[IC] Capes of Denver: A Worm RP

[yoshua171]

Drake Vettman

---

A subtle, but pleased and friendly smile formed on his lips as their new recruit responded well to his power, calming down sufficiently for Lovecraft to speak and be heard, rather than largely ignored in favor of fight or flight. He listened to Lovecraft while watching the recruit's body language closely with his peripheral vision. Then he was called upon to speak by his comrade, to which his response was a slight glance, before he looked to their recruit and began, his tone relaxed. "The Jacks are a group of individuals," he began, gesturing at his two companions, "...with particular skills and special talents coming together to better achieve more in the criminal world. Bigger schemes that a single person of talent likely couldn't pull off on their own. We do take...commissions of a sort as well, for which we will require a...not so modest fee for completion." He smiled at Arsenal as he finished up, before adding a final statement to punctuate both his own explanation and the invitation surely contained in the letter "...and we were looking for someone to fill out our numbers. Someone with certain talents. Your name came up, and now here we are," he gestured at Lovecraft and Headhunter, before putting the hand back in his pocket.

After a moment he pushed from the wall, "But enough of that, let's move this somewhere else," he glanced at Lovecraft, "...we wouldn't want to be caught out in the open."

[Lugubrious]

Just like a crazed bunny rabbit voraciously snatching a carrot, Eyeblight took the bait—hook, line, and sinker. As he raved on, the Wards' cunning antihero slipped away, masked by shadows and silence. He returned to the ladder and ascended, as he would no doubt do the same in his organization's record-books. In very little time he'd returned to the sunny world far removed from the dank, scarecrow-infested storm drain. Here, he would do his duty.

A persistent buzz in his ears interrupted his moment of introspection. Sonar's voice informed him that his aid would be needed, and Margrave -clenching his fist- swore beneath his breath. How could the living loudspeaker outdo his enigmatic, inimitable intuition to arrive at the same clever conclusion as he? Had the boy wonder not stolen his thunder, the Margrave imagined, his glory would have been that much greater (which, naturally, would have been pushed aside, as is fitting of the silent guardian, the unsung hero) but now he was reduced to following orders. The thought made him furious...outraged! Sick with anger! As he began to walk in the direction of the hostages, he gnashed his teeth in frustration. ”So it is that the labors of he who is lost to history shall be forgotten once again...lost to the abyss of anonymity and insignificance. Still shall I serve...” Hands in his pockets, he sidled up to Martyr, whose face held a mix of incredulity and embarrassment. ”Never fear, sweet compere. I am here to save the day. But rest assured you, too, will get a chance to be useful. Sometime...” He gave a smirk before turning to the terrified, pleading hostage kneeling before them.

He held out a hand and focused. If these bombs did operate using a dead-man's switch, he needed to completely toyify the explosives before the cut-off signal could tell them to blow up. Deliberately, the Margrave worked himself up into a state of heightened stress, focusing on the thought that if he failed, both he and the innocent bystander would bite the dust in spectacular fashion. Once he judged his emotional state to be sufficient, the Margrave leaned in to touch the collar. Near-instantly, the device transformed into an assemblage of plastic, beeping as it did. The noise almost made Elliot scream in fear, but it was cut off, and he managed to calm himself down. With both hands the Margrave grabbed hold, and with the strength of a near-adult broke the newly-created plaything into two pieces, which he threw to the ground and stamped on. Even after mangling them thusly, he made sure to kick the flattened scraps away, lest there still be some explosive power left when they reverted. Fortunately, when the device 'reformed', it was completely defunct.

Following this, the Margrave moved quickly between hostages, attempting to keep his mental state high and his toyification accordingly swift. Bomb after bomb he destroyed, scattering the harmless remains about. Time was not, however, on his side. Any minute now Eyeblight might get antsy and opt to blow the whole operation, in more ways than one.

[BCTheEntity]

Alessa Heather: Streets of Denver (Storm Drain)

That last outburst settled it: Eyeblight was quite mad, and he hardly had an excuse for it. Who took the Anarchist's Cookbook seriously, after all? Half its "recipes" were prone to detonation in the process of production, after all! But in all seriousness, she herself had lost her entire family, much as she tried to avoid the thought of them nowadays, though she now used it to further add to the authenticity of her despair about the situation, even as the mask of light continued to hide her expression. That said, it was hardly fair to compare their situations, since she didn't know what had caused the psychopath to trigger to begin with... but even then, rigging civilians, innocents, with makeshift bombs was beyond disgusting. She wondered briefly if he'd ever read the Batman story called The Killing Joke, but then refocused her thoughts on the conundrum placed before her.

It was a single, simple request he'd made, beyond the initial conditions set. And yet it was a nearly impossible thing. "Look at me," he asked, knowing full well that she would be made a madwoman for it. Her sidelong glances were just about tolerable... but a direct stare would amplify the primal fear she felt, exacerbate it into full-blown terror, ever more maddening by the second. What, then, could she do about it? How could she turn a direct stare into a safe glance, though her pupils were taking Eyeblight in in his entirety?

But the answer to that riddle was so obvious. She could control light; ergo, she could in theory control anything and everything relating to it, including vision. All she needed to do was create a wall of photons directed toward her pupils, preventing her from maintaining more than, say, a pinhole of sight? Or outright cloak her vision entirely if she absolutely had to, and either way, Eyeblight would be unable to tell for the light already pouring from her face. Her continued heat spots would keep him from escaping throughout the process, of course... and maybe she could figure some attempt at redemption into the strawman in the process?

After but a few seconds of thought beyond Eyeblight's outburst- precious, ever so precious time, to ensure Margrave could do his part- she nodded in assent to Eyeblight's demand, taking another few seconds and breathing deeply, as if to steel herself for the task at hand, but in truth to ensure the cloak of light over her eyes was sufficient for its task. Ultimately, she left herself but a pinhole of vision at the center of her pupils, the rest of her sight whited out for the time being; the relief was immediate, but she still had her part of the bargain to handle.

Ever so slowly, as if still afraid, she turned her head to face Eyeblight directly, until that pinhole view was showing her his person, the fear ramping up once again, but tolerably so, and certainly not so much as she was sure would happen otherwise. If it got too much, she could always close the pinhole off instantly. She continued to breath deeply, continued to take him in entirely yet barely at all- though briefly recalling the phrase about eyes being a window to the soul, and knowing that his was hardly tolerable to start with, she deliberately let the pinhole drift away from his face when her sight would otherwise have crossed it- and beneath the light mask licked her lips in preparation to speak.

'Y-yes, Eyeblight,' she spoke, voice quaking but nonetheless mostly certain, even kindly for the situation she was going through. 'I see you. And... I'm s-s-sorry that the world hasn't been too k-kind to you. To, ah, tell the truth, it's... not been too kind to me, e-either. I-I-I mean, the fact that I'm here now indicates that, I-I suppose, aheh... t-t-trigger events, and all. Um... since we're on the... mmh... n-no, don't worry. Just know that I... I understand, okay? I g-get it.'

She'd cut herself off deliberately. She was talking to a psychopath with a bomb trigger, after all; she hardly wanted to get his life story out of him anyway for the fear (surprisingly little, she noticed, though she forced herself to pretend it was far greater anyway) he was forcing upon her, and much as she felt a compulsive need to empathise, trying to wheedle information about his trigger event out of him was probably going to set him off, which of course would be a recipe for disaster. Better just to provide empty reassurance until Margrave's job was done, surely.

---

Raymond Haywood: Streets of Denver

'Agreed.' Raymond hardly had much else to say after James' mouth-running. The description of their gang was apt, in any case. Doing his best to maintain his position beside Arsenal, just in case, he set the pace for the group, walking back in the direction of the Icehouse and trusting that the other members of the gang (newcomer included) would follow on.

[yoshua171]

Evelyn Chambers - Tulpa

---

At the words of the psychopath, her frown became a much more real expression, though a hidden one. Slightly worried for her comrade, Evelyn glanced at Messiah, her gaze lingering on the girl and her aura of light before she had to look away to preserve her vision. Her mind running through the information she had gathered with her projection, Evelyn found her teeth grinding slightly as her mind worked over the problem. There wasn't really anyway she could see that would allow her to stop Eyeblight from detonating the bombs, let alone getting the detonator out of his possession.

Turning her thoughts elsewhere she moved her projection's shadow up through the street and had it stretch out till she felt familiar information regarding the powers of her teammates flow in. She then moved the projection over to them and had it wreath them for a moment, detecting the status of the civilians and their...bomb collars. Several of them were without the collars, which was definitely good news, but it appeared that Margrave was still working to remove the collars.

Then it struck her, she could copy his power and speed up the process. Of course, there was one downside to the plan...her projection would likely lose much of its combat viability and her and Messiah would be left vulnerable against Eyeblight if her teammate ran out of juice. It was moments like this that she wished her projection could split in two. Well...moments like this and times where she had chores back home and wanted to get them all done at the same time. Sadly, that was hardly an option.

She decided to compromise.

First she had the projection scan Margrave then take on a humanoid shape, the silver glimmer forming near the hostage furthest from Margrave. She willed it to look as human, and pleasant, as possible, while she had it recall the attributes of Eyeblight's form and the concrete. This made it light, but durable, while possessing agility and dexterous control of its own body. This coupled with the majority of Margrave's ability would have to do. She took a deep, but silent, breath and then let the projection manifest.

Too quiet for anyone, but Sonar to hear, she said, "Hopefully this will help a bit. Tell Margrave that I'm sorry for raining on his parade, if only a little."

As the words reached Sonar her projection began to act. It had four arms, something she hadn't really...told it to form, but it had anyways, given what her intentions for it had been it made sense. It had only two legs with which to walk, and the legs were much like those of a dinosaurs, with two joints, one a knee, and the other in reverse, leading to a clawed foot. Oddly, its hands were not clawed, thought there did appear to be tiny sensitive hairs on the tips of each finger. Shorter, but similar, hairs covered much of its head. It had no visible face, due to the hairs, which vibrated slightly, they appeared to be used as some kind of sensory apparatus.

Oddly, despite its bizarre appearance, the way it moved was gentle and fluid as it approached the first two civilians. Its hands reached out and its fingers grasped the devices that encircled their necks. Several moments passed, and then the collars 'toyified'. After another moment the collars became what appeared to be legos, which were then disassembled and thrown by her projection before it continued on to the next pair of civilians. Its work was slower than Margrave's, but the Tulpa was efficient and was working two at a time. While Evelyn hadn't meant to she had, due to sentiment, made her projection less effective than Margrave. Of course, its possession of additional powers didn't help much either.

As her projection worked and she kept a close eye on Eyeblight and her teammate, she suddenly realized something. Had she felt an unfamiliar power a moment ago? An honest frown creased her brow as she glanced up at the ceiling of the storm drain, as if she could look through the concrete to where the hostages and her team were. 'Wait...what?' she thought, her mind rushing through information her projection had given her only moments earlier.

Altered state. Elemental. Movement focus.

Her frown deepened. Were there any local players that might be here, now, with a power like that? She almost wished that she hadn't manifested her projection now, because so long as it was like that...well, it couldn't give her additional data and since her scan had been only cursory she was lucky to have even as much information as she did.

Damn...if only she had spent more time studying local capes. That thought in mind, she opened her mouth to relay the information to Sonar. Maybe he would know who it was.

[solokolos]

Ira Riese:
Streets of Denver

A frown creased Epsilon's lips as she listened to Sonar scolding Martyr. When Sonar informed Epsilon of the dead man switch she blinked in surprise, and moved towards one of the hostages. Margrave appeared suddenly, speaking of saving the day. Despite the theatrics Epsilon appreciated his presence, and she gave a grateful smile. Her face flushed as she realized she was still wearing her mask, and she turned back to the hostage she was trying to calm down. "A dead man's switch, a dead man's switch, how do I beat a dead man's switch," She mumbled, glancing at Margrave.

He touched one of the hostage's collars and turned it into a toy which also served to deactivate it. He destroyed it as best he could, before moving on. An unnaturally graceful creature suddenly began to materialize, its form abhorrent to the senses. Nonetheless it moved forward to one of the hostages, and seemed to make use of a power similar to Margrave's.

Epsilon's vision changed, like a kaleidoscope shifting settings, not literally but. . . She could see the situation from a different perspective. It was hard to explain. The bombs each had an internal timer, that activated when Eyeblight's signal was no longer detected. That was connected to a speaker, as well as a mechanism that outputted energy only when there was no input signal. If the battery of the bomb collars was destroyed they would definitely explode. A breath escaped Epsilon's lips, before it again shifted into a frown. That explained why Margrave's system worked, he toyified everything, and then destroyed all necessary mechanisms. "I can't speed up the process. It is up to Margrave, and that thing," She mumbled, for Sonar's ears only.

[The Wild West]

Macavity - Another Denver Street

Ugh, this kid was seeming to be a bit too much work for the thief. Sure, he has stolen priceless animals from some observatories and crime lords before, but taking care of some young kid was far beyond his knowledge. It is especially jarring when the human cargo also seems to have otherworldly powers that could cause some trouble at any instance. Macavity scratched his head as the young girl had stopped silently crying, yet another red flag with taking over a possibly unstable person. The thief was truly feeling that he should just ditch the girl before bringing too much trouble, but that act would just bring too much of a bad taste in his mouth knowing that the brutal Bratva would do to such a young human. Sighing to himself, Macavity's hand slid down the back of his neck to commence some stressful rubbing before noting the sort of compliance combined with a short threat. "No worries, this good deed shall not be tainted with some unruly behavior." Giving one good look at the mystery girl, Macavity soon turned around with his path heading towards the open streets of the populated city and out of the rather moldy backstreet alley. However, just before the two were about to leave the area, Macavity turned off his power allowing the two to reappear back into society and into the crowd.

Macavity turned around to see if the malnourished and sleep deprived girl was keeping up with the bustling crowd, and even though she tries to act tough it is rather obvious that she was not at her peak state to fight. "Keep close, hide your body in the crowd and try not to look around too much, I can't say for sure how large their influence is in this territory but the safe house isn't too far away from here," Macavity said, his casual business attire matching well within the busy district while the young girl's bright red tracksuit was somewhat of an oddity within these streets. Macavity just needed to make sure that any snoops wouldn't get too clear of evidence locking onto him, blanking himself and the girl within the busy street would cause too much disturbance in the crowd and possibly the young girl wouldn't have liked the fact that he blanked her without much of a word in the already bizarre situation. Though, the safe house still wasn't too far away from their location and would take a fair amount of more blocks.

Macavity and the mystery girl were starting to near the desired location, it was only when the girl broke the silence between the two by asking a few questions about their whereabouts, something that anyone would wonder if some stranger was leading them to some unknown area. The crowd had thinned a bit more, he was still wary about any people sneaking around them but he decided to answer the questions to provide some closure about following superpowered strangers. "Just a block or more away, and it's an apartment building that isn't too far away from the busy parts, but isn't in the heart of it as well. I just have these places to lay low for awhile, store some property away for safe keeping, you know regular stuff my profession requires," Macavity informed, continuing to walk towards their destination, "And you insult my honor in hidden hideouts as well? I have to keep my acquired property well hidden from prying eyes, I don't discriminate in my past time against the good and bad guys here, and that means that everyone wants a little piece of me." You could tell there was just a tint of pride within those last words, but as he finished turned to walk up some steps into a rather unassuming apartment building. It wasn't decadent with gilded gold fencing and bricks and it didn't look like some run-down, graffiti strewn ghetto area either, it was just rather drab gray in all terms speaking of the building. "C'mon, we are almost at our destination. I can assure you that as long as we don't loiter around the building any longer than the possibility of people hiding this place is almost zilch."

Arsenal - Another Another Denver Streets

Arsenal gave an inquisitive look towards the... Strangely dressed person and their little sales pitch. Once you say that it isn't a scam, it is almost one hundred percent some type of shady business or scam. However, Arsenal stood around for a bit longer with a sort of vague interest, the one called James seemed to have a knack at garnering attention as this man was the main reason of his complacency. His explanation about these "Jacks" was filled with an abundance of vague hints towards the criminal underground which slightly annoyed the young upstart. "So, simply put you guys are just a bunch of criminals that do bad things for money?" Arsenal bluntly stated, staring at the two ahead of him and giving a quick glance towards the burly man behind. This sort of business wasn't new to Bill, his father had dealings with people similar to these folk but this was the first time that he was personally chosen to join some nefarious group. "Well, can't say I really trust anyone of you right here, but I'll take a yander at this little proposition." Arsenal knew that this was his chance in getting both the resources for his upgrades if this holds true, but it wasn't like the cowboy had too much a choice due to the big mean guy breathing down his neck with two strange people blocking most escape attempts.

[ProPro]

Wards: The Great Turnabout!

@BCTheEntity@yoshua171@solokolos@Kafka Komedy@Lugubrious

Sonar gave a silent nod to Epsilon, acknowledging what she had spoken to him under her own breath, but did not respond even in secret with his power. Martyr had, at least, calmed down. Sonar was glad that he had stopped the older yet more inexperienced boy from making a lethal mistake, and even more glad that Martyr did not seem to be overly bothered by it. At least for the time being. The Wards leader made a mental note to check up on his teammate once the mission was done. He already knew that Martyr had to deal with... Other depressing issues and he wouldn't want them to become burdensome. Thankfully Margrave was on the scene, making the best use of his power they could possibly have asked for (not that Sonar would dare say as much, the guy already had an ego about him). Better yet Tulpa's manifestation appeared to help, utilizing Margrave's power. Sonar spoke a word of thanks that only the newest member of the team would have been able to hear. In a matter of moments each of the bomb collars had been neutralized in the most unusual of ways, transformed into harmless toys, smashed, then tossed aside.

Meanwhile inside the storm drain, Messiah still had Eyeblight pinned down and the two had engaged in a psychological showdown. His aura ability was well documented, especially when prolonged eye contact was made. Two men and one woman had been driven permanently insane, now living out the rest of their lives as gibbering wrecks in mental institutions only capable of being fed through IV. The heroine's stratagem, to mostly blind herself with her own light, was a simplistic stroke of genius. Her stammering only added to the masquerade. Yet with such a perfect plan, something seemed amiss. Eyeblight furrowed his eyes, to those that risked looking upon his face. His jagged grin turned to a jagged frown. Once Messiah had finished her own statements, the villain spoke once more. "No. No no no. This isn't right. I know fear. This isn't fear, this isn't real. You're not looking at me. You don't... You don't see me, do you? What is it? Is it that light? TELL ME!" Again his voice echoed as a chorus of dozens of Eyeblights screamed in different octaves, just slightly out of sync with one another. "YOU DON'T SEE ME! YOU CAN'T LOOK AT ME! NOBODY CAN LOOK AT ME! WHY CAN'T YOU JUST SEE ME?!"

Anger, yes. His words resonated with anger and rage, but something else too. Sadness. Deep anguish, the kind that threatened to drown not just the one to carry the well, but those around them. The Wards barely had the opportunity to comprehend the true meaning of the villain's words before a fire flared in his eyes. Orange and brown light burned through the holes in his sack clothing as he radiated some kind of energy, some sort of light. Whatever it was, it appeared to be entirely cosmetic, just a display, as his terror aura did not worsen, nor did he move from his spot. What he did do, however, could sink the hearts of those unprepared. "FUCKING LITTLE BITCH! PUTA! YOU MADE YOUR MISTAKE, NOW THEY ALL DIE! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" The madman's smile widened and everyone heard a click, followed by a beep coming from within his straw body. A second passed, and then... Nothing.

"Uh... Que?" Eyeblight twisted his head around in various unnatural ways, through positions that would have broken his spinal cord about twelve different ways had he a normal body as he shifted around to get a look in the area without touching the heat beams Messiah projected. Then it hit him. There was one less Ward than there should have been. There had not been any kaboom. "Oh cojeme."

Meanwhile, above ground, moments after the failed detonation, Sonar gave the widest, happiest grin imaginable to his compatriots. "We're good! Margrave, Tulpa, you took care of the collars! Guys, Eyeblight's in a really awkward position, since he just tried to detonate and it didn't work. Hahaha!" The young hero slapped Margrave on the back and ruffled Martyr's hair, beaming a smile back toward Epsilon. Then he began removing bags off of the heads of the hostages.

"So little brother failed, then." Sonar and a few of the freed hostages turned to look at another of the hostages, a tall man still with his head covered. Something was wrong, though. He sounded so calm, yet displeased. Disappointed, really. Then the sound of thunder cracked right there, deafening everyone in the area. In a flash of light the man was gone, the sack and clothing he had been wearing had slumped to the ground, covered in burn and scorch marks. In the time it took most people to blink a man had appeared before Sonar wearing an ornate headdress with alternating red and green feathers, a horned skull mask, skeletal necklace, and tribal leggings. With an outstretched hand he took hold of Sonar's head and smashed the teen hero's face straight down onto the solid concrete. Then another crack of thunder shook the area, another bright flash, and the man had vanished. All that remained of the scene was Sonar, lying on the ground, unconscious. His helmet had been shattered, and he was bleeding.

Inside the storm drain, the others heard the crackle of thunder, far too close for comfort, yet the skies had been perfectly clear just minutes ago. Eyeblight looked frightened himself, and a moment later the Wards could see why. A second crashing of thunder heralded a uniquely dressed villain appearing right between Messiah and Eyeblight. He felt the heat of her beams, but only for a moment and nowhere near long enough to cause any significant damage, as he grabbed the scarecrow man, and in a crash of thunder made far worse by the tight space and tremendous echo, both vanished from sight.

---

---

The Jacks

@The Wild West@Kafka Komedy@yoshua171@BCTheEntity

The envelope the three had provided for Arsenal proved to be pretty fantastic for convincing him that this was the real deal. For one, it included pictures of his father and another man, a man that the other three could confirm was their employer, more or less. Included with the photographs was a letter stating he could acquire nearly any hardware, any equipment or technology that Arsenal could want for, that he would be provided with a personal hideout, gun range, and workshop. Best of all, the letter stated that occasionally the targets would involve whooping the Protectorate and the PRT. The letter ended with a signature that simply said, "The Broker" in a rather fanciful cursive. A third document within the envelope was a single slip of paper which had three numbers. Account, routing, and an amount of $10,000.

---

---

Overlook's Bunker

@Banana

"I hope you'll excuse me if I decline and get back to HQ as ordered." The soldier was curt, but not rude. "And you don't have the time to get brewing. Pack anything you need to pack, because you're coming with us for now."

---

A Shipping Warehouse.

The sirens flared closer and closer to the body sharing twins, until finally the sound evened out and the flashing red and blue lights could be seen outside through the windows high up the warehouse walls. Would this be it for them? Would their vengeance, their mission, be over so quickly? Maybe they could barter with the PRT? Offer to join the Protectorate, in exchange for being pardoned? It was well known that the Protectorate offered such deals, so long as you weren't a known murder or crazed psychotic. So long as you weren't too dangerous.

"My my my, you've found yourself in quite a predicament, haven't you?" The voice came from the direction of the man they had just beaten unconscious. As they turned to look, it was not the unconscious thug, but someone else entirely that just so happened to be dressed up in a most bizarre and gaudy costume. It was difficult to tell if this person was male or female, as the striped loosely fitting body suit hid any sexual features while the clown makeup covered the rest. Yet this strange character, the twins felt, would probably still be quite androgynous even without these strange fashion choices. Even the weirdo's voice sounded very much like it could be either male or female, being just that perfect balance of soft yet deep, smooth yet hoarse.

"I've been watching you for some time. Well, I haven't been actually, but I have. It's complicated. Anyway, you're interesting! Man and woman, woman and man, both, neither, one and the other at the same time, but not! Heheh!" As the goofy figure spoke, they strut around the unconscious thug like a one-man (woman?) game of ring around the rosy. "You're in quite the pickle now, though! Luckily your bestest buddy Retcon is here to bail you out! Just follow me, and do the exact opposite of everything I do. That means I go left, you go right. I jump, you duck. Make sense?"

Oh boy. This was going to get complicated real fast.

---

---

Sonika - Denver Skyline

@j8cob

Furance stood ready as Sonika began her little "test." He pulled out two telescoping batons, one colored red and another colored blue, and took a stance. Then the Russian woman's little trick began. The air escaped his immediate vicinity, she could feel it. His breathing changed for a moment, but then a blast of heat flared up, displacing the oxygen and causing an entirely new airflow, separate from the one that Sonika had created herself. Furnace took in a deep breath, then exhaled gently. "I've had women take my breath away, but none quite like you. That's pretty rude, not to mention it won't work on me."

The hero brandished his batons, tapping them together threateningly, then took another battle stance. "I'd recommend you come quietly. It wouldn't be the first time I've had to hit a woman, but I'd rather avoid it if we can."

[Gardevoiran]

Overlooks Bunker

Ruben hastily wheeled his chair to his room and grabbed what he could, and shut down his computer as well. He didn't want the chance of anyone entering this room and potentially screwing up his hacking data or anything like that. He put it in his bag and began wheeling over to the ladder outside of his bunker, but then he looked up and saw that he couldn't actually leave due to legs not existing. "... um... I hate to ask but can I have some assistance?"

---

A Shipping Warehouse

"... do the opposite...? When does this start though...?" Gaia actually had to ask that, because her brother didn't even know how to interpret it. There was also the fact that Gaia had no clothes on, which would be a bit awkward to most people, but Gaia was mostly unphased. "I also don't suppose you'd have something that would cover me while I was doing this too? I apologize for the inconvenience." "Are you seriously thinking of a Harley Quinn costume?""Maybe." While Dunn was afraid of what would result from this, Gaia was prepared for it and was rather excited. It's not everyday you meet... um... this thing.

_@ProPro

[PlatinumSkink]

Wisp

Sheila Hopkins

_{Following events doesn’t necessarily happen today, but they could be}

---

Events

Sheila pulled on her pants. White, tight pants that ended in two thick socks that replaced her shoes, because shoes made too much noise. She took the hood of the reasonably tight white jumper she wore and pulled it over her white-blonde hair, and put on her red laser-goggles over her blue eyes. This was her cape-costume.

‘Do you REALLY need to get dressed up every time you go out?’ Her younger sister asked her from behind, accompanied by the sound of pressing buttons and music from the video game on the TV she was playing. She was blonde with blue eyes, just like her, but slightly shorter and with dyed purple lines in her hair and overall just a bit bigger than Sheila in the places that mattered. ‘Nobody’s going to see you, anyway.’ Viola continued, not looking at her big sister.

‘I don’t want to be caught without being dressed for it, if someone does see me.’ Sheila answered, watching her carefree younger sister playing video games. Playing a game Sheila stole for her, on a console Sheila stole for her, on a TV Sheila stole for her… Stealing a TV had been an effort. The room was filled with shelves, and the shelves were filled with the books, games and consoles that her hoarder sister used to entertain herself. A computer in the corner.

‘Sure. Whatever floats your boat.’ Viola verbally shrugged, giving up the argument and continued playing. Sheila momentarily confirmed that her sister was still playing as she stepped out the front door of the apartment they occupied, and was about to close the door. However, after she had intentionally made the sound of her closing the door, she opened it the slightest, listening for numerous seconds. It wasn’t the first time she had done this, but it had never yielded results, much to Sheila’s relief. But this time…

‘Tsk.’ Sheila realized she had heard Viola click her tongue. Listening closely, Sheila heard grunts from the TV that sounded like Viola was taking a lot of damage. Fearing the worst, Sheila waited a little longer, before…

There. The tell-tale sound of Viola using her power. The sounds of buttons being pressed, the movements in the sofa. They sped up and the grunts from the TV vanished instantly, replaced with the sounds of successfully striking the enemy. Sheila slammed open the door.

Viola flinched, the flickering translucent field one meter around her instantly vanishing. She paused the game and turned in fear to her sister as she realized Sheila hadn’t actually left.

‘I told you. STOP using your power for trivial things!’ Sheila shouted at Viola.

‘B-but, it’s so much easier to-’ Viola started, panicked.

‘DON’T!’ Sheila demanded. ‘It’s not worth it. Don’t spend your time… like that.’ Sheila stressed. Every time Viola used her power, it aged her. During the four months since Viola had adapted the name Speedrunner, Viola had physically aged considerably. Sheila wasn’t so sure she was the older sister anymore.

‘I know. But it’s hard…’ A disgruntled Viola admitted her fault. Sheila knew it wasn’t easy. Viola knew the consequence of using her power, but it was an addiction. It was so tempting for Viola to use it, at any time she had the slightest desire to do things more quickly.

‘Make an effort. Don’t waste your life.’ Sheila said, before closing the door. She stood outside the door for several moments, before hearing Viola inside.

‘Don’t waste my life? What worthwhile are we actually doing with our lives? I’m lazing around, and you’re a thief…’ Viola stated, her voice hurt, before the sound of the video-game started again. Sheila recoiled behind the door. Viola’s words were painful, even though it didn’t sound like they’d been intended to actually be heard. Sheila recognized that what she had said might have been hypocritical. But, Viola was hypocritical, too, using said stolen things while criticising the thief. Guess that’s simply how they lived their lives now. It had proven to work, for now, so why change?

Outside the door, she was now Wisp.

She felt the light as it entered her sphere of influence, how it bounced naturally on everything. She started controlling it, curving it around her body, removing herself from view while redirecting some light to her eyes to give herself a bent view that showed everything around her. Using her own knowledge, she painted the ground below her feet so that there was no trace that she stood there to anyone watching, even though her feet actually blocked light from bouncing below her. She did that instinctively now. Invisible, she wandered off.

_______________

On the streets, Wisp naturally swayed back and forth, avoiding walking into people who couldn’t see her. It had become a natural talent of hers now, acting the ghost, following the path of least resistance. Nobody could see her, even as she maneuvered through a crowd of people towards her target. Her subconscious handled curving light around her, avoiding using any area of her range beyond the bare minimum, the light barely moving even an inch from her skin.

Soon enough, she reached her destination. This was a hardware store, and she looked forward at the boxes containing the newest console Viola wanted. And just like that, Wisp was going to steal it for her. It had simply been part of her schedule. She waited until no customers in the brightly lit and buzzing store were in the immediate area, and then she reached out her power to the box in front of her. To any watching eyes, it’d look like the box simply vanished into thin air. Then, Wisp silently carried the box out of the store.

There. That had been so easy. Her whole suit was geared to making no sound, staying invisible. She held the box with the handheld console under her arm as she continued her game of avoiding pedestrians that couldn’t see her. Some day, Wisp figured, she’d be caught. It was inevitable. But… it wasn’t today. So, now she just headed home with this box. They lived in a villain-controlled area, because there was less chance of being tracked there from stores, but that had its own slew of consequences.

‘HELP!’ Called a hapless tourist that was being ganged up on by three muggers for having wandered into the wrong part of town, before being punched and pulled further into an alley…

Shit.

That was not something she wanted to feel guilty about today.

Stay cool, Sheila. It’s not worth it. This happens all the time. You just happened to see it, this time. Ignore it, walk away, don’t act. Don’t risk your own and your sister’s happiness.

Wisp suddenly stopped, blinking at her own thought-process.

What happiness?

_______________

In a mostly empty alleyway, except for a few garbage-containers and such, the tourist was thrown onto the ground while one of the three thugs inspected his bag.

‘What the… It’s almost empty!’ Thug #3 reported while emptying the bag, notably shorter than the other two.

‘He left the important things somewhere safe before leaving. Smart, all things considered.’ Thug #2 called with a smile and a shrug, longer and thinner than his companions.

‘Smart? That just means we’ll need to break where the things are out of his head. He didn’t travel with nothing.’ Thug #1 said, thicker and more muscular than his underlings. He appeared to be the leader, turning to the panicked, small tourist.

‘N-no, please. Stop.’ The tourist asked, but nothing seemed to come in the way.

‘Only when you start talking.’ #1 said, walking forward towards the tourist, before he stopped had to stop in surprise, something having appeared in his way.

A white little flame had suddenly shown up out of nowhere in-between the tourist and the thugs. It hovered in midair, the size of a fist, and the light of it wandering upwards into nothing like a flame would.

‘It’s Wisp!’ Thug #3 reported, backing away in fright. So, some people actually knew her. Flattering.

‘Oooh, parahuman interference. We might want to step away.’ Thug #2 recommended, also backing away a little.

‘Shut up, cowards.’ Thug #1 told them, before looking forward at the flame with defiance.

Oh. It’s one of those kinds.

‘Wisp, right? I’ve heard about you. You play with light. There have been some word running around about those who have been blasted by you. It’s just light. Blinding, but manageable.’ #1 grinned, looking forward at the flame.

Right. Of course. Because you can handle me.

‘So, all I need to do is close my eyes, and…’ He closed his eyes and leapt forward, the tourist behind the flame yelping from the sudden motion. The thug swept with his arms, trying to catch the parahuman.

I feel I am being underestimated.

‘... Huh?’ Obviously, he hadn’t gripped anything. His hands had uselessly waved through the dancing flame, without feeling anything. Not to say it hadn’t been close. Invisible Wisp had been forced to take a step back to avoid the wave, her one meter range not giving a lot of room to dodge, but she still maintained the flame she was identified by.

Sure, closing his eyes did close away a lot of light. Blasting light or even her laser-pointers wouldn’t be as effective. But, Wisp couldn’t help but smile. Within her range, the rules changed.

She took a soundless step forward, bringing the eyes of Thug #1 into her range, and promptly wrote tiny letters with white light on the inside of his eyelids.

CLOSING YOUR EYES
IS NOT GOING TO HELP

Thug #1 cried out, his eyes opening wide as he stumbled backwards. But, he was already in range. Here, she could control all he saw. Using her control of light, Wisp created the vision of a large, ghastly transparent spectre which launched itself at him and consumed him, sealing the deal by activating the red laser-pointer in her pocket and directed the beam into his eyes, creating the illusion that the pain was from the ghast.

She had subconsciously been saving “ammo” from the beginning of this encounter, light gathered swirling inside her range until she needed it, unseen because none of it leaked outside her sphere. She blasted it all forward at the three thugs in an excruciatingly blinding flash, punctuated by the yell of pain from Thug #1 as he vaulted backwards onto his back while the other two groaned at the sudden bright flash.

Without being able to see, the two remaining thugs grabbed their downed comrade and pulled him away, running for their lives. Only Thug #1 had seen the vision, the other two had seen nothing until the last bright flash. She could only pull stunts like that on people within her exceedingly short one-meter range. Not that he had ever known that she had been that close to him.

Wisp let herself relax, taking care not to exhale loudly. Too tense. She shouldn’t make a habit of this, too likely to fail or cause them to try to hunt her down. It had been the red laser-pointer she used on the thug’s eyes, and she knew how to focus it to cause the effect she wanted. Painful, causes temporary blindness, but no permanent damage. She had a green one for if she wanted to REALLY hurt someone, but this situation had not called for it. Too likely to cause a grudge.

‘Th-thank you.’ The tourist said, looking at the little floating white flame that was still the only thing he had seen of Wisp. She looked back at him, staring at him with eyes he couldn’t see, then let him see her flame flicker out into nothingness. It was really just theatrical, but it looked more natural and friendly than just seeing it suddenly not being there.

Wisp walked away from the scene, mild satisfaction in her veins, stolen console box still under her arm. Her “Wisp” was the only thing people ever saw of her cape identity. She wondered, how long would she be able to maintain this? For now, she had done a minor good deed. Hopefully, that would not cause some villain to actually attempt tracking her down and lead to her downfall.

There were a lot of things Wisp had to worry about, as she slowly wandered back home. Let’s see. They had enough food for three more days. Then, Wisp would have to take her thievery to a supermarket. She took care not to strike the same stores too often, so this time she might walk a bit further than usual…

[Kafka Komedy]

Martyr: Outside Drainage Pipe

Dean sneered at Margrave as he patronizingly reassured Dean he'd get a chance to be useful one day. Dean was incredibly tempted to put Margrave in his place, reminding him of how many goons they each had taken down. But, he restrained himself. There were more important things to do, for the other members of the team anyways. For now, all Dean could do was sit down on the pavement and remain vigilant to any new threats that may have appeared.

Of course, that didn't seem like it was going to happen. After a small amount of time, Sonar confirmed everything was A-Okay with a resounding shout. Dean neglected to get up, a bit winded from the adrenaline wearing off. Still didn't stop Sonar from congratulating him with a hair tussle. Though Dean huffed at being treated like such a child, it reminded him of his father, just a bit. He'd let it slide for now.

But then someone ruined the moment. A quick turn of the head revealed that it was one of the hostages Margrave and Tulpa had freed. Dean was about to ask him what the hell he was talking about (in a roundabout way most likely) but couldn't do so before a deafening thunder came down from the heavens, blinding Dean for just a second. When he could see again, the hostage was replaced with a tribal-looking man. His outfit was adorned with many skulls and Dean seriously doubted he was just showing pride for his ancestors. Dean attempted to get to his feet as quickly as possible, but he was too late. The man grabbed ahold of Sonar, and slammed down, completely shattering his helmet and most likely most of his head. Dean uselessly screamed and swiped at the man as he disappeared into a flash of light, not to be seen.

Dean searched like a watchdog around the area, lusty for the blood of the man who had harmed his leader. But no such man was in sight. At the sound of a crash in the storm drain he ran over but even a cursory glance inside told Dean the perpetrator was gone. Dean was shattered. He had been useless in getting rid of the bombs, useless in restraining Eyeblight, and he couldn't even protect Sonar when he was so close to the enemy. Dean returned to where the surface group had gathered and observed Sonar. He seemed to be still breathing but the damage to his head could be life changing. Dean simply waited, staring with regret at the person he had failed to protect.

[solokolos]

Zach Kozel:
Denver Alley

Zach walked confidently past the crowd that had gathered outside the alley, appreciating their timidness as they parted for him. Truthfully he couldn't particularly blame them, as he was probably quite the sight. Dried blood was streaked across his face, though none of it was his. An ungodly amount of blood staining his attire. The moment he had crossed the street and entered the next alley he broke into a sprint, turning this way and that to lose himself in these back alleys. At some point Zach dropped the crowbar His sense of direction was keen, but not keen enough; after a few more too many turns he was lost. He jogged across an empty street, glancing at the street sign for some semblance of location, but the name East Cedar Avenue didn't ring any bells. A frown cemented itself on his face as he slipped into the next alley, and he was forced to wonder how he was going to get home.

The sound of footsteps behind him made Zach flinch, lowering his head before glancing back. A large African American man stood there, hands in pockets. The young boy blinked in surprise, stopping completely. "Wow there," The man's voice was bassy, the kind you could feel in the soles of your shoes. "I don't want any trouble. I know who you are, heard about you. Most in these parts have."

Zach sized the man up automatically, but he wasn't intelligent enough to do so accurately. He could gleam the obvious stuff, that if it wasn't for his power the man would kill him before he could think about retaliating. There was a fear that should come with that, but it just didn't. Not anymore, and that lack of fear was the part that scared him. The man continued despite the weird looks Zach gave him.

"Now I think we can both agree that we don't want the police in these parts, especially the murder police." Zach nodded without thinking. They were trouble, even if they had good intentions. "The kids you killed, or helped kill, they don't see it. Hell you barely see it. The cops don't care if you or I smoke a doob every once in a while, or shoot that poison up. God knows you and I don't." Again Zach nodded, "But some sick shit comes with it. The mob, the hitmen, the junkies who were systemically disenfranchised and will do anything and everything for a hit. Most of those kids you killed deserved to die, no doubt. Can you honestly say it, though, can you honestly say that every one of them deserved it." Zach's frown deepened and he had to shake his head. "That's the problem then. That's why you're going to end up in handcuffs. Vigilantes kill the bad people, but you have to decide before you know them."

Footsteps sounded down the alley behind him, and Zach didn't have time to look behind him before the containment foam surrounded him. For about a second it floated behind him, stopped by the inhuman protection, but that didn't last. His power decided, without Zach's intervention, that the foam wasn't going to harm him, forcing a shit load of containment foam onto his body. Zach didn't even scrape his knees, didn't fall or anything.

'You're under arre-"

"Shit fuck" Zach interrupted the PRT officer behind him, the swearing not meant to be loud enough to hear.

The PRT officer didn't continue, but radioed for backup instead. Zach sighed audibly, wondering why he had even let the man delay him so much. He couldn't even tell how many people were behind him, but he guessed there to be three. His pulse had quickened from fear, and he wanted to cry. Why was this the thing that was getting to him, and not all the vigilante work he had done. The fear of the police he had been instilled with since he was a child seemed to be taking its toll.

[j8cob]

Sonika - Denver Skyline

It wasn't surprising but Sonika still found herself disappointed when Furnace was able to stop himself from being suffocated. The hero seemed determined to make this encounter as annoying as possible. But this did give Sonika another clue about his power. Most importantly it didn't seem to be something that Furnace could activate immediately, or at least something that took a moment to get up to speed. It was still fast enough to stop her from suffocating him, clearly. "Don't worry, you won't be hitting me," she spoke up, shifting into a fighting stance and changing the positioning of her feet. Though her opponent had two batons, both potentially having more utility than just blunt force trauma, Sonika seemed prepared to fight without the use of her powers.

But of course she still fully intended to use her powers to the best of her abilities within the new restrictions that Furnace creates. It would serve her better if he didn't expect it though. Worst case scenario she would have to disarm Furnace and beat him with his own batons but Sonika was hoping it would go more smoothly than that. Furnace had to be reactive to prevent Sonika from using her powers, meaning she could bypass his defenses. A blast of air and he would be falling to his death off the roof. Or perhaps a very precise burst could just put a hole through him entirely like a bullet. But the key to these attacks would be the element of surprise. If he expected it he could react quicker and save himself. And surely Sonika wouldn't be able to try the same trick on him twice without wasting her own time. So for now she slowly approached Furnace with her fists raised close to her face. One step at a time she would continue until she was just outside of her opponent's reach. With those batons she had to let him take the first swing lest she risk getting a concussion from a well-timed counterattack. She needed Furnace to lunge forward towards her.

That was when she would strike.

Cassidy Hendricks - Yet another street

The young girl did what the thief told her, for the most part. She didn't quite understand why he wanted her to hide in the crowd. If anything it would seem that being seen by so many people would be a good thing because surely nobody would attack them in broad daylight with so many witnesses. But Macavity's tone suggested more that they may be identified and followed rather than being confronted, which was probably far worse for Macavity as the sanctity of his safe house could be ruined. Either way it was bad for Cassidy, whether she was attacked now or followed to be attacked later. Clearly the thief knew how to get out of this situation so she didn't question his judgement.

Until they got to the apartment building. "Your safe house is just an apartment?" Cassidy spoke up, her voice barely above a whisper so as to not draw too much attention. "How is that safe at all? Wouldn't there be a paper trail or something?" Before she could ask too many questions she realized that she was beginning to sound a little too interested in the details. What position was she in to be questioning how a criminal conducted himself? And why would she want to know about how he's been getting away with his crimes? Most importantly: why would he tell her how he's been getting away with everything? Macavity didn't even answer yet and Cassidy began feeling foolish for asking about his safe house. "Like... I don't know. I just figure that cops or supervillains or whatever wouldn't have a hard time finding a regular old apartment..."

[BCTheEntity]

Alessa Heather: Streets of Denver (Storm Drain)

Alessa really didn't understand what had just happened, what with having been blinded by her own light. At first, after a brief moment of legitimate fear, when Eyeblight complied with his promise to set off the detonator, only for nothing to happen, she was ecstatic. They'd done it, they'd actually caught one of the leaders of the Community!

The next moment, the crack of thunder sounded from outside, shockingly close. Two in sequence, actually; the second corresponded with a flash of light, followed by- was that skin she saw through the pinhole?- for but a fraction of a second, and then another blast of sound and light hit her from not-quite point blank, but near enough that the noise practically deafened her and the light blocked out what little vision she had left herself.

And like that, Eyeblight had seemingly vanished. A moment of hesitation hit her before she took the risk and allowed the light blocking her sight to fade (but not that hiding her face, of course, just in case a villain was still present), only allowing the heat beams to fade after she had confirmed that, somehow, Eyeblight had vanished completely. There was only one question really going through her head at that moment: what the hell just happened? Though in fairness, if who she suspected was involved was in fact involved, her question was half-answered already. And for the other half...

'Sonar, what just happened?' she asked out loud. No response. That wasn't good; there was, she felt, no particular reason he couldn't respond almost immediately with his power, unless something had happened to him. So, plan B: activate the Protectorate Communication Earpiece and start talking to the team upstairs. 'Margrave, Martyr, Epsilon, status report,' she quickly uttered, the earpiece picking up her voice and sending it to those three specifically. 'What just happened up there?' She prayed it wasn't anything too bad.

[The Wild West]

Arsenal - Another Denver Street

Before Arsenal could leave with the group, one of them had handed him a letter just before they had started to walk over towards their hideout. He was told to open it, the boy did what was told of him and started to read the contents of the envelope which had some pretty interesting things. The first object that seemed to interest him the most was the picture of his late father, so that would mean that these people or at least their employer knew of his true identity which would most likely be a bother in the long run. The other was the picture of the group's employer, he looked... Bossy? Arsenal didn't know what to say but the person did look like that person was in charge of the operations. And lastly, he was most interested in the following perks of joining along side this job. Besides the point of gaining meat shields to protect him, it seemed that this group itself would provide him in an assortment of technology and weapons. Interesting, if what the letter was true than he would no longer have to worry about the resources for his new destructive inventions, maybe this wasn't such a scam after all! The general disruption of the Protectorate and the PRT was also a bonus in his book, if he could use this to put a hurt on those bastards than this will just be the perfect gig... besides the boss of the organization knowing of his identity basically locking him in group or be killed by his teammates if he ever decides to leave the group.

Macavity - Apartment Building

"Wow, you just don't trust me at all do you? You don't trust my ability to have not been lynched at this point for so long?" Macavity said, entering the front of the building ushering along the little girl, "I have to say it hurts quite a bit, but I shall show you the hidden secret hidden safe house just to show you." Inside of the front of the apartment building, it looked like a pretty standard lobby as within the view were some stairs, an elevator, and an empty service counter in the corner. "Fun fact, I've actually never seen that service counter manned in this building," It was obviously planned by him, but it did help quite a bit whenever going through his regular stroll of the premise. Turning on his power once again, enveloping both Cassidy and Macavity, he walked over to the stairs and fiddled with the third banister. The thief quickly walked over to the elevator after messing with the banister, and pressed both the up and down buttons on the panel. However, neither gleamed with their familiar yellow light. Lastly, Macavity walked over to the service desk and slammed his fist against the wood and... sadly there was no satisfying click"You see kid, it's safe with all of this cool spy stuff I have to do to open the first hidden door," Vaulting behind the counter, he signaled the kid to follow before disappearing behind the counter as there was now a small hole with a ladder and the sight of another room.

If Cassidy decided to follow the strange man, she would find herself inside of a medium sized concrete room lit by a single lightbulb with twelve red metal doors with three on each side of the room with the entrance soon closing on the two. "You know, when I made this hideout I was feeling like I needed to make this sort of trap room for a whole spy themed hideout. I know the first puzzle room was a bit long, but I felt like it was missing this kind of mystery. You know what I'm saying?" It was quite strange for a thief to have this many puzzle rooms for a single hideout, but what Macavity did between the twelve doors was strange as he did nothing with the puzzle doors. All Macavity did was walk up to one of the corners of the room and whispered something, the corner soon opened and finally led into the safe house. "Red herrings, it actually works after that whole puzzle stage in the lobby."

So, assuming Cassidy followed, both would soon find themselves inside a rather impressive room. The general layout was a bit tight, but it was quite spacious considering that they were currently under a large city with other buildings right underneath. The room almost looked like something you would find at a five-star hotel. As the two walked into the room, various out of place objects were also scattered along the tables and stands, expensive paintings were donned on the wall, and literal gold bars was stacked in a pile around the bed. "So! This place is my safe house, the TV can be turned on and channels 1-10 are hidden cameras along the lobby and red herring room. Don't touch any of the acquired items, I have a shit ton of MREs in the cabinets, and if you would like to leave just hold zero on the phone next to the bed stand and a ladder will extend from the ceiling that leads to a back-alley way behind the building. Any questions?"

[Lugubrious]

For a moment, everything was perfect. Who had saved the day? None other than the Margrave himself. As much as he might crave it, he knew that his name would never be cast in golden and bathed in shining lights, but the idea of a few people's gratitude toward the unknown hero who saved them...would be enough. Plus, maybe one of the other Wards would throw him a bone. Saving the day wasn't something your average goof could achieve, after all. At least Sonar could stoop low enough to slap him on the back in thanks.

Alas, as they always did whenever the possibility of a happy ending arose, along came a shower of misfortune to snatch the tragic-hero back into reality. Margrave wheeled to watch the owner of an ominous voice as it resounded through the assembly of Wards and hostages. He stood stock-still, frozen in a dramatically smug pose, while the man stood to his full height and man, if his head wasn't in a bag, it would be in the clouds. Whether or not Elliot's thought about weather was sheer coincidence, a thunderclap then cannoned into him, its pressure wave rattling his bones whilst its sound wave rattled his ears. When Elliot's senses returned to him a moment later, he discovered to his tremendous surprise -that is to say of course, tremendously well masked beneath a veneer of collected disinterest- an aztec death god standing in the heighty dude's place.

Without even a word of encouragement from Elliot, the figure whom to people other than Elliot would have been intimidating seized Sonar by the scalp and mercilessly walloped the pavement with his face. The boy's helmet fractured instantly, and Elliot soberly suspected that it wasn't the only thing. On second thought, this fellow was no joking matter. Grinding his teeth, the toymaker reached into his jacket and requisitioned the toy gun he'd whipped out earlier. In his hand it grew into a full-size MAC-10 uzi, but as the barrel veered the death god's way, another thunderclap shook the area. By the time the storm in Elliot's head cleared, the dirtbag had predictably vanished. Helpless, Elliot lowered his weapon, and took his finger off the trigger. His earpiece crackled to life, and he heard Alessa demanding a report. This time, Elliot chose to waste no time with a heavy sigh. ”Sonar is down. Death god did him in. I'm calling 9-1-1.” Since he didn't have a phone, however, he scanned the area for the nearest bystander and bellowed, ”Somebody call 9-1-1! Kid's hurt over here!” He also attempted to get through to Decoy. Perhaps the Protectorate could do more for Sonar than the city's paramedics.

[yoshua171]

Evelyn Chambers - Tulpa

---

However, before she could speak up, her tulpa informed her that someone was speaking on the other end. The words that it relayed to her were ominous. Her eyes widened and, her gut telling her to do so, she commanded the tulpa to attack. It did, but in doing so it was deafened, and burned, at which point it stopped short--unable to reach the tall imperious...villain, before he vanished. Her mind whirred, notifying her that he was likely going to retrieve Eyeblight. "Messiah, Increa--" she yelled in desperation, only to be caught off by a deafening clap of thunder, that sent her reeling, dropping her to her knees where she clasped her hands over her ringing ears. The pain was incredible, what with the acoustics of the drain pipe and the volume of the blast. It took almost a full minute for her to properly recover at which point she could finally think again. She opened her eyes, which she hadn't even realized she'd screwed shut, to see a scene that instantly made her heart drop into her stomach.

There was a brief moment of silence as she tried to recover from the second shock, before anger welled up in her and she called out one, solemn, enraged word. "Fuck!"

Up above on the streets, her projection reacted, slamming its fist into the pavement, though no where near where it could hurt anyone. The action did more damage to the tulpa than to the pavement, some of the bones in that hand breaking. It had not been built with combat in mind, nor durability for that matter and so it was a fragile thing.

Evelyn, realizing that her projection had acted, dismissed it, the creature rather abruptly phasing out of reality, becoming but a silver glow in the air. She spread it out, unaware that Messiah had asked the others what was going on. As she did so she stood and began walking towards the ladder that would lead her back up to the street. "C'mon Messiah, something's wrong," she said as the projection moved over the lot of her teammates and met with Sonar...whose form was on the ground. As this occurred she broke into a run and worry crossed her face, creating a rather ugly expression along with the intense anger she was feeling.

Reaching the ladder she climbed as fast as she could, uncaring of the small space or her own well being. She managed to get a few bruises and scrapes from the nearby walls. Once she was up on the street she ran over to her teammates, eyes locked on Sonar...and the blood, and the smashed helmet. This time, her exclamation was quieter, "...fuck." While her face was covered by an unreadable mask, her eyes revealed worry, anger, and disappointment in herself.

She looked at the others, "Has anyone called 9-1-1 yet?" There was desperation and a barely controlled ferocity in her tone, as if she was waiting for any reason to lash out at something. Even to her new teammates, it would be very apparent that she was upset. She just couldn't believe this. Everything had been going so well.

They'd saved the hostages, that was a blessing, but they had lost Eyeblight, been outsmarted by Xolotl, and their leader...poor Sonar, had been.... She cut off the thought and looked away. She wanted to help, but didn't know what to do, she needed at least two minutes before she could manifest her projection, and she wasn't even sure what she could do with it. Maybe make something to transport Sonar?

Maybe chase down Xolotl? No, that wasn't realistic. She really needed to calm down, but damn was it hard.

'Haha, turns out heroing isn't all fun, what a surprise,' a darker, sarcastic part of her mind quipped.

This moment was going to stick with her for awhile. Woe be it to any villain that got in her way while the thought still floated in her mind, because if Evelyn was anything, it was just...and she had no intention to let ANYONE, especially a filthy good for nothing villain, get away with something like this.

For Sonar's sake, she vowed to herself, she would make sure that Xolotl paid for this.

[BCTheEntity]

Alessa Heather: Streets of Denver

Death god? Xolotl for sure, then. And with that kind of opposition, it was no wonder why Sonar was now "down", whatever that entailed. Unconscious at best, dead at worst. Either way, Margrave was apparently calling 911; frankly, they'd take too long, and Sonar was far too valuable to lose over something silly like that. Walking after Tulpa as she headed back up top - citing that something was wrong, as though she herself weren't strongly aware of that - she tapped the PCE once again, this time calling the PRT HQ. A woman greeted her on the other end; not entirely cognizant of who it was, she responded formally: 'Messiah here. We need emergency services over here ASAP; Sonar is injured, possibly severely.'

Continuing to not really hear what the woman said, and in fact mulling over the injustice of victory essentially being snatched from their grasp in seconds, she climbed up the ladder to the street after Tulpa, a bit more steadily to avoid scraping herself against the sides. It took only a short time to reach topsoil - top concrete, as it were - and just a couple of moments after that to see the damage done to their leader. Which, as it happened, was a lot. Son of a...

'Messiah? I asked what injury Sonar has sustained?' the woman repeated, snapping Messiah out of her funk. After half a second of self-composure (and movement towards Sonar to further gauge the damage done to him), she replied 'Serious head trauma. He's unconscious and heavily bleeding, I'm not sure about skull fractures. If it matters, I think his helmet took a lot of the impact... how should I try to help him?' she asked. What else could she do in this situation?

'First of all, don't move the victim,' the woman responded calmly. 'He's probably sustained a spinal injury alongside the head injury, and moving him could cause further damage. I'd suggest applying direct pressure to the head injury, but if the helmet is still mostly intact and on his head, that's likely applying more than enough already. Secondly, check that he's still breathing, and make sure his airways are clear.' She knelt down on one knee and held her hand over his mouth, and was luckily able to confirm he was breathing through it, though far too lightly to be healthy. After a moment of grossed-out hesitation, she also pushed her fingers into his mouth, widening it just enough to ensure his tongue wouldn't block off his airways, then wiping her hand on her costume as the woman on the other end continued to talk: 'Third, check his alertness and responsiveness to voice and pain: does he respond to questions, and does he move if pinched?'

'Sonar? Are you awake?' Messiah asked, moving so that she now knelt on both knees. No response. She pinched the skin of his arm, possibly harder than needed. Again, no response. 'N-nothing.'

'Alright, you've done well so far. Medical services are on their way. Stay next to him, tell me of any changes in his condition, and again, make sure he isn't moved until they arrive.'

'Will do,' Messiah responded, staying in place beside the unconscious hero, and continuing to check that he was breathing, ready to tell anybody who came near to not touch him. And if she had her way, they wouldn't.

---

Raymond Haywood: Streets of Denver

Well, it certainly sounded like Arsenal was interested, and he only began to appear more interested as he looked over the contents of the envelope. Reading over the man's shoulder, it struck Raymond that part of the deal for him involved providing whatever technology and equipment the man wanted... 'You're a Tinker then,' he muttered quietly into the poncho-wearing man's ear. 'Mind if I ask what field?' He was certainly interested to know, to see whether or not the man might be in any way directly helpful for the mercenary. If not, no loss on his part; but if he was, he could plan around that to acquire improvements for himself, be they to his body or his equipment. Whichever worked best, essentially.

[solokolos]

Ira Riese:
Streets of Denver

A small sigh of relief escaped Epsilon's lips unbidden, and she found herself very thankful for the ingenuity of her teammates. God the stress had been building all day, and now that the climax was reached she felt like she could fall asleep right then. Though, oddly enough, she wasn't just mentally exhausted. Another part of her wanted to do something, build something. She felt like she could build something to help bomb squads in the future! Something similar to how Tulpa's power worked! Ideas for prototypes flashed through her head, but were interrupted when the sky broke open. A flash of lightning and a simultaneous crack of thunder blinded and deafened the young Ward, and she raised her hand to cover her eyes. Unfortunately she had been looking past the hostage that the lightning struck, so her vision didn't clear before a second flash of lightning blinded her again.

Epsilon tried her best to blink away the afterimage painted on her retinas, and her blurry vision slowly resolved itself into a clear catastrophe. Sonar was laying unconscious on the ground, gravely wounded, while Margrave tried her best to get medical attention for their young leader. It was surreal, almost impossible to believe that their fearless, invincible leader could be laying on the ground.

He could be dead.

Epsilon felt her throat constrict, and her gut tighten with anxiety. Tears welled in her eyes, and the mask's normally reassuring pressure instead made the tears blind her. She covered her mouth with her hand, and turned away from the scene before her, stumbling away to recover in private. Leaning her head against a stone building, she drew shaky breaths which occasionally turned to sobs. She didn't even know Sonar that well, but the image of his bloody body lying so small and motionless was burning into her head.

[Kafka Komedy]

Lovecraft - Streets of Denver

After handing Arsenal the envelope, he looked quite a bit interested in the prospect of joining, judging by his expression. An attractive young inventor who didn't like wearing shirts was exactly what they had been hoping for. Unfortunately, Jack asked a rather invasive question to their new comrade, which Lovely wasn't a fan of. "Ah, before we fully introduce ourselves, why don't we find a nice place? We could all have a nice lunch. I know a great sandwich shop near here!" They suggested.

[ProPro]

Wards: After Mission Contemplation

@BCTheEntity@yoshua171@solokolos@Kafka Komedy@Lugubrious

Sonar was down. The concrete ground had been stained with his blood and cranial fluid. The Wards each eacted in their own way, showing their own variations of concern. 911 had been called, just as Messiah contacted the PRT directly. In a manner of minutes an EMS had arrived, escorted by a few PRT troopers. The emergency medical workers moved in, relieving Messiah of her position watching over her fallen leader. After that everything had come as a blur. People tried to flood the area to see what had happened, and for the most part had been kept at bay by the PRT and remaining Wards. A news van had arrived and began filming the scene just as Sonar had been loaded up into his ambulance. A few stray media workers attempted to take advantage of the fact that Sonar's helmet had been smashed in a futile effort to photograph his secret identity. Those individuals were promptly arrested.

Within an hour the Wards, sans their injured leader, had been gathered back in the same conference room they had been in just a few hours earlier. The scene appeared very familiar as each individual took the same seats, but some were missing. Sonar, of course, was in intensive care. Captain Morales and Noble were also noticeably absent. The holographic projection of Decoy took his chair, with Protean nearby and Inkscape as well. Decoy's face was difficult to read, not because it was a light projection, but because he was so damn good at maintaining a neutral expression. Inkscape was clearly saddened despite having such an alien appearance. Protean appeared distant, as though he was someplace else. Truth was he would rather have been anywhere else at that time.

There was no mistaking the emotional state of Director Kens. He stood, not sat, at the head of the table looking down at each of the capes under his command. Though he did not outwardly express anything the very air around him bubbled with the heat of rage and anger. Kens was a short fuse bomb, and that fuse had already been lit. Thankfully, when he spoke, he maintained a calm and pleasant demeanor. His rage would not be taken out on the Wards. Not today.

"You all know that I am not one for flowery speeches, nor pomp or circumstance. I am direct. Short and to the point has always been my policy. I am disappointed. The PRT, and by extension the Protectorate and its Wards, are a peacekeeping organization, but a symbol above all else. Today that symbol has failed Denver. Questionable judgments were made, and as a result our most experienced Ward is now three floors down in intensive care. As your team leader it was Sonar's responsibility to report the activity he had found directly to a member of the Protectorate team, or to myself. Instead he gathered you all to go off half cocked and he paid the price. We're lucky that only one of you got hurt. The doctor's report that he received medical assistance quickly enough, so he should be able to recover from his physical injuries assuming the operation goes off without a hitch. We have the quick response of Margrave and Messiah to thank for that. Good job. He shouldn't die. That being said, his actions placed you all in unnecessary danger. It was action without assessment. I'm sure Sonar thought he had gathered all the information he needed and could improvise on the fly, but the results clearly demonstrate otherwise. And that is why, effective immediately, I am decommissioning Sonar from the Wards. If he ever puts on his costume again, it will be as a parahuman unaffiliated with the Protectorate and the PRT."

The three Protectorate heroes glanced amongst themselves, exchanging worried looks, before Inkscape spoke up. "Is that really fair, Director? With all due respect, Sonar's actions saved seven hostages from the Community. We still don't know what Patriarch is collecting these people for, and he's hardly in any position to defend himself right now." Protean nodded in agreement, while Director Kens' brow furrowed.

"And in doing so endangered the lives of his team, children, who are able to help far more than seven hostages. I am looking toward the long term, Inkscape. That is why my decision is final. Collin Harrison no longer has a place in this organization. The PRT will pay for all of his medical bills, care for him until his final recovery, and commission a new helmet, but his work here is done."

This time Decoy was the first to respond. "I am afraid the argument is a moot point. Collin is done as a cape forever." Director Kens raised an eyebrow and was about to speak, but Decoy continued in a formal informative tone. "I am afraid that commissioning a new helmet for him will be improbable at best, and impossible in all likelihood. His helmet was designed by the original tinker, by Hero. Since Hero's death at the hands of the Siberian, few of his technologies have been able to be replicated by other tinkers, including Collin's helmet."

A stunned silence fell over the room, interrupted by Protean. "What do you mean, babe? What's so important about his helmet?"

Director Kens took the opportunity to cut in, firmly re-establishing his authority over the various supermen in the room. "It means that you haven't been keeping up on the files of the kids you are partly responsible for training. Collin Harrison's powers are uncontrolled. That helmet helps him to filter through the tremendous amount of static and background noise he constantly picks up in order to prevent him from completely losing his mind. Without it, he'll be in a coma as the constant sound assaults his brain from an uncountable number of sources, forcing his body into shutdown. That is the best case scenario. Worst case he'll be living in constant pain, incapable of telling what's in front of him from what's half a mile away, until he suffers a complete psychotic break."

Protean's eyes widened, his relaxed position stiffening as he realized the severity. The same realization that all the Wards should have been having. Sonar, Collin, was permanently out of the game. Not just the superheroing, but life itself. He'd either be stuck in a hospital bed unconscious for the remainder of his lifetime, or locked in a padded cell where he can suffer alone without harming anybody else.

"In any case, you'll all be updated with Collin's status once he comes out of the operating room. So I need to transition the topic of discussion to a different avenue of business. With Sonar gone, leadership of the Wards falls to the second in command. Messiah, you are officially promoted to leader of the Wards effective immediately. It is your duty to watch out for your team, call the shots in the absence of a senior Protectorate hero, determine training and patrol schedules, and to report directly to myself and Inkscape. I understand that this is a difficult position you find yourself in, and you all will need some time to decompress and reflect on changes. That being said, I expect to receive your recommendation for a new second in command by the end of tomorrow. You are all dismissed."

A great deal had happened in a very short period of time. The Wards, while heroes, were still teenagers. No doubt there was a great deal to process for each of them. They now had time to themselves and could spend it however they wished, whether it was to go home and spend time with family, enjoy the facilities at PRT headquarters, bond with teammates, approach the senior heroes, or anything else they desired. The group was not expected to report for any official duties until 8:00 am the next day.