Unknown Location
Brockton Bay
21st January, 2011A young girl lay in the arms of a much older man, her dirty, blond hair sprawling across his lap. Her eyes tightly closed, she wrestled lightly as though in an intense dream. Carefully, he ran his hand over the cracked black skin of her forehead, giving a reassuring presence. The pair stayed like this for several minutes, on the scabby, second-hand couch - one of only two pieces of furniture in the otherwise abandoned apartment. By a rickety table, another woman stood watching the bustle of the city from out the window.
Suddenly, the girl’s back arched as her eyes flew open wide. “The Kings have each sent their pawns to war. The Controller watches from his glass house as his children do battle with the Budded Sculptor. The Architect in his Ivory Tower plots and schemes with The Historian to win - while each plots again behind the other’s back to secure their own destiny. The Queen of Potential borrows out her keystone to secure a petty personal victory she dares not to use, while fighting The Plenty for a slice of heaven. Throughout it all, the Dead Arbiter searches for The Arbiter to claim back all that was taken.”
“So to does the man without a face follow his orders while the man with many faces awaits his next and the man who lifts faces prowls for another victim in the night. In the wings, the ants scurry, unaware that Ziz shall descend soon. But where? The list shortens with each passing second. Soon, they will all be ash and dust and ash and dust and everywhere and all at once and -” Her rambling abated as the man applied a little more pressure, comforting her as pain caused her body to jolt and shiver.
The room fell silent, save for a few pathetic whimpers.
It was the man who finally spoke. “Seems things are finally moving. Is this the opportune moment for us?”
A voice, heavily modified by a robotic twinge from her mask’s audio modulator, replied. “I believe it is. You can finally see your daughter again.” Unseen to anyone, her vulpine grin stretched from ear-to-ear. “And I, my darling son.”
The Consortium Corporate Headquarters: Alverton Building
Downtown Boston
21st January, 2011The parahuman pair nodded, as Taser made for the door. “We’ll be in touch,” Fodem assured Maxwell, swinging the keys around his finger as he slide into the lift.
Making their way to the provided company car - an inconspicuous, old Vauxhall - they started the engine and pulled out into the street.
“Uhh, right,” Fodem said. “Tell us where to go, I guess, since we have no idea where you are.”
Taser chuckled. “And if you find your arse in the fire, we’ll be there to pull it out again. Hopefully. I got the feeling that Maxwell doesn’t really care either way.”
@ProPro
Wonderland Safe House - Raven Street
Downtown Boston
21st January, 2011“You didn’t ask for my advice,” Askaryan noted, “but if I were you, I’d throw my hat into the ring at the Circus tonight.”
He got up, stretching his healed leg which felt awkward due to the lack of pain. A strong sign of a Wonderland cape was one who found normality to be stranger than carnage. “Think about it, right, you have an absolute horde of capes from all different factions duking it out in a single little arena. Not all at once, sure, but if you enter, you’ll get into tons of situations you’d never have thought of and probably never will again outside of those metal bars.”
“But I don’t believe that everything you could learn from there would be useless. Last year was insane. That bloodbender, Sickle-Cell? Pipeline invited him for a laugh. This little upstart making threats to the big factions no-one thought he could back up. His odds were… 57-1, I think.” Askaryan chuckled. “So they put him against four regular goons. He took them down without breaking a sweat - without even using his powers.”
“That was half the reason we brought him in. Everyone wanted to know what he could do. Not satisfied with that, we sent out Juggernaut to finish him off.” Using his arms, he gave the general impression that he was much larger than he actually was. “Juggernaut is this huge guy - scary as fuck, even before you consider he has powers. And he can do what I do, put things in motion and lock them in, but whereas my power completely negates resisting forces, his just makes it less and only works on biological matter.”
Askaryan coughed, realising he’d went off track. “Anyway, so this fucking six-foot-six, muscle-bounded, super-powered nutcase comes out the gate, and what does Sickle-Cell do? Insults him, gets the shit knocked out of him, and then
wins the fucking fight
still without using his powers. No-one could believe it. He didn’t just win, either, Juggernaut nearly died due to internal bleeding. We still don’t know for sure what the hell he did. People think we rigged the bloody match.”
“We sent out invites to every faction. Anyone can send champions. You’ll be up against some of the most colourful capes in the city. If you’ll ever get an opportunity better than this, I can’t guess what it’ll be.”
@Lasrever
Circus Maximus
Victory Road
21st January, 2011Pipeline limped through the door, while Planck tutted and got to work repairing the ridiculous amount of damage he’d suffered. His rage was barely controlled, but it was mostly inward facing. He hadn’t got his ass kicked because the metal
thing was stronger than him, but because he’s taken his eye off the ball thanks to the Protectorate and their inability to listen to basic instructions.
He hoped the wrecked VTOL would help them get the message.
Before him, people were getting to work setting up the cages, the betting boxes, and the faction seating for what promised to be the most crucial Circus ever held. Planck remained centralised in the ring for the time being, allowing her power bubble to grow until it encompassed the whole building. Once everyone was assembled, a single word to her could be used to kill every single person in attendance.
But where was the fun in that?
No. Selling the information gathered tonight to the highest bidder and sparking conflict between the other factions would prove far more entertaining.
@Duoya
CDC
Boston
21st January, 2011Asclepius was having a weird day.
Some Protectorate hero had come bounding through the door, greeted her, came with her to see the Director, and then left with her. Given what she assumed she was here to do, it was rather strange that the Protectorate had a presence here. Or was it? She had no idea. This was the first time she’d ever tried to develop a bioweapon.
And it would be used against Sickle-Cell.
She headed down to the break room at the Director’s behest. Sitting there with the other members of the CDC, she noticed something… strange about them. Something had been altered within them to change how they thought. It was unnatural. Curious as to what would happen, she pulsed out her power gently and began to repair the alteration.
She’d heard of capes who had direct control over biological mutations. She just had to activate hers, and it would begin trying to restore anyone nearby to the image of health. What actually provided her with that image was entirely alien to her, but there it was.
Within the first few minutes, the first of the staff had been changed back, so she patiently waited to see any difference in behaviour.
@ProPro@Old Amsterdam
Unknown Location
Boston
21st January, 2011The Egyptian sat and watched the battle from the CCTV cameras nearby. The Covenant were performing admirably in making a statement and stopping the fighting, but were now the cause of far more. Sickle had engaged the Wards. He’d fully expected him to do so - while he was fighting them, no-one else would dare engage them. They’d be relatively safe, ironically.
One of the heroes, though, was almost adorably naive. She held a strong sense of justice alongside her misplaced faith. With her utility powerset, she’d make a fine ally - and she probably wouldn’t be opposed to working for him, if he explained the situation. He made a mental note to recruit her.
While watching her, a single sentence kept playing over and over again in his head.
So, how is your father?But why? he thought.
Who is her father?Curiosity getting the better of him, he rose from the lavish couch and crossed the room, opening a laptop and sitting. Fingers gracefully striking the keyboard, he input his PRT credentials and gained quick access to their personnel files. There, under K, he found the dossier on Knight. 19 years old, a few month’s service at the Boston Protectorate… He skimmed the unimportant details, looking for the classified information on her unmasked identity. There it was. Rosaline Buck-
Rosaline
Bucker.
He blinked.
The daughter of Retribution? Harold Buckner? It seemed like too much of a coincidence. And now, why she’d been sent into the firing line today made perfect sense. The man laughed. “You sneaky
bastard, Praetor.” It was impressive. However, if the girl really was the daughter of Retribution, then that changed things. He bumped up her recruitment to the top of his list.
Although, she was facing down Sickle-Cell. While he didn’t expect Sickle to kill her, he couldn’t afford to take any chances. He picked up the phone.
“It’s me.”
Gladius Border Territory
Dorchester
21st January, 2011The man Sickle had threatened was no fool. The element of surprise was blown. He had tried to attack one of the city’s most dangerous capes and failed. To make matters worse, he had at least three allies, and two were unaccounted for. Hired by the Consortium or no, he didn’t like those odds. So he did the only smart thing.
He gave a single nod.
And left.
“Sickle. Orders from the top,” came a young, female voice over his earpiece. “Do not harm Knight. Not even lightly.”
“
What? Vector’s on the way. If she wants to, she can stop me running. Then how am I supposed to get out of her without Vector turning me into a goddamn pincushion?” He barked back, careful to not be overheard.
The girl took on an all-too-haughty attitude. “You really wanna know what he’d say? ‘I wouldn’t have hired an idiot, figure something out.’” She chuckled.
He sighed.
“Gubbins, Backdoor. Circle round. Take Vegas and run.”
“What about you?” Gubbins asked.
Sickle grinned. “I’ll figure something out.”
A orangey portal opened on the wall beside Vegas, and a hobo and a jester came barreling through. With a small girl holding a knife above, and a large Dragon stumbling ahead, and dead ends on all sides, only one way out seemed viable.
Gubbins gave a dramatic bow. “And now, ladies and gentlemen, for my next trick! My glamourous assistant and I shall make us all, disappear. Taking a metal soup can - labelled as ‘Gubbin’s E-Cigarette’ - he lobbed the canister at his feet. With a pop and hiss, the entire alley was suddenly covered in a thick, cloying smoke.
Which then began to choke and suffocate all inside it.
“Ah shit,” he said, trying to gasp for air. Backdoor clicked his fingers and opened a portal downwards, through the ground and into the sewer network below. Gubbins hopped down first.
Vegas turned to the two girls. “You two! Come with me if you want to live.” She half-coughed, half-laughed. “And forgive the accidental cheesy-movie lines.” With that, she too disappeared into the ground.
Backdoor flipped in, too, leaving the portal open for the pair to follow.
@knifeman@Kiddo@DracoLunaris
’The situation has changed. The answer is no.’ He didn’t have time for a snarky reaction. She blasted forward, coated in blue. It looked like her attack was designed to grab, but with his contorted attempt at a last-minute escape, it ended up as something a little different. The hero bodychecked Sickle backwards - the two a tangled mass of limbs held together by gravitational force - until he managed to get enough control of his power to slide free from her.
The velocity continued to propel him, though, and he couldn’t stop it. The wall of a building was fast approaching, so he changed tack. Instead of trying to stop the impact, he focused on softening it, gathering the blood coating his entire body to a singular point on his back. Sheer force drove him straight through the concrete wall, hurting like hell, but thankfully not breaking his back.
As soon as he was through the wall, the blood spindled off, becoming more like liquid limbs. Grabbing the edges of the wall he’d just knocked through, he gave it an elasticity, rebounding in a soft cradle of blood. Tumbling out of the debris, he breathed in and out, before turning the blood back to liquid.
His heart pounded. Vector would be here any second. If he was still here when she did, he was dead. Either right away, or within a few minutes. She could beat him in a war of attrition. Adrenaline flooded his system.
This was what he lived for these days.
The only thing he was capable of feeling that wasn’t fear.
He was scared of death - no sane man isn’t - but he could accept it. It was the Covenant he was worried about, and they should be clear. Normally that would let him fight with impunity, but he bloody couldn’t because he couldn’t hurt her. Plus, the Wards were still here. It was a catch-22.
His opponent twirled, opening a chink in her armour. Why? It made no sense to do so, unless she was incapable of doing something while encased that she couldn’t do normally. Presented with the opening, he did the one thing she would never expect.
He simply stood.
“I’m not going to fight you,” he said. “It’s clear you’ve come to a decision. It may be the wrong one, but clashing with you won’t prove that. I’ll show you the error of your way some other day, some other way.”
“What I am doing, however, is leaving.” Reforming his blood armour tight against his skin, he stared at her. Taking a moment, he micromanaged a huge number of individual puddles of blood and fashioned them into weapons, pointing them not at Knight.
But at the remaining injured gang members on the ground.
“You think they deserve justice? I’m giving you the chance to choose.” Holding his hand with his fingers posed to click, he stared her down. “I walk without any further intervention from the heroes, and they’ll survive to be taken into custody and be subjected to your ‘Justice’. Disagree to my terms, I give them
mine.”
[@PlantinumSkink]
@Banana
