any who wish to join me may do so. Conference room three, please." Director Kens breathed out a sigh of relief as Evelyn appeared to be backing down, at least for the moment. Whether or not she chose to follow and participate in the discussion, well, was another matter entirely. Regardless, the director led Protean, Morales, and Inkscape, along with whoever else chose to come, until they entered the room in question.
Kens straightened his tie, taking a seat at the head of the table, then dropped the two dossiers onto the center of the table. "Decoy?" he inquired aloud. Despite not having pressed any sort of button or activating any communication device, a familiar hologram of the portly, overweight Japanese man appeared nearby.
"Yes Director Kens?" the hologram answered.
"Have you compiled the data regarding the young Mr. Quintana, at least enough to project it in this conference room?"
Before he received a verbal answer, the deed was done. A holographic display of Dexter Quintana, both in costume as Shatterpoint and in civilian clothes, appeared in the center of the table for all to view. A brief bio hung in the air nearby, ready for any to read, at least in cliffnotes. It covered a great many details, including his date of birth as July 7th, age of 15, born in Jacksonville. It went on to include his diagnosis of moderate autism, as well as the Boulder hospital record detailing the extent of the injuries he received from a beating at his middle school. Highlighted beneath was the police arrest report: Three fellow students, and one teacher.
"As you can see here, Mr. Quintana has had an unfair go at life. I'd bet my life that his trigger event was caused by the abuse of his fellow students and teacher. The first appearance of Shatterpoint occurred six days after his release from the hospital. Instead of understanding and nurturing for his disability, he was met with ridicule and violence. Can any one of you tell me that you'd react any differently in that situation? It's too late for Mr. Jacks, but Mr, Quintana can have another chance. He's still young enough to be re-educated, and once he's free of the influence of his boss I'd be surprised if it weren't a positive influence." The director gave pause to read the room, then sighed. "That's why I want to induct Mr. Quintana into the Wards. It's the best chance he has to turn his life around. The process is complicated, of course. He has to consent, his parents have to consent, pass various psychological evaluations, the Youth Guard will need to be involved... And of course, the Wards will be interacting with him daily. Therefore, we would need to be able to ensure everyone can work together."
Protean nodded in understanding, clearly entirely on board with the idea. He didn't need to say anything. Inkscape also approved. "He needs to finish processing first, of course, and go through interrogation with Decoy's lie detection software, but I do belief this to be the best course of action."
Captain Morales said nothing. He merely sat at attention in his most professional stance, ensuring to keep Evelyn in the corner of his eyesight at all times, though one couldn't tell with his helmet and mask on.
Jason nodded to CB's suggestion, glancing at the new member.
"Yeah, that's a solid idea. Two birds with one stone, that way. I can patrol on the downtime, get some exercise in, and continue being active on PHO. Heartless was the main guy for that but....I stayed active enough." Jason seemed excited as he moved to offer his hand to Alloy. "And, well, welcome. I'd ask that you give us some description of what you can do so we can remain an effective team?"
Lillian looked on in concern as Ev erupted, there really was no other words for that, and the senior heroes reacted. Alessa had showed up at some point, at least, and Lillian quietly slipped in next to her, warily watching the events transpire as her muscles felt like they were being strummed like guitar strings.
She covered the right side of her face with Alessa's shoulder and took a deep breath. She smelled the faint smokey scent of wood and fire mixed with lemons, an odd combination indeed, and her nerves calmed slightly. She knew this smell, she knew this touch. It was as much Alessa as her voice, and it helped her to center herself in the situation at current. With a little spring in her step Lillian followed the adults, casually intertwining her fingers with Alessa's, as she read through the file being projected. He wasn't much older than her and his past was difficult.
She found herself distracted as she started focusing on the smells. There was a tangy, almost pungent smell of paint and what she could only call wet. Almost rubbery... And that must've been Inkscape. The distinct smell of gunpowder almost overriding the strong punch of alcohol that swirled within it. Two smells that we're almost acrid, disgusting, and.... Coming from Morales? But he didn't - why would - that didn't make sense? She shook her head slightly, dismissing that confusion, when she settled on the harsh smell of cigarettes. Her nose crinkled at the poor attempt at covering it up with cologne. That would be the Director and she frowned at the realization. Smoking was bad! It's not like they had a healer of any kind out here to fix whatever cancer he got.
This was the heroes? Drinking and smoking? It left her feeling... Less. Like a part of her had been betrayed by her idols. She almost didn't want to smell Protean and Noble and whatever vice they were trying to hide. Wait, Protean was here? But he just smelled..... Like guy? She didn't know how to describe it, it was like he was almost without a scent, or that it was just so mild that she couldn't actually pick up on it. A product of his power?
She focused on the campfire and lemons smell again. At least Alessa smelled as pretty as she looked.
"He deserves better." Her words were simple in response to the Director and that foul mix of smells. She didn't say anymore, her eyes on the projection, as she waited for everyone else to say their piece.
The Rocker base was like a kicked beehive, the few goons left scrambling like chickens without heads. Several were on the phone with the main force in Boulder, but no one seemed to know how to handle the bosses being captured and the other two Parahumans being missing. They feared the worst, and no one around was capable or willing to take charge.
And then Visage walked in, taking up residence in Shatterpoint's office, and a quiet, nervous energy spread through the base. Was she staking claim to lead?
Several of the longest running goons entered the office after nearly ten minutes of muttered conversation. “What's the plan? We got no boss or Shatterpoint now. We don't know what to do.”
Visage slowly removed the headphones, glancing up at the man. The node she had set for him about a week back came to the forefront of her mind. She actually remembered his name as well. When she spoke now she sounded confident and level headed, ”Don’t worry Joaquin, this’ll just be a change in leadership. I’d actually like to see what Creep says when they get back, find out how much a threat the other gangs are gonna be during this transition period, then go from there.”
Meanwhile, Creep entered the building. She was invisible, redirecting light around her to remove her from line-of-sight, first entering in order to ascertain the situation so she didn’t involve herself scene she wanted no part of. And… they were in disarray. Talking among themselves and on their phones, looking unfocused. Hm. That probably meant Visage had not come back. No time to waste, then. She needed to do something before the Rockers came to a decision of their own. Creep looked for something to jump up on to gain height. She found a table, carefully taking a couple of steps up to gain height, to look out over the rest. An innate nervousness built inside her as she turned towards the unknowing crowd.
C’mon, Sheila. You can do this.
She viewed herself through her power. … She didn’t look like leader-material. Except, she could change that, could she not? The hood looked like she was hiding. A leader wouldn’t hide. She threw back her hood, revealing long hair which she was colouring brown. She manifested the illusion of wearing a tattered, battle-worn cape from the texture of her dark clothing. She decided she could use a majestic aura, and added a certain slight aura of darkness seeping from her, subtly brightening her on a darker surrounding. That… that would do. She took a deep breath.
‘Alright. Rockers, listen up!’ she said, raising her voice out loud to make them look in her direction. At first, there’d be nothing. Then darkness coelessed over a short second, after which Creep threw out her hand and the darkness scattered from her form, fading away into nothingness before leaving her one-meter range. There stood Creep, in dark clothes, blindfold and mask over her mouth, voice changer in her mask making her voice somewhat more creepy and hoarse than her real one. After having waved her hand and had the darkness burst away from her she had her illusion-created cape flutter a bit as if there was wind from the burst. After that, Creep stood straight. She was exceedingly nervous, but she couldn’t afford to let it show. She raised her chin and started speaking.
‘I am Creep! I’m a Rocker like you! I’ve been your stealth-ops for longer than you might realize, for before this I answered only to Shatterpoint. I was his hidden subordinate, scouting for him and relaying information without our foes ever knowing. However, I received a sudden promotion when I was sent to represent the Rockers at the Denver villain’s meeting that occurred today, and now… Now it would appear I’m needed outside the shadows.’ Saying so, she now looked around at the sparse gathering of Rockers.
‘Are there more of our members in the building or close to it? If so, call them here. We have matters to discuss.’ She stopped there for now… assuming she had not been interrupted during her speech already.
Visage had just finished speaking when she heard a feminine voice speaking up with. . . Was that bravado. Something had changed in Creep it seemed. She stood up, not giving the command for Joaquin to follow, but expecting it nonetheless. Stepping around the corner graceful, she locked eyes with Creep.
Immediately after looking at her, her power registered eyes. Still though, Visage couldn’t see any eyes. A bit of a puzzle. Visage changed her appearance with no dissonance, making her mask appear on her face. From Creep’s perspective the mask would have always been there, and any surprise from seeing Visage’s face would be forgotten.
Speaking for the gathering crowd now, she walked forward slowly towards Creep. ”Is there a temporary truce with the other gangs, Creep, darling?” Visage’s voice didn’t quite betray the thoughts racing through her head. Creep might be trying to grab power here, but that wouldn’t be a giant deal-Would it? Creep wasn’t confident, she probably hadn’t taken any speech classes in college even. Wait was she college age? Regardless, this should go smoothly as long as Visage could keep Creep on the backfoot.
The Rockers present had started at Creep’s appearance, several raising weapons before looking at each other in confusion. Before they could open their mouths Visage entered, and one stubborn man finally spoke up. “We don't know no Creep, lady. I ain't followin’ someone I don't know an’ never seen before.”
Several others, the majority really, nodded in agreement while others seemed very indecisive.
Creep was taken aback by the man’s announcement, mind somewhat blanked out. She hadn’t even made her appeal yet, and they were denouncing her that quickly? That… felt like some sick joke or something. Regardless. Visage appeared, with a couple people in tow, though given how much the rest had been in disarray it didn’t seem like she had taken command yet. Visage’s question made it easier for Creep to get her thoughts running again. “Darling”, huh.
‘Visage, please confirm to the men that I’m not lying when I say I was a hidden subordinate of Shatterpoint until his capture,’ Creep said. Now, Visage didn’t have that much experience with Creep… but she did know THAT much, at least. Onto actually answering the question, for Visage and the rest of the men.
‘Yes, there’s a temporary truce. The gangs of Denver, the Rockers, the Jacks, Purge, Reflection, Lethal Force, independents like Sabotage, Retcon and the Broker will cooperate to pick the Community apart. Xolotl saw fit to attack the meeting, but he was swiftly dealt with by a device stolen from Epsilon of the Wards. We can consider him eliminated, assuming the Jacks knows how to handle him. We have been given a phone number by the villain known as the Broker, who has picked himself to manage this cooperation outside of meetings. As the only representative of the Rockers at the meeting, I agreed to the Rockers’ participation.’ So she said, standing and staring down at them, tense.
“Tha's all fine an’ dandy, but tha’ not helpin’ us. We need a boss.”
Visage smiled broadly under her ‘mask.’ So they had some time where their territory wouldn’t be taken. Still, the situation with Creep would have to be resolved soon, otherwise there might be a small kerfuffle. ”First of all, yes Creep is a subordinate of Shatterpoint. Second of all, I have an idea that will leave everyone here happy. I’ll step up as leader. I don’t have to say what I’ve done for the Rockers, many of you were there alongside me after all. But I can’t lead without lieutenants. I think Joaquin and Creep are perfect for the job, and I will discuss my decisions with the two of them before acting on them.”
Visage looked at the crowd as she spoke, but watched Creep out of the corner of her eye. Would this satisfy the young girl, or would she protest? Would she dare to? Honestly Visage didn’t even have to give Creep this much power, but losing her was a much much worse option.
Creep crossed her arms as Visage spoke up about being the leader, standing staring at her, silent.
Well, Creep thought. This was absolutely terrible. She couldn’t handle the deal she made with the Broker if she wasn’t the leader, for if the two of them spoke then Visage would learn of the vials. Creep had no intention of letting actual villains get ahold of the vials, and given what she had promised the Broker that would be a betrayal she’d never be forgiven for by either side. There was a small surge of panic within her. She had a weapon she could use, but there was a significant chance it’d be interpreted as slander and a hungry grab for power. She hesitated greatly to actually make use of it…
One of the members in the back spoke up then, interrupting and making themselves loud. “Creep has been here longer. I was here when that freak attacked the base with the dumb Minute Men, and after that we started getting the rumors about Creep. He's helped us out the whole time, and met with the boss a bunch. That should mean something.” There was muttered agreement to the statement, more goons looking confused between the two Parahumans.
… Huh, Creep thought. There… there was actually a pocket of support for her? Well… it was sink or swim, wasn’t it? Suppose she had a weapon. She just had to draw it and see how it fared. She was going to act like the one who had spoken up for her hadn’t said anything, but he had given her a small dose of courage, enough to allow herself to push over the edge and get her mouth to open and tongue to move.
‘I don’t know about that, Visage. Let me recount a series of events,’ Creep said, her arms crossed. Now, open for potential interruptions, but she continued. ‘Shatterpoint calls us, Creep and Visage, to his office. Because Ceramix and him are going to be busy elsewhere, attacking the charity event that was taking the place at the same time, we were told to represent the Rockers at the meeting. You have to understand, it’s a show of force to have two parahumans representing your team, especially when they know there’s at least two more. It’s my first mission being anything but hidden in the shadows. Yet, two steps in, what do you do?’ Creep wouldn’t leave enough room to respond before responding herself.
‘You abandoned me. Turned and ran, turned against Shatterpoint’s commands and left me to fend for my own against all of Denver’s villains.’ Now, yes, Creep was now aware of the circumstances, but still. ‘This tells me you’re whimsical and probably do not hold the Rockers’ best interest at heart. In the meeting itself, when the news of Ceramix and Shatterpoint’s capture came in mid-meeting, we were about to be dismissed as irrelevant, crushed without leaders, not to be given a say. However, I spoke out. I made a deal with the mastermind the Broker, to whom I offered the Rockers’ cooperation in future jobs for our continued relevance. I have friends, parahuman friends, that I could imagine inviting to bolster our powers. I have become invested in this team, and want to see it grow and succeed… which is why I hesitate to leave it under the charge of the one who abandoned me when I needed her the most.’ So Creep said, head turned towards Visage.
Creep apologized inside her mind. In different circumstances, she really wouldn’t have used that as a weapon, but this was a desperate time. … She was not confident about this. Not in the slightest. Her muscles were all exceedingly tense as she awaited the result, her fists squeezing where she had her arms crossed.
The majority of the Rockers turned to Visage, waiting for her reply. A small divide was already forming, but Creep’s words were turning the tide towards her. A betrayal like she had described was not a good sign for those who supported Visage, and murmurs expressed concern. The prospect of more Capes being drawn in was both a blessing and a curse to most of these regular goons, a bolster of support and a reminder that they were less.
Creep calling out Visage actually surprised her, though it probably shouldn't have. She really wanted this seat of power, and she would lose Visage to get it, eh? She started thinking up a response as soon as possible.
Visage burst out laughing to stall for a little more time. After a beat though, she spoke. ”You think anyone here is going to believe your lies? I’m sorry that Shatterpoint called me out halfway through the meeting to assist with the situation at the Denver Center for the performing Arts. I even took out some guards for him, allowing him to sustain a little bit longer in the fight with the heroes.” Her voice up to this point was strained, but the next sentence dripped with sarcasm, ”I'm so so sorry that you're so adverse to responsibility that you're now whining about this to all present. 'When you needed me most' cut the shit. If you can't handle speaking about truces, I don't know how you'll handle the less than peaceful normal operation of the Rockers."
Visage paused momentarily, before continuing. Meanwhile Creep blinked in surprise under her blindfold, taken aback at Visage calling her a liar. Visage had lied. She 100%, undeniably lied. Sheila cursed internally. Leave it to a villain to use such a tactic. ‘That’s not-’ she started in a heated voice, but Visage interrupted her.
"You claim to actually care about the people here, well. Prove it. Pick someone out, anyone besides Joaquin or me, and tell me their name." She said, seeming supremely confident.
Creep was shaken. She wouldn’t do well in a social test, and Visage knew it. While she had picked out a couple of names during her time in the Rockers, Visage probably knew them all by heart. No. Creep would not win by playing Visage’s game. She’d have to play by the advantages she had, herself. The fact she felt slighted by the lie helped her talk.
‘I can’t-’ she started again, but then she figured starting with admitting a weakness was not good. Creep reconsidered her thoughts and took a deep breath. ‘I was a hidden scout. I counted the numbers of enemies. I stole weapons and information from our enemies to the Rockers. I left our calling card, spread our reputation and territory. I got Swarm down on his knees so that Shatterpoint could take him out. I can fight, and I think I am proving right now that I can talk. Truce-talk isn’t hard, you’re right, convincing the villains of Denver you’re still relevant as a lone unknown figure after your leaders were just crushed was harder. Yet, I created a little upset with my deal with the Broker. They know who I am now, I’m a recognized figure of the Rockers. That’s more than I can say for you,’ Creep said, head held high.
‘You know very well I wasn’t big on the social sector, whereas you’re an entirely social creature, so I’m not going to challenge you at your own game. I’d even claim you’re a much more natural leader than I am. However, I am concerned with the fact you’re the kind who would lie to your own men in order to win their trust. A worthy leader should not need to do that. You’re simply a manipulator by nature and can’t even help it, can you?’ she continued, disdain in her voice.
‘You’re making use of that nobody we can trust was at the meeting that can confirm the truth. Shatterpoint called nobody from the meeting. You took two steps in, and then, while I don’t remember exactly what you said, you left while saying something about being undermined. You left, because something in there displeased you. Something in there was too much for you. If I’d wager a guess, it was Epsilon’s power-nullifying device that the Broker had brought and activated, preventing you from getting readings on anyone in the room. You couldn’t manipulate anyone like that. Didn’t like not having an advantage over everyone else, did you, Thinker?’ If allowed to get that far, Creep’d leave it hanging after saying that. She’d gotten herself riled up on that slight. She made a mental note that’s twice now that anger had helped her talk.
Throughout the speech Visage shook her head and made a ‘tsk’ noise repeatedly. ”I’m glad we agree I’m a natural leader. I’m sure we can also agree that we shouldn’t have a leader who no one here has the seen results from. I’m not a manipulator, the men here have seen how I work. I’m about results not talk, while you seem to be doing plenty of the latter and have shown us none of the former..You claim you did this, you claim you did that, I bet there was a unicorn at the meeting after Shatterpoint called me out of it, but we’ll never know. It’s always interesting to see how someone reacts when called out for lying, but you weren’t interesting at all, you just doubled down. Again, you’re all talk.” Her confidence was growing. In all honesty, Creep’s comment about being a recognized figure did strike a bit of a nerve, but she didn’t let it show.
”Also I love how you ended your little speech with an accusation that isn’t true, and demonstrably so. Everyone here who has seen me work knows I’m not a thinker in the least.” Visage shrugged, before placing her hands on her hips. ”Do you have any other empty accusations, or nebulous things you want to brag about, or are you finished?” She said, staring down Creep as best she could.
Creep stared at Visage, who assured that she was all talk. Creep crossed her arms, her own confidence growing as well. None of what Visage had said came across as threatening to her.
‘I’m sure the men can think of a time during the last few months where Shatterpoint seemed to know more than he should, where enemies reacted as if we’d struck them twice or even saw when Swarm was knocked to his knees. My feats have been laid bare. However, you…’ Creep tilted her head, looking at Visage.
‘You’re hiding it, huh? Sure, you do have non-Thinker powers that you flaunt, but you got something more. I noticed it the first time we met. You have some manner of information-gathering technique that works as long as the person in question perceives you. Hence, you noticed me, even when you should not have, because nobody normally perceives me. What other powers are you hiding from your men, Visage? How deep does your manipulation go? What’s the goal of it all? Because, with the way you left me at the meeting, I sincerely doubt your goals align with those of the Rockers…’ She was going to maintain her supposed “lies”. That way, she hoped, she looked more believable.
By this point the goons had divided pretty solidly, with about 4 standing near Creep and 8 standing around Visage, and were steadily fidgeting more and more.
“I ain't seen nuthin’!” One man shouted from the front of Visage's group. “Ain't never seen no help from this freak.”
“Shut your mouth, Dwayne, you know damn well that what he said was what we seen. Even Shatter left that one night in a hurry when them Community punks were doing their thing!” retorted a man near Creep. “Seniority, help, it's a damn obvious choice.”
“Fuck no it ain't, ya half-wit. Creep about as elo-quint as my fucking dog. It's all just distraction, I bet, while the boss is gone,” another from Visage's side interjected. “They even agreed that Visage is a better leader!”
It was going her way, at least for now, but caught up in the moment Visage realized the problem too late. There was probably no way to keep Creep in the Rockers anymore if Visage became leader. After all, she wasn’t anywhere near useless, nor would Visage consider her a pawn to be thrown away. With the aggressive stance Creep had taken the stranger had reacted in kind, which now seemed like a poor decision. Having all the Rockers present probably would barely make up for not having Creep. Two-thirds would not in any way make up for Creep though.
Visage had to reflect on the cost-benefit more now. The gang members squabbled among each other as she considered resolutions. Honestly, being second in command or just about wouldn’t be a massive deal. The power she’d be able to exercise would be notably less, but she’d still be able to make power plays. At worst she’d gain more of Creep’s disdain, but that was already in good supply.
The shovel was honestly heavy, so Visage had to consider what to do now that she had dug so far down. Though it would make her base unhappy, joint leadership was an option. That probably wasn’t a good enough concession, Creep would see through it as a powerless political concession. However there was a forfeiture that would almost certainly make everyone present happy, and was an aesthetic that Visage found absolutely irresistible.
”I think I have a solution Creep. Although I don’t like the accusations made today, I’m willing to forgive them. I’ll accept your leadership, and act as your second in command under one condition.” Pausing, she sorted through all the nodes of those present. It wasn’t hard to find all of them, as she could just look at faces present for reminders. While she was doing that, she also dismissed the Epsilon node. No reason to have that. With dissonance dialed up to max, she changed her appearance to match Creep. A slightly more busty Creep, but clearly Creep. With the dissonance at max, it would appear to everyone present that where Visage once stood now Creep did, with no mind fuckery to smooth that out. ”We become Creep. I follow guidelines you set about being in this disguise, and we show power with more presence than a single leader can.”
Creep was a bit befuddled by the reaction of the crowd. None of them seemed to actually be getting her approach of that Visage was “a natural leader, but not a suitable leader”. It was confusing to her, and she wasn’t sure what to say to bring them to her side anymore, what kind of words that would get through to them. Should she try cursing? Would that work? Now, she had planted a trap in her words that she honestly hoped Visage wouldn’t bite, that she was sure would bring her victory but it’d cost so much more, an argument Visage could use against her reasoning which she had a fatal comeback against… But it seemed Visage had enough. Creep’s frown under her mask waned, mind cleared up, as it became clear that while she had little impact on the men, they had certainly gotten through to Visage.
She was surprised by Visage’s words, and then… then Visage changed herself to look like Creep. Creep stood dumbfounded for a slight moment while Visage explained. They’d both be Creep, it took a bit for her to properly process that, the advantages and possible disadvantages. It was too easy to imagine that Visage would rule the Rockers behind her back. Still, this was the better alternative. … Yikes, that’s a perfect replica, better than what Sheila could have devised. Though, did she actually look like that? Did her outfit actually emphasize her chest like- A quick look at herself through her power told that, no, Visage was intentionally increasing the chest-size of the replica. … That irked her a little. Creep used said irk to speak. She’d think first later that perhaps, just like herself, Visage would rather not change her natural body-shape in her illusion.
‘I find this solution acceptable. It’s good to have you, Visage,’ she said. … It did occur to her to maybe call her “Creep”, but she was too unsure if that’d come across as unsuitable. Creep wanted to say more, but she couldn’t think of anything, so it became a pause and then she was too hesitant to say anything additionally. She now turned her head, looking to the groups of Rockers that were not in her favour. She didn’t need to turn her head to see them, but she did it in place of asking for their thoughts. Asking them such a question did not come across as leader-like in Creep’s mind.
The goons all looked at Visage!Creep with a kind of dumfounded surprise, her own supporters taking a few steps back towards the others. Shocked murmurs ran through the small crowd at her giving up, doubt of backing her growing.
And then Creep accepted the proposal, effectively silencing everyone as they looked at her in surprise. This hadn't been a change in the debate that they had expected, and it left most of them in a kind of stupor. Then she turned towards them and the spell was broken. One by one they formed a fist, putting it on their heart, and kneeled. Most seemed to be simply copying the first few, such as Joaquin, who initiated the strange behavior. It seemed that they were submitting to her rule.
“What of our main force in Boulder?” one man asked hesitantly, his voice echoing and loud in the silence. “A-and you said more Capes?”
It seemed that, at last, Creep had the undivided attention of the room. Even Visage had knelt down; she rolled her eyes, though they were hidden behind her new blindfold.
… Heh. They were… actually kneeling for her. A dumb, awkward elation went through Creep, seeing this. She determined not to let this show, simply raising her head as if all was right in the world right now, her arms still crossed. The man’s question was a valid one, one which she had been intending to answer.
‘The main force needs to be informed at once, and it’s a matter that needs to be told in person. We will depart at once. After that, me, Visage and any lieutenants will be discussing the inner workings of the Rockers, what is good and what is subject to change. And… heh,’ she let a small chuckle out, because yeah, she said that, didn’t she? Guess she was investing in that now. The “friends” she had mentioned earlier…
‘Indeed. I have a couple of friends I wish to invite to the Rockers, now that I’m this invested. Should they agree to come, the Rockers will grow stronger. Add that to my deal with the Broker, and we’ll see if we can’t get the Rockers moving up a bit in the world, won’t we?’ Saying so, Creep jumped off the table she stood on. She left a shadowy trail behind her using her power, simply for effect, which caught up to her when she landed.
‘I need a couple or all of you that can confirm what have happened here. We’re heading to Boulder,’ … Okay. That… that worked out, short-term. As for long-term… she’d have to see, wouldn’t she? Honestly, she was still a bit drunk on success, she wasn’t entirely thinking straight. It was the strangest thing to be happy about.
Even if it was partly because Visage had decided to let her, Sheila had successfully talked her way to the top of one of the villain teams in Denver. She was now a soon-to-be recognized supervillain.
Lethal Developments, Part 3: Never Gonna Give You Up-
Whip took up the rear, nervously walking near silently behind the others, while string began following from her wrists akin to her moniker. She was careful to keep them away from the others, as they were already ridged with razor edges hard and sharp enough to be leaving grooves in the ground they walked on.
The tunnel opened up into a large, open, cavern like room complete with stalagmites and torches. Pillars of stone were placed across the area, and the place was a disaster. Tables, crates, machinery… Countless objects made the place almost like a maze. They couldn't see anyone, but Mantis could feel that the room was teeming with confidence and anger. And floating directly across from the opening, in plain view, was a bloody figure Mantis and Farce were well acquainted with:
Limbo's ghost. Complete with an appearance of rot and decay strong enough to make one shiver in disgust.
The last couple steps forward would lead then properly into the room. What were they going to do?
The feeling in the air of a multitude ahead, or perhaps the hallucination of one in her mind, and the vision of someone that seemed ghostly struck a very strong chord at her survival instincts as she got glimpses of her. Adrenaline poured into her body at a rapid pace, heartbeat skyrocketing as her senses seemed to become a bit more keen whilst the fight or flight response was fueling her body right now. Her gut feeling even seemed to scream at her as she froze in place.
”Oh shitshitshit. All the alarm bells are going off, guys. We need to get outta this trap, and NOW!”
She didn’t care if she sounded scared right now, or looked like a runner. If she was gonna be a hero sometime, they needed to stay alive first. At that, all natural instincts were crying for “flight” rather than “fight” in this “dungeon encounter” they had seemingly delved into. This felt like a trap. A damn trap….nuts.
Mantis’ eyes widened when he saw the figure. He raised his weapon instinctively toward it. However, realizing it was just an apparition, he lowered it again. He felt repulsed and almost threw up at the sight of her. Mantis then released feelings of calm and peace into the surrounding area and sensed those same emotions. This effectively cancelled out the sensations made by the apparition. His allies would feel the same thing as himself.
When Mantis recollected himself he spoke out, ”We've come this far and who is to say there isn't a trap waiting for us behind? To make it out we have to press on..” Then he began to step into the room and hoped there wasn't some deadly trap waiting for him. He could tell if there would be other feelings emanating nearby from other areas. However, it would be harder due to the amount of them going on in a small area.
”I-I’m with Excal right now. Fuck Limbo.” As much as she wanted to run, though, Farce let out a hearty sigh. ”... but there’s still a chance that our behinds are blocked by an army or something. Let’s just… get this over with.”
Farce shoved past the people in her path as she stepped out beside Mantis. Well, if this wasn’t a warm welcome? Limbo sitting there like a smarmy motherfucker and all that. Farce couldn’t stomach the sight of her, period, but she needed to suck it up here. She looked up at the apparition and simply spoke to it. One word. ”’sup?”
Limbo looked at Farce, a smirk playing across her face as she waggled a finger at her. ”Naughty, Naughty.” Her voice was rough, eerie upon the ears. She's floated towards the group, passing through everything between them as if they didn't exist, before circling the four. ”I could keep you…. But, I think not.”
A single gunshot rang out, the wall behind Mantis blowing dust just a few inches from him.
”Kill them.”
Whip reacted with the gunshot, building a barrier of their own to hide behind. “Reinforce this, will you Excal?” Mantis’ influence hadn't changed her emotions, she saw what they were up against and knew that such feelings were not going to help her.
Eight goons started moving from cover to cover to get closer, all wielding various melee weapons from knives to a wooden bat with nails in it. Across the room others took up positions with handguns, looking to get a lucky shot off.
Mantis instinctively turned his weapon at the goon that the shot came from and fired off a quick burst. Then he yelled out, ”Give us some cover, NOW!” The urgency in his voice was clear. If Excaliblast couldn't build them an adequate form of cover in time they could all be wiped out in an instant. After firing his burst, Mantis reached for his smoke grenade, pulled the pin and threw it directly in front of the area people were shooting from. It would hopefully blind them from firing accurately on Lethal Force's position. It would also give the team more time to get their cover constructed.
”So… uh… correct me if I’m wrong here, but if a parahuman uses force meant to murder another parahuman, does that mean that we can fight back in self defense?” Farce asked Mantis as she cocked her revolver. ”It makes sense to me, so please tell me it makes sense to you.” Farce considered shooting for a moment, before a mental bug told her not to. Specifically, he said that it’d be more likely that she’d waste ammo, so she held off on firing just yet.
Allison nodded to Whip and began rapidly trying to form long, wide blades, sticking them into the ground like fence posts, or perhaps “planks” to make parts of a proper fence itself. Though panic surged in her veins, the “fight” response was currently taking over as the “flight” became more and more unreasonable….or at least potentially so. However, a calming aura seemed to begin to take hold of her as she was building, allowing her to better focus on making her fence. She had no idea if this would work, though Mantis’ involvement in her new mood seemed likely, but at the same time she was not going to take chances.
She would make the barrier, placing the blades as close to each other as possible, and as strong in the ground as she could plant them.
But if they were unable to handle “this” much, or things got notably worse where they needed to go, she felt the idea of shooting blades out at top speed might be able to hold back attackers for a time. Unless it was this ghost chick, who looked kinda cute, but also had scared the hell out of her not too long ago. Ugh. Now was not the time for her libido to kick into action, seriously…..
The wall was being built at a surprisingly fast pace. Between the metal posts and the woven string it was incredibly durable at that. Already bullets build be heard pinging off of the solid surface, but the two girls had placed them carefully. And nothing broke through.
Mantis’ shot, meanwhile, managed to clip the original shooter in his arm before he could fully return to cover, the fall of his pistol noticeable to anyone looking.
These goons were obviously trained, dealing with a surprise visit (that didn't seem very surprising anymore) incredibly well, and were keeping the pressure on Lethal Force to remain defensive. All the while Limbo was making passing remarks at their expense, commenting on 'poor technique’ and giving heads up to her guards whenever Lethal Force moved to attack.
Whip turned to Farce in irritation once the wall was finished. “Of course it makes fucking sense. Kill them before they kill us.”
The longest piece of string they'd ever seen from her snaked around her before she stepped outside the barricade and began swinging it like a whip. Her attack stuck upon the wooden crates like they were butter, slicing through three men in her dedication. She was far enough back that all of their shots were phasing through her as her face scrunched up in anger.
The bodies she left were bloody and cut into pieces.
”Welp, that’s all the confirmation I needed.” Farce confidently said as she drew her magnum and aimed it towards the attackers. She breathed deeply before she took aim, firing it off towards an assaulting crook, him hardly having enough reaction time to stop reloading and fire back. Farce’s hand immediately swung to aim at the guy to his left, firing a shot into his arm before she crouched down behind cover to protect herself.
Not having been told more, and not being accustomed to an actual battle yet, Allison began to make a secondary barrier above the archway of where they had just come in. Something to reinforce and enhance their cover by protecting from above attacks or causing a thrown grenade to hit this “roof” for the barricade and bounce just to roll back toward the enemy throwers. Not that she knew if they had grenades, actually….ugh. She wasn’t trying to cage her and Whip and others in, not at all, but whether her idea currently was good or not was up to how well she was handling all of this whilst on her feet. On occasion she’d poke an ear out toward where they had come from, just in case anything could be heard from there...er, anything coming their direction.
’I hope we don’t all die here….ahhh….‘
With the barrier up, Mantis felt like they could gain ground. His shot had disabled an enemy while Whipstitch had made mincemeat of three more. He would press their advantage. Taking cover behind the barrier, Mantis sent the thought to his allies, ”Throwing a flashbang, get behind the barrier.” Then he took one from his belt and lobbed it above the largest group of the Community. It would explode in a flash and disable the eardrums and vision of all who would be in range. Then Mantis would pop out from cover and fire another burst at whoever was closest to them.
Whip laughed, a maniacal sound, as bullets continued to pass through her harmlessly. She cut through two more men, but no one else seemed willing to get close enough for her attacks. Farce's shot clipped her target in the arm, but the man proved capable of firing from his other hand accurately. His shot pinged off of the barrel of her pistol, ricocheting harmlessly away from the group before Mantis’ flashbang detonated. Very few of the enemy seemed to be affected, Limbo getting a warning out in time for them to safely get behind cover. She seemed to be directing them confidently, mostly content to let them handle the intruders.
As Mantis popped up to shoot, a waiting shooter got a lucky shot off that grazed his shooting shoulder. A shallow wound, but it would still hurt.
Things were quickly reaching a stalemate, but would Lethal Force have enough firepower to outlast the entrenched goons?
“Any time you feel like fucking attacking would be great, Excal!” Whip shouted in the momentary lull from behind a small barrier of string as she waited for her eyes to be able to see clearly again.
”Agh!” Farce yelped as her revolver fell out of her hands. That was a hell of a shot, and it did knock away Farce’s gun, but she wasn’t out of the fight yet. Not by any sort of long shot.
She grabbed her nightstick, Carlotta, from her bag and held it up like a gun. Within an instant, the twin was replaced by her male half, shouting his cape name as the nightstick was replaced by a 1911. He began firing his shots at any goons he could, staying silent as he did so. He didn’t have anything to say, nor did he want to say anything anyways.
Jolted by Whip’s curse-laden and harsh words, Allison stopped trying to further fortify the group in this position of theirs. She had to keep the nerves from manifesting, even with the soothing aura she assumed was Mantis’ doing right now. Lightly shaking her head to clear it in a sense, Allison popped up with her wrists down, firing a quick but rapid spray of blades toward some of the goons before ducking back down again as she had seen the others do. Did they expect a college student to have proper combat training here?! To her she felt like they did to some extent, but now was not the time to say a word.
She wasn’t an idiot, after all. Yet she had to try to help them stay alive, the will to survive being a rather good motivator at the moment for her personally as it were.
Mantis grimaced in pain at the shot. His adrenaline was already kicking in which made it much less painful then if he had been hit out of combat. He took cover behind their barrier. Then Mantis slung his weapon around his shoulder. He looked down and picked the grenade from his belt. Now is the time. I'm throwing a grenade. TAKE COVER! He sent the thought to the group. Then Mantis sent out the thought to their attackers that in order to dodge the grenade Mantis was throwing, they would have to take cover near a certain barricade. The idea was to get them clumped in one spot and do maximum damage. With that done, he pulled the pin on it. Taking it in his unhindered side's hand, Mantis threw it at the area he was manipulating the enemy to gather. It was risky, but they were running out of options.
Suddenly everything changed. No longer was it a fairly even fight, but Lethal Force was spreading chaos. Whipstitch had cut a goon's legs off, Excal had impaled and eviscerated several people, Sparce was landing shots with an almost mechanical precision, and Mantis had just shredded nearly half of the living with a single grenade.
And all the while you could hear the insane laughter coming from Whip as she started to advance.
And then everything froze. Everyone stopped, not that there were many living that could move to begin with, and the ghostly Limbo disappeared.
All of LF fell to the ground at the same moment, overtaken by visions of two incomprehensibly large creatures and strange flickers admist a rapidly changing view.
And it was over as soon as it started.
LF regained consciousness, the images already gone from their mind, as two figures rose from the bodies in a shimmer.
"Man this place smells likes shit!" Madison exclaimed as she walked into a pub catching a few looks from the patrons. She casually ignored the glares and hopped onto a bar stool, she was delighted to find that it was one of the floor fitted stools that had the spinning tops. She took a few moments to spin around a couple of times giggling all the while, after a couple of second the bartender let out a sigh. "Is there something I can do for you lady?" The rather gruff looking man said with a slightly irritated tone.
"Yes there is! I need one drink please! The cheaper the better!" The bartender cave a reluctant nod and went about getting a beer. While he did this Madison fished around in her pockets, making sure her kitchen knife didn't slide out of its little holster. She then emptied the contents of her pocket onto the bar and started digging, mumbling to herself as she did. "Oh how did that get there, cheeky little guy." She said as she slipped what seemed to be a spider that'd had it's legs removed. "Ok so that's one dollar, two, three..." Madison's voice trailed off as she continued pulling notes and a coin or two out of this mess of lint that used to be in her pocket. After piling up some money she gathered up the remaining fluff and strings, shoving them pack into her pocket with the legless spider.
She gathered up her money up while smiling at the bartender. He slid her the drink, "that'll be five dollars." Maddy went to hand the bartender the money when a gentleman sat down on the stool next to her. "Put that one on my tab would ya chief." The bartender simply nodded and went off to serve someone else. Maddy tilted her head at the gentleman as she slowly slid her cash back into her pocket. The man wasn't that bad looking if she were being honest, though he still wasn't the kind of meat that got her excited, though he did look like a screamer so there was that. Madison decided she might humor this guy for a little bit, free drinks were always nice."What brings a pretty thing like yourself here?"
Maddy took a moment to drink. Her face contorted at the taste, she then leaned forward a little and whispered. "Not this piss water that's for sure." Maddy then took another swig, her face screwing up again. "Oh so what then? You come here looking for a good time?" Maddy's eyes lit up and she nodded furiously. "Well then. I might be able to help ya." Maddy gasped in excitement. "Awesome!" Maddy shot up from her chair leaving the half empty beer on the bar.
The gentleman grinned and got off his stool. "You're a keen one! C'mon lets take this somewhere a little private." The gentleman gestured towards the door waiting for Madison to start walking first before following her out of the bar. "Just around here, can't been seen having fun in public. That'd get us in trouble." Maddy nodded. "Too true. The name's M-" Before she could finish the man raised his hand. "Don't you worry about names. We're not getting married or anything. Just having a little fun." Maddy covered her mouth and nodded. "Ok no names."
Maddy followed the gentleman around into a alleyway, and as far as alleys went this one didn't smell that bad. In fact the stench was a little endearing. "So, where do we start?" the gentleman asked, getting in real close and gently sliding a hand behind Madison's head. "The stomach." The gentleman tilted his head slightly puzzled by Maddy's response. "The stoma-c-c-" Looking down the gentleman found a large kitchen knife had been crammed part way into his stomach. Before he could even react Madison had pushed him back, making him stagger and fall into his back. Blood already staining his shirt. "What the f---" Madison delivered a quick kick to the mans head silencing him, while still keeping him conscious. "What? Isn't this what you meant by FUN?" Maddy plunged the knife into the mans calf as she said the word 'fun', drawing a damp yelp from the man blood already making it hard for him for him to vocalize.
"Aww I thought you were gunna be a screamer... How disappointing..." With another forceful kick to the head the man was out cold. With a sigh Madison took her bag off and shifted into her breaker form, her body turning to a black mist. She made sure to limit the range of her miasma to half a foot around her body. She then turned an arm into a whip like tendril that she coiled around the mans throat, with a quick jerk she snapped the mans neck and lifted him off the ground. She then dumped the corpse into a nearby dumpster and picked up her bag, shifting out of her breaker form as she slid the bag onto her back. "Man that was boring. I gotta find a better way to have fun... Mooks just cut it anymore..." Madison groaned and headed off further down the alleyway. Humming as she went.
A few pats of a paper napkin around the lips and Elliot was good to go. “Delicious, delicious carbohydrates,” he declared under his breath as he pushed open the diner door and waltzed out into the city air. Where to now, he wondered? Without bothering to answer the self-administered question he started to walk. Half the fun of large cities, he felt, was wandering around until something caught his eye. After this morning's events he felt rather disinclined to encounter any trouble, so the less reputable parts of town wouldn't do, but anywhere else would be just fine. With an dispassionate look on his face and his hands in his pockets he meandered between the Denver streets, focused solely on putting one foot in front of the other, another faceless figment of the everyday crowd.
In the course of his aimless trek Elliot found himself sequestered in a corner of Quaestor's Emporium, a multi-level bookstore whose prodigious carpet, carved wood, and filigree marked its faithful appeal to an earlier era. Sitting in a comfortable albeit reduced-price armchair by a low screen displaying a fireplace, flipping through a book on advanced barbecue techniques that captured his attention, made Elliot feel somewhat like a refined gentleman enjoying some free time in his mansion's study. The idea that he might get his life in order to that degree amused him, but his concentration lay mostly upon the incredibly in-depth methods outlined in the book. From detailing beginners' mistakes and their remedies to explaining the vastly different meats that could result from subtle variations in seasoning and grill position, the author truly knew his stuff. The portly man's visage on the front, wearing a big smile and bearing a giant slab of roast on a skewer, belied the unfathomable complexity of his subject. 'Never judge a book by its cover' was the adage, and Elliot knew all too well both how widely that principle applied and how widely people ignored it.
Despite thinking about that for a moment, Elliot did not allow any piteous musings to ruin his time with the volume, and by the time he replaced it on its shelf his mind raced with possibilities. Assumedly the HQ had a kitchen of some sort, but would the staff let a Ward try out recipes of his own? To even reach that point, he would need to get enough money together to buy ingredients. One thing he knew for certain: were his indomitable mastery to apply itself to the realm of cuisine and result in some heavenly morsel, the fruit of his labors would be for him alone. Who, after all, would help him plant the wheat?
Back into the early afternoon sun. A haphazard series of twists and turns through the avenues came next, with Elliot eyeing a number of stores but not deigning to enter. Without much of anything burning a hole in his pocket, he felt better than usual about stone-facedly walking past the homeless, but even still the sight weighed on his conscience. Who really needed help? Who would try to hurt or steal from him? Who would squander charity on drugs or alcohol? Who would tell the truth? Who were there because of their own wrongdoing, because of honest mistakes, because of another's neglect or misdeed? What could he really do to help? Legitimate concerns, but regardless of legitimacy, Elliot did not want to see people so miserable.
So he tried to make sure he didn't see them.
That couldn't stop him thinking, of course. Once being a superhero fails, I really should find a soup kitchen or something that'll actually help people. Hopefully they'll let me sample my own wares—once I'm out of the Wards, I'm as out of a livelihood as any of their clients. Not a hero, not a villain. Just a nobody. All because the ignorant morons fail to recognize my genius. “Ugh.” He glanced from side to side. Don't you people think less of me. My life is suffering, too.
Another couple of hours passed before Elliot grew too thoroughly bored with the city. “Back to the gilded cage I fly,” he muttered as he oriented himself back toward HQ. Hopefully he would encounter nobody but security on his way to his room. Seeing one of the girls' faces scrunch up with disgust as he passed by, together with the smog inhaled during his wanderings, might make him puke.
Alessa fondled Lillian's hair for a moment as she leant on her shoulder and inhaled - these were a normal relationship thing to do, wasn't it? Yeah, probably, though she didn't have much experience in the matter. Plus, she knew Lillian's enhanced senses were a thing, so maybe that'd help. Regardless, Alessa nodded and obediently followed Director Kens and the other Protectorate heroes to the conference room, her hand intertwined with Lillian's along the way. He was right; to have a fight about whatever this situation was in a public area would just be unprofessional as anything. And as far as her input went, well, she was the leader of the Wards at the moment, whether or not she was very good at it. She had to wonder about that, given how Margrave had seemingly vanished, right?
But, well, she could make a difference here, she considered as she took a seat. And from what she was reading - moderate autism, hospital records indicating injuries from his fellows that he was lucky to survive, oh dear God, she didn't know specifically what effects autism had on a person but if they contributed to Shatterpoint's wailing earlier... oh God, that must have been hell for him-
She caught herself hyperventilating slightly, and forced herself to breath in and out very slowly. No wonder he'd turned to villainy, then, if he'd been subjected to all that abuse even after Triggering. She honestly wondered if she wouldn't do the same, under those conditions - just as Kens had stated. Well, she wouldn't normally, of course not. But then she didn't have autism. For her part, she'd not had any other choice but to become a hero, since most of her family had died after all. By contrast, Shatterpoint- Dexter- seemed to have had no other choice than to become a villain. Surely having everyone around you be an enemy, or at least seeming like it, was worse by far than just losing one's loved ones, right? And that just got her angry. They saw something different, and they attacked it, even when they should have known better. No wonder, no wonder, no wonder.
Lillian's statement basically confirmed what Alessa was already thinking. 'I think we should make him a Ward,' she agreed, nodding even as she tried to quell her outrage at his circumstances. 'It seems like he's never been given a fair chance in his whole life. Even Ceramix turned out to be willing to kill others, regardless of if it was for Dexter himself or not. How can you ask a person to do good things if they've never been given the chance or the exposure to something like that?' she asked, beginning to gesticulate in tandem with her words. 'How can you tell somebody they're terrible, when you're not the one who's treated like a monster, who's- who gets fucking beaten for something they can't control? How is- that isn't-!' She breathed in, then out again. Breath in, breath out. When had she stood up and starting pacing, again?
'It's not fair to tell a person they're irredeemable when nobody's willing to try in the first place,' she concluded, sitting back down and gritting her teeth with her frustration. She honestly hoped Evelyn would see her argument here, because if not, well... there was going to be an argument otherwise.
Her eyes darted between the heroes and on some level she registered their reactions, their sudden wariness, the worry, the tension, and perhaps the smallest hint of fear.
Her idols...opposing her, no, opposing what was right. Putting away the bad guys, the evil in the world. Protecting people from them. Making sure they didn't have a chance to hurt anyone again. How did they not see it??
Interrupting her consideration of how to handle this revelation, Alessa arrived...getting between her and Lillian.
Her thoughts snagged on something, a trauma, ugly and painful. Guilt. She wouldn't hurt Lillian...even if she was furious. Her power had done it once, she wouldn't let it happen again. The fact that Alessa was protecting the younger girl, as if she was going to hurt their teammate. As if she was some--
Alessa's words struck her and a hot flash of rage rolled through her, it felt like her vision went red for a moment, just a flash. She clenched her hands into fists, digging nails into flesh, the tension in her jaw apparent. She exhaled, but it came out in two strangled words, hurt, affronted, disappointed, "You too?" She turned her back to 'Messiah,' what a traitor. How dare she.
As Inkscape spoke she honed in on him. Already, through her mind went permutations of the powers in her grasp. Materials cinched together like puzzle pieces, concepts fitting into place.
Silver light began drifting down from the ceiling, becoming the silhouette of something long and many limbed.
The Director's words interrupted her and a surge of outrage flared then rapidly cooled, warping into something less, but more twisted. She gripped the cloth of her shirt at the bottom, then her leg, clawing at herself even as she exhaled. The silver silhouette 'relaxed' into something vague, more like a cloud of indistinct light, and then vanished.
She swallowed, her head...clearer, but...but it didn't feel right. Her emotions were tangled, chaotic. She stumbled, even while the others entered the conferance room. She managed to follow, but appeared faintly disoriented.
Still she didn't sit down with the others, even despite feeling suddenly shaky, as if her stance maybe weren't so strong and righteous, as if her beliefs maybe weren't quite so valid...maybe because everyone clearly did not agree with her. She stood as far from the others as she could while still being in the room.
Something in her didn't want anything to do with them in that moment, but she couldn't leave either. She felt too strongly about this...too strongly. She felt her frown deepen. She'd been frowning? Was she really so disconnected that she hadn't realized what her face was doing?
Crossing her arms she hugged herself as if cold and found that she was shaking. Adrenaline maybe?
Director Kens kept going on about the situation about Shatte—no...about 'Quintana,' the boy behind the mask. Around their ages, abused, bullied...driven to this. She saw the path that could lead someone to the actions she'd witnessed and read reports about, but...it didn't connect.
Just because there was a justification, a reason, that Shatterpoint had done what he'd done didn't make it right, okay, or excusable.
She swallowed, shuffling her feet, then made a decision. Yet, when she spoke up, there wasn't much conviction in her voice and she couldn't meet anyone's eyes.
"If you induct him into the Wards, I'm not working with him and if you intend to make me, you can consider this a resignation." She fell silent, averting her gaze so she stared sidelong at a wall, trying not to look at anyone.
The 'shadow' of her power occasionally blipped out from the ceiling, its form expanded in an unseen shroud between floors, looming over and around the conference room. It wasn't a conscious manipulation or an attempt at escalation or intimidation, but it was there.
