As the Worm Turns - Once Upon a Time in Texas...

[Lost Demiurge]

CHAPTER 1: ONCE UPON A TIME IN TEXAS...
Sancti.

It's seen better days, has this dry and dusty burg in the northern part of Texas. It was a trainstop with not much to it before they struck oil, but the fields are running dry one by one, and the businesses are moving on.

But where there's life there's hope, and almost 1.1 million people throughout the greater metro area wake up on that dry summer morning, and go about the business of their lives...

OOC Explanation - Scenes

This is a free-form game. As such, players can start scenes or participate in existing ones. Scenes end when the person who started them is done with them, or when the referee shuts them down. Anyone can leave a scene at any time. Also bear in mind, not every conversation or action piece has to be a scene...

When posting for a character, include the scene you're in at the top, and the character's name. For example...



SCENE - WARDS ORIENTATION

Agent Bowman

The white-painted meeting room is filled with chairs. There are no windows, but there's a few paintings of relaxing sand art along the walls. It's used to meet with friendlies and civvies.

"Welcome, welcome!" he said, the smile on his face genuine. Why shouldn't it be? He loved working with kids. "I'm Agent Steve Bowman. Call me Steve. I'll be your tour guide today."

And it was another half-a-day where he didn't have to go out into the field and get shot at. Another day where he didn't have to wonder if half his squad would be hospitalized, turned into pillars of salt, or worse. Another day where he didn't have to think about the overwhelming odds lined up against the good guys.

This? Dealing with incoming teens who still had a bit of optimism left in their souls, dealing with eager new faces and capes taking their first steps into the public light, looking for guidance... Well. This he could deal with.

"So, in a few minutes I'm going to show you around headquarters, answer whatever questions you might have about the PRT, your new place in it, and how we do business here in Sancti. Before we get started, do you have any questions?"


SCENE - DRY WELLS DRY GULCH

Marshall
All in all, he gave this ambush about a 6 out of 10. Crouched behind the rapidly depleting cover of some poor bastard's pickup truck, he wondered how the hell the AMM had gotten snipers up on the Red River oil gantry in the middle of the day without anyone noticing.

It had been a simple bust on a small arms deal. Grab a dealer and the customers, haul'em back. But it turned out the AMM's customers were more of the "fight" part of the fight or flight spectrum, and dangerous enough to warrant the AMM bringing four times the number of men he'd expected. The PRT squad he'd brought along was up the canyon a ways, trying to deal with the escaping mystery clients, and unable to make progress without his assistance.

The whine of a ricochet, and air passing his face as his power redirected a potentially nasty shot. He didn't dare turn it off. And shifting it from defensive to offensive right now... Bad idea.

Fortunately, the squad up the canyon had called in for help, now it was just a question of who would show up...

SCENE - DEAD HEADS

"Hey. They here."

Suri grinned as she saw the battered car pull to a stop, and the dealers step out, looking around with practiced wariness.

"Hola ese," she said, as the nearest one caught sight of her, a slight figure in head-to-toe black despite the morning's heat, a white skull pin on her leather jacket showing her affiliation. "You got the cash?"

One by one they lined up, turning over the week's take. She counted, snapped her fingers back of her. Ridley and Don Muerte approached, hauling the old-style suitcases from the battered sedan they'd parked in front of the alley. Each one full to the brim with product, waiting to be converted to cash.

Grim would be happy with this week's take, Suri thought...

[Maugan Ra]

Scene - Dry Wells, Dry Gulch

Iai

Outside of the immediate combat area, but still easily within visual range, another cape watches the ongoing combat. He is easily recognizable, and there is little chance that any of the combatants have failed to notice his presence - such is the downside to wearing a pure white costume against a dusty red background. But then, Iai has never been much one for hiding, and as long as he takes no obvious side in the ongoing confrontation he doubts any of the participants will seek to drag him into it.

"Bit of an interesting situation here." He says mildly, leaning back against a convenient rock while he communicates with the rest of his team over their encrypted network. "Looks like a show-down between the Militia and the Protectorate, out by the Red River Gantry."

A pause. "The Militia's winning."

[Tuv]

Scene - Dry Wells

Alfred Kaczynski

The sounds of gunshots can be heard, echoing across the abandoned structures and caked dirt. Gunshots weren't uncommon, but there was usually only a couple. A few short bangs and then nothing, a marker of a drive-by or drug-related murder. The shots this time, however, were unrelenting. Either some thugs were celebrating a haul or, more likely, someone was shooting at a cape.

If someone was using that much firepower, it meant a cape was involved, meant more capes would show up. Maybe the fight would escalate and move, maybe it would peter out, either way it was bad for Alfred to stick around. The only problem was his class. Some of the kids were looking a little skittish at the sound of gunfire, even so far away, and Alfred couldn't blame them. He just found the capes scarier than the guns.

Tch, I can't be here if something happens, can't let the kids be here or I'll have to protect them. It's safer for them in their homes. Safer for all of us.

"Class is canceled for the day. Go home, quickly. Remember to follow the rules for strangers" Alfred says, almost pleadingly. Some of the students seemed disappointed, others eager to run to safety, but they all understood the dangers. It was sad that such young children needed to suffer such fears. If only they knew...

[Mabn]

Scene - Dry Wells

Fast came in Marshall's radio. "How do you want to play this? If they are set in there cordoning the area and waiting for them to bolt is safer for you and others." He contacted a more general band. "How are you on tracking this? Forcing him to maintain visual contact is increasingly risky."

[sun_tzu]

SCENE - DRY WELLS DRY GULCH

Silver Crusader

The next cape to come on the radio was Silver Crusader, with the sound of a motorcycle in the background. "Reaching your coordinates in half a minute, sir. Do you want me to try and take them from behind?"

[Grim ranger]

SCENE - DEAD HEADS

Ruin

His countenance hidden by the bloodied scarf that had served as his iconic mask for quite a while now, Ruin surveyed the deal that the more pathetic dregs of Graveyard Gang were busily faciliating, his hand clutching the handle of his intimidating blade as he followed the exchange with pair of binoculars. They had allowed him to survey the situation from reasonable distance away as he laid out his battleplan and changed from his civilian attire to the midnight-black countenance of Sancti's number one vigilante.

It still amazed him how his unintentional raise to spotlights had started: a twist of fate had allowed him to live where most would have likely frozen to place like deer in the headlights and died, and ever since he had gotten well and truly tangled up in Cape circles of the city, something that he'd gone on to avoid like plague at first but only managing to unintentionally foil even more supervillain power-grabs and as a result only gotten pushed deeper into the world of parahumans. Eventually he had realized that is was no use trying to pretend he had normal life any longer.

The realization had been a sobering one to say the least.

Finishing his moment of reminiscing, the vigilante finished outlining his plan and began to sneak closer to the gathering of thugs, using the cars of the thugs to his advantage and waiting for opportune moment to interrupt. One unlucky goon wandered too far away from the rest and close to the hiding place of the vigilante, and got silently taken down by pair of taser darts hitting the nape of his neck. Dragging the man aside and grabbing his gun just to be on the safe side, the vigilante decided he might as well act on the spot as the dealers seemed to be too focused to the deal they were in midst of to pay much attention to their surroundings... Or, at the very least, as much attention as they likely should have.

Rising up, the vigilante stepped out from behind the vehicle and swung his serrated blade against the ground, flicking the weapon open and producing chilling rasp of metal against pavement that had quickly become somewhat of a calling card of his surprise appearances. "Poor time to make a deal, amigos" he rasped out in deep growl that he always adopted in his cape persona, steeling himself as multiple sets of eyes turned his way.

He would not take backwards step. He would not show slightest hesitation. To these people, he was worse wraith than anything their own capes could conjure up, and he tended to rack easy victories over mere thugs with that reputation alone. Even if he did not have powers, the sheer, unthinking panic caused by his reputation could be more potent than laser beams or other fancy tricks.

And he had gotten quite good at capitalizing on the effect.

[TheFallenOne]

SCENE - BRAD KENT'S APARTMENT

Flux(civilian outfit)

"So, how did we get here?" Brad Kent asks as he takes a seat, the beer in his hand opened but still untouched. Immaculate as he keeps his uniform, the marks of the double shift he just returned from are noticable to the trained eye. The uniform perhaps is a good indicator of his personality as a whole: not distinguished in any way, but still he assigns importance to it, keeps it in proper and ordered shape. Just like his apartment is tidy and organized, in stark contrast to the cheap and neglected Dry Wells area it is located in. Just like Brad himself has a little too rough edges to his face and is too rare to smile to be particularly attractive. Certainly not unattractive, especially to those going for the gruff, serious cop type, but he lacks the kind of natural charisma that opens doors.

The man sitting in a relaxed pose opposite him with one arm draped over the back of the sofa is quite the opposite. Easy smile, attractive features, top button of his light blue shirt open. "Well, couple years ago I noticed you checking me out in a bar, called you out on it, you turned the most adorable shade of red and I thought it a good idea to introduce you to a friend of mine..."

"Little less longterm than that", Brad says, making a face.

"You sounded upset over the phone, so I grabbed some cold ones and came over", Corben says with a sly grin.

"Little less shortterm than that." Brad laughs, finally taking a mouthful of beer.

"So..." Corben's voice gets more serious and he leans forward, elbows resting on his legs. "Passed over again, huh?"

"Yeah." This time the still-officer drinks more deeply. "It's frustrating. I do like the work, I like being at the ground level where I can help people. But I can do more than what I do now. It might sound arrogant..."

"You have a right to be", Corben interrupts him. "You've done the hours, the overtime hours, always provided exemplary work. You should have made sergeant years ago and in a few more be a serious contender when a Lieutenant position opens up. Everyone who's worked with you knows it, knows why you're stuck at the bottom."

"Some told me I should have just kept private things private. I get where they're coming from, but it's just, I shouldn't have to keep such an important part of my life hidden all the time, know what I mean?"

More than you might imagine. But Corben knows well enough this isn't the time and place to tell his best friend he is a Cape. A Rogue, no less. Well, at least not a Villain, although the Director of the PRT would love to see that changed. Revealing himself to Brad would put him in a conflicted position. He is an officer of the law, he respects authority, but he would never violate the trust of their friendship. Brad deserves better than to be forced into choosing between two of his core principles.
"I can try to imagine", he finally answers, his true thoughts on the matter kept to himself. "Sometimes, being true to yourself comes with a price. Or call it the price of love if you want to give it a more dramatic ring. You and James went out for, what, three years?"

"Two years eleven months", Brad says darkly. "Already had gotten his anniversary present before things started getting ugly."

Silence lingers for a moment. "Sorry." Much as Corben wants to, there isn't really anything better you can say to that.

"No, it's alright. It went up in flames at the end, but we had a good time. I guess he just wasn't satisfied with my kind of work. The hours, the extra hours, the constant danger, my career going nowhere. He came to hate my job and with time when nothing changed and I still liked what I do he came to instead resent me. But until then we were happy and I am grateful you gave us a chance to meet."

"Doesn't compare to what you did for me after the accident." Corben had finished his beer and opens another one. Brad winces slightly as his TV remote gets abused as an impromptu opener, but stays silent. "You kept me together when I needed it the most. I probably would have offed myself if I hadn't had you to catch me. I owe you."

"Come on now CC, we're more than even-"

"I owe you", Corben repeats, his tone of voice making it clear that this point isn't up for discussion.

Brad nods, conceding. Corben knows fully well that his friend is the kind of person to answer loyalty with undying loyalty. Insisting on this debt would only make him more eager to live up to the expectations of their bond. For a moment Corben feels a pang of guilt for this manipulation, but in the end he can't help the result; this is just the way Brad is, and he himself just feels indebted to him. He can't deny the truth of that, even when he is able to see the result of it.

"Ever thought she triggered?"

The sudden question catches Corben offguard. "Sorry?"

"Sarah. On the accident. I'm certainly no Cape geek, but... A small girl getting lost in the middle of nowhere, suddenly getting hit by a car, the pain, the blood, a stranger putting you in his vehicle... Isn't that the kind of experience that turns humans into parahumans?"

The thought had never occured to Corben. He was so focused on her survival and then blindsided by his own powers that he never considered she might have triggered at the same time. The silence had stretched a while now and Brad looks at him expectantly. "I heard it's easier for children. That kind of accident sure is something that could cause a trigger." Somebody triggered alright from that accident, but not who you think. "But it would have been really difficult for her to keep it secret while under the watch of doctors for months, and I don't think one of the local Wards fits her age and size."

They kept talking for two more hours and one more sixpack when Brad's radio calls in, something about a Code 1-57 in the Dry Wells area, bullets fired. "You need to get that?"

"No. Quite the contrary." Corben's green eyes shoot him a questioning look and he raises an eyebrow. Brad sighs, knowing he wouldn't get around providing a more full explanation now. "A 1-57 means fight with parahuman involvement, friendly Capes present. Mundane police is instructed not to join the engagement, if anything only secure a perimeter and keep civilians from getting into the middle. Cape fights are Cape fights. It falls solely in the jurisdiction of Protectorate and PRT. They call the shots, police only does what they want us to."

"Hrm." Corben takes a long drink to give himself time to think. It is close. Costume is in his car. If guns are involved it would be easy to find the place of the confrontation through the noise and his Thinker perception bubble. This night might become more fun than anticipated...

[3SecondCultist]

SCENE - WARDS TRAINING FACILITY
Quake

"Just... one... more... rep!"

Peter's muscles burned. He could feel the strain in his shoulders and upper body, that familiar ache that came from pushing oneself to one's very limits. His legs felt the same.

The pain felt good. It reminded him that he was still alive.

As he finished the last lift and put the bar back on the rack, Peter took a deep breath. His forehead was covered in sweat, and he could feel it running down his chest and through his shirt. Great. Big sweat stains weren't exactly attractive. He shrugged it off. It wasn't like anyone expected him to train in a tux, after all.

Taking a swig from his water bottle, Peter walked over to where Milla stood on the mat. Leaning up against a nearby wall, he watched as she stretched. It wasn't that he was being a lech or anything - well, that was a factor. But even as his eyes followed her, his mind drifted.

He found himself back in a cafe, seated across from another overly-cheery dilletante. Her hair was blonde, her eyes striking, and of course the words emerging from her mouth were complete nonsense. She had been like the rest, all outer charm and no substance. It had been the third failed date that week. Peter had walked her home in the rain, and given her a kiss on the cheek for her troubles. Before she reached the door, the girl had turned, so that her profile stood in contrast to the light through the open door. She had raised her hand, but what started as a wave faltered as she suddenly felt self-conscious, and dropped it too early. Her smile became shy, self-effacing. It had been surprisingly charming.

When he tried, Peter realized that he had long since forgotten the girl's name. It was strange, what you kept and what you left behind. Although they had only just struck up a relationship, in Peter's mind it was always Milla in that doorway, making that immortal gesture.

"Hey. How are you doing? Want to maybe spar for a little bit?"


SCENE - DEAD HANDS
Lich

Brandon stood beside the car, lighting a cigarette with a practiced ease. He could feel the smoke run down his throat, leaving the smallest of burn imprints on his lungs. How did smokers do this every day? It was disgusting.

The drive out to Dead Hands thankfully hadn't taken very long, just over twenty minutes from the cache that his crew had kept. Best to leave a little bit of breathing room between drops, but too far made it hard to deal.

Beneath his baggy hoodie, he flexed his muscles slightly. He could feel every nerve, every movement from muscle all the way down to the bone. He opted against taking for the moment - he left that to those with something to say. He didn't want to spoil the meet by opening his mouth.

She didn't want to blow her cover either.

Inside, Lich smiled. This had been her third victim this week. Brandon was a low-level enforcer for a local group of black market dealers, in business with the Graveyard Gang. A Brute, he had a minor healing ability that triggered in states of heightened stress. The others didn't even know that he had triggered, and it was unlikely that he did either. Probably just thought that he was really lucky. He fit in well with this crowd. Through her newest conquest's eyes, Lich surveyed the woman who was clearly running things. From what she had heard in the past couple of hours, she knew that this was Suri: one of Grim's lieutenants. Was she a parahuman as well? She wasn't about to risk her current position on the hope that Grim only surrounded himself with others like him. Besides, this was a surveillance op, nothing more.

And then Ruin showed up.

Cursing inwardly, Lich had Brandon reach for the pistol at his belt. Automatic weapons weren't something that you wanted to pull out at gathering like this. That was just asking for it. Nevertheless, someone like Ruin demanded a response. How the hell had the vigilante even found them out here? She watched the others in her party, as if to see what would happen before taking action herself.

[Maugan Ra]

Dry Wells Dry Gulch
Iai

"Understood." The swordsman replied, his metallic blue visor shielding his eyes from the harsh Texan sun as he studied the ongoing confrontation. No sense in passing up further information - it might influence how they handle contracts in the future.

"We've got... Marshall, currently pinned down, taking sniper fire. Hmm. Looks to confirm that his power is autonomous - there's no way he's seeing those sniper rounds coming before redirecting them. Heightened reactions... no, he's not even looking the right way. Good to know."

He glances around, sweeping the area with a professional's assessing gaze. "No other Protectorate capes, though there was a PRT squad present that chased off after someone. Might be worth checking to see who the Milita were dealing with before they got interrupted. This looks to have been pretty big."

He squints up at the oil rig. "Count... twenty from the Militia, possibly more. Well armed, no visible capes. Whatever this is, it was valuable to them."

[Ecksdee]

SCENE - WARDS TRAINING FACILITY
Gunshow

After putting off some much needed training time due to more mundane obligations, Milla finally dragged herself over and into the Wards' personal gym area. With blonde locks tied back and body clad in a comfortable tank top, sweatpants, and slightly beaten-up sneakers, she certainly looked the part of someone ready to work up a sweat. Dropping her bag down and toeing out of her shoes, she proceeded to walk onto the mat proper, which she surprisingly had to herself it seemed. The whereabouts of her teammates were mostly unknown to her at the current moment -- though she had briefly touched base with Diego during school hours. They'd made plans to hang out and finish up a project for History class later in the week. Hopefully there wasn't much left to do, and after they could go out for a bite to eat at their favorite pizza place in the city.

Getting to the center of the mat she sat down and immediately fell into her usual stretching routine. If there was one thing Cheerleading taught her it was to always, always, always get an ample amount of stretches in before undertaking any sort of rigorous activity. Milla closed her eyes, achieving an odd state of calm as she wordlessly and thoroughly went through the motions. As expected of someone involved in such extracurriculars she was quite limber. For awhile in her younger days she entertained the idea of becoming a gymnast. Heck, she still sometimes wondered what would be the odds of success if she were to dive into it now. But alas, things had changed drastically within the past four months. Being a full-time member of the Wards didn't seem to gel well with the dedication that came with an art such as Gymnastics. At least she could still dream about winning that gold medal, right?

Just as she split her legs and leaned forward, Milla felt a pair of eyes watching her. Oh. So she wasn't as alone as she initially thought. Opening her eyes she turned her head to meet the familiar gaze of Peter. Immediately her face broke out into a smile. Perhaps one that was a bit too big. She couldn't help it, really. It was like he always had that effect on her.

"Hey! Didn't know you were around here. Oh, I'm fine. Just making sure I stick to the training plan." Then, she considered his offer to spar, tilting her head a bit. "...Sure. I could use the practice." Her hand-to-hand combat skills had come a long way, though she was nowhere near what could be deemed the optimum level for their line of work. In a flash she popped back up to her feet, bouncing on her toes energetically. Most would be intimidated by Peter's sheer size. Though she was on the tall side herself, he still loomed over her. "Ready when you are!"

[Kiranvonstrom]

Scene - Scrublands Outside of Sancti

Mad Dog

The sun is blinding, beating down on everything out in the empty wastes outside of Sancti. Even the few animals out now seem distinctly uncomfortable with the sun. But they are few and far between, carrying on private dramas of predator and prey inside the shade of bushes that seem to be more branch than leaf. Humans, for their part, keep out of this area, not because it is inherently hostile beyond the sun, but simply because there is nothing of value here. No excellent locations for drug deals, no good trails, and not even a single functioning oil drill. The scrublands even spared the rampant oil rush of Sancti in the 90's without more than two pumps, both of which are now rusted and overgrown.

A single human figure trudges through the bushes, kicking the odd stone aside when it gets in his way. The brilliance of the sun doesn't seem to bother him. He remembers the sensation of light hitting his eyes, intellectually understands what it is to be blinded, even, on some level, sees it through every other animal in the bush. But it has been long enough for him without sight, and long enough with his power that he has begun to forget what it looks like.

Heedless of the heat, the figure wears a long leather jacket, oddly bulky in places, bulges suggesting guns at the waist, or pipes around the wrist. His face is completely covered by a mirrored mask, completely void of any features or holes. None of his flesh is visible beneath the cape's costume, nothing suggesting an age, a race, or even a gender. The person beneath the mask could well be anyone.

But the mask could only belong to one person, and would be instantly recognizable for any law enforcement official from Sancti to San Diego. They called him a terrorist, a murderer, a revolutionary, a mad dog.

He would disagree.

The figure suddenly stopped, dropped to his knees, and began to brush away the accumulated dust and dirt beneath a shrub. A few seconds later, he emerged again, this time carrying a blue duffel bag. With his spare hand, he batted at it a few times, loosing most of the brown-red dirt from it before opening it, and inspecting the contents. He then carefully lays it down on an open patch of ground, opened to display its contents.

If anyone other than small lizards, insects and a sleeping rattlesnake were nearby, they might have heard the figure chuckle slightly on his way out. Not really a mad laugh, just a very short, balanced 'heh'. On any scale of mad laughter, it would rate somewhere as so completely sane, so measure, so assured, that it would have looped around entirely into madness.

"Still in here. Only a little dirty," the man mutters, a slight Texas twang behind his words, but otherwise giving away nothing of his feelings.

He shrugs off the leather jacket, carefully folds it, and places it on the ground beside the open duffel bag. Next, he removes the mask, setting it with equal care on top of the folded jacket. It is then joined by half a dozen handguns, a brace of grenades, a pipe bomb or two and a fair number of amount of plastic explosive.

The man then removes the contents of the bag, puts them on, and slowly refills the bag with his costume and weaponry, before zipping it up again, and slinging it over his shoulder. He turns on his heels, and sets off towards Sancti proper.

Mad Dog was coming home.

OOC:


Probably for the better if the scene ends there. I'd rather Mad Dog's plans didn't fall through after his first post.

SCENE - Sancti Airport, Sanborn Memorial Terminal

Kepler

Sanborn Memorial Terminal is almost exactly like many other airports in the nation. There are more windows than walls, some architect attempted to add a bit of local flavor, and the food is priced as though the airport were under siege and tuna sandwiches were perilously close to extinction. Of course, this being the Sanborn Memorial Terminal, the local flavor was a statue was of James Sanborn, better known as Archer, and a series of highly inaccurate and obnoxious murals of the surrounding area.

It was the statue, primarily, that held Claire's attention. Everyone else around him seemed to ignore it, moving straight from the departure gates to baggage claim, hustling through the walls lined with fast food resturaunts and souvenir shops at almost, but not quite a run. He stood in front of it, both hands clasped over the handle of his carry-on bag.

Claire Auten was almost offended by the way in which an old friend was treated, striking a heroic pose in bronze next to a geographically confused saguaro tiled onto the wall. But at least he got an airport terminal named after him. There are worse things to have named after you.

It was, Claire decided, good to be back in Sancti. He'd called the city home longer than he had anywhere else in his adult life, and it was the only place he knew of that he might still partially own a house. Probably best not bank on that, though. Last time he left substantial possessions behind in a city, they ended up repossessed by the state. Admittedly, a black market helicopter might have been asking for it in retrospect, but the thought still miffed him.

He presented quite a sight, looking up at the statue. He was a big man, 6' 3", and built like a very small mountain made of muscle. His salt-and-pepper hair was kept cropped short, but well-cared for, and the white three-piece suit he wears doesn't seem to be wrinkled at all by the plane trip from New York. The overall effect was that of a male model from the 1950's if he had been given free access to 24-hour gyms and a highly dedicated trainer.

He sighed, and produced a disposable cell phone, selected a name from the contacts, and called.

"Hello? Could I speak to Director Walburn?" He says, trying to keep his voice low, but not such that it might be conspicuous, as he heads for a conference room. The longer he talks, the more he completely fails at the task. "No, I don't care that she has a meeting. Listen, who's your- Aaagh. Just...Just get me the director of personnel."

Claire reached the conference room, threw open the door, and locked it behind him. By the mercy of whatever god might have been watching, the room was empty. If it hadn't, well, Claire would have to have shouted a bit more.

"Authority code? Look, I'm a damned cape! Kepler! Look me- Son of a gun, did you hang up on me?" Claire seethed, then sighed again. "Looks like I'm going to have to call a cab, aren't I?"

[3SecondCultist]

SCENE - WARDS TRAINING FACILITY
Quake

Peter smiled easily at Milla, following her over to the edge of the raised dais. It had been built as a boxing ring initially, and although it had seen better days, it served the PRT's purposes easily enough.

As he lifted up the rope to let Milla through, Peter couldn't help but bring her in for a kiss. Impulse control was not his strongest suit - and he had wanted to do that fr a little while. His body language makes it clear that this is meant as a quick gesture of affection, not a serious distraction. There would be time enough for that later. For now, this would do.

"Sorry. We should probably start. Here, stand like this. You want your feet shoulder-width when facing your opponent. There you go. Keep your arms up, and always be watching me. Are you ready?"

He waited while she finished wrapping up her fists and checking her guards. He didn't need that kind of equipment.

[tbergman92]

Scene – The Pipelines, an abandoned house. Temporary base of the Right People

Intereo

As always, Intereo wore his costume--standard issue light combat armor to help ablate the force of any impacts without impeding his movements, and an entirely face-concealing mask--as he walked into the room with Impasse.

"The rest of us will be at your location for backup shortly." He heard, and grinned underneath his mask, eyes dancing with the thoughts of what books he could buy with the payoff that usually accompanied those words. Not that anyone watching could see either the smile or the eyes, as both were concealed from view by his costume.

"So, we going to help out Iai? Which side, this time?" he spoke in in a languid, relaxed voice that was conspicuously missing any southern drawl.

[Dorian Gray]

Scene: Over the City

Blackout

Blackout blurs as he runs across the rooftops, leaping across six foot gaps like a runner over hurdles (literally). He swings around a skylight, leaping up onto a higher balcony, and diveeeeeeeeeeeeing down into an ally.

Into the shadow.

With a barbaric yawp! Blackout is flung with the force of his fall, and sails in a wide arc over the next building. With supernatural precision he again sinks feet-first into the shadow of a tall tree and is once again flung out of a dark splotch on the roof of an apartment. "Wooooooo!"

This time, Blackout stays in midair for a full fifteen seconds, and as he plummets towards the ground, the hundreds of strips of black and blue cloth that make up his costume trail behind him in a long stream. The tornado of cloth corkscrews into a dumpster, disappearing with nary a trace.

Ten minutes later, the light all around the school flickers and dims for a few seconds before returning to normal (obviously just a storm somewhere down the power lines or something). Five minutes after that, Isaac walks into the building, passing a line of kindergartners or first-graders or something.

Poking his head into a classroom, Isaac calls out, "Hey Mister K, what's happening?"

[Ecksdee]

SCENE - WARDS TRAINING FACILITY
Gunshow

Over to the makeshift ring they went, Milla trailing slightly behind Peter. When they got over to the ropes she was so preoccupied thinking about the areas she needed to improve on that she didn't see the kiss coming. Oh. She went still, smiling against his lips. Right. Milla was still growing used to Peter's mannerisms -- especially now that they were in a still blooming relationship. Her hand drifted down to rest on the small of his back, steadying herself as her heart jumped in her chest.

When it ended, Milla's cheeks had taken on a reddish tint. Yeah, it may not have been meant as a distraction, but the butterflies in her stomach said otherwise. Nodding curtly she climbed into the ring and began to follow his instructions. "Like this?" She took a moment to make sure it matched his instruction, also building on everything from previous sessions. Hey, maybe there was hope for her yet. Adjusting the wraps on her hands and doing a final check, she smirked, bringing her arms up.

"As ready as I'll ever be. Let's do this."

[Maugan Ra]

Dry Wells, Dry Gulch

Iai

"Acknowledged." Iai responds curtly. He reaches up to his shoulders and unhooks the pair of blades strapped over his back - long, curved knives, not what he usually wields but an interesting experiment all the same.

So, the Marshall is pretty thoroughly pinned down, and if the Militia are smart they're already evacuating the bulk of their forces while a few keep him in place. Best, then, to intercept the reinforcements.

With a blur of motion that stirs the dust in his wake, Iai is in motion, tracing a viciously fast path towards his first target - Silver Crusader.

[Tuv]

Scene - Dry Wells

Alfred Kaczynski

The children milled around briefly, grabbing what little personal effects they had, dividing up into little groups based off how close together they lived. It was just as well that Alfred ended that class early, he was having one of his bad days where his mind wouldn't stop wandering. The class had even been disrupted by his... disability.

It happened during a group project. None of the children in his classroom were well-to-do, neither was he, and so they got touchy when possessions were threatened. It was a silly situation, trivial even, but to those kids it was a matter of livelihood. The class was working in their groups, and Alfred's mind had wandered, his mouth muttering a story like a modern Ali Baba. A story of avarice, secrets, and betrayal, a story with no heroes, only thieves of varying compunction. One student surreptitiously rooted through one of the wealthier student's bags; everyone else was conveniently looking away. They played their roles in the miniature telling, nudges to their emotions setting into motion actions they probably all thought of doing, but never had the drive to go through with. It wasn't obvious, if someone had been looking in it might have only seemed like a convenient confluence of events, but the child got caught, not living up to his role as the lucky thief. The yelling was what broke Alfred out of his trance.

The situation was easily resolved, apologies were made, and none of them held strongly onto that outrage, not without the story helping it along, feeding it. Alfred wasn't even sure if his power had gotten stronger, or if it just affected the young ones easier because of their malleability... maybe his power got more control the longer someone was exposed, like the Simurgh. He felt and involuntary shiver at the thought.

The children finally finished their song and dance, the classroom briefly and blissfully empty for a moment. Alfred brushes off his tattered beige suit, a hand-me-down he got on the cheap, and rubs a hand across his wiry black stubble. He didn't so much look like a teacher as some kind of predator, but he apparently had good enough credentials, or the school was really just that poor. He worked the job almost pro bono publico since the last set of budget cuts, but it was fine, he probably lived worse than even the poorest of his students, because he felt he deserved it.

Alfred was just getting ready to leave when the silence was shattered.

"Hey Mister K, what's happening?"

The voice was almost chipper, older than any students Alfred had. The person walked in, young, but not too young, probably in high-school, nearly an adult. Alfred had a sudden feeling of nostalgia that he couldn't place, like he should know who this was, but Alfred had dealt with enough students that they all started to blur together. Then his power kicked in again, telling a story of the past.

This world, this fantasy, wasn't grey, it was sepia. The story of a teacher haunted by the problems of their students. The teacher only wants the best for the students, gets involved in their lives, tries to solve their problems. If this was a happy story, that teacher would have succeded... It connected in his brain, he remembered that teacher, the civilian detective work, the case of parental abuse that had been brought to the school's attention and then shot down as baseless. That teacher didn't work here anymore, nothing concrete had come of the stalking, and that teacher was given a permanant leave. Alfred had gotten some of his students at one point.

"Uhh, what was your name... Isaac? Is that right? I'll tell you what I just told my class. It sounds like things might get bad around here soon, so it's probably best to clear out for the day. Was there... something in particular you needed? We can walk and talk if that's fine with you."

[sun_tzu]

SCENE - DRY WELLS DRY GULCH

Silver Crusader

The silver-armored hero, having gone around to take the Militia from their own side of their cover, frowned as he noticed Iai. Another villain? An unwelcome complication. A welcome opportunity for justice, though.

Thinker powers could be an odd thing from an observer's perspective - to the naked eye, nothing was changing. From Silver Crusader's perspective, however, it was as if the world was slowing down to a crawl. His motorbike, despite its speed, now seemed to be going no faster than a walking man. The bullets, while still fast, were slow enough to be observed as they flew through the air. And as his visor began displaying vectors and battlefield analysis, he had enough time to plan each move down to the tenth of a second.

In an instant, he rotated the motorbike by 90 degrees to the left, letting the vehicle careen sideways, carried by its own inertia. At the same time, he got up on the bike and jumped to the left as fast as he could.

The bike, careening sideways, swept the legs of two thugs from under them, sending them flying. Not sure if that broke their legs, but there should be no permanent damage.

His jump to the left brought him to a third thug, still carried forward by the inertia of his ride. A quick, well-placed kick sent the thug flying, while carrying Crusader even further to the left.

That allowed his airborne trajectory to take him right between a fourth and a fifth thug. Extending an arm to each side, he proceeded to clothesline the both of them, taking the pair down while also slowing his flight speed. Hm. Even with the body armor, my arms and shoulders felt that.

He was close to being horizontal, but not quite. His boots touched the ground first, digging in as he made his mark over 20 feet of ground before finally coming to a halt, in a position looking reminiscent of a push-up, looking forward toward the Militia and Iai. That was when he punched the ground with both shock gloves, generating a cover of dust to hide him as he quickly got up.

[kestrel404]

OOC: Oops, this was supposed to go in the OOC thread.

[Lost Demiurge]

Dry Wells Dry Gulch

Marshall tapped his earpiece, responding to Fast and Silver Crusader. "Don't reckon a cordon's a good idea. Make'em feel trapped, they'll shoot their way out. We don't want this spillin' over."

"I'll be fine here drawin' fire, intercepting the goods and the buyer is more important. They'll be movin' away from me, I reckon. See what you can do there!"

"And make sure Bravo squad doesn't get jumped, if you can."

Bravo's leader, Jen Kensinger, patches in. "You're all heart, big guy. That said, if we get reinforcements we can push, put a little pressure on them from the flank..."

And then Marshall freezes, as a white figure peers over the cliff wall. Iai.

"What the hell is he doin' here and now...?"

Then Iai blurs into motion, and Marshall swears, loud and long. "Incomin'! I'm falling back to get a firing position on swordboy!"

A final tap. "Dust, I know yer on stakeout, but we're gonna need you on this."

"Interrupt my boredom? Yes please! There in a jiffy, chief..."

Meanwhile, Silver Sentinel and Iai face off against each other... The militia members, not known for their restraint and muddled by the dust, fire through it at both combatants...

Groups of Militia Men (4)

Body 2 (+2), Mind 3, Personality 2 (+2)
Backgrounds + Skills: Weekend Warriors, Pretty Good Shots


And at the end of the canyon, those not involved in the main conflict can see three people in dark suits, hauling heavy briefcases up the trail out of the old quarry...

????

Body 3, Mind 4, Personality 3
Backgrounds + Skills: Unflappable, Eyes on the Prize, Military Training


Wards Orientation

Agent Bowman smiles, and turns to face Holdfast. "Yeah. I think that's a good rehearsal. Be nice if we had some actual new wards to try it on, but that's fine. Ever since that last batch a few months back, I've been hoping for more."

He motions to the door. "Grab some coffee before we get back to the grind?"



Dead Heads

The dealers freeze as Ruin's blade rasps against the pavement... Then they bolt! The dealers try to get past him... No easy trick in the tight alley.

The dark-skinned woman leaps and grabs for the fire escape, starts heading up it, parkouring her way up to the roof. "Cover me!" At her response, the other gangers back up, and pull guns. They're shaken, but they're going to start opening fire in the space of seconds...

Graveyard Gangers (3)

Body 3, Mind 1, Personality 2
Backgrounds + Skills: Streetwise, Thuggish Violence


Suri

Body 3, Mind 2, personality 2
Backgrounds + Skills: Amateur Parkour, Level-headed, Streetwise

[Maugan Ra]

Dry Wells Dry Gulch

Iai

As the militia members raise their guns in his direction, Iai turns to face them. His eyes are hidden by the reflective visor, but even so, the weekend warriors can feel the cold contempt in his gaze. The gleaming swords in his hands don't hurt - everyone with any experience of Capes knows what Iai can do to unprotected (or even armoured) flesh with them if given sufficient cause.

"The General has retained my services." He tells them, voice flat and unconcerned despite the small arsenal of weapons being pointed at him. "I recommend that you use the opportunity to get clear, before reinforcements arrive and you all end up arrested."

Or dead, is the silent end to that statement, an understated yet readily apparent threat should any of the soldiers follow through on their instinctive reaction of firing at him.

OK, I'm hoping to negate that attack - assuming it's one group shooting at me - through what is basically a variant of intimidation. Applying Iai's personality of 2, and leveraging a useful background of 'Infamous' (no unpowered thug is going to want to fight Iai if they don't have to) and a situational advantage of 'I'm on your side' to stop them before they shoot.

That done, he turns back to Silver Crusader, holding his blades loosely in his hands. "My apologies, but I cannot allow you to continue your offensive." He says with surprising mildness. "I don't suppose you'd be willing to settle for a peaceful standoff while my employer's men retreat?"

[sun_tzu]

As the militia members raise their guns in his direction, Iai turns to face them. His eyes are hidden by the reflective visor, but even so, the weekend warriors can feel the cold contempt in his gaze. The gleaming swords in his hands don't hurt - everyone with any experience of Capes knows what Iai can do to unprotected (or even armoured) flesh with them if given sufficient cause.

"The General has retained my services." He tells them, voice flat and unconcerned despite the small arsenal of weapons being pointed at him. "I recommend that you use the opportunity to get clear, before reinforcements arrive and you all end up arrested."

Or dead, is the silent end to that statement, an understated yet readily apparent threat should any of the soldiers follow through on their instinctive reaction of firing at him.

OK, I'm hoping to negate that attack - assuming it's one group shooting at me - through what is basically a variant of intimidation. Applying Iai's personality of 2, and leveraging a useful background of 'Infamous' (no unpowered thug is going to want to fight Iai if they don't have to) and a situational advantage of 'I'm on your side' to stop them before they shoot.

That done, he turns back to Silver Crusader, holding his blades loosely in his hands. "My apologies, but I cannot allow you to continue your offensive." He says with surprising mildness. "I don't suppose you'd be willing to settle for a peaceful standoff while my employer's men retreat?"

Dry Wells Dry Gulch

Silver Crusader


"Your employer is the scum of the Earth, corrupting the good principles of this nation in the service of his hateful agenda," the Protectorate hero replied. Even as he spoke, he made sure to carefully move through the dust cloud he had raised, to keep anyone guessing as to his location. "I don't suppose you are willing to stand aside and let justice be done?"

Counting on the dust cloud, Mind stat, and Thinker/Tinker combo to avoid being shot. Silver Crusader is preparing for what looks like an inevitable confrontation with Iai.

[Maugan Ra]

Dry Wells, Dry Gulch
Iai

Iai's lips curl into a small smile, and he shakes his head.

"Whatever my opinion of his personality or philosophy, the General pays well. I am obligated to at least make the attempt."

That said, he raises the twinned swords and lunges forwards, moving fast enough that he becomes little more than a pale blur to most onlookers. The swordsman's fighting style is unique, relying on the simple truth that there is no such thing as a successful way of parrying his attacks to overcome the majority of his opponents.

Perhaps fortunately, he is not fighting to kill here, merely to delay. A breach in the Hero's armour will likely force retreat, or at the very least make running in pursuit of fleeing criminals rather difficult, and that is all he needs to accomplish here.

OK, pitting my Striker 5 power against Silver Crusader, and exploiting the Trained Swordsman advantage for a total of six. I'm not sure if I can also add Body to this, but if so that will boost it to 10.

Anyway, the important question here rapidly becomes - what can SC defend with? If it's the same round, and I believe it is, he's used his Mind and his powers to defend against the attacks from the Militia already. Actually, some definition on what counts as a 'round' would be good.

[Grim ranger]

Dry Wells, Dry Gulch

Indepth

Having remained silent and unresponsive as was mostly his way up until this point, Indepth gives Impasse a curt nod as the van pulls over, simply stepping out while grabbing a Heckler & Koch G3 battle rifle (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Heckler_%26_Koch_G3), his weapon of choice for potentially prolonged engagement that he aimed to fight at range. The ride to their destination had barely taken handful of minutes at best, but to him it had taken nearly two weeks: he had considered every detail he could in his head based on the data he had thus far overheard, decided on his armaments, considered any backup plans he might wish to employ if something unexpected should open. It is why he mostly keeps his mouth shut when speaking is not strictly speaking necessary: it is rather difficult to not sound somewhat disjointed when one's phrases are said days or months apart from each other, as has been the case during some engagements.

Besides, not is not time for talking at any rate. It is time to earn money and support a teammate.

Making his way towards the combat in brisk jog, he begins to open fire the second he is close enough to fire anywhere in the general vicinity of the heroes, each shot of his battle rifle having hours of thought and consideration behind them. With such an advantage, he could easily aim to kill, but that is not the job. No, his work is to drive the Marshall and Silver Crusader away from their clients with sustained gunfire, like Iai's job is to do the same with blades. Still, he will let the speedster decide.

"Indepth in position. Close support or continued ranged harassment?" he asks simply, the voice filter in his mask breaking it into electric grumble.

Indepth uses his Thinker 7 and Excellent Marksman backround to put 4 points of covering fire against both Marshall and Silver Crusader. If they can't be split as such, just 8 against Silver Crusader. I did not use Mind for it too, given he has not had time to slow down and aim, and there is only so much even his power can do to compensate for when it comes to shooting from the hip.

Dead Heads

Ruin

Seeing the leader of the goons attempting to flee, Ruin curses silently to himself as he notices the rest beginning to pull firearms: although he does have bullerproof vest under his clothing, they can still well manage to catch him with stray shot, and being shot ANYWHERE would put him out of commission for a good while. Thus, some more intimidation is in order.

Letting out a rasping, bloodcurdling laugh that he has had to train for a good while to get right, the vigilante raises his serrated blade with truly evil glint in his eyes. "Look, fellas... Here is the deal. I don't have time for shrimps like you, but I WILL have to take offence if you try to attack me. Anyone who wants to be smart, toss your gun and turn yourself in to local police. Anyone who doesn't want to is free to stay: you will be making nice scarecrows when hung up on telephone poles by your entrails. So pick your poison... I ain't got all day."

Scraping the blade again against the nearby wall and walking sloooowly towards the gunmen, he cranes his neck to the side, apparently warming up for the slaughter to come even if he is feeling cold fear fill his guts under his calm exterior.

Using Ruin's Personality 5 and Unbelievably lucky, Hilariously overblown reputation and Silver-tongued liar backrounds to frighten the gunmen into giving themselves up to the cops

[sun_tzu]

Iai's lips curl into a small smile, and he shakes his head.

"Whatever my opinion of his personality or philosophy, the General pays well. I am obligated to at least make the attempt."

That said, he raises the twinned swords and lunges forwards, moving fast enough that he becomes little more than a pale blur to most onlookers. The swordsman's fighting style is unique, relying on the simple truth that there is no such thing as a successful way of parrying his attacks to overcome the majority of his opponents.

Perhaps fortunately, he is not fighting to kill here, merely to delay. A breach in the Hero's armour will likely force retreat, or at the very least make running in pursuit of fleeing criminals rather difficult, and that is all he needs to accomplish here.

OK, pitting my Striker 5 power against Silver Crusader, and exploiting the Trained Swordsman advantage for a total of six. I'm not sure if I can also add Body to this, but if so that will boost it to 10.

Anyway, the important question here rapidly becomes - what can SC defend with? If it's the same round, and I believe it is, he's used his Mind and his powers to defend against the attacks from the Militia already. Actually, some definition on what counts as a 'round' would be good.

Dry Wells, Dry Gulch
Silver Crusader

"How much money is the human soul worth? A man's honor? His conscience?" asked Silver Crusader. "Our obligation is to justice, not cash of dubious provenance!"

His powers meant that bantering didn't really distract him as he planned his next move. Iai was infamous among capes - a mercenary who, to his credit, had participated in multiple Endbringer battles. Sadly, he also misused his abilities on criminal enterprises every once in a while. All things considered, arresting the Militia men was probably more important, but Iai, for now, was in the way... and, according to PHO, he was not only a speedster, but had a Striker power that might be too much for his force-field to handle. Still... talks on PHO had given him a general idea of how Iai's powers worked, and how he behaved in battle. Hopefully enough to make a difference.

Charging a speedster would be pointless. Instead, one had to turn their own speed against them. The cover of the dust cloud may well be just what he needed for that. The villain would be estimating his position based on where the sound of his voice had come from. He took a step to the side. Then, he extended his arm and made a quick movement. The movement would be reflected in the dust, creating the impression of his own presence right there, for a fraction of a second. If all went as planned, then Iai would be charging that position... and running straight into Silver Crusader's concealed fist.

Using Thinker 6 combined with the Veteran Parahumans Online poster background and the amateur martial artist background for a total of 8, pitting them against Iai.
If Indepth attacks, then Silver Crusader is defending against it with his force-field - that is, Tinker 4.

[Mabn]

Dry Wells, PRT Radio / Chamber
Faust

Faust slowly somersaulted through the air of his cell. It was going to be one of those missions, wasn't it?

"Escalation was intentional in my recommendation. Their current transaction is obviously vital to them. Killing the stationed militia on top of intecepting it will likely cause group collapse. Their contract of reinforcements helps this. It indicates they're doubling down and have likely ran out of cards. If the militia forces are targeted and slain the mercenary villains will have no reason to remain and probably will not be called on again. shooting unpowered forces is faster and safer than a cape battle."

Faust stopped himself. This was an "Image" thing. No one was going to listen and time was important.

"If fighting the mercenaries, grouping is priority one. They came second. Do not allow them to chose roles and targets. Next, make a beeline for the shipment. If you don't know where, guess. Focus suppressing fire on swordguy, his friends will protect him or lose him. Intercept shipment at range. I know you can do it non-lethally."

He jammed on all channels he could talk on.

"Seriously where the hell is everyone!? I know you don't have an A class threat going on because I'm still here. Get in a helicopter. Change on the way. And get Marshal actual backup."

[3SecondCultist]

SCENE - DEAD HANDS
Lich

'Brandon' faltered as Ruin approached. Here was someone that she had heard of before - she hadn't been in Sancti long, but Nash had given her a few basic files on the types of capes that lived around here. No prizes for guessing where he came by his information.

Cauldron's assessment of the vigilante was that he wasn't a major threat, but right now he served as a bit of a roadblock in her plan. Did she listen to him, and have Brandon drop his weapons as had suggested? Lich doubted that her infiltration of the Graveyard Gang would be able to continue from a prison cell. The alternative, however, would be to engage someone who had no stake in her schemes. She would effectively be bringing in another random element; an extra variable. It was something she didn't need. Brandon's regenerative powers were further augmented by her own, and her 'stay of residence' ensured that he would be harder to put down. It was certainly one factor to consider.

Suddenly, another thought came to her. What if this was her opportunity to make Brandon stand out to the Gang higher-ups? If she was able to effectively take out someone with Ruin's reputation, she would get noticed. Maybe this attack was an opportunity in disguise.

Besides, this moron had gotten in the way of a good night's work. He deserved a bit of hot lead for his troubles.

And so, once Ruin had drawn close enough, 'Brandon' raised his pistol, aimed for the vigilante's mask, and pulled the trigger.

[The_Snark]

Scene - Wards HQ

"If you really don't want to go, we don't have to," the girl says, stopping in the hall to glance back at her reluctant companion. A charitable person might describe her features as pretty, but exotic is the best compliment she's gotten: olive skin and tilted eyes mark her as Not From Around Here. More conspicuously, her hands are stretched and elongated like taffy, ending in nine-inch claws rather than fingertips, there are scaly patches just barely visible at her wrists and neck, and a transparent lid flicks sideways over her eyes every fifteen seconds or so rather than blinking. There's something just a little off about her movements too, hinting at changes to her bone structure and musculature. While no single feature is horrific (except perhaps the claws), the whole falls firmly into the uncanny valley.

"I think it'd be good for you, though," Diamondback continues. "You're basically invincible in a fight, but you could stand to get better at hitting back. And if you ever run into a cape who can touch you somehow, you'll wish you'd paid more attention to the training. And I can always use more practice sparring with someone tough enough to be a challenge." There's just a hint of a smile at this last. "Quake's busy these days, and nobody else on this team can take a punch.

[Grim ranger]

Scene - Wards HQ

Rebound

"But...but...argh" the teen walking just behind Diamondback mutters to himself, gesturing in thoroughly frustrated manner. He is tall but not quite lanky figure, the tight black t-shirt and spot pants he has chosen for his training wear showing quite well-toned but still not all that ripped body, more comparable to that of regular jogger or football player instead of weightlifter. The skin of the boy has light tan and his short auburn hair modeled to pointy, somewhat ruffled hairstyle.

"It is not even like that would actually do anything notable: I'd have to lift weights for, what, months in best case scenario for any kind of change" he continues, his green eyes giving Diamondback a long-suffering look as they enter the gym. "And it is not like I am able to work on the team-building much either, considering how everyone else acts in relation to my own preferred tactics..."

Despite his whining, it is clear that Rebound is not put off by his companion, her odd body language and exotic features being accepted by the boisterous teen as simply part of who she is... And thus far, she has been one of the few people around the cape circles he can truly call friends. "And he seems to be busy alright, but we'll have to see if it pays off for him" he suddenly says to Diamondback with some mirth in his tone as he spots Quake and Gunshow, a small smile spreading on his face a clear sign that he will annoy the hells out of the other boy soon enough unless stopped.

[tbergman92]

Scene - Dry Wells, Dry Gulch

Intereo

Briefly considering his options, Intereo spoke quietly as they got out of the van. "Defense, huh? Well, the best defense is the threat of a lethal offense, so..." Without finishing the thought, he walked away from the fight and the van, well aware of the outer range of his powers. After getting about thirty feet away, he turned back towards the battle and transformed into his wraith-form. Instantly, a bubble of death popped into existence around him and he felt the life force being drained from countless insects, animals, and plants in the moment before he could make the conscious effort to turn off the field. A grim specter of death was now in his place--long, flowing, tattered cloak waving in a non-existent wind, hood raised over impenetrable darkness.

Examining the field around him, he determined that the best location would be somewhere that both Crusader and Marshal could see him. Picking his spot, he floated out to it and silently waited for the heroes' reactions to his presence on the scene.

Basically, trying to threaten Marshal and Crusader with my presence. Not really intended to be an "attack" per se, but I'm still not super clear on the system, so if i'm picking one, then I'm "attacking" Marshal. So, I think that would use the Shaker 5 power (or rather the threat of it) and the bookworm skill (from my in depth reading of legends and mythology of the reaper to match the terror of humanity's collective subconscious) for one. And using my breaker power of intangibility to defend against any shots that Marshal or the PRT or whoever throws my way.

[3SecondCultist]

SCENE - WARDS TRAINING FACILITY
Quake

Peter opened the bout with a quick right jab, followed by a pair of low cross shots. He didn't warn her - he didn't need to. When Milla said that she was ready, he trusted her to be ready.

He trusted her. The words didn't come as a sudden shock. This wasn't an epiphany. He had known for a while how he felt about this girl. She understood a part of him that he had almost forgotten ever existed. With Milla, he could be himself.

Peter had only stated fragments of this truth aloud. He didn't trust himself to be able to give voice to his feelings properly. If he was being honest, he wasn't sure what she would think. She had asked him out, but that didn't necessarily mean she was as serious as he was about this, right?

Get a hold of yourself. You sound like a snivelling child. Focus on what lies ahead of you. Your career, your life. You will join the Protectorate soon. You know that this girl is just a distraction.

Shut up! As though trying to beat the voice into silence, Peter threw his last punch perhaps a bit harder than he should have. He saw Milla stumble, but she retained her balance. Reaching out with one hand, he helped her keep her balance and take a breath. He allowed the gesture to linger, his long fingers tracing little circles into her palm as a silent apology.

That's when he saw Diamondback entering the gym... followed by Rebound. Well then. It was time to play nice.

"Hey there! I'm glad to see you out here, Rebound. Fancy a bout when we're done?"

[Lost Demiurge]

Dead Heads

Ruin's laugh, and the rasping blade, unnerve two of the gunmen who bolt for the back fence of the alley and scramble over it.

One of them is made of sterner stuff, standing tall and aiming a shot at his face. Liche, riding inside his skull, can tone out his laugh without a problem... But this is Ruin, here! The man who put down Hades! He's not even bothering to dodge, either... Something has to be up!

The shot goes wide. If she'd been trying for center of mass, she might've gotten a hit. But the head's a tough target at the best of times, particularly for those with no training in firearms.

Above, Suri vaults into a window on the upper story. She's prepared the ground for just this sort of trouble, she'll be quite hard to catch now...

Dry Wells, Dry Gulch

The militia men back off and let Silver Crusader and Iai go at each other, taking the opportunity to start fleeing the scene. About half of them jump in camo-painted jeeps, and start peeling out at top speed.

When the dust clears, Iai is stumbling back, shaking his head. Well, that'll leave a nasty bruise for a few days.

Silver Crusader is crouched slightly, Indepth's fire raining off his force field, causing it to flicker and hum. Wouldn't take much more to collapse it entirely...

Marshall swears and hits the dirt, as In-depth's fire blocks off his avenue of escape, abandoning his plan of moving out for just survival. One of the snipers who was pinning him takes the opportunity to climb down, and start fleeing.

But it's Faust's comments that seem to have him the most worried. "Hold on a sec there son, no one gave a kill order here! Sure, this is rough, but it ain't a killin' offense, not yet."

And a new voice crackles over the PRT lines. "Actually, it is. On my authority, you are authorized to respond to lethal force with your own. Spare capes unless they escalate, but it's open season for the AMM so long as they're shooting at you." It's Director Walburn. "You understand, Marshall?"

"...I want it on record I'm against this."

"Done."

"All right. You heard the lady, Jen."

"On it. Squad, move out!"

And the PRT troops are entering the fray, heading up the flank while Marshall draws fire, sticking to defensive tactics for now...

But both freeze as they see Intereo float in. "Aw hell." Marshall ducks back behind the car, out of sight, while the PRT troops dig in. Wearily, he fumbles for the call button. "Director, we got us a complication on that kill order. Intereo just took the field. Don't reckon it's on our side, neither..."

PRT Troops

Body 3, Mind 3, Personality 2,
Backgrounds + Skills: PRT Squad training, Well-equipped, Brave


And in the distance, a funnel cloud starts to form, and a noise like a train roaring through can be heard.

Meanwhile, the men in suits have reached the top of the cliff, and are walking nonchalantly away, unmolested, toward two waiting black sedans...

[Maugan Ra]

Dry wells Dry Gulch

Iai

The mercenary shakes his head, wiping away a thin trickle of blood from a burst lip. He glances around, noting the retreating Militia and the advancing PRT, and frowning at the sight of the funnel cloud in the distance.

Reinforcements. Hmm. Will have to step this up... take Crusader out of the fight, and we'll have enough local superiority to get clear before anyone else arrives.

Decided, he shifts his grip on the swords, holding them pointing downwards like the claws of a mantis.

"Concentrated support please, Indepth." He says calmly, trusting in the Thinker's own abilities to properly analyze what he means and deduce the overall intent. Then he looks to Crusader, smiling slightly as he responds to the dramatic question.

"I suppose it depends on the man. Everyone has his price, Crusader. Mine just happens to be in common currency."

Then he lunges forwards again, a far more aggressive series of attacks this time, intending to put the hero on the back foot with no real way to counter-attack. Crusader might have truly fantastic perception, but there was a limit to how much that would help you when your opponent was simply so much faster.

His swords weaving a glittering pattern of steel in the air, Iai none the less aims for non-lethal damage. Of course, 'non-lethal' could stretch quite a long way when there were troops with medical supplies nearby and a bio-tinker back at the base. If Silver Crusader let a sliced tendon or two slow him down for very long, Iai would be considerably surprised.

OK, going considerably more heavy on the offensive this time. Two seperate vectors for attack. The first is all my powers - Mover 4 and Striker 5 - combined with the Trained Swordsman advantage to give a total of 10.

The second is my Body trait of 4. I will hold my Mind in reserve to defend against anything that might come at Iai in the immediate future.

And yes, requesting that In-Depth focus fire on Silver Crusader as well. It's not terribly fair, but we're villains, and besides he totally has medical support waiting to get him back on his feet sharpish.

[The_Snark]

Scene - Wards HQ
Diamondback

"Well, the explosions are a bit hard to handle," Diamondback says with a rueful half-smile. "Peter and I can take it, but even we get thrown off-balance. And I'm not talking about bodybuilding, just, uh, knowing how to throw a punch."

"Which could be different for you," she continues, struck by a bit of inspiration, "since you have a breaker power. We'll have to experiment to figure out just how - " She breaks off as she spots Quake and Gunshow together in the ring. Ah. Peter is a friend, sort of, if only by virtue of being the only one she can talk to at school. Gunshow is... friend-ly, let's leave it at that. Worse, it looks like they were having a Moment when she walked in.

She nods carefully to the pair. "Hey."

[Grim ranger]

Scene - Dry Wells, Dry Gulch

Indepth

After careful consideration in his timeless space, the Thinker decides that he may as well close the distance between Iai and himself while he works to support the man up close if needed, and thus begins to walk towards the fight between the two parahumans with the stock of his battle rifle pressed firmly against his shoulder to help with aiming. Multiple shots ring out, aimed at the shoulders and knees of Silver Crusader to cripple the man: they need to wrap things up quickly after all. Returning the used magazine to his belt, Indepth reloads and continues shooting, focused on aiming his teammate by leaving the hero nowhere to dodge and hopefully scoring hits as well.

They'll disable the heroes, let the militia slink off, and collect the money. Just another day at the office. Missions like this are nothing special.

Indepth uses his Thinker 7 power and Excellent Marksman backround against Silver Crusader with intent of crippling and taking him out of the fight.

Scene - Wards HQ

Rebound

"...I know how to freaking throw a punch. I practice martial arts" the boy grumbles, rolling his shoulders somewhat as he listens on to come up with further rebuttals. Still, it is quite unlikely that he is weaseling his way out of this, considering he actually LIKES being around Diamondback and would not exactly wish to insult her. So all there is apparently left is making Peter's life difficult.

Well, at least that is a goal he can wholeheartedly get behind.

"Already hitting on the newbie? You should be ashamed of yourself, man" he opens up casually, giving Milla and Peter both an irritatingly smug glance before resuming. "And you know full well you can't lay a finger on me, so why try? I am just here as a favor, really, since someone" he glances at Diamondback "seems to think that I need to work out for...some reason."

[TheFallenOne]

SCENE - BRAD KENT'S APARTMENT

Flux(civilian outfit)

The radio had told him all he needed to know. Perhaps not all he would have liked to know, but as someone once told him, life is no ponyfarm. It sounded rather strange to him. Perhaps the saying doesn't translate well.

"Alright, I'm gonna bounce. It's getting late and I can't take the car." After several beer he would absolutely not under any circumstances get behind the wheel of a car. It would make the following events more difficult and perhaps a little bit embarassing if someone saw him riding a bicycle while in costume, but there was no way to help it. Things just happened with an inconvenient timing.

"What, with another sixpack still left untouched? Perhaps a significant other I should know about?"

"Nah. I'm not dating. Haven't been for a bit now." With no team or obligations he could keep his forrays into Cape life irregular enough to hide them from people close to him if he wanted to. Still, it was a hassle and he didn't feel like taking the risk at this time.

"Really? What about that blond girl I saw you with last week?"

"I said I'm not dating", Corben answered with a sly grin. A flung crown cap bounced off his forehead.

"You're impossible", Brad said while shaking his head, but he too was laughing.

"It just is how it is. You were always the longterm relationship kind of guy between us." Corben finished the bottle and put it down, getting ready to leave.

SCENE - DRY WELLS DRY GULCH

Flux

The sound of gunfire registered before he had any signs of the engagement within the perceptive range of his power. Convenient perhaps, for finding the right direction and getting changed ahead of time, but he always felt... weak, incomplete, when he was this clearly reminded of the limits given to the extend of his Power.

Finding a place to stash the nondescript bike he got ready to change into his costume and cover the rest of the distance on foot. Fighting under the influence would be a new one, but he was excited about it. Perhaps that was the alcohol talking. The regrets usually came the day after. Or the same night if you take it far enough to vomit. What would be the equivalent to that in this metapher, getting a bullet to the chest? Better not find out.

The costume he put on was a skintight black body suit with arrays of overlapping burgundy-colored scales covering most of his body to provide protection, with some padding beneath to absorb blunt impact. Making the scales was easy enough with his power; all he needed to make was a mold, fill in the liquefied material of his choice and solidify again. All left to do was find the ideal balance between a material's weight and hardness and he'd be set.

He was quite displeased when he learned diamond cannot be affected by his power. Diamond doesn't melt, it burns up. Corben was quite miffed he couldn't armor himself in scales of this superhard but still not too heavy material. Not that he would be able to procure enough diamonds without turning to crime - and quite successful crime at that - anyway, but it still hurt. For now he got by with an alloy used in body armor and armored vehicles.

He strapped bottles of various liquids - after he used his Power on the contents that is - to the holster on his back and set off. Still need a better delivery system than basically molotoving people he thought as he drew nearer, but that was a problem to solve another day. He was careful to keep out of sight, unconcerned about getting a good look at what's happening himself. Soon enough he noticed bullets buzzing through the edge of his perception range and adjusted his course. The bullets were flying on curved paths, embedding themselves harmlessly in the ground or concrete walls. Marshall is present. The realization pleased him. Marshall was a fun one to tease and the local Protectorate leader seemed to enjoy their interplay as well. Corben was SURE he once elicited a laugh from Marshall, even though the Hero tried to hide it behind a hastily raised hand.

He found an abandoned structure that would hide him from sight while being close enough to give him a good overview of the battle through his perception bubble. The windows were boarded shut. Perfect. He couldn't see out, they couldn't see in, but that was a lesser disadvantage for him. Someone he assumed to be Marshall, judging from the bullet paths bending around him, was behind evaporating cover and on the defensive it seemed. Flux's Power sadly didn't work on bodies so he couldn't tell if he was hurt, just registering that a body must be there from the soles of the boots and other meltable materials he could sense. At least there was no pool of blood below likely-Marshall. Once blood has exited someone's body his Power works on it.

He had several gunmen aiming on Marshall in his range, but from the bullet paths there must be two more, further away and on an elevated position. Snipers. Would handling those be the most helpful thing he could do, or just thin out the numbers? But not every gun he could sense was firing. A good number of them was getting on top of jeeps and retreating. One of the vehicles left his range before he made his decision. Others didn't. With a moment's concentration he used his Power, turning the engines of the remaining jeeps into sludge.

Shaker 7 to disable the jeeps.
I used Mind 3, +1 from Sneaky background, to hide.

[sun_tzu]

Dry wells Dry Gulch

Silver Crusader

Another villain, and another villain, and another villain. As if the snipers hadn't been enough. It was a completely unfair fight.

No point in whining about it, though. Most fights the Protectorate got into were unfair in its disfavor. Part of the reasons the world was falling apart was this harsh reality: Villains simply outnumbered heroes by a wide margin. The only reasonable response, Silver Crusader believed, was to work harder, fight harder, commit to heroism harder. If he had been a workaholic before triggering, then acquiring his powers had only pushed him further down that road - most of his waking time was spent either fighting crime, or improving his ability to fight crime. Fighting two capes or more at once? Something he'd spent hundreds of hours training for with other members of the Protectorate.

"Then let my price be a clear conscience," he said as he gazed at Iai.

0.08 seconds later, his left foot began moving. Soon, it made a step to the right, his body rotating, as if he meant to smash his shoulder against Iai. In reality, it was a feint, designed to the villain to commit to an attack in the wrong place - speedster or not, it would be hard for him to change course mid-strike, and Silver Crusader's feet were perfectly positioned to quickly rotate him a bit further away from the assault even as he slammed his right elbow backward, placing it in the path of the villain's jaw - one of dozens of maneuvers practiced and drilled again and again over the months.

What came next required him to push his leg muscles as hard as he could - sadly, his body was not accelerated the way his thought process was. And according to speculations on PHO, Indepth had a Thinker power at least somewhat similar to his own. Unless the blinding flash hindered him too, he would aim true... if there was any path for the bullets to hit him. Silver Crusader threw himself ahead of Iai, so that the Striker would shield him from the shots. If any bullet got in, hopefully his force-field had enough juice to contain it.

Of course, this put him at risk of Iai's fast recovery. No helping it. He tried to at least remain in close quarters, so that Iai would have trouble maneuvering for another attack.

Thinker 6 + Mind 4 = 10 to counter the 10 from Iai's first attack. I tried to write it so that Workaholic raises it to 11, in which cases it lets him bruise Iai a bit more.

Body 3 + Tinker 4 + Veteran PHO Poster = 8 to counter Indepth's 8.

Martial Artist = 1 against the 4 of Iai's second attack. That's gonna smart...

[sun_tzu]

Holdfast sprints across the open desert. Though her body maintains strictly human limits, the armour she summons provides its own measure of strength; modest by the standards of some parahumans, but much stronger than an unpowered human. She maintains 30mph over the sands with a long, loping stride. She won't be able to maintain this for long, maybe ten minutes at most, but she's nearly there. As she runs, she receives an update on the situation at the Wells. Marshall is pinned, Silver Crusader is stuck dealing with two villains and two more villains are on-scene. The Militia's vehicles have apparently stalled, their retreat brought into disarray. She also hears the Director's kill-order. Dust-Devil will be there to provide aid soon as well, but her friends - her team mates - are still in danger. She reaches to her ear-piece and speaks.

"Hey, Crusader, I'm less than three minutes out. Any particular direction you want me to hit from?"

Dry wells Dry Gulch

Silver Crusader

He considered for a fraction of a second. "Get to the fleeing Militia. Capturing them is our priority. Watch out for enemy capes and snipers."

[tbergman92]

As the situation continued to unfold, Intereo's plans had to be modified slightly. Surveying the scene, he saw that Iai and Indepth had Silver Crusader more or less taken care of, and Impasse could deal with Marshall pretty easily.

That left the fleeing AMM members. Who were now cursing behind him... Turning around, he saw that they were getting out of their vehicles and running on foot. Damn.

He didn't see any heroes en route to the militia members, but that didn't mean more weren't on their way. Quickly deciding, he turned away from Marshal and Crusader, and began floating at a much faster pace towards the fleeing militia members, passing by Impasse on the way, staying just outside of his kinetic energy arresting bubble.

"I'm going to cover their retreat. It looks like you guys have these two pinned."

Careful to stay a short distance behind them in case he had to engage any heroes, he kept his eyes out for any incoming support from the Protectorate.

Same as before, effectively, just without a specific target. The Breaker to defend against any physical attacks, and the Shaker 5 + Bookworm + Mind 4 (10) for intimidation purposes against the first hero to see me.

[Ecksdee]

SCENE - WARDS TRAINING FACILITY
Gunshow

And so their little "dance" began. Milla might not have been as skilled as Peter, but she was certainly good at rolling with the punches. For the most part she kept up with him, getting the flow of things enough to start feeling her confidence build up. She even threw in a few flashy moves meant to impress more than anything. She kept her eyes trained on Peter the entire time, studying his moves -- and admiring them, too. He made it look so seamless. The way his body flowed through the motions... his size definitely didn't serve as a hindrance in this case.

One of his punches came a bit harder than usual out of nowhere, catching Milla off guard. She stumbled, but he reached out to immediately catch her. "T-Thanks." She said, smiling at the show of affection he administered afterward. She usually wasn't the kind of girl who melted over stuff like that... but the way he did it just had such an air of sincerity to it that she couldn't help but feel enamored.

The timely arrival of Diamondback and Rebound brought things back into perspective. Turning to face them she waved, falling out of the little moment she and Peter were just having. She really did enjoy hanging with her teammates. Rebound was pretty brash, but a good guy at heart, even though he liked to push certain people's buttons. Diamondback was nice, too. Milla had never seen the other girl's appearance as something to be feared. They were on well-enough terms it seemed, though she had to wonder if there was something else keeping them from being closer...

"Hah hah." Milla said in response to Rebound's little joke to Peter, stepping towards the ropes to lean against them. "I think Diamondback is right. You're looking a bit scrawny these days." She chuckled, clearly trying to needle him back in the same way he's accustomed to dishing out.

[The_Snark]

Scene - Wards HQ
Diamondback

Damn it. Why did it have to be these two? There's practically no-one better suited to drawing out Rebound's macho side, for lack of a better word. Peter is a rival to trounce, big and imposing but lacking control over his temper, and Milla... gives him a bit of extra incentive to show off. Mentally, Diamondback crosses "explore possible weaknesses of Rebound's power" off her list of things to try. Maybe some other time, when the gym is empty. It would be much better for Rebound to discover any loopholes or flaws in his invulnerability now, rather than out in costume. But for now...

"Actually, I was thinking we'd put him on the offensive," she says, hoping to head off a possible argument before Quake has a chance to retort. "Like you say, your power means you don't have to worry about defense much, and I think you could use that. Taekwondo isn't made for people who have to worry about getting stabbed or punched, you know? And in the meantime, I get to practice facing off against an enemy I can't really hurt. Since that's every other time I go up against a brute, I could really use it."

She pauses, then glances at Quake and concedes, "But we could switch off, if you like. You're tough enough to play punching dummy too."

[Lost Demiurge]

Wards Orientation gone awry

Alone in the hall, Agent Bowman's eyes widen as Glitch shows up and departs just as quickly. "What the... Young man, who are... Oh @%!%."

He runs down the hall, to the basement, keeping it together. A problem like this, there's only one person to see...

He pushes open the door to Wiretap's lab, carefully edging around the row after row of servers, to find the red-headed, short-haired tinker sitting in front of an array of monitors. She's in a costume, grey fabric overlaid with blue, circuit-board patterns, and various storage pouches for her gadgets and spools.

"We're compromised."

"I know, I know," she tells him, as she pushes her goggles up onto her forehead. "God @%!% it, this had to happen now... I almost had that merc group traced, lulled into false security with their little scriptkiddie hack, and now we've got a stranger on the wire. Give me a second..."


Dry Wells Dry Gulch

It's a hell of a close matchup. A superlatively skilled swordsman, versus a mentally-accelerated martial artist... If Iai could land a solid hit, the fight would be over. They fight to a standstill, until In-Depth's fire takes down Crusader's forcefield for a brief moment.

That's all the distraction that Iai needs to land a solid body-check, throwing Crusader to the ground for a few seconds. Crusader scrabbles and leaps out of the way, as the sword comes down...

SILVER CRUSADER


Can't really see workaholic helping you here, sorry.

Choose one consequence:

Bruised 2, Forcefield disabled for the Scene, or Withdrawal from the fight.



Meanwhile, on the outskirts, Flux hides in the old dynamite shack. Though half the AMM have departed at this point, the remaining two groups find their engines literally leaking onto the ground. With shouts and curses they look around for their tormentor, seeing nothing. Gritting their teeth and grabbing their fairly-well-depleted ammo, they start heading out on foot, with Impasse and Intereo running interference for them.


With Impasse and Intereo defending, the remaining snipers descend, and start to flee. Marshall and the PRT teams break cover, once they realize that Impasse's bubble is up, and the defensive barrier cuts both ways. They trail, and Marshall does his best to stare down Intereo.

Intereo

Not seeing how Bookworm would help you here, but the other stuff's good.

Marshall's using Personality 5, he's a Texas Ranger and takes no guff, his PRT Hero Training gives him an edge against intimidating villains, and his Gunfighter's Stare is THE right skill for the job, boosting it from 1 to 2. Which lets him tie you at 9. EDIT: Not so much, due to your eyes being hidden. So he fails, but not by much, and gains Intimidated 1 as a consequence.

And here comes a persuasion attempt of Mind 3, combined with Seriously Nice guy for a total of 4...


After trying and failing to hold the ghostlike para's eyes, he speaks, his voice soft in the silence.

"Friend, you and I know you can kill everyone here. Right now that don't fuss me none, because if you wanted to do that, I'd be a daisy right now. So I'm gonna ask you to stand down and walk away. You ain't got but one weapon that'd work against me, and that's an escalation neither of us want..."

And that's about the point that Dust Devil arrives on the scene, sweeping over Marshall and the PRT squad, covering them and starting to throw dust and grit forward over Intereo and Impasse, reducing their visibility a bit...

While this goes on, the black sedans disappear into the distance. Whoever the AMM's mystery clients might have been, they're gone now.

And then every PRT hero and squad member's commlinks crackle to life as Glitch pops into them, and starts asking questions. Marshall, his eyes on Intereo, turns his off to avoid distraction.

"Who the hell's on the line?" Agent Kensinger shouts, fiddling with the frequencies, shifting channels but failing to dislodge Glitch. "This is a live op, we can't-"

"I've got this," Wiretap's voice crackles through the interference. "Hey kid, who are you? You a good guy or bad guy? Because you're a hell of a hacker, and if you're a good guy, I've got a few ideas of some commnets active in the area RIGHT NOW, that you could go and jam like a #%##@^@er."

Director Walburn's voice echoes. "Language, Wiretap."

"Right. Sorry, ma'am..."

[Mabn]

Just as the operation seemed to be getting its act together, all of Faust's communications went haywire and he heard a teenager's voice on his com system. "Do not do this to me! Do not *^#*{^$~+@ do this to me!!" Already he was feeling isolated and claustrophobic and his power flares were making the walls glow. He channeled a blast as the back of his room so he wouldn't damage his already compromised link to the outside world. "If I can hear you, maybe you can hear me. It sounds like you think this is a joke. I am not laughing. In about a minute I'll be laughing. You really, truely, do not want me to be laughing. Get off my damn network."


I have no idea what points I should put towards that intimidation

[sun_tzu]

Dry Wells Dry Gulch

Silver Crusader

As Iai struck, the silver-clad hero's force-field flickered out. As was only too typical of his fights with capes. I swear, if I could get this thing working reliably, I'd probably qualify for Tinker 6.

Quickly, he evaluated the situation. I'm not going to be capturing Iai today - not with my force-field shorted out, with Indepth providing cover, with the villain's super-speed making it so easy to retreat if things stop going his way.
But, as dangerous as he may be, Iai isn't the primary target. The AMM's thugs are. If I can make it unfeasible for them to escape before the cavalry shows up... then this won't have been a wasted fight.

"Code 3-7." He didn't say it so much as subvocalize it. That was enough for the tinkertech to pick it up; the next instant, his helmet emitted a blinding flash of light, as he tried to tumble out of harm's way. Mid-jump, he pulled out the containment foam gun... and aimed at the AMM's car. If the vehicle is covered in containment foam, they can't get out, and the villains can't free them.

Taking "Forcefield disabled for the Scene" as my consequence.

Thinker 6 + Mind 4 for trying to prevent the AMM from escaping - Silver Crusader is planning everything and aiming super-fast, trying to make their escape impractical.

Tinker 4 + Body 3 for defending himself against any attack. Adding Amateur Martial Artist if applicable.

[Maugan Ra]

Dry Wells Dry Gulch

Iai

The swordsman staggers at the flash of blinding light, which is still disorienting even through his reflective visor, and by the time he regains his senses the Protectorate hero has already covered the nearest AMM car with foam.

Smart. Mission focused, even when contending with my direct interference.

He looks around the battlefield, listening to Impasse over the radio, and nods. Half the Militia got away, but there's no chance the rest are getting out of here without a damn sight more firepower to discourage the Protectorate from just following them. No sense in sticking around any longer.

The swords slide back into their sheathes without the slightest noise, and a quick blur of motion brings him next to Indepth. They've practiced this trick before, so the Thinker is prepared when his comrade lifts him for a brief moment, bracing the neck to prevent whiplash. Then there is another blur and they are gone, as unceremoniously as they arrived.

Abandoning the van because we've seen evidence of someone melting car engines already and that is no longer a valid means of escape. One of us can probably come back and get it later anyway.

[Bhaskara]

Scene - Dead Hands

Radar

Radar was not very happy.

He had only barely just finished with being in-processed from the transfer. He still hadn't met most of the local capes he'd be working with. And what did they do with the weary and jet lagged troop? They sent him on a mission without a team. He couldn't even really argue that one was needed. His assignment was purely observational but with the way things were going he wished he had back up. He couldn't help but feel of this was supposed to have been a warm up job. Something to keep him occupied until he met the team. Of course without a team he was little more than a glorified receiver.

Which was why he was here. No one else would have had a hope to monitor the micro tracker that had been placed in the product the dealers had been about to hand over. Wiretap had said it was some of her finest work. He'd tried to have Wiretap explain how something the size of a small crystal could transmit a signal that would normally require a several antennas. However, he had gotten lost when she started talking about "using geomagnetic poles to reflect and lengthen harmonic wavelengths". All done in the hopes of getting some more intel on the Graveyard Gang, specifically Whipporwill. Wiretap had said something about wanting to get a hold of some sound recordings for study.

None of that mattered though from the sounds of things as he listened to the audio being broadcast from the exchange.

Radar sighed, cursed under his breath, established a connection to HQ, and broke radio silence.

"Hotel Quebec, Hotel Quebec. This is Radar. Operation Fairy Dust is a bust. Unknown Rogue is on the field. Shots fired. Requesting instructions on how you want me to proceed. Over."

While doing that he went to the trunk of his vehicle and got on some gear to put over the plain clothes he had been wearing. It wasn't much, standard bulletproof vest, face obscuring helmet, and gun and holster, but it was easy and fast to get on. If he had to go in fast he wanted at least have some protection. And he had a feeling he would be going in, so he started jogging to where the showdown was being held a block away. At the very least Wiretap would be wanting her transmitter back.

[Dorian Gray]

The School

Blackout

Isaac coughs slightly, shivering despite the bright sun and his long-sleeved shirt and jeans. Running a hand through his hair, he responds, "No, I was just wondering what was going on. Is it a schoolwide evac?"

As he speaks, Isaac steps into the classroom with Mr. Kaczynski- just in time to hear another round of gunfire. Rushing to the window, he looks up. "I thought I saw somebody fly by. God damn- do you know what's happening? Don't they tell teachers this stuff?"

[Tuv]

Scene - Dry Wells, The School

Alfred Kaczynski

"Of course there won't be an evacuation. The other teachers hear gunshots and go into 'school-shooting' mode. Turn off the lights, lock the doors, huddle the kids in a corner, just like they were taught as kids. Except that plan never worked, not really, and it especially doesn't work nowadays because of the capes. Sitting in a corner isn't going to do something if the building collapses, or gets filled with acid, or blown up, or what have you. Safety to normal people nowadays is a sham, so it's better for them to be hiding with their families than hiding with their peers. Get some closure, whatever."

Alfred sighs as he taps the pile of folders and papers he's gathered on his desk, to align them.

"And obviously we don't know any more than anyone else. It's obvious there's a shootout, and if capes aren't involved already they will be soon. It's like a chain reaction, and the only good option is to stay out of the way. That's... one of the reasons why I hate capes, there's nothing on this planet that they haven't disrupted."

He clears his throat "If you're leaving, you should probably do it now. If you're staying, I'll just say that someone your age lurking around an elementary class isn't very becoming." Then Alfred turns to leave, mumbling something to himself, disconnected from reality, lost in the moment.

"So he runs away, from his problems, from reality. He escapes to the little hole he's carved out of the trash, but more than that, escapes into his mind. Dreading inevitable confrontation."

[Grim ranger]

Scene - Dead Heads

Ruin

Mentally letting out a sight of relief as the gun of the remaining thug wavers for a split second and sends the gunshot wide, the vigilante decides not to waste the chance presented to him. Moving in with his black coat flowing around him ominously, Ruin feints a wide swing with the blade before going for rather inspired move and dropping it altogether to free both of his hands. Reaching out, he aims to grab the gun and push the slide violently enough to tear it free from the weapon altogether, thus rendering it utterly useless.

Using Body 3, Mind 2 and Unbelievably lucky + Exceptional aptitude for improvisation backrounds to improvise a disarming move to relieve 'Brandon' of his gun.

Scene - Dry Wells, Dry Gulch

Indepth

Seeing that the battle seems to be a lost cause with Protectorate reinforcements close and the vehicles of AMM out of commission, Indepth easily understands the situation and takes some time to consider best follow-up before Iai will inevitably pick him up for their speedy retreat as Impasse has ordered. Considering the matter for day or two in his bubble of frozen time, he decides that hindering the heroes is as good of a parting act as he can manage with very limited time to act, ending the time freeze and taking aim at Silver Crusader.

Alas, even the time freeze and the bullet-time like effect it confers to him does not allow him to prevent being somewhat blinded by the hero's contingency plan, the bright flash disorienting him for a split second before he is able to freeze time again and get his bearings. Still, the bright flash obscuring his vision becomes much less of a hindrance when he has had days to recover from the initial surprise of the effect and plan the follow-up counter to it. His plans made, he resumes the action once again...

With Silver Crusader foaming the vehicle closest to them, Indepth takes his (mental) time to aim shots at the containment foam gun of the hero, aiming to rupture it's container and leave the Crusader himself stuck and unable to give chase any longer. That will be sufficient, given that attempting to cripple the hero only to assure their retreat would likely only draw escalated response out of the PRT...especially with their current commander.

Second after his shots ring out, Indepth feels himself being lifted somewhat by Iai before both of their forms disappear in blur of movement, departing the battlefield.

Indepth uses Mind 6, Thinker 7 AND Expert Marksman to make sure to rupture Silver Crusader's containment foam gun, or at least render it unable to fire. After that he is evacuated by Iai.

[3SecondCultist]

SCENE - WARDS TRAINING FACILITY
Quake

"Don't get cocky, kid." Peter can't help but smile, even at his own joke. A little bit of cinematic drivel never hurt one's ability to have fun, right? Even he had seen Star Wars in his own time. He remembered the night - he was only twelve at the time. His father had been gone on assignment, and his mother had started in on the drinking. It was one of many nights he had abandoned Martha in order to cope himself. In the courtroom of his mind, they were charges he could not walk away from.

He hadn't known what they would do to her, not then. Not until after.

That night, he had hidden over at Diego's house, and the two of them had watched the trilogy in order. None of those terrible prequels either: he had nicked the originals from his dad's den before he left. Vintage, they were. Some of the worst effects this side of Hollywood, but damn if they did not make for some classic watching. They had tried to imitate the sounds of lightsabers swinging for hours afterwards, as the two of them would pretend to be Jedi Knights. They had even tried building a Death Star out of pillows and blankets.

Those were the happiest memories of that time. Beautiful, but also terrible.

Peter snapped back to the present when Diamondback began talking about potential match-ups. He nodded slowly, as though considering his options carefully. In truth, he was studying Rebound out of the corner of his eye. He really didn't like that guy, but he also knew that getting into the ring with him was a bad call. With his current mindset, he was likely to cause more collateral damage than he was comfortable with. Besides, he wanted to be alone with Milla for a little while longer. There was no avoiding the fact that the moment was gone, though. Peter sighed slowly.

"Alright... alright. What do you think we should do?" Peter knows that in this moment, he is betraying his own long-term intents to appear confident in front of other team members, but considering Milla's feelings was just as important, somehow. He can feel a guttural growl emanating from somewhere deep within. He suppresses it viciously. His ego would not come into this.


SCENE - DEAD HANDS
Lich

'Brandon' let the gun be ripped from his grasp. If he had managed to miss the shot from that distance, there wasn't much he would be able to do with it anyhow. This Ruin was quicker than Lich had suspected at first, and more open to sudden attacks. She would remember that. Instead, 'Brandon' began to droop his shoulders in a practiced gesture of surrender. His head was bowed in submission, as Lich planned her next move from within.

And it only took a moment for her to come to a decision.

Nothing had changed - only the parameters of the fight. This had already turned into a take-down, so there was no point backing down. Damn it, why had Ruin come to screw up her night? He certainly lived up to his name. She knew that the other gangers had run and left her behind, so she couldn't really count on any support. This had gone bad, quite fast.

So, as fast as was possible in her current body, Lich reached for the switchblade she had concealed in her left jacket pocket before the fight and moved to stab Ruin at close range. She aimed for his jugular, where there would be gaps in his armor. She knew that the blade wouldn't cut enough to kill him right away, but a wound like that would incapacitate him in the least.

Using Mind 7 to assert fine motor control over Brandon and feign defeat, and then Body 3 to draw and try to stab Ruin in the neck - with help from Lich's Criminal Skills, Never Gives Up, and Streetwise backgrounds for the concealment and attack.

[TheFallenOne]

SCENE - DRY WELLS DRY GULCH

Flux

Shouted curses were enough to confirm the success of his move, a nasty smirk finding its way on Flux's face. The criminals - who were they anyway? Perhaps the AMM judging from the amount of heat they packed, but at this point he could only speculate.

Anyway, the criminals were on the defensive, but something covered them. Bullets flying their way stalled then dropped out of the air. A forcefield? But that would make the bullets glance off instead of just stop. There was as he recalled a Cape with a motion-stopping Power in the city. If he was fully sober he'd definitely remember the name. At least that's what he told himself.

He could sense where he - or she - was from boots and other items. Then they suddenly disappeared so quickly it took him a moment to fully realize it wasn't teleportation. Fast.

Reconstructing what was happening out there from his Power was becoming a real hassle. He stood up and in front of him a doorway-sized section of the wall turned to liquid and sloshed to the ground with a splash. He stepped out, the burgundy scales of his costume gleaming in the sun. Reckless. Caping under the influence definitely had an effect.

But at least he had a better view of the battle now. It was drawing to a close anyway it seemed so he did his part to speed things along. He swept his right arm out in a wide gesture in the direction of the AMM. A purely cosmetic move, not necessary to use his Power. But he felt it would look good. Dramatic.

He targeted the firing pins of their guns, rendering them useless. And for good measure the soles of their boots. If you want to make your enemies suffer, force them to run barefoot over rough terrain. Hot asphalt, stones, broken glass...

Corben made a mental note to rewatch Die Hard later this evening.

Mind 3 plus Shaker 7 to mess up AMM equipment

[Kiranvonstrom]

SCENE - Dead Hands

Mad Dog

This city was just the hive of filth that he remembered it to be. He could see a dozen people abusing drugs that, by the looks of their wallet, they could never sustainably pay for. Two murders, one of passion, and another in what appeared to be a minor cape fight. Dead Hands reminded Mad Dog of every ghetto and slum he had passed by on his travels. The people were desperate, they lived in squalor, their buildings vandalized, and the law uncaring.

People passed by him on the litter-strewn sidewalk. Not many, but a few, enough that he noticed their stares. He was hardly inconspicuous, striding alone and unarmed through Dead Hands, wearing what appeared to be a light purple hooded bathrobe, pulled down to cover his face. Their apprehension was, he noted, coming from curiosity, rather than fear. It seems the city had forgotten him much faster than he had let go of Sancti. One problem he wouldn't have to worry about.

More problematically, there was nothing of particular interest to Mad Dog here. The gangsters he saw were of the mundane variety of discontented, no-one was nervous enough about being usurped to be of any interest. Mad Dog cast his attention over the cape fight occurring several blocks away, idly scanning any of the participants. Fearful contempt, terror, terror, terror, sudden and shocking realization of morality, and...

This was new. This was an anomaly. This...was suddenly worth watching. One man, raging against being contained, but slowly breaking, and someone else. Another, colder, more calculating presence. Two lights in one body.

Mad Dog grinned, and abruptly changed directions. While he may not have needed to be any closer to watch the fight, the victor...could be worth talking to.

[sun_tzu]

Too late. Holdfast arrives at the scene of the shoot-out in time to help round up the stragglers, but the fight is basically over. Half the Militia forces have made an escape, along with whatever group they were dealing with. The mercenaries are nowhere to be seen either. It could be frustrating sometimes. She was pretty strong and tough, sure, and she could move faster than most people, but in the grand scheme of things there were dozens, if not hundreds, of capes who beat her in that department. On top of that she knew she lacked initiative. It seemed like she was always reacting, always on the back foot.

She sighs, and mentally shrugs to herself. Ah well, time to get antsy later. Right now there's work to do.

Keeping her power active, she runs up to Silver Crusader's side.

"Backup's here, not that you need it. What'd I miss?"

SCENE - DRY WELLS DRY GULCH

Silver Crusader

"A few snipers, a superspeeding samurai villain, an enemy Thinker whose power is basically a better version of my own... and containment foam. Lots and lots of containment foam." Silver Crusader's voice was coming from inside a mound of the very foam. "Not a complete loss, mind you. Nailed the ones in the car, and I don't any of the good guys got seriously hurt."

[sun_tzu]

"Containment foam, huh, hadn't noticed. Thought you were trialing a new costume."

She pauses thoughtfully.

"Or maybe thought you'd just really let yourself go."

Another pause.

"Annnnnnyway, I'm gonna check in with Marshal. I'll flag down some disolving agent whilst I'm at it. Don't go anywhere."

SCENE - DRY WELLS DRY GULCH

Silver Crusader

"I shall strive not to, but I make no promise," came the deadpan reply.

[TheDarkDM]

SCENE - THE MISSION DISTRICT, SANCTI CENTRAL BANK

Miles away from the firefight in Dry Gulch, birds were flying north. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sEQL6z1U0wY) There were so many of them, the shadow of their passing coated downtown Sancti like an oil spill, causing the pedestrians on the street to stop in apprehension. With all eyes on the sky, no one noticed the black dot rocketing down Route 667. The dust covered black car was a relic from the days of American muscle, its Hemi engine roaring like a caged tiger. The window on the driver's side was rolled down, revealing a dangling arm that seemed unaffected by the wind. The arm led to the driver, slouched against a pristine black interior, black aviators perched atop a thin nose. The Rolling Stones blared from an ancient cassette player, and as the care passed the border into Sancti proper the Midnight Rambler began tapping out the beat of the song on the steering wheel and turned his attention to the surrounding city.

The first thing he noticed was the dust. It was something he'd come to expect from the dying towns of the back roads, but in a city as large as Sancti? The city must have been in worse shape than he'd thought.

Good

He turned his attention to the people, the huddled masses of homeless that littered the border between the Bluffs and Downtown. He saw hunger, desperation, some flashes of anger. Sancti's poorest were living on the edge, but it seemed they still had some fight left in them.

Better

He slowed as he entered Downtown proper, the multitude of traffic lights consigning him to drift alongside the city's commuters. There were signs of decay even here, but most people seemed determined not to see them. People shopped in the scattered stores, walked their dogs and played with their children, even found it in them to smile when they passed the glittering edifice that marked PRT headquarters. Despite everything, the people here still had hope.

Best

He'd learned long ago that there was little satisfaction in killing someone who didn't value their own life. People with something to live for fought harder, bargained, begged, unleashed a flood of emotions on the road to the reaper. Those emotions made killing worthwhile - without them, it was just busywork. And when coupled with everything else? Oh yes, he could have some fun in this city.

He followed the flow of traffic as far as the Mission District, where the homeless disappeared entirely and the city seemed to forget the struggles lying scant blocks away. The Rambler's started to dart from building to building, only to settle on Sancti Central Bank. Smiling, he spoke to no one in particular.

"Wouldn't mind some walking around money."


*****

The bank was busy in the early afternoon, busy enough that a tall man in a black suit attracted no attention. He got in line for the tellers, smiling his thin smile as he listened in on the conversations of those around him. A woman near the front of the line was arguing on her cell phone, trying and failing to keep her voice down as she discussed her ongoing divorce. A bald man with a bad toupee a few places back kept checking his watch, a sure sign he was late for something. A pair of children raced through the velvet ropes that guided the line, and after a few moments the Rambler found their exhausted mother, clearly past caring. That put a frown on his face, but it lifted as the line moved forward and he found himself stand in front of a teller window. Behind the glass was a pretty young woman whose name tag read "Sandra", who flashed him a practiced smile.

"Good afternoon, how can I help you today, sir?"

Her voice was a West Texan twang, musical enough that his smile broadened as he responded.

"Thank you, darlin'. I'd like to make a withdrawal."

His own accent was a bastard of the American Southwest, with just a hint of a southern drawl he'd picked up on a tour of the deep south. It seemed to take the girl aback, the presence of an out-of-towner, but her composure only wavered for a second.

"Alright, can I have your account number please, sir?"

He raised his hand to remove his glasses. At the sight of his eyes, the girl couldn't hide her horror.

"Oh, darlin'. This isn't that kind of withdrawal."

Outside the bank, the windows darkened for a moment, drawing curious stares from nearby pedestrians. Then, without warning, the windows shattered outwards, blown apart by the shockwave of everything in the bank lobby suddenly striking the ground. Inside, it looked as though a hurricane had torn through the building, leaving only the Rambler and Sandra untouched. The shattered bodies of the bank's employees and customers were scattered indiscriminately on the marble floor, some moaning in pain, others making no sound at all. Sandra took a breath, almost certainly to scream, but before she could the window and desk separating her from the Rambler simply imploded, letting him lay a single finger on her lips.

"Hush now, darlin'. Don't make this unpleasant. Let's take a walk down to the vault."


*****

At PRT headquarters, a message streamed in from the local police -

211 in progress, Sancti Central Bank
Parahuman involvement suspected
Requesting Ward support

[Lost Demiurge]

Dry Wells Dry Gulch

...And in the space of heartbeats, the mercs are away. Dust Devil pulls back, Marshall strolls out of the storm and squints around, and takes custody of the few AMM members left. They surrender without a fight, some of them having found out that their guns are no longer functional.

Flux, meanwhile, sees the PRT squad start to spread out and sweep the area. Unless he retreats or finds a better way to hide, they'll probably find him.

Crusader moves over to Silver Crusader, looking askance at the heap of foam surrounding him. "You did good, holdin' them mercs off. And slowin' those last two down."

He looks over the six or so captured militia men, and the disabled cars. "Reckon this one was a victory. No losses, wrecked some of their vehicles, got a few low-rankin' members... And we did it without goin' lethal." He smiles, but it fades. "Unfortunately we got no clue on their customers. That was the big question here. Guess we'll see what the interrogations turn up..."

That's about the point that your comms scream... BANK ROBBERY IN PROGRESS, CIVILIANS DEAD.

"Damn it!" Marshall growls. "We're too far out! Dusty?"

The cloud coalesces, into a grey-skinned bald man, fairly buff, and wearing only loose pants. "No good. Too much collateral if I cut loose in that neighborhood, and Wiretap's stuck chasing that kid out of the comms. Unless there's someone who can hoof it quickly in a position to do so, the Wards are on their own."

Marshall sighs.

"Let's hope their fight goes smoother then ours did..."

CLOSING
Right, I'm thinking this is a good place to end this scene, unless anyone has any further business.



Dead Hands

The knife is a surprise, and Ruin's legacy damn near ends there in that crappy back alley.

But thankfully his armor is sturdy, and it keeps his arteries safe. That said, it's bleeding all to hell and back, and the shock drives him back a few feet, Jacob's gun now in his possession.

RUIN
five points of consequences, if you please. Divvy them up between "Bleeding like a #%@#%, Confidence Shaken, or Armor Breached. You may also negate two points of consequences by retreating from the scene, if you so choose.


That's about the point that Radar makes it around the corner, and sees the struggle, as the others hear his approach...

And unnoticed, Mad Dog starts ambling his way down the street, close enough to hear the drama.

[TheFallenOne]

SCENE - DRY WELLS DRY GULCH

Flux


"Reckon this one was a victory. No losses, wrecked some of their vehicles..."

"Someone called my name?" Having abandoned all attempts at stealth Flux stepped closer to the assembled and somewhat battered Heroes, a cheeky grin on his face. When designing his costume he just couldn't help but have the mask not cover the area around his mouth. Some say his smile is his best feature. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, seeming relaxed and at ease. Perhaps too much so given the PRT Director's opinion of him. But he didn't need to eye the PRT officers warily, his Power let him track well enough if someone moved in his direction or turned a weapon on him. Whatever uneasiness he felt because of their presence he could mask, keeping his eyes fixed on Marshall. It still was reckless, but truth to be told running away felt like too much of a hassle right now and he was halfway confident he could leverage things to get away unarrested.

"Sorry for the 'littering', some liquid remains of motors, boots and firing pins lying around. I hope given the circumstances you don't mind. Anyone up for drinks and a movie, my treat?" His behaviour was way way way too casual given the situation. Some of that was the alcohol. Some of it was deliberate exaggeration just to get a rise out of the assembled Heroes. Most of it though simply was Corben's nature.

[Grim ranger]

Scene - Dead Heads

Ruin

The disarming move works like a charm, more or less as he hoped it would: not getting shot in the face seems like a certainty for him now. Unfortunately, Ruin is still caught completely by surprise as the last remaining thug draws a knife and gets stuck. The flashing pain of knife inflicting cut to the side of his throat drives him back somewhat, and even though the agony is not the type he'll not walk away from, it still leaves him at distinct disadvantage... Especially as more people seem to be arriving at the very moment.

He knows when the situation goes bad, as even though his reputation is formidable, he has retreated from fights before and is not afraid to do so now either. The rent in the kevlar weave of his armor and heavy bleeding starting underneath it only reinforce the viability of that decision for him. This is not a situation he will want to remain in.

Hurriedly grabbing hold of a case of product left behind by the graveyard gangers with one hand and his blade with the other, Ruin contains his staggering and shakes from the injury and sheer shock just long enough to tug pins from pair of smoke grenades on his belt, which he then drops to the alleyway before legging it in quite undignified manner nobody will luckily be seeing. Damnit, he will need some real help with this one...

Ruin opts to flee the scene under protection of smoke grenades, taking one point each "Bleeding like a #%@#%", "Armor Breached" and "Confidence Shaken". I think he got 3 drama points from that scene.

Scene - Wards HQ

Rebound

Shrugging his shoulders, Jonathan looks from Diamondback to Quake in non-committal manner. "I suppose I could give it a shot, if you really think we accomplish much by it. You can both come at me at once: maybe it'll make this entertaining if nothing else" he adds with a grin, clearly intent on proving his superiority in a sparring bout against the rest of them if nothing else: maybe it will at least cut down on the time he will have to spend in the gym instead of being out there doing something productive. Team-building exercises have never really been his forte, and after some initial attempts the topic has generally remained buried for months to end before now. Perhaps him humoring them will allow the whole sorry mention of regular gym sessions to be swept under the rug as soon as possible? At least he dearly hopes so.

Walking over to the practice ring while rolling his shoulders somewhat, Rebound gives the pair his usual cocky smirk, mimicking a 'bring it' stance from The Matrix. "About time we got started then, right? So I dare say: come at me, compatriots!"

[3SecondCultist]

SCENE - WARDS TRAINING FACILITY
Quake

Peter watched Jonathan's easy smile with the practiced eye of someone who has seen false cooperation before. The cheery facade did not fool him in the slightest: he knew exactly what Rebound hopes to accomplish by riling him up. He gritted his teeth inwardly, but resisted. He could certainly go all-out, but not if he wanted headquarters to stay standing once he was finished. The PRT stopped testing him after he had collapsed half of an escarpment on his own, and he certainly wasn't keen on finding the ceiling of his powers today.

"Nah, you know what? I think you should just spar with Diamondback like you came here to do. Gunshow and I can - " Peter stopped, as he heard a faint beeping noise from the other room. The gym itself was housed next to one of the main PRT offices, thankfully. Three beeps, two dots and one line, over and over. It was unmistakeable.

"Guys, I think that's an emergency broadcast." Not waiting for anyone else, Peter climbed out of the ring and jogged over to one of the desks, in order to radio in. The voice on the other end was measured, but scared: a beat cop on patrol, calling in a serious threat.

211 in progress, Sancti Central Bank
Parahuman involvement suspected
Requesting Ward support

He was done playing the dutiful second in command. It was time to suit up.


SCENE - DEAD HANDS
Lich

As Ruin retreated, 'Brandon' began to move forward as though to apprehend him. Her contingency had paid off, certainly. But she wasn't expecting the sudden smoke bombs, and her host body was suddenly disoriented. For the briefest of moments, Lich felt her control slip. She could see other surroundings: a dark room with a lamp, an armed shadow by the bedside. That wasn't her body, lying there. No, not that weak shell. As she got back to her feet gracefully, Lich felt the pull of every tendon in Brandon's body. This was where she belonged.

By the time she had time to look around, Ruin had long since left... and he had taken some of the contraband with him. Suri wouldn't be happy about that. Then again, she had just fended off one of the most notorious vigilantes in Sancti more or less by herself. The Graveyard Gang would have to take Brandon seriously after this. She smiled inwardly. Really, she ought to be thanking Ruin. He didn't know it, but he had moved up her timetable considerably.

She paused, as though looking around for the first time. Someone would have to move all of the contraband off of the streets. And she knew just the right place to put it. Discreetly and efficiently, Lich began to load up all of the weapons that Brandon's friends had brought out for this haul back into the car. The Gangers would be able to trace this shipment - she was counting on it.

It was only when she put the car in drive that she saw the man in the bathrobe.

[Kiranvonstrom]

SCENE - DEAD HANDS

Mad Dog

As Ruin drops his smoke bomb, Mad Dog casually walks to the alley, taking advantage of the smoke and confusion to stay hidden. Sometimes, being blind was very handy, in a very limited set of circumstances. And in those particular circumstances, even someone in a purple bathrobe could be stealthy. God, he hated this costume. But it would be helpful in a few hours, so Mad Dog would persevere.

Sidestepping a fallen Graveyard Ganger, he strides to the center of the alley, and pauses a moment, as if surveying it. No-one in good enough shape to see him, but the anomaly is still alive, if blinded. Excellent. Now, where to wait for him. Or possibly her. Safe, secure, easy access to the anomaly after the action...

The car.

Mad Dog smiles slightly beneath the hood of his bathrobe, and picks his way over to the Graveyard Gang's car, careful to avoid disturbing anyone currently writhing on the ground covering their eyes. When he reaches the van, he quietly opens one of the rear doors, and sits down, awaiting the anomaly's move.

After all, if it's who he thinks it is, he may need every bit of surprise he can get.

Mad Dog stays out of the anomaly's view while he (she?) loads up the car with weapons. The Graveyard Gang would have to...Clever. Very clever. Same thing he would have done. Probably would have been better if the other cape was AMM, otherwise there may be some deniability issues.

Oh, this one has definitely passed.

He watches the 'graveyard ganger' get into the driver's seat and start the car before making himself more obvious. He hadn't precisely been hiding, so much as sitting where the anomaly hadn't been looking, and taking advantage of its apparent distraction.

Oh, and now it's noticed him. Damnation. Earlier than he had planned. No gun in his hand yet...Oh well, that would probably look like a threat.

"That was well done. The guns were an inspired touch," May as well start with a compliment. Surprise them, catch them off balance, then compliment them, establish that you weren't a threat.

OOC:


Sorry, I thought it would be an amusing way for Mad Dog to introduce himself.

[tbergman92]

Scene - Dry Wells

Intereo

Intereo listened to the Marshall's words, perhaps a little more than he should have...

Defending with...Personality 1. so...fail by 3. Ouch.

Shaken out of his reverie by Impasse's order, Intereo watched Impasse's movements and dropped into his physical form a moment before his fellow mercenary grabbed him from behind. Flying through the air, he thought about what the Marshall had said to him. It hit home--he'd never desired to be a villain. The circumstances of his trigger had forced him to run from the PRT. And if Marshall could see his lack of willingness to seriously harm others, it could be dangerous for the team.

Maybe it's time to just accept who I am now. To accept that I'll have to hurt people who haven't really done anything wrong... He thought as he landed, reflexively absorbing the slight shock of the short fall. Startled out of his reverie, he looked to Impasse to lead the way to the rendevous point--in his current state of mind, he wasn't exactly operating at full capacity. He needed to shake this, one way or another.

Just wanted to resolve that last round of combat between Marshall and I--A fail of 3 is significant.

[Ecksdee]

SCENE - WARDS TRAINING FACILITY
Gunshow

Jonathan was doing it again. Oh boy. Milla rolled her eyes as she hopped out of the ring. Peter wouldn't let the younger ward push his buttons -- hopefully. She leaned against the ropes, a bit eager and curious to see how the matchup would turn out. She knew Quake was pretty powerful, even though she hadn't witnessed the full extent of his capabilities just yet. Rebound was just as good she reckoned. And that went double for Diamondback. In reality, she was the one who felt out of place. Creating guns seemed good on paper... but when put up on the board next to everything else the team had to offer Milla couldn't help but feel more than a bit inadequate. She'd discussed her thoughts on the matter with Peter several times over now. But of course he'd been quick to reassure her of her worth to the Wards -- even before they were dating. Though she smiled and nodded, she still had her misgivings...

The radio going off broke her free from her thoughts. Turning towards it as Peter went past, she listened in closely:

211 in progress, Sancti Central Bank
Parahuman involvement suspected
Requesting Ward support

Bank robbery. Parahumans. Wards needed. Her body visibly tensed. It always did when field work came into play. She looked around at her teammates, trying to gauge their reactions. They were more used to this than she was, so they wouldn't be as nervous, right? And Milla herself had to make sure she didn't absolutely look the part of the rookie. Clasping her hands together to rub them she instead put on a smile.

"Sounds like that's our cue, guys." Her voice cracked a little, which made her want to cringe, but she maintained her composure regardless. This was no time to look uneasy -- though she did lock eyes with Peter, silently conveying her true inner panic to him.

[3SecondCultist]

SCENE - DEAD HANDS
Lich

Brandon's body stopped in his tracks. Lich moved his head slightly to take a better look at the man in the bathrobe. How had he gotten into the car without her noticing? She blamed the moronic vigilante's smoke bomb. Almost without meaning to, her attention strayed to the bloody knife in her belt. This body had taken a bit of strain, but this guy didn't seem like a threat.

And then he opened his mouth, and complimented her. She paused again, seeing him as though for the first time.

She... she knew him. At least, she recognized who he was. Cauldron had been very forthcoming in giving her access to old Protectorate files. And only a cape would be brave or stupid enough to engage someone who just took out Ruin.

"Thank you. Although I'm not rightly sure what Mindspy is doing in my car. I thought you had disappeared?"

Hey, so the way this meeting is going (and your intro) I figured it would make more sense to go this way than the 'Lich had possessed Mad Dog before' route. Thoughts?

[Kiranvonstrom]

SCENE - DEAD HANDS

Mad Dog

And of course the anomaly recognized him. Lovely. Exactly what he needed, another opportunity to bust his plan before it had even started. He was making far too many risky mistakes already. This was, at least, workable.

"I died, actually," Mad Dog responded, almost cavalierly, "You should pull out the other side of the alley, and then turn left. Drive at 5 miles below the speed limit, keep your head down. There's a protectorate car on its way, and it would be a shame to have you captured,"

Offer aid. Keep the anomaly unbalanced until you can make it an offer. And, of course, being spotted was almost always a bad thing for his plans.


Mind 4 + Stranger 3 = 7 to keep our semi-stolen van hidden from Radar


OOC:


Yeah, it makes more sense than Lich finding Mad Dog in his desert voyage, possessing him, and Mad Dog somehow remembering that.

[TheFallenOne]

SCENE - DRY WELLS DRY GULCH

Flux

"You wound we Holdfast! Turning me down without even asking which movie I had in mind." Despite the mock indignation there was a laugh in Flux's voice. At least when it came to the Heroes he could remember the names. They were easier to keep track of, out in the open, official. No doubt some liked this aspect of their job less than others.

His smile gave way to a questioning look when the call came in. He couldn't hear what was said over their internal comms, but it seemed serious enough. At least Marshall's words contained the gist of it: another fight, too far away for them to get there in time. A coincidence? It seemed unlikely. Sancti had its fair share of crime, mundane as well as parahuman, but two events requiring Protectorate intervention within the same hour was a stretch. Maybe the whole thing here was a distraction. The Capes had been well prepared for a getaway and the unpowered AMM members would have managed too if not for his intervention. A ploy to lure the Heroes to the outskirts of the city. Or perhaps just a clever opportunist taking advantage of the situation. "Just one of those days? huh?"

[Dorian Gray]

The School

Blackout

Isaac steps up, reaching out a hand to the poor teacher. "Hey, man, you OK? Is everything alright?"

Turning back towards the door, Isaac looks at Mr. Kaczynski. "If you don't have a class to teach, and I don't have a class to go to, you wanna take a walk? We can get coffee. Sort stuff out."

I'm not going to make you do anything, but I will extend an offer to walk through the city. If you don't want to do that, I'll just leave.

[Mabn]

Chamber

Faust let go of his power control. It didn't seem he would get a coconnection any time soon and he would do less damage when he got like this if his flames were spread out. As his feat touched the ground he slowly began to do exercises. "See?" he thought. "I can move. I'm not trapped. Everything is just fine." His passenger wasn't buying it. It was a long shot anyway. He gave up on exercising since it wasn't solving his flare up. He didn't have anything better to do, but he hadn't taken a bath in years and pieces of ash that had melted onto his flayed muscles made elaborate movements disgusting. It didn't hurt. Apart from pressure he couldn't feel anything. But that was enough for the ripping sensations to be disgusting.

He forced himself to keep a day-night cycle, so sleeping was out of the picture. He decided to do some math to kill time. Cube root of 56789 was 38.4...3...7...who had more fun than him?

[Bhaskara]

Scene - Dead Heads
Radar

Radar sees the grenade come out and immediately goes for cover. By the time he chances a glance the man that had thrown the grenades was gone. The smoke was still clearing but he could see the thug talking to a guy in a purple jacket in the car. Talking while loading guns into the trunk. There was no way Radar was going down that rabbit hole. Better to wait for back up before retrieving the transmitter.

Then Radar realized he wasn't able to hear their conversation. He could still hear heavy breathing and grunts. It just wasn't from the two in the alley. Which meant the transmitter wasn't in the car any more. Which meant... Radar held his arms out, increasing signal gain in front of him. He slowly turned till he found Wiretap's signal. And it was moving.

It didn't take long for Radar to consider his options. One with no back up vs two with a trunk full of guns. Or One vs an unknown Rogue with injuries he could track. Sometimes the devil you don't know is the better option. And with still no instructions from HQ, Radar decided to take his chances with the smoke bomber.

Scene - Hospital

Radar traced the signal. He wasn't able to actually triangulate it but with directionally increased gain he was able to tell which direction. Signal strength varied more erratically but that also gave him an rough idea of distance. Going back for his vehicle had almost cost him the tracer but he was glad he had gotten the car. The guy had a good head start and without a pinpoint Radar needed speed to catch the guy. He accessed Wifi when he could and brought up a map of the area before he lost connection and had to go off memory. It didn't take him too long to formulate a guess of where his Rogue might be heading.

He pulled into the hospital parking lot and double checked. Signal was stationary and relatively stable for something hopping all over the spectrum. He radioed his position, and that he was after the Fairy Dust Rogue, and then headed in.

"Time to catch the mystery man."

[Tuv]

Scene - Dry Wells, The School

Alfred Kaczynski

It was easy, so easy for his mind to sabotage itself. Alfred's home life, if you could call it that, was already a wreck, he already hated himself and his situation, and his power just made it that much worse. It was the finality of it that was really disturbing, or maybe it could be called the objectivity of it. The story wouldn't make him feel worse unless what it was saying was true.

It could last hours, or it could last days if he fell down deep enough, only broken free from the personal hell when the school called to ask where he was. Being distracted helped ward it off, keep it at bay until his mind calmed down.

He stood stock-still at the words, it was just the distraction he needed and he silently thanked the teen simply for existing, for saying something, anything. A temporary savior that could be just as damning, because he had heard something.

Alfred didn't know what to do, what response was even warranted if someone found out about him and his power, so he hedged his bets.

"I uhh... yeah, that would be nice. I was having a really bad day before whatever is going on out there happened, and I could use the... company. Besides, it's safer to..." to travel in groups, he only just realized. Was he that out of it? He tried to think if there were any loners in his class, pariahs, kids that live out of the way. His face darkens at the thought of some of his students not showing up to the next class.

"...you should pick the place. I... don't get out much. I can pay." his voice is almost lifeless at this point.

Feel free to drag him wherever. If his powered-ness doesn't come out in the open blatantly, but your character figures it out, feel free to pressure him in any direction you choose, or reveal him to whoever. He's falling apart enough that he'll probably end up falling in with whatever group figures out his secret first and presses the issue.

First-come first-serve, and you showed up first.

[The_Snark]

Scene - Wards HQ
Diamondback

"You three get masked and suited up; I'll check in with the bosses, see if I can get ahold of Corona." There were occasionally perks to not having a secret identity. Diamondback did have a costume, at the insistence of the folks down at PR and Image, but it was a formality rather than a necessity: a mask didn't do her any good, for obvious reasons, and no mass-produced armor could offer better protection than her powers.

She glances at Quake as she steps up beside him, wondering if he's going to get touchy about her taking the lead in Corona's absence - it wouldn't be the first time - but it really does make sense for her to handle this. "Roger that, dispatch. This is Diamondback, Quake, Rebound and Gunshow, we'll be en route shortly. Keep us updated on the threat. Is anyone else on their way?"

[Lost Demiurge]

Dry Wells Dry Gulch
Marshall leans back and hooks his thumbs in his belt, looking Flux up and down. The PRT team not rounding up the AMM captives is casually trying to keep an eye on him, and failing to be unobtrusive about it. "Well, I got to say, thanks for the help. But I don't think we got time to jaw right now. Don't suppose you got somethin' like a diet coke and mentos powered rocket that'd get us all to the middle of town? If not, then ah reckon I got to get goin'."

[Grim ranger]

Scene - Wards HQ

Rebound

"Ah...damnit" Rebound mutters in somewhat annoyed tone as his chance to show off is suddenly cancelled by request for help. Bank robbers just never can choose good time for pulling these kinds of stunts, can they? Although he is generally jovial when it comes to these kinds of occasions, or at least somewhat understanding due to very few of the villains around ever posing any kind of threat to him, he is going to toss about the moron who has had the gall to cause the irritating disruption in what had chance to become the most interesting "teambuilding" exercise they have had to date.

"And I'm going, before Rocky here can get himself killed" he says, summoning up a smirk somehow despite the gravity of the situation as he goes on to fetch the suit he has brought with himself in his gym bag: a first rule any upcoming superhero should remember is to always keep the damn thing close at hand, preferably along with their weapon of choice. For him, however, neither thing did not pose much in way of problem. "Time to go and get us a bank robber. I have missed good old-fashioned "heroes stop bank robbery" headlines lately."

Scene - Temporary Safehouse

Indepth

For his part, Indepth's only "rituals" upon his return to the safehouse have been checking his gun, reloading it and cleaning his armor of accumulated dust, the Thinker's actions almost mechanical as always. To him, rituals hold no meaning whatsoever: if he wants to relax or think about things, he can do so for however long he pleases without anyone being the wiser in any way whatsoever. The disconnection from his human condition has showed on Indepth more and more as of late if one knows where to look for it, but it certainly has not hampered his skills at his work. On the contrary, the scarily focused parahuman has only honed his skills and strategies with each assignment, focused on pursuing the path of villanous mercenary with same combination of intensity and complete apathy as everything else he pays any mind to.

After all, his arguments with himself could easily drag on for eternity, so why try? Going along is so much easier.

Arriving as the leader of their little group calls, Indepth pulls off his armored helmet, his visage still and disconnected as ever as he begins to speak, his tone being somewhat odd, almost as if miniscule pauses happen between every sentence or two but are so brief they may well not have been there at all. "The engagement was too brief to gather much data...But we can hurt him, slay him... Just give the word, and I will hunt down him and all his kin. Our problems stemming from that direction end there" he says with same amount of interest one might comment particularly boring article from the newspaper with. "The militia won't betray us...or we will simply put them onto our black list. And they will need us again soon, if Protectorate maintains their interest in their dealings..."

[Maugan Ra]

Scene - Temporary Safehouse

Iai

When Impasse speaks up, Iai is busy running through a practice routine with his sword. After some consideration, he'd decided against the duel-wielding technique - the uses of having a hand free are too great to ignore, and quite frankly, he's better when he doesn't have to split his attention.

"And where would you start?" He says quietly as Indepth offers his contribution. "Whoever this was, they were smart enough to stay hidden, and even you need some evidence to begin with."

It is not simple contrariness that drives him, though. As he sheathes the sword and moves over to take a seat on the other side of the table, his keen mind is already working on the problem. He might not have his teammate's... unique advantages, but that doesn't render his contributions worthless. Too many teams out there delegate all of their intelligence to the Thinker, missing out on individual insight and concealed opportunities.

"I recall a few stories about a rogue operating around here lately - name of Flux, got his name mentioned in the local paper once or twice. Never fought crime though, least not in any way that I've heard of. Still, the power fits - something about re-shaping and re-distributing inanimate matter."

He shrugs. "Personally, I don't much care if he's out there. He was sensible enough to avoid direct attacks, and he didn't prevent us from leaving - though that might not have been within his capability, depending on the scenario. We still completed a decent proportion of our objective. Chalk it up to professional courtesy, and leave the manhunt out of it."

He smiles wryly. "Unless he bruised your pride, Indepth?"

That said, he turns back to Impasse. "I'll go with you to the meeting, sure. If we need to keep things smooth with the General... a prison break wouldn't be too hard. None of the captured were capes, so we're talking mundane security most likely. I slice open the walls, the captured Militia walk out of there, I leave. Offer it as a consolation if he's really angry, at a discount if he's just negotiating our agreed price down."

[TheFallenOne]

SCENE - DRY WELLS DRY GULCH

Flux

Sparing a glance at the still restrained Silver Crusader Flux realized what opportunity was presented to him. He always assumed he could shrug off containment foam thanks to his Power if it came down to it. Yet he never had a chance to test it. If the substance has a chemical reaction with the surrounding air the dried result might not be affected by his Power... Itcwould certainly be convenient to know for sure. Without any outward sign of what he's doing he targeted a tiny piece ofcthe dried foam while his eyes were already turned back on Marshall.

"Afraid I can't offer much in terms of mobility, apart from the theoretical ability to let you waterski on concrete. At best I can melt you a shortcut through the rocky terrain. I'd ask what's wrong, but I guess I'll see it in tomorrow's paper anyway."

I do assume ge can disable containment foam but I wanted to leave the call open

[3SecondCultist]

SCENE - WARDS HQ
Quake

Peter held down the writhing beast within. He hadn't expected Diamondback to usurp his authority so soon, that was all. Quake. He had given his darker side a name a long time ago. It was now the monicker that his enemies would learn to fear. There would always be a Sanborn to stand against injustice.

By the time Rebound opened his mouth, Peter was already moving. His own costume was also nearby: the plates were heavier than most men his size could carry, a tempered titanium alloy. His breastplate and shoulder plates had been dyed a deep bronze, for the sake of both ostentation and camouflage. His boots and greaves matched, making a full set. Everything fit comfortably over his workout clothes. His helmet looked like something straight out of an ancient Greek legend. The menacing visor slit did hamper his peripheral vision somewhat, but it would protect his face from any collateral damage his power would inflict on his surroundings. He also slipped an armored device onto his wrist. His mother had called it a 'tectonic spectrometer' when she gave it to him. It read the layout of the very earth at his feet, giving him general ideas of the ground's composition and any underground structures to avoid with his power.

All in all, it took under a minute for him to don everything. After all, wasn't all of this what he had trained for? He wouldn't be much of a hero if he couldn't respond to threats in time.

"Let's go. Diamondback, stay with the radio in case any of the Protectorate tries to hail us. Is everyone ready?"


SCENE - DEAD HANDS
Lich

Lich did not direct Brandon's eyes away from the road as she spoke through him. She did not need to look at Mindspy, or whoever this stranger really was. He had betrayed his mental state to her, but for now he seemed to genuinely want to help. So she focused on his instructions. Staying outside of the PRT spotlight would be a good idea for her immediate future - it would certainly help her employers.

Once she had turned left and made it a couple of miles, Lich began to decelerate. She did a quick scan of the surroundings - the darkest alleys of Sancti were quite useful for staying hidden. They had driven far enough outside of the original crime scene's range that she had no doubt that they had bought themselves a little bit of time. She turned around to properly face the occupant of her car.

"So you died? How did it feel then, to be reborn? To feel your consciousness return to a form that you recognized? The thought patterns that you had grown and cultivated over so long become a cocoon for the self. If you let it, your self can shine through." She forced Brandon's face into a smile that lasted just a little bit too long for comfort. She had understood his need to keep her on her toes, and this was merely returning the favor.

[tbergman92]

Scene - Temporary Safehouse

Intereo

Intereo, like his teammates, underwent his own post-battle ritual--specifically, doing a whole lot of nothing, as usual. His only weapon was his power and his body, and neither needed much care after a fight. He would usually be fantasizing about going home and reading whatever book he'd had to set down before he'd been called in, but Marshall's words were still bothering him a bit. His recognition of Taran's abilities only really being useful if lethality was on the line rang true to Taran's sense that he'd lost control of his fate the moment he'd triggered. No matter what he did, he kept getting dragged down to his lack of worth when death wasn't on the line...

Thankfully, Impasse's call to debrief interrupted his thoughts. In response to his first request, Intereo had a question, "When you're say 'show of force', are you meaning a me-level show of force? Or just a standard intimidation? And how likely is it that the General pushes that show of force into the real thing?"

Intereo was thankful for his mask's concealing effect. He'd spent some time schooling himself to not betray his emotions in body language and tone, but he had little luck controlling his expressions. He was not looking forward to the potential of having to really use his power again--every time he used his power to kill, it seemed as if he carried the weight of another soul around, another soul that screamed accusation at him whenever he closed his eyes.

"And I didn't notice much. The fact that he or she stayed out of the direct fight seems to indicate that they're either not welcomed by the heroes, or they don't have a power conducive to direct combat. Either way, we can use that, should it be necessary. Though I agree with Iai--no need to start a manhunt for the rogue. Unless someone pays us to, of course." Intereo added a tone indicative of dry humor to the last statement, before falling silent to await the others' responses.

[Kiranvonstrom]

SCENE - Dead Hands

Mad Dog

Mad Dog stayed mostly silent throughout the car ride through Dead Hands, only occasionally cutting in with a "Left here, patrol car" or a "Speed up, gang car passing three cars behind." For the most part, he was content to let the 'Graveyard Gang Member' keep its silence, and observe the state the city was in.

Sancti was doing about as well as he remembered. Dead Hands had always been a hotspot for crime in the city, probably due to the way the government had eventually abandoned the neighborhood to focus on more stable parts of the city. And maintain its shrinking budget.

Out of the corner of his 'eye', Mad Dog watched the controlling part of the anomaly flip through various shades of calculation, decisiveness and eventually settle on a combination of resolve, vindictiveness and...something there was guarded. Nothing hostile, though. His gambit had worked, more or less. This wasn't going to turn into a gunfight. And it looked like the anomaly was playing the same game he was, at least in its mind.

The anomaly only moved a couple miles from the alley the Protectorate had been watching, but it had clearly deemed it enough. Fortuitously, the Protectorate car seemed to have been more interested in the nameless rogue than the drugs, and had rushed after it, stinking of cautious curiosity.

"We're safe. The Protectorate went after the other cape," He said, as the anomaly put the car into park, and turned to face him.



"So you died? How did it feel then, to be reborn? To feel your consciousness return to a form that you recognized? The thought patterns that you had grown and cultivated over so long become a cocoon for the self. If you let it, your self can shine through." She forced Brandon's face into a smile that lasted just a little bit too long for comfort. She had understood his need to keep her on her toes, and this was merely returning the favor.

And so it was attempting to unbalance him. It was a well-executed attempt, and probably would have worked, if it hadn't been for Mad Dog all but watching the anomaly cycle through emotional responses before settling on this one.

"But if you let the cocoon be, it will strangle you," Mad Dog grinned, somewhat more honestly than 'Brandon'. "Rebirth is the ultimate liberator, anomaly. But it is not my thoughts from which death freed me, but the cocoon that was spun around me by my former employers,"

A minor lie, but close enough to the truth. The anomaly was not yet ready to fully behold the state of mankind; shackled within the rotting corpse of civilization. Also, experience had shown that people reacted poorly early in their education to such ideas. But to blame an easily visible, and apparently mutual enemy would be much easier to understand. He would, after all, hardly be the first to become disillusioned with the Protectorate.

"But I am afraid you have me at a disadvantage. You know one of my names, but I'm afraid I have no idea what you call yourself," Mad Dog speaks with an easy charisma, as if he and 'Brandon' had met at business meeting, rather than immediately after a shootout/cape fight/drug deal. His quiet, soft-spoken tone almost him sound completely reasonable, less like a mad prophet and more like a teacher speaking to a favored student. "And I'm afraid I can't just keep calling you anomaly,"

[3SecondCultist]

SCENE - DEAD HANDS
Lich

He had known about her the whole time, then. It wasn't really that much of a surprise, but it confirmed what she had already suspected. Whoever this cape was, his powers had made him aware about the Protectorate car enough that he could tell it wasn't following them without even looking. He had also been able to return her verbal serve. While people without powers playing her game wasn't unheard of, the way this stranger replied suggested a certain degree of prescience. A Thinker, then. Most likely, he either had some sort of precognition or perception field that allowed him to see behaviors. Lich thought forward, to when she would return to the room with the man. She would have him look in the files, to see whether or not such powers had ever been attributed to a known cape.

If she was going to start including wild cards in her plans, it would serve her well to know of any potential pitfalls ahead of time.

The moment for killing this man had passed. She had no doubt that in Brandon's enhanced body, she would be able to commit the act. The guns in the back of the van might have helped. She also had the... other way, but she didn't want Brandon running free around Sancti. There was no telling if she would be able to find him again, even with Nash's help. And if he managed to get back to the Graveyard Gang and tell them who really defended their shipment, her entire plan would be ruined.

She would simply have to take out a calculated risk against her own future.

"If you are strangled by a cocoon, is that not simply proof that you are not ready for life? It is the first test of new life, and the most vital. We are brought into violence, and that is a terrible beauty in itself." Lich let the smile fade, adopting a more pensive look. She knew that he can see through her facades now, but a little bit of pageantry never hurt anyone. Besides, playing the philosopher suited her more than she cared to admit.

"That's how most things are born, and I was no exception. As for my name... you can call me Lich. My own becoming is something of a long story. Why don't you tell me a little bit about your death?"

[Kiranvonstrom]

SCENE - Dead Hands

Mad Dog

Mad Dog sat back, and watched the anomaly process anything. It briefly considered something violent, aggressive, before settling to a form of resignation, and realization. Perhaps it had realized the pointlessness of killing him? Mad Dog's power could be frustratingly vague sometimes.

"Lich? I suppose the name makes as much sense for a possessing spirit as any," Mad Dog remarked, "It is true, Lich, that the order of the day is violence and savagery. All are born into it, but not of it. It may be the truth of the world, that we are entombed by the oppression of the laws of governments and gangs, but it need not always be so. We can rise above the baseness of this order. As to my death and liberation, that is a tale for another time, I am afraid. There are more pressing things to discuss."

"It is lucky that I encountered you on this, the first day returned to Sancti, Lich. I had assumed I would have to work much harder to find you. But it seems you are branching out in your targets,"

Mad Dog pauses.

"Unless you were thinking of dropping this off over by the Bluffs,"

[3SecondCultist]

SCENE - DEAD HANDS
Lich

The Bluffs. This 'Mindspy' had an inkling of her plan, but he hadn't quite grasped it yet. She lets herself be amused. Maybe he would pick up on that, maybe not. The more he spoke, the more she realized that his insights were almost certainly coming from her internal emotional state. Definitely a perception-based power, then.

"So you're an optimist." The statement stood on its own, without any explanation. It didn't need any. He wanted to force his vision of the world outward, until it conformed with the beauty he had described. In that moment, Lich understood him on a level she had not quite anticipated.

Inmate number 12539: step forward! She saw a white room, with a dark green curtain. She remembered staring at a series of brown spots near the base of the fabric. Of course it couldn't be blood. Those kinds of executions were barbaric. No, she was here to be put up on a pedestal. And then, with tens of thousands of volts of electricity running through her veins, Anna would be set free.

Lich's rage bubbled up beneath the surface. It was not as white-hot as it had been then, not threatening to consume her. She knew that it already had. Letting the feeling crawl all over her, she breathed inward as if to absorb the experience. He would be able to see it all, the patterns and networks of her feelings as though he were staring at a painting.

"Actually, I'm planning on delivering this shipment right back to the Graveyard Gang tomorrow night. If you'd like to give me a hand...?" The question was open-ended. For all that he had already witnessed, Lich wasn't quite sure how this stranger would react to being let in on such a plan.

[Dorian Gray]

Scene - Dry Wells, The School

Blackout

Isaac smiles brightly. "No need for that," he says, with the full knowledge that Mr. Kaczynski will totally end up paying.

About ten minutes later, Isaac receives a mammoth cup of extremely dark black coffee from a barista at a small coffee shop located somewhere near the ambiguous "city center" of Sancti. Not pausing to let the coffee cool, Isaac immediately takes several large gulps, finishing about a third of the cup before he pauses to take a breath.

"Nngh. Weak." Isaac's eyes narrow as he takes another sip of the coffee, which appears to be dissolving the sides of the cardboard cup it was deposited in. "But anyway. What's eating you?"

[Tuv]

Scene - Dry Wells, The School => Downtown, Bean Buster's Coffee

Alfred Kaczynski

The coffee shop was small, basic, and apparently suffering from a lack of customers. Bad for business, but good enough for strange conversations between teachers and high-school students. The coffee that he ordered is mostly cream and sugar now, barely recognizable as coffee anymore.

"I suppose that I should preface this conversation with the fact that my family is relatively wealthy and prestigious, and I am very much not."

A moment's pause as Alfred watches the cream spiral in his cup, and prepares his thoughts.

I spent a lot of my life trying to make my own way, making bad choices, causing heartache and pain. It... breaks you after awhile, broke me years ago. Well, one of those temporary dalliances involved a stint trying to be a writer, stories come unbidden to my mind so I thought I would try. I would have been successful if I could ever nail a plot down and finish a story. Unfortunately life doesn't work that way.

Alfred almost hides behind his drink as he talks.

"Something... happened all those years ago. Maybe it was getting disowned, maybe it was the drugs, or living like a transient for all those years, but my brain is... broken somehow. I said the stories pop into my head without me trying, but they don't stop, and they are completely random, so I obviously wasn't lucky enough to get powers."

a weak lie

"Some days are worse than others, helps to get out once in awhile, to be distracted, but I don't exactly have a social life, and I'm not young anymore."

[sun_tzu]

SCENE - DRY WELLS DRY GULCH

Silver Crusader

"Thanks for the help, citizen," he said in a neutral tone once he was freed from the containment foam. He wasn't entirely certain how he felt about Flux, truth be told - the rogue seemed to have rather limited respect for the law, but he wasn't exactly a criminal. Best be polite.

He turned his attention to Marshall. "I still have my motorbike, but I doubt we'll get to the scene in time." And my antigrav boots are even slower. "Still worth a try, I suppose."

[TheDarkDM]

SCENE - THE MISSION DISTRICT, SANCTI CENTRAL BANK

Sandra stumbled over the guard's body as they made their way towards the vault. The man - Ted? Tom? - had been on duty at the basement security desk, and had survived the psychotic cape's arrival. But when he'd drawn his gun on the increasingly monstrous man leading the way, he'd flown headfirst into a marble wall with such speed that the spray of bone and brain matter was still dripping from the walls. Sandra scrambled away from the mess as she regained her feet, a mixture of shock and terror preventing her from uttering a single sound. Still, the cape noticed, and turned back to look at her.

His face was half gone, most of the skin above the jaw having collapsed into inch-thick black cracks that thrummed with sonorous power. His hair stood on end as though he were underwater, whipping around at the whim of invisible currents. And his eyes. His eyes were still the same, icy black pools that twinkled with twisted glee. At the sight of Sandra lying on the ground, he knelt down and offered her his hand.

"Careful, darlin'. It can get a mite unsteady when I'm havin' fun."

She hesitated for an instant, before forcing herself to take his hand. His good humor was the only thing keeping her alive, and she couldn't - she wouldn't - let herself end up like those people on the floor above.

"Th...thank you."

He smiled.

"My pleasure darlin'. Now come on, not much time left before we're interrupted."

Continuing through the cold marble corridors, something compelled her to speak.

"I can't open the vault door, you know."

"Oh I know, Sandra. I'm just enjoying your company."

For some reason, that statement more than anything else sent a cold chill down Sandra's spine, but she still managed to keep pace as they turned the final corner to the vault. The door was recessed in a steel reinforced concrete wall, an eight foot diameter circle of steel. The vault was old, almost as old as the city, but the door was new, donated by the PRT as a sign of confidence in Sancti. As far as Sandra knew, the door could withstand anything.

"Alright, darlin', I'm going to ask you to do me a favor."

He pressed something cold into her hands, and when she looked down she saw the dead guard's gun.

"What..."

He put a blackened, skeletal finger to her lips.

"Shhh, questions later. Right now, I need you to stand watch out here and stop anyone that tries to disturb me. Do that, and we'll keep getting along."

The unspoken threat hung heavy in the air, and in her mind Sandra saw the mangled bodies of her coworkers and customers.

"But I...I can't...I don't know how."

"You've got to have more confidence in yourself, Sandra. I think you might be surprised what you're capable of."

With that he turned and walked towards the vault, leaving her standing alone at the corner. He stretched out his hands, and the walls began to rumble. Sandra took a step back as dust began to fall from the ceiling, and had to turn away as the metal in the walls began to scream. She took a few steps back the way they'd come, not too far. Not too far. The gun was like an anchor in her hands, heavier than she'd ever imagined, and with every tremor it seemed to grow even heavier.

The screeching of metal stretched into an eternity, and Sandra found herself unable to think of anything but the buckling steel, and what would happen to her if she got on the wrong side of that power. Her body slick with a cold sweat, she almost didn't notice the flash of blue at the far end of the corridor, the uniform peeking out from behind a corner. She looked closer, and locked eyes with the uniform's owner as he poked his head out.

A guard they'd missed.

Sandra's breathing became erratic as the guard approached, low and quiet, his gun at the ready. He was so focused on staying quiet he didn't notice the gun in Sandra's hands until they were standing face to face. At the sight of it, his face contorted in a frown, and he glanced towards the vault.

"You have a gun?"

He spoke in a harsh whisper, and it took Sandra a moment to find the courage to answer.

"I...please...you can't..."

"Listen, you're in shock, but you have to get out of here. The police are on their way, they'll take care of you."

"I can't..."

"You can. I'm going to try and stop this guy, but even if I can't I should buy you enough time to get away."

"Please, you don't-"

His hand on her shoulder was like a slap to the face.

"Go. Now."

She tried to answer, but it was clear he wasn't listening. Turning his back to her, the guard pressed himself against the wall and began edging towards the corner. Towards the cape with the empty eyes.

"I'm sorry."

The gunshot tore through the air, echoing off the stone walls and nearly deafening her. The guard spun around, a look of dull surprise on his face as a red stain began to spread across his shoulder. He raised his gun to fire back, but before he could Sandra pulled the trigger again. And again. And again. The gun was light as a feather in her hands as she emptied the clip into the guard's chest, until there was nothing but staccato clicks as she pulled the trigger. Then came a final, terrible shriek from the direction of the vault, and Sandra's shaking hands dropped the gun to the ground.

A whistled tune cut through the silence (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nYYTLJ8YHi4), followed by the silver-toed boots of the cape, the vault door and a palette of banknotes floating behind him. When he saw the guard's body and the empty gun, he draped an arm around Sandra's shoulders, and she couldn't find the will to shudder or pull away.

"Good job, Sandra. I knew you had it in you. Now come on, the party's just gettin' started."

She nodded dumbly as he led her back the way they'd come, trailing bloody footprints in her wake.

[Grim ranger]

Scene - Hospital

Ruin

It did take him a good moment, but Ruin has finally made his way to the Sancti General Hospital, staggering somewhat with each step as the bleeding on his neck continues as he constantly strains to keep up the pace even despite the injury. Although he is clear of the combat for the time being, it does not mean that he is not being pursued: more than little of his paranoia is generally justified due to more or less everyone in the city being against him, so he will listen to his gut during this occasion. The injury may be slowing him, but he will still not stop for long, just long enough to get somewhat patched up and stop the bleeding.

And of course, there is hardly time for him to even remove his costume... Well, one should hope that the doctors are used to treating capes, as they well should be considering how common Cape fights are in this particular town. Just to be on the safe side, the vigilante tucks his weaponry underneath his coat, out of sight and thus less likely to further panic paramedics.

Staggering into the lobby of the hospital and clutching the case he managed to snag from the shipment of the Graveyard Gang, Ruin slumps somewhat against the help desk and gives the receptionist behind it a dry look, the poor girl seeming like a deer in the headlights of incoming truck. "Could...I...*cough*...get some bandages in herecch?" he manages to ask, all activity around him coming to a halt as the people in the lobby becoming aware of a wounded cape in their midst. Well, it seems that any hopes of not causing a scene have been soundly dashed, but at least he is still alive.

Although the receptionist is still frozen in place from the shock, one of the paramedics hurries to Ruin's side, procuring some emergency bandages and attempting to remove the armor enough to get a clear look at the wound. Despite his woozy state, the vigilante gives the man a pointed look, declaring "leave... the mask" before allowing him to continue. If his artery would have been nicked, he'd already be dead: the injury may be bad, but he has still not given up on maintaining a secret identity.

Setting down the case, Ruin tears off the armor piece covering his throat, allowing the paramedic to get properly started.

Scene - Temporary Safehouse

Indepth

Giving the leader of their little band a bland look, Indepth shrugs ever so slightly. Although merely going to properly take care of the irritant is clearly the best course of acting concerning the disruption of their business in his own opinion, he is not going to argue about it with Impasse: after all, it does not matter. He may as well go along, there is no loss for him from such a course of action, and he doubts that even if he would present valid and concise argument concerning the need to kill the rogue off to prevent further hiccups during next missions, the rest would object still. "As you wish, I don't...care either way. I have nothing further to add, save for...recommendation to take payment up front before...further jobs for the General. He is not always most reliable customer once he has...what he wants."

Shutting up once again, Indepth glances at the rest of the team, waiting to see whenever or not any further points will be raised before they adjourn their little strategy meeting.

[Kiranvonstrom]

SCENE - DEAD HANDS

Mad Dog

Mad Dog watched Lich' emotional play in silence, carefully observing his thoughts, gleaning what he could from them. If he was to extend his offer to this stranger, they would have to be understood first, tested, observed. Mad Dog didn't need his followers and companions to be completely laid bare, just well-known enough not to be a threat.

Amusement became consideration, which proceeded to realization. Lich knew his power now, probably better than anyone else currently alive. Hm. Perhaps a thinker power in addition to possession? Or perhaps just frighteningly intelligent. He would have to tread carefully around this one, not giving him any information until he was worthy of full trust.

Transcendent realization. Which lead Lich into what he might think is an understanding of Mad Dog's character. To call it optimism, however, was too much a stretch.

"An optimist? Hardly. An optimist hopes, going nowhere, while the pessimist realizes he is not moving, and bemoans it. I have simply decided to walk, and, in doing so, have transcended such things," Mad Dog nods pleasantly in response to Lich's statement.

And it is optimism that fills Lich with rage. Perhaps the other cape was world-wearied? Cynical and incapable of dreaming? This would simply not do. Lich would have to be taught how to embrace his own humanity. Unless, of course, Lich understood optimism to be a waste of time. This would have to be studied, considered.

And just as suddenly as the rage had come, it was quieted by reason. Lich was a controlled individual, drawn by deep-set destructive urges, but kept from acting on them immediately by self-control and higher reason. His character, then, must be a study in tension. Push him too much, and something will snap. The result will probably be violent, lashing out, before control re-asserts. If directed properly, this could do a great deal.

Based on this cape's activities, and the reaction when Mad Dog had mentioned The Bluffs, the AMM must have done something to deeply offend him. Lich was ruled by reason over emotions, but only through great care. His motivations, after all, seemed to come from hate and anger. The offense must have been personal, to have forced Lich to repress this anger that apparently came naturally. Otherwise, Lich would be, if not more open, not quite so insistent on denying his own wrath. If it's personal, there will be self-blame, self-recrimination, masked by resentment and hatred, in addition to the usual feelings of vengeance.

Mad Dog filed that fact away for later use.

And now Lich was offering a partnership in dealing with the cargo. And he hadn't even needed to make his proposal for a deal. Excellent. Mad Dog allowed himself no emotional reaction to this. Lich would have to work for more information on him.

"I would be more than willing to lend my aid," Mad Dog bowed, almost theatrically, in his seat. "I was likely to addend such a meeting in one form or another in any case,"

OOC:


Mad Dog's powers grant no special ability to see people's gender based on their minds. Hence, he seems to have seized on the notion that Lich is a man.

[3SecondCultist]

"Wonderful." Lich forced Brandon's facial muscles into a smile. She could imagine his screams, and the sound soothed her. She was in control. The more that she thought about it, the more this 'Mindspy' seemed a useful ally. And perhaps one day, he would be a deadly enemy. He hadn't seemed perturbed at her violence, or at all surprised that she had her own agenda. And he had responded to her test questions in a decidedly unique fashion.

All of this revealed a great deal about his moral fiber - or lack thereof. She had not seen much, but this cape thought himself above good and evil in the conventional sense. He had a taste for theatrics, but was still surprisingly practical. He was goal-oriented, but largely unfettered by any ethics or codes. He was free, after a fashion. Certainly more free than she was, trapped back in that awful room.

There would be time enough to deal with that later.

Her own temper had long since frozen back over into measured observation. The feelings that she had felt at had been genuine enough, if exaggerated to suit her own ends. She wanted him to see that in knowing her, she had come to know him in return. Perception and understanding were double-edged tools. But she had had enough of playing around. It was time to talk business.

"I'm guessing you already have a pretty good idea of what my power is, don't you? That saves me the trouble of explaining the central crux of my plan.

I defeated Ruin tonight - or rather, Brandon did. Come tomorrow, I'm going to make sure the entire Sancti underground knows it. The Graveyard Gang are going to be looking for Brandon, and it won't take long for them to find him. They'll want to celebrate his victory and getting their shipment back unharmed. And that's where you come in. Tell me, do you know how to acquire concealed explosives?"

So you know the basics of my plan, right Kiran? I believe I've sent some of it to you via PM before. What Lich needs from Mad Dog is basically to be his general chaotic self, and cause a few incendiary distractions outside of the Graveyard Gang headquarters at the appropriate time. It will help confuse them, and give credibility to Lich's 'rogue agent' story. But more importantly, she needs him to help her by getting a bomb that she can carry around on Brandon's person. I'm relying a little bit on the Unspoken Plan Guarantee here, but I also don't want there to be any confusion between us, so if you have any questions about the first stage of my plan, don't hesitate to ask me in private.

[Ecksdee]

SCENE - WARDS HQ
Gunshow

Milla grabbed her duffel bag and proceeded to slip into the nearest changing room. She emerged sometime later clad in her costume -- a red and black affair (domino mask, kevlar vest, fatigues with knee pads, chunky steel-toe boots) with ample protection against most harmful elements that could possibly be thrown her way. Still, it didn't give her much safety against capes of the stronger, mostly Brute variety. For that she'd have to rely on dodging. Reaching into the pouch she wore around her waist she fished out two small metal rods. Concentrating, she then twisted them into a pair of Colt M1911 handguns -- her usual loadout.

Holstering them after a customary check, she let out a sigh as she fidgeted and shifted from foot to foot. Even though she looked like an absolute badass, she was still working on the feeling like an absolute badass part of the whole thing. Hopefully she'd be able to intimidate whoever it was they would be facing down at the bank by just training her guns on them along with an effective glower.

Quake's query as to whether they were ready earned a nod from the gun-toting cape, as well as a cautious smile. She could do this. She could so do this...

[Bhaskara]

Scene - Hospital

Radar

Radar entered the hospital. He got a few strange looks as he navigated the hallways, occasionally lifting his arms to see where the signal was coming from. It wasn't really surprising when he arrived at the emergency section. There was his Rogue, being patched up by a paramedic. And Radar recognized him. In the introductory dossier of important city figures this one had stood out.

Ruin.
Powers: Unconfirmed. Possible abilities listed below.

It had included everything from probability control, to emotional manipulation, to power immunity. All "untested and unconfirmed". His list of defeated villains had been even longer and a great deal more verifiable. You could almost consider him a hero, if not for the fact the list of collateral damage Radar hadn't even bothered to finish.

What was Radar getting himself into?

He sent out a quick transmission "Hotel Quebec, Hotel Quebec. This is Radar. Rogue element identified. It's Ruin. I repeat, unidentified Rogue is Ruin. Requesting instructions and backup. Over." Then he approached.

The medic noticed the PRT gear. He never really stopped his patch work but there was a pause where he met Radar's eyes as if to say 'I Don't even think about taking him in until I'm done.' And for Radar, he was more than happy to oblige. He stopped a few paces away, taking note of the large amount of blood stain Ruins outfit from his neck. It looked fairly critical but if the artery had even been nicked, Ruin wouldn't have been able to stand. Assuming lack of Brute powers, which Radar couldn't rule out. Either way Ruin was likely fairly stable.

Radar crossed his arms in an intimidating manner. Well, not quite as intimidating as it could have been considering even with Ruin slumped from blood loss, Radar was still looking up at him.

"You interrupted an operation," Radar said matter-a-factly. His manner was more than a little accusatory.

[Grim ranger]

Scene - Wards HQ

Rebound

Seeing that his comrades had finished suiting up for the task awaiting them, Rebound also finally finishes tugging on the last bit of his costume, giving the rest of the Wards present a slight nod. His cape costume is quite simple yet efficient, a blue and white polymer suit clinging to his lean form, with kevlar armor padding on his chest, black and shoulders just in case his powers might ever fail him. The mask covering his face is rather intricate by comparison, compromised of interlocking web of blue lines designed to confuse the eye and leaving only his eyes as proper point of focus in his entire face. And of course thanks to his powerset he is one of few capes who can safely wear an actual cape, which has prompted him to wear a long, hooded cloak of white with explosion symbol on the back of it in different shades of blue.

The cape is one of few things he managed to demand from PRT's costume department when his Branding was underway, and he is rather proud of it, even though he was denied the dark gray and neon orange colors he had originally wished for. Ah well, there is only so much he can salvage from jaws of the PR department, so small victories should be counted, as they matter all the more.

Nodding to Quake, he begins to make his way outside. "Well, let's go and take care of the damn villain. Headlines don't wait" he jokes, the training session forgotten as the Wards begin to make their way to the van waiting outside. Well at least the day is going to be action-packed, which soundly beats paperwork and lectures about responsibility.

Scene - Hospital

Ruin

Breathing more calmly now as he is being patched up in the emergency room, Ruin can only barely avoid groaning in sheer frustration as another cape shows up. So the Protectorate is here... And they have found him with worrying easy too. The comment made by the hero seems to indicate he has messed up one of their operations. Well, there is really only one response to that.

Not reacting to the intimidating glare in any way, Ruin gives Radar a cold look of his own, having no great love towards PRT and their publicity stunt heroes. "I seem to have missed the point where I ever cared about your operations" he replies sarcastically, knowing that his reputation is his best weapon: even if he is nothing but a man in a coat and mask, other people see what they want to believe... And in this case, what they want to see is mostly a terrifying apparition breaking gangs by it's lonesome, not to mention taking down several supervillains with surprising ease. He has little to fear in this situation: in fact, it plays to his advantage. "I believe I have told PRT and Protectorate to stay out of my way before: since you can't seem to do much about villains, it is up to civic-minded people like myself to...make the difference."

Ignoring the sharp look of the paramedic as he practically dares Radar to attempt anything funny, Ruin taps the case by his feet with his boot. "I assume you put something to this to track it, given I'd know if you placed anything on my personal equipment. So I will ask, kindly, for you to remove it so we can part ways without unpleasantness."

[The_Snark]

Scene - Wards HQ
Diamondback


"Let's go. Diamondback, stay with the radio in case any of the Protectorate tries to hail us. Is everyone ready?"

Diamondback nods. Thanks to Wiretap's presence in the city, the local Protectorate and Wards teams rarely lack for communications: most of their costumes have built-in earbuds, and there are spares scattered around the base, the same way any other building would have fire extinguishers or drinking fountains. She clips one to her ear, tests it to make sure it's working, then picks up one of the handheld comms for a backup.

It doesn't take long for the others to change, but it's still long enough for her to get restless. She distracts herself by stretching. Always a good idea to loosen up before exercising; not many capes get the chance to do that before a fight, but right now she can. May as well make use of the opportunity.

"Ready," she confirms, dropping from a position that would make a professional contortionist wince in envy, and follows after Rebound.

5 minutes later - in transit

"Speck and Unscathed are off-duty, no word from Corona yet. Something knocked out Faust's comm line, Wiretap's working on getting him back online. Looks like it's just the four of us for now." As usual, Diamondback sits with her hands clasped between her knees, unconsciously de-emphasizing them. "We'll have to assume it's just the four of us for now. No word on who's robbing the bank yet, but apparently there was some kind of explosion."

She glances at Quake. "We've got three front-liners plus Gunshow. What do you think? One of us stays back to cover her while the others press the attack?"

[Kiranvonstrom]

SCENE - Dead Hands

Mad Dog

"I like the way you think, Lich. I would have played this somewhat differently, but it seems you already have a plan."

Mad Dog smiled widely, and pulled a small brick of plastic explosive out of the lumpy bag at his feet, and set it on his lap. It was quickly followed by several larger chunks, a few spare detonators, and a half dozen grenades.

"How much firepower, exactly, will you be needing?"

Mentioning explosives was a bit risky. Despite his best efforts to remain underground, Mad Dog had something of a reputation for using explosives. If he was lucky, he would only arouse Lich's suspicions until he trusted him a little more. Then he could, perhaps, explain who he was and what he exemplified. A few words here and there, and soon, Lich would be sympathetic enough to The Working to know who he was dealing with.

OOC:


Okay, I say we end the scene here, and work out a complete plan over PM. Work for you?
=

[3SecondCultist]

SCENE - EN ROUTE TO SANCTI CENTRAL BANK
Quake

"What kind of explosion? Ask for more details. Anything we can get on the parahuman inside will be vital to our strategy." Quake made sure that the others could hear the authority in his voice when he spoke. It was just as important to him that they knew he was Corona's go-to guy in the Wards.

He sat with his back straight against the side of the moving van. Bad posture was one of the first habits his father had beaten out of him. His hands were still, at his sides. His gaze was level, and his mind raced with possibilities. They hadn't heard from Corona yet, which was more than slightly concerning. And the Protectorate were too far away. So he needed to step up, to prove himself. As he watched the other three members of his team in the vehicle, his gaze lingered on Milla - Gunshow. Only cape names when on missions. He let himself smile for a moment, to let her know that he hadn't entirely forgotten about her. He would never admit it, but his eagerness stemmed at least in part of wanting to impress her as well.

"Alright. Until we can learn more about the power-set that we're up against, I say that we cut off all access to the bank itself. There will be police, but we can ask them to move back. I want to try and sink the main structure beneath street level. That way, the threat of the robber will be contained, and we'll be able to move in from there. I've been training - I should be able to push down that much weight in less than a minute."


SCENE - LOCATION UNKNOWN
Lich

She awoke to a fan and the sound of her heart on the monitor. It filled the space between her thoughts with noise. Next was the cold, seeping in softly to raise the skin on her bare arms. It wasn't the kind of cold one felt atop a mountain, or in a blizzard. No, it was the bone-chill that filled up mausoleums beneath the crust of the earth itself.

Describing the room was pointless. Everything here was grey. There were no windows, and only a few doors.

She remembered taking the explosives from 'Mindspy', agreeing on a neutral meeting place, and then leaving him behind for the time being. He was certainly a peculiar one. Her thoughts were still with him, if she was going to be honest with herself. After he had left the car, she drove all the way to the location where Nash was waiting for her. She double checked - nobody was following her. He had gotten into the car, and after that everything went black.

"You've been back for a little over an hour. So far, your vitals are holding steady."

The voice came from the darkness at the end of her bed. She recognized its quality and timbre immediately. James Nash. At least, that was the name he was currently using. She knew it was an alias. He leaned into the lamplight, revealing his clean-shaven, handsome features and empty eyes. As usual, he wore a matching grey jacket and trousers, his gun holster hidden from sight. He was even wearing a tie today - very 'men in black'.

"Here are your test scores for last week. According to the specialists, your muscles have atrophied even further. You need to take better care of your body. Or should I start making calls upstairs?" A euphemism. She didn't know exactly where they were keeping her, but she knew her handler enough to know when he was being deliberately evasive.'Handler was a generous word for what Nash was. Warden was a more apt description, to her mind. Cauldron hadn't set her free: it had just traded one prison for another.

"Notify whoever you want, Nash. And my request? What do you say this time?"

"I... I'm sorry Anna. With your condition and status, it's an unnecessary security risk -"

"Then I'll stay, and let the matter drop." Brushing an unkempt strand of dark hair from her face, Anna turned to face the worn soldier figurine at her bedside. It was one of those macho sergeants, the kind that toy stores had been successfully selling for decades.The plastic was cold, but when she saw it, she couldn't help but smile.

Mommy will make you proud.

I'm going under again tomorrow. You're going to need to have Brandon wiped and ready to transport."

[Tar Palantir]

Scene - En Route to Sancti Bank II
Sparrow

Today's the day. After two long years, today's the day.

The PRT had sent two vans to the modest ranch five miles out of town that had been, until this day, her entire world. The house was on the small side, but well maintained, with a screened-in front patio overlooking the long driveway cutting a line through the otherwise unblemished desert. It was on this patio that Lily Waters had spent many an evening staring out into the night, listening to the sounds of the desert creatures until the first signs of dawn began to spread across the horizon.

It was on this patio that Lily said goodbye.

Eric Walters spent much of his time on that patio beside her, propped up in his well-loved old rocking chair; though not an old man, the demands of his old life had cost him a good chunk of his vitality, among other things, and so he, as he was fond of saying, "took his well-earned rest rather literally". Today, though, he stood tall and proud, and Lily could see the man who'd survived Leviathan's attack in Seattle, the man who put his life on the line so others could be safe. A hero.

He put his hands on her shoulders, looking her up and down as he did. "If they give you any trouble, you just say the word and I'll come down there and..."

"Dad," she interrupted. "We've discussed this in depth. While your assistance in the initial stages was invaluable, my legitimacy as a member of the Wards has to come from my own merits, not as a hand-me-down."

He dropped his head and sighed. "I know. We spent a long time working this through, and I don't need to remind you of the plan, but I'm still your father, and that means I get to be hyperbolically protective of my little girl. Don't you take that away from me."

Lily rolled her eyes and broke out in a wide grin. "You can sit in on the meeting and clean your plasma cannon if you like." There was a brief silence, before she added, softly, "Are you sure I can't stay here? Most Wards live at home."

He squeezed her shoulders tight. "Most Wards live in the city. I'll be here if you need me, but living at headquarters is the best option. You need a chance to stretch your wings without me looking over your shoulder." He pulled her forward into a bear hug. Lily could feel his breath catch, could feel his arms tremble. She squeezed back tightly, scared to let go.

"I'll make you proud, Dad."

"I already am."

**********

Lily didn't bring much in the way of personal effects, just a couple suitcases of clothing and some tools. What necessitated a second van was her, or rather, the rest of her. Her peripheral drones collapsed into nearly seamless rectangles of silvery steel, taking up two or three cubic feet, but even so one van was filled floor to ceiling with nothing but idling drones, and a few dozen had to go with her humanoid chassis in the other van. Still, loading went smoothly, and she was off.

Her only regret was that only drones weren't in a position to receive sensory input when they entered the city. She had done as much research as possible as a matter of course, but nothing could have prepared her for the reality of it all. She found herself twisting and turning in every direction, trying to absorb as much as possible. The PRT agent in the passenger seat smiled and said, "First time in Sancti?"

"First time in any city," was her reply. "It's incredible."

"It has its moments." He frowned, pressing his earpiece. "Looks like this isn't one of them, though. Reports of a bank robbery, possible parahuman involvement. Wards are on the way, but we've been asked to pick up Corona and get him to the scene. Welcome to Sancti."

Not exactly according to plan, but I can work with this. Lily starts digging through one of her suitcases, pulling out her costume. "Can we send the other van ahead to PRT headquarters? I don't like keeping all my drones in one place; the replacement costs if they all went up would be...prohibitive." As far as she was aware, only a handle of PRT officials at the top were of her synthetic nature, but it wouldn't do to get herself killed to maintain the illusion that her drones were expendable automatons. The agent nodded, and radioed instructions to the other van. It peeled away from them, and they hit the gas and tore off for Corona.

[Bhaskara]

Scene - Hospital

Radar

Radar had to admit to himself that if Ruin tried to walk out of here, the hero was likely going to have to let him. He had no back up, there were too many unknowns when it came to Ruin, and a hospital show down was exactly the type of battle all his training told him to avoid. However, he'd be damned if he was going to let the Rogue keep his case of drugs.

"No," was his reply "I can't let you keep a case of drugs no matter how civic-minded."

Ruin could challenge Radar as much as he wanted but if Radar didn't remove the transmitter, Ruin would be walking out with a tracker. The paramedic, perhaps in an effort to break the death stare the two capes were giving each other, gently but firmly applied some pressure to Ruin's chin. You had to admire the man's nonverbals. Very few people could say with a touch, look up and stop squirming. He also gave Radar another pointed look to stop antagonizing his patient.

"You aren't in the best position to make demands. It was our operation first before you busted it. Your own fight didn't go well, so you can't say it was the better of the options. And telling someone to stay out of your way doesn't do any good when you have no channel of communications."

[Dorian Gray]

Downtown, Bean Buster's Coffee

Blackout

As Alfred speaks, Isaac finishes his coffee and leans back in his chair, shading his eyes with a hand. Overhead, a cloud must be drifting over the sun, because the room dims a bit. "You feel like your life has sucked and it's too late to change it. And even on the good days your brain is still screwed up enough to stab you in the back and make you do something stupid."

Isaac drops his hand to the table with a thud, lunging out of his chair. "I'll get more coffee."

[TheDarkDM]

SCENE - THE MISSION DISTRICT, SANCTI CENTRAL BANK

They heard the noise at the base of the basement stairs, multiple sirens blaring through shattered windows, the tinny echo of a police loudspeaker, the distant rhythm of helicopters. He held out his hand, and Sandra stopped, her movements still listless and mechanical. He'd seen it before, one of his special girl's withdrawing into herself to keep from shattering completely. It was a good strategy, he had to admit, but over the years he'd grown quite accustomed to bypassing it. A touch on her shoulder was the simplest step, weight and warmth forcing her attention back into the present, into the horror of the now.

"Do you hear that, Sandra?"

She blinked, and he saw a flicker of life return to her eyes. Still, she only nodded dumbly, afraid of exposing herself any more than she had to. Adorable.

"Do you know what it means?"

Now she had to answer, though the ragged whisper bore little resemblance to the musical lilt that had greeted him twenty minutes ago.

"The police are coming."

"Clever girl."

He patted her on the cheek, and her felt her flinch. His smile only widened - as if he'd ruin this by striking her. That would simply have been impolite.

"But you can't meet the police looking like that! My partner in crime needs a mask, at least."

Confusion baited her further into consciousness, and terror anchored her there. He knew what was going through her mind, how it would look that she had escaped unscathed, that her fingerprints were on the only empty gun in the building. Still, it wasn't enough.

Walking back towards the basement desk, he dipped his fingers in the guard's congealed blood. It came away like tacky paint, and as he turned towards Sandra with crimson dripping from his nails he thought he saw a flash of realization.

"This will do."

Softly, almost tenderly, he smeared the warm liquid around her eyes, painting a crude domino mask in wet blood. She gagged as the scent of copper filled her nostrils, but to her credit she remained standing. She had some strength after all. He continued to paint until her face was something out of a nightmare, the skin around the mask streaked with dust and sweat and stray blood, and finished by wiping his fingers clean on what remained of her white silk shirt.

"Perfect. Shall we?"

He offered her his arm like a gallant at a ball, and she took it without a word. She didn't have a choice, of course, but it still sent a thrill of twisted elation through his spine. They turned to ascend the stairs, but before they'd gone three steps he heard the pounding of military boots on the floor above.

Fantastic.

The SWAT team had already done a check of the lobby by the time he and Sandra arrived, their weapons free and their gas masks on. When they saw him, the captain shouted something unintelligible, but it was enough to get his mens' attention. In short order, half a dozen submachine guns, three assault rifles, and a shotgun were trained on his chest. He raised his hands into the air, and Sandra copied his movements like a marionette.

"Gentlemen, I admire your courage in coming to face me. What say you let me go and we let bygones be bygones?"

There was a pause as the SWAT team stared at him incredulously, then the captain gave his answer. It was still muffled, by the intent was clear enough.

"Down on the ground! Now!"

The Midnight Rambler gave a theatrical sigh.

"If that's the way you want it."

His arms swung down, and before a shot could be fired the vault door rocketed up the stairs behind him. It flew through the SWAT team in a scything arc, leaving a trail of broken men in its wake. Two he caught full in the chest, crushing their ribs in an instant, but the rest had the presence of mind to dodge the worst of it. There were some shattered arms, a broken leg, but still more than enough for him to work with.

Before the officers could regain their feet, he balled his right hand into a fist. The gravity beneath them suddenly intensified five-fold, slamming them against the marble floor. He swept his left arm to the side, and the officers' weapons skittered across the floor to congeal into a single metallic lump three feet above the ground. Then he reversed the gravity beneath them, raising them into the air, crucified by gravity's pull.

"Now then, gentlemen. I know we got off to a rough start, but let's see if we can't talk some sense into your colleagues."

[Tuv]

Downtown, Bean Buster's Coffee

Alfred Kaczynski

A short outburst, then Alfred is alone again. His mind swims briefly with the hard reality of what he'd just said to a teen with his own problems, and that momentary distraction is all it takes.

Not out loud, he thought, that's all I ask.

A chance meeting on the heels of an inconvenience. Two souls come together despite their differences, or perhaps despite their similarities. They exchange pleasantries, kindnesses in a world that has none. Did the younger start bring them together? Or was it the older? Could they find friendship? Companionship? Lean on their faults and pretend to be normal? But the older won't let it get that far, he doesn't deserve help. This was just a moment of weakness, a temporary dalliance. Or was it?

If you go for it, turn to page 103...

If you don't want to press the issue, turn to page 271...

Alfred was dead to the world again, brow furrowed in indecision.

[The_Snark]

Scene - En Route to Sancti Central Bank
Diamondback

"PRT, we're en route to the bank, Diamondback Quake Rebound Gunshow. Keep us updated on the threat?" Redundant, maybe, the PRT operators know their business, but it can't hurt to ask. Especially if it helps soothe Quake's ego. Diamondback is acutely aware that her planned deployment is unlikely to go over well with him. It makes sense: Gunshow is best suited to the rear lines, laying down covering fire, and she'll be a lot safer if one of the team's brute-types hangs back with her to guard her. Rebound is exactly the opposite - not only does his power tend to cause collateral damage, he's likely to 'forget' and dive into the fray, or refuse the job up front. She could manage it just fine, but she's not much use at range, and Quake is.

The only flaw was the human element. Quake, you hang back while Rebound and I take the lead... argh. Dammit, Corona, you're supposed to be around to handle this kind of thing.

And then there's this latest idea. She hates to seem like she's contradicting him again, but -

"Is that safe?" she asks, clear membranes flickering over her eyes in her equivalent of a startled blink. "For the people inside, I mean? I don't think buildings are meant to handle that sort of stress, even in earthquake country. Nobody's going to be happy if we destroy the bank in the process of saving it..."

[Ecksdee]

SCENE - EN ROUTE TO SANCTI CENTRAL BANK
Gunshow

As they loaded up into the van and rolled out towards the bank, Gunshow let her head fall back against the wall behind her, momentarily closing her eyes. This felt like a safe space. Or rather, the calm before the rapidly oncoming storm. Whoever this cape they would be facing was he seemed formidable. And for the record, she didn't have to be told keeping to a ranged role would be her best bet. But would her guns be effective in the first place? Brutes were always an enemy type she worried about. Every single time Quake, for instance, used his powers in front of her the difference in power levels was made readily apparent. It simply couldn't be ignored.

But those feelings of inadequacy had to be stowed away if she wanted to be useful in this case. So she did that, reopening her eyes to face the reality of her situation. It wasn't all bad, though, since Quake was taking time to smile at her reassuredly. Gunshow returned it, and with that she became determined not to be the stereotypical damsel. No one would have to come to her rescue today. She'd pull her own weight -- and then some.

Strategy became the topic of discussion, with Quake and Diamondback taking the reins. Dropping the building had it's pros and cons -- though the safety of the people inside besides the villainous cape was questionable. Gunshow looked between her teammates, satisfied with listening in to their more experienced viewpoints for the moment.

[Regalus]

SCENE- EN ROUTE TO SANCTI BANK II
Corona

The day had started out so well too. After several weeks he and his mom had finally managed to coordinate with each other to have a day off together, and the two had risen early to make the most of it; taking care of some long since needed house work, and had enjoyed spending some time at ease with one another without having to rush between each of their responsibilities. It had been nice. If all had gone to plan they would've set off into town for a while and enjoyed themselves before he had to show up for their newest member's welcome party; the fact it would hopefully give his team a chance to mingle without him looking over their shoulders and mediating between them was certainly a plus.

Yet it all began to go awry after he'd been contacted by Headquarter's by phone to check his personal line with Faust. Much to his concern it seemed like someone had gone into the building under the guise of a new recruit and had some how managed to compromise their network. Supposedly, Wiretap had the situation under control, but they'd lost contact with their eighth member. However he was assured it was all well in hand, and not to worry; which of course he did anyway knowing how badly total isolation would be on his friend with his own line out of commision, up until his mother had managed to take his mind on things and managed to get him to sit down for a movie.

Not twenty missed had passed before the young captain received another call, one he'd hoped would bring his worries to ease, that effectively dashed his plans for the day; some parahuman trying to make a buck in their city, and wrecking the place while they were at it. The call had been woefully short on details, but had no shortage of urgency. This is the reason why instead of spending some quality time relaxing with his mom, he was standing near an over pass waiting under the blazing Texan summer sun wearing a hoodie and sun glasses, and a pack holding his costume slung over his shoulder as he waited to be picked up by a PRT van to fight violent criminals and avoid getting his ass handed to him in the process.

Someone was going to end up with a very dark tan for this.

It was a small mercy that he was not kept waiting long, within minutes the PRT van driving up to him; the boy loosing a relieved breath before hoping into the back of the van, "Good afternoon everyone, busy day huh?" he said conversationally to the PRT officers as the door slammed behind him. The young latino taking note of his fellow occupants as he set his bag down, before his sights settled on the girl sitting opposite to him in the back seat.

"Lily right? Name's Diego, Corona while we're on the clock though. Welcome to Sancti!" he greeted warmly, extending a hand to shake her's as he flashed the blonde a boyish smile, "Sorry ya had to get caught up in this on your first day, been surprisingly hectic 'round here today,"

[Tar Palantir]

Scene - En Route to Sancti Bank II
Sparrow

Lily accepted the offered hand. "Sparrow is my nom de guerre, though I didn't expect it to be getting a workout so soon, myself. A pleasure to make your acquaintance." She paused briefly, before adding in a nervous rush, "That was too formal, wasn't it? I was worried about being overly familiar because I've reviewed all of the publicly available information and footage on you - not just on you, I wasn't stalking you or anything, but on the whole team, though that doesn't really sound much better - and I didn't even share the details of my powers, let alone, um, other things, but that's not important right now, what's important is I didn't want to come off as weird or anything, only that's out the window now and I-" She froze, ending the babbling almost as abruptly as it had started. She closed her eyes for a moment, bowed her head slightly, then opened her eyes and began again, more calmly, "I'm sorry. Let's start over. I'm Lily, also Sparrow, pleased to meet you."

[Regalus]

Diego looked on in slight amusement as the girl stumbled over her words with increasing pace, he was about to remind the to breathe when she finally caught herself; showing some promise in doing so. The girl knew her flaws, and actively tried to be better than them; that was something he could respect.

The young man placed a hand on her shoulder encouragingly, "It's a pleasure to meet you Lily. My name is Diego, also Corona, and you're going to fit right in," he greeted, his smile widening slightly in earnest. "We might seem neat on the tele, but we're all goofballs; you've got nothing to worry about,

[Tar Palantir]

Scene - En Route to Sancti Bank II
Sparrow

Lily smiled at his reassurance, then straightened. "All right, down to business. You need a briefing on my powers, I need a comm frequency, and we both need to suit up." She removed her glasses, stashing them in a hard case pulled from her bag, then turned her back to change. "Though not officially rated as yet, my estimated PRT classification is Tinker 2, Master 7, specializing in semi-autonomous drones." She shrugged one shoulder towards the quiescent blocks of steel stacked up at the forward end of the van without looking. "I sent most of them ahead to HQ, but I have thirty two in this van, most armed with UV lasers or electricity projectors, all nonlethal. Some utilize sprayers for gas-based weaponry or containment foam, but they were unloaded for transport and thus sent with the other van. I do have two drones here armed with plasma cannons in case of heavy resistance, but they don't do 'nonlethal' very well, so they're last resort only. All drones are capable of all-terrain movement and flight at moderate speeds, as well as two-way video and audio transmission. Onboard processes coordinate telemetry data and tactical instructions, allowing for a staggering level of operational precision. They're technically expendable, but costly enough to replace that throwing them away is sub-optimal." By this point she was mostly changed, with her hood up and belt still lying on the seat beside her, the latter of which she remedied. She then half-turned her head to Diego and asked, "Any questions?"

[TheDarkDM]

SCENE - EN ROUTE TO SANCTI CENTRAL BANK

The radio crackled in response to Diamondback's request, transmitting to each of the Wards.

"PRT field team Bravo acknowledges, Wards. We just arrived on site - the police have a two block perimeter surrounding the bank building, but SWAT went in before we arrived. They were going to sweep the lobby to see if we could send in EMT's, but we lost contact a few minutes-"

There was a shout somewhere near the microphone, and the voice on the other end of the radio started speaking more quickly.

"Wards, we have sight of the parahumans. Looks like two of them. They've got the SWAT team in some kind of telekinetic hold!"

[3SecondCultist]

SCENE - EN ROUTE TO SANCTI CENTRAL BANK
Quake

At first, Quake didn't give Diamondback's suggestion any thought. It was almost as if she had never spoken at all. But a few moments' consideration did give him pause. Archer would have found a way to showcase his powers, be seen saving the day, and do it without any unnecessary risk. He could have hit himself for being so stupid. Come on! You're better than that, you moron. If you're not the leader they need, then what good are you?

He clenched his jaw, but said nothing.

This time, he avoided meeting Gunshow's eyes. He didn't want her to see the shame that filled them. Instead, he leaned forward to adjust the straps on his armor. A low beeping at his wrist alerted him of the downtown sewer systems, and he looked over to the display on the console. At least his mother's mapping system was coming in handy. With this, he would be able to avoid hitting anything with his power.

Wait...

"Okay, I have another idea. What if I opened up a tunnel for us to try and get in through the vaults? We can try to catch the suspect by surprise that way. I can keep an escape route open for us, and play rear guard." It wasn't glamorous, but he couldn't help but still feel ashamed about his first suggestion. They couldn't waste any more time on his grandstanding. It looked like this was to be yet another day that he let the Sanborn collect dust for the sake of his team.

One screech and a lurch later, Quake found that the PRT van had stopped. He looked out the window, to see the police perimeters that characterized the downtown block around the Sancti Central Bank. They had arrived.

[Regalus]

Scene- En route to Sancti Bank II
Corona

"Yup, not a lot of time for modesty today," he commented in agreement as he turned his own back to her, unzipping his pack and reaching for the orange and gold costume within; a brightly colored affair that had taxed the PR and tactical departments as they tried to create a costume that made the most from the boy's blinding light, yet wasn't utterly garish or impossible to photograph properly.

As he changed the lads mind went to work picking up noteworthy facts and implications, shelving some for later while toying with others; yet it is at the mention of two-way video and audio that the lad utters a victorious cry. "Oh God yes! Sparrow, you're a dream come true!" he exclaimed gleefully, the smile audible from his tone as he finished slipping into the lower portion of his tinker-woven costume, "You wouldn't believe how long I've been praying for someone with scouting abilities to join our team; we've got shakers and Tinker's to spare, a handful of blasters, a Thinker, and more brutes than you can shake a stick at, but we didn't have anyone with scouting capabilities worth salt against other parahumans. The fact you give us some extra ranged support and have controlled lethal and nonlethal options are just the cherry on top! You my dear, are a godsend,"

"So, do you have a peripheral or built in gadget that helps you rely their sensory input, or does your Master classification cover that too? Oh! And how potent are those UV rays? UVs are in my spectrum of manipulation, so I think I might be able to use my power to give'em a boost and direct them in a pinch; though might be best to hold that off until we're desperate, or get a chance to properly tested it out at a shooting range," he comments in a far more analitical tone as he finishes clasping the upper portion of his costume, and holstered his spectrum ray.

[Tar Palantir]

Scene - En Route to Sancti Bank II

Sparrow

Sparrow grinned at Corona's over-the-top praise. "Yeah, from what I could tell it looked like you needed a bit of help in that area, so I spent some long nights overhauling my sensor suites. Individual drones don't get great resolution in any range other than visible light and infrared, but they can pick up everything from radar to hard gamma, and if need be I can set up an array to get a clearer picture. Audio's good for whispers and vibrations, too. No olfactory or tactile, unfortunately, but not bad for a few weeks' work."

At his question on control, the barest hint of a pause was detectable before she answered, "That's a bit of a longer explanation, but yes, that's where my Master classification comes in. Control and information processing are non-issues."

Her voice notably relaxed a bit as the topic shifted. "Depends on how many times you want them to shoot. Sticking within recommended guidelines, they can hit anywhere from sharp pinch to third degree burns, either with sustained emission or as stronger pulses. If someone's underwriting my equipment budget, they can fire a significantly more powerful shot. It'd be enough to punch through a foot of concrete and the guy hiding behind it, but it'd completely fry the beam assembly. Most of the time, one kill shot isn't worth a six digit price tag. Worth some experimenting, though."

She pulled her hood over her face. "Judging from the sirens, it sounds like we're nearly there. You have that comm frequency for me?" As she finished her question, the van came to a stop. You wanted to be a hero, Lily.

Now's your chance.

[Regalus]

Scene- En route to Sancti II: End, Enterring Sancti Bank Scene

"Not bad at all," Corona chirps in agreement as he straightens in his seat once presentable, tweaking his costume slightly as he spoke, "Yeah, my power should let me magnify and adjust the rays so we in a pinch we should be able to pump up their net out put without particularly straining the array; if nothing else it'll give us a good armor piercer for heavy duty tinker gear and brutes if push comes to shove," he mused as he holstered his spectrum gun on his side, and turned to face Sparrow with a upbeat smile.

"As for power supplies that's not something you'll have to worry too much about here in Sancti, thanks to your's truly" he says proudly, "There's a reason why Sancti can offered having so many tinkerers on one team. My power coupled with good Ol' Texan sunshine helps keep our power budget as one of the lowest in the district, and we figured out how to make proper cells to store the excess. If we can manage to get your stuff to use them it should ease up your maintenance costs by quite a bit," he explained helpfully before finally placing his helmet on as they pulled up to the area, checking his comm in order to give Sparrow their local frequency.

"Also heads up, our systems got breached earlier to day so you may want to keep the drones you sent over to the base from linking up to the base's network 'till Wiretap gives us the all clear. She already dealt with the breach itself I think, but she's double checking the systems and tracking down the guy responsible," he quickly added in warning before he tested his own comm unit, quite pleased it was working going by the muttering over the line.

"Any way, time for you to meet the rest of the crew," he stated as he stepped out of the van and activated his comm unit, "Wards Corona here, just made it to the scene with Sparrow in tow. Where are you guys stationed, and who do we have on hand for this one?" he reported his eyes scanning the gathered vehicles and men in the hopes of tracking down a PRT Agent or Officer he could get details from as a wave of tension spread through out the area as he attempted to get a measure of what the present situation was.

[Grim ranger]

Scene - En Route to Sancti Central Bank

Rebound

Not offering his comments until Quake and Diamondback have both said their piece concerning the situation, Rebound joins in perhaps little too enthusiastically. "Well, if you are going to try the tunneling strategy, you are going to need a distraction: who knows whenever or not you'll get detected without one, and I'd rather not leave hostages in hands of a madman. I'll go in there and chat with them until you make your surprise entry, and then we can wrap up. Sounds good? I thought so!"

Not even pausing to look at Quake or Diamondback as he steps out of the stopped vehicle, Rebound activates his own comm unit and speaks to Corona. "Good to have you here bossman: I was afraid you'd miss the fancy dress party. Can you imagine how much it would have sucked if our fearless leader did not arrive to old-timey bank robbery?" he mouths off to Corona, easily falling to his role as the snarky supporter as he looks at the front entrance of the bank. "Anyway, we just got to the place: I'll go inside and delay them a while so the rest of you can sneak inside as needed. It's not like they can actually do anything to me."

Scene - Hospital

Ruin

Staring at the hero in silence until the paramedic finished the path on his throat, Ruin narrows his eyes somewhat as he distances himself somewhat from the hapless civilian. "Good thing that you are here then: you can give PRT the memo. I do better work if your lot are not constantly hindering my efforts. Grim's goons are mine to deal with."

Grabbing the case, he goes on to place it onto the table and open it. "Now, I assume you put the tracking device on the casing, since they would have noticed had it been on the product itself. I will just let you keep the case when I leave with the contents. This is not a negotiation: I need those things to get more clues concerning those halloween-themed bastards. If you get in my way, I will knock you out: as much as I despise the general inefficiency of PRT, killing heroes is not something I am in habit of doing."

[Tar Palantir]

Scene - En Route to Sancti Bank II (End); Entering Sancti Central Bank Scene

Sparrow

"Warning noted. It should be fine; I'm not much of a tinker, but the, um, software is mostly Cog's work, so unless you got hacked by Dragon, they're out of their league. Still, no reason to be sloppy."

She nodded to Corona as he gave her the frequency, tuning her internal receiver accordingly. Speaking aloud as well as over comms (both for Corona's benefit and to postpone potentially awkward discussions), she said, "Sparrow here. Some welcoming party you have here." She stepped out of the van, first with her primary chassis, then with her drones as they unfolded and crawled out like so many massive beetles. As each got clear, it took to the sky, establishing an aerial perimeter around the bank. "I've got eyes in the sky, running full passive scans. EM distortions indicate spacial warping or gravity manipulation, likely the latter. Quite a few dead, including two members of the SWAT team, looks like. The rest are getting tossed around by some serious precision gravitics. One confirmed parahuman hostile, if the gestures accompanying the shifting gravity fields are any indication. One more live one, unconfirmed if hostile, hostage, parahuman or otherwise." As she finished, the last half-dozen drones took up positions around her main chassis, flying in tightly synced orbits, three bearing lasers, two electricity projectors, and one one of her two plasma cannons on scene. This could get ugly. This cape has a lot of power and not much in the way of scruples. Her sensor net picked up the other Wards fairly easily (they don't exactly blend into a crowd), and she pointed for Corona's benefit before heading that direction.

"So what's the plan?"

[Mabn]

Chamber

Faust's efforts at distraction got old before he began them. after a while he gave up and sat on the rapidly oxidizing floor. It's not like this was the only place he could hang out. There were several areas evacuated due to behemoth attacks that he had heard were lovely. The whole point of being here was to be in contact with people. A function it preformed dubiously.

He had seriously considered requesting a move to an abandoned mine-shaft so he could move about more and stay nearby, but he was afraid one bad day would lead to him accidentally melting to much of the surrounding rock and either sealing off the entrance, or getting lost trying to find a tunnel again and never finding a way out that didn't involve him bursting out of the surface and causing a major incident.

If he could focus his flame more he could keep it pointed at the floor and not have to worry about that as much. Maybe even create some artwork and furniture in the bedrock that would melt away before he could complete it. No good way of doing that though. Whenever he tried it worked for a few seconds before vaporizing wherever he projected from and reverting back to normal.

He proceeded to practice it anyway in case some tinker created a mega refrigeration bracelet or something similarly stupid.

[The_Snark]

Scene - En Route to Sancti Central Bank
Diamondback


"Wards, we have sight of the parahumans. Looks like two of them. They've got the SWAT team in some kind of telekinetic hold!"
Diamondback's response is short and unprintable. A telekinetic who's broken the Manton effect? There's got to be something we're missing. We'd have heard of someone like that, right? God, I hope...

Quake's words shake her out of her increasingly grim thoughts. He's angry - she can smell it rolling off him, a bitter mint-like scent with an odd metallic tang - but wonder of wonders, he isn't arguing, and his suggestion... isn't bad, actually. She nods. "That might work, if they're holed up in the bank. If they're making a run for it we'll probably want to cut them off outside. We'll have to wait and see the sitch."

She does her best not to wince at Rebound's suggestion. "They could have hostages, remember..." Holy ****, it's like herding cats. Angry, hissing cats who hate each other. Where are you, Corona? You're supposed to deal with this kind of crap...

... thank you, God.

She activates her comm bud, following the others out of the van. "Hey C. Diamondback, Quake, Rebound and Gunshow here, we're just reaching the police perimeter, corner of West and Tucker. Have you been briefed?"

[Bhaskara]

Scene - Hospital
Radar

Radar clenched his fists for second, tempted to lay out the guy right there. People sometimes assumed because he was small he was easy to take out. It had caused him no end of trouble in training. He made up for it though by being in peak condition. However, engaging Ruin without back up wasn't going to prove anything. And the fact that HQ had remained silent told him in the back of his mind that bigger things were probably happening there.

"You know a memo isn't gonna cut it. You want us off your back? You gotta work with us. Get a stable channel open. Give an' take. We aren't hinderi' you. I didn't get your neck cut. Fact is, if it had been worse I'da been the one havin' to save you from dyin' in an alley. The Grims aren't just your problem. This solo act is gonna get you killed."

Radar taking the PR out of PRT.

Radar held out his hand for case.

[Grim ranger]

Scene - Hospital

Ruin

"This is me opening a channel. It's as much as you are going to get. Who do you think I hold responsible for this city being just about openly occupied by villains?" Ruin asks the protectorate hero in cold tone, drawing a taser and pointing it at Radar's face as he begins to pick the contents of the case out one by one, stowing them away in the pockets of his longcoat. "I have been just peachy by myself up to this point, thank you very much. I don't really like people you have shouting orders, so I doubt I'd like co-operating in a sense the Protectorate seems to use the word. But if it will keep your mind at ease, give me a number and I'll send a message or call it with my findings... eventually."

Ruin is going to stow as much of the contents of the case as he can to his pockets and leave, unless stopped via direct physical confrontation. Yeah, he is not really a guy who makes lot of compromises.

[Dorian Gray]

Downtown, Bean Buster's Coffee

Isaac, aka Blackout

Isaac returns to the table holding another cup of coffee. As he sets the cardboard cup down on the table, a loud siren wail blares past the small shop. Isaac doesn't even blink, taking a long sip and staring at the wall with half-closed eyes. Half-rhetorically, he asks, "You think that's 'cause of the shooting earlier?"

A few moments pass, with nobody talking. Isaac yawns. And then a PRT van screeches past the coffee shop, blue and green lights flashing. Isaac leans forward, grinning slightly. "Wanna see what's going on?"

[Bhaskara]

Scene-Hospital
Radar

Radar wasn't impressed by Ruin pointing a gun at him. The PRT hero was pretty sure Ruin was an idiot at this point. He might be the most powerful Rogue in Sancti but he had a stubborn independent streak a mile wide. Going without a team and aggravating both sides of the fence... It was going to get him taken down. Either the villain community would band together or the Protectorate would decide the risk wasn't the KO list.

Radar reached over the counter (not an easy feat) and grabbed a pen and prescription pad. He made some quick scribbles before pushing across the counter and grabbing the case.

"Here's a thought," he said before heading off "Try blaming the villains."

On the paper was a number with an extension and some words one of Radar's drill sergeants had once said that had stuck with him. It might help Ruin come to his senses. Somehow, Radar doubted it.

Talent wins games - Michael Jordan
Look it up
Radar

[Regalus]

"Pshaw! Me miss the chance to play sheriff? You wound me," Corona quips lightheartedly, half hearing Sparrow's report and half taking measure of his team; yet his smile goes out like a candle light as their newest member finished her analysis, and his mirth is replaced by a well spring of dread.

"Rebound stop!" he ordered, mustering as much urgency as he could into his words to fill the gap left by his banished glee, "'ve been briefed, and Sparrow just filled in the blanks," he said with a gravely, his mouth pressed into a thin lin as he mentally shifted gears.

"We can't handle this bastard like usual guys, and whatever plan you guys whipped up on the way might be out the window. We've got a gravity manipulator with enough control to mimic telekinesis on multiple moving targets without effecting anything they don't want to, enough fire power to blow apart storm glass, multiple hostages, a possible accomplice, doesn't give a rat's ass about hurting people, and the bastard's on the front steps of the bank. If he get's his hands on Rebound with his power thing's are going to get messy fast," explains hurriedly as possible as solutions began to blossom in his mind.

"We need to hit him hard and fast when we do; priority on knocking him out before he gets chance to break his hostages or wreck everything in front of him. We don't know what his power's vector is or his range of effect, I do not want anyone approaching him unless absolutely necessary, or toss at him anything large enough for him to throw back. Keep your coms open to Diamondback and Sparrow at all times, they're the closest thing to warning we'll get before things go pear shaped," he quickly ordered as he scanned the area visually...there was no way they'd be able to clear all the cops out in time before their target tried something. Not that there target seemed to care about collateral or civilians if the bank was any indication of it.

"Gunshow please tell me you're packing tranquilizers or taser rounds today? Sparrow, need to know what's the maximum range of your drone's electric projectors and how many on hand can fire," he requested urgently, quite thankful for the villain's sense of theatricality. Time was of the essence and the only had until their target stopped humoring them, or finished basking in the limelight before they'd have to make due with what they had.

[TheDarkDM]

Before the Wards could finish formulating their plan, there was a scream from the front steps of the bank. Looking towards the standoff, they could see the SWAT captain floating several feet higher than the rest of his men, his arms stretched out alongside him so far it seemed they were about to tear themselves from his body. The screaming continued for a few moments more, before the pull on his arms lessened, and he was lowered to rejoin the human barricade. No sooner had he done so than the curtain of kevlar and human bodies opened, revealing a jet black skeleton in a dusty black suit. When he spoke, his voice carried farther than it should have, rumbling with a distortion that seemed more appropriate to long distance radio broadcasts.

"Excuse me, I'm sorry to interrupt, but I assume ya'll are the local Wards? It's a pleasure. I go by the Midnight Rambler, and my partner here is named Sandra. Say hello Sandra."

He stepped to one side, revealing a young woman positively covered in blood and grime. She flinched as he spoke, but raised a hand in silent greeting nevertheless.

"Good girl. Now, forgive me for cutting through the usual repartee, but I assume you're here to stop me? Drag me off in chains, save the day, that sort of thing? Now, we could do that, but then my collateral damage would have to wait even longer for medical attention, and we'd run the risk of ruining this wonderful neighborhood. How's about instead, you let me go? The bank's insurance will more than cover the amount I've...withdrawn. You can send in the EMT's you've got hiding out there, and keep collateral to a minimum. Everybody wins, the PRT saves the day and you come out looking like heroes. Because if you don't let me go, well, I'll start by tearing these upstanding officers of the law in half, and we'll have a rumble the likes of which this town has never seen. But I'd prefer not to - I've got places to be."

[Tar Palantir]

Scene - Sancti Central Bank

Sparrow

Sparrow listened attentively to Corona's analysis. To be fair, she listened attentively to everything, attention being something she possessed in spades, but this was both her first time working as part of a team and her first direct experience seeing her new leader in action. Appropriate reaction to threat level, tactical approach cautious but not overly timid, solicitation of necessary information supplements plan and gets everyone on board and contributing. I can work with this.

Before she could respond to his query, though, the Midnight Rambler made his play. She spoke over comms, her lips moving just enough to imply sub-vocalization, "Not sure how it impacts our play, but there is no way that woman is an accomplice. Her body language and IR emissions all scream trauma and fear. I've got no read on Rambler; he might as well be doing laundry. No idea if he'll carry out his threat, but I wouldn't bet against it." She closed her eyes tightly, before turning to Corona and finding her voice again. "It's your call, sir, but I don't think you should let him take her. If we pour on the fire, even if we can't take him down, we might force him to leave her. There'll be casualties either way, just not necessarily death." She was silent a moment. "I'll stand by whatever you decide."

[The_Snark]

Scene - Sancti Central Bank
Diamondback

"She smells terrified, too," Diamondback chimes in on the subject of the woman. "If she is an accomplice, she's not likely to be much threat. Recommend using force or containment foam - he doesn't look or smell human at all right now. I don't know how the hell his body works, but I'm betting tasers and tranqs won't do much."

"Remember, tracking him's an option." Not necessarily a good option, mind - this area is half-ruined and mostly evacuated already, and confronting him elsewhere would probably put more bystanders and property at risk - but it's there.

[Tuv]

Downtown, Bean Buster's Coffee

Alfred Kaczynski

Should he? Shouldn't he? Alfred couldn't seem to get the thought out of his head that maybe even this teenager was smarter than him. That he'd made better decisions, that there was merit in following him, even for now. It was a stretch, but life wears you down like that.

"If you think that's a good idea, I don't see why not."

You have my character's name on the label for your last post. Quote much? :smallbiggrin:

[Dorian Gray]

Downtown, Bean Buster's Coffee/The Bank

Isaac, aka. Blackout

Isaac holds the door for Mr. Kaczynski. As the pair walks down towards where the van was headed, Isaac shades his eyes with his hand, peering down the road. "Did you see which way it turned? I think it went around the..."

Isaac's voice peters out as he gets to the corner. About halfway down the block is a scene out of a nightmare- twelve men, absolutely caked in blood, hang in the air, their faces twisted in pain and horror. About half of them show obvious signs of injury, in varying degrees of severity. One appears to already be dead, with a long shard of wood piercing his stomach. A dozen more bodies lie on the ground, wearing civilian cloths.Across the street, the Sancti Wards are grouped in a circle, several of them hovering above the ground, not yet acting.

Isaac recoils back, looking with wide eyes at Alfred. "Holy ****ing ****, man! We need to get outa here!"

No idea what you're talking about in the spoiler :smalltongue:

[3SecondCultist]

SCENE - SANCTI CENTRAL BANK

As he stepped out of the van and into the fray, Quake took the time to assess the scene. Sparrow's unfamiliar ramblings had already filled him and his teammates in on most of the details. The first thing to catch his attention was, of course, the Midnight Rambler and the girl - Sandra - on the steps, beneath the SWAT officers. He was surprised to find that he wasn't angry. Weren't the Sanborns supposed to be the protectors of Sancti? Instead, he felt charged. A threat like this did not come around very often, and it was only there, in the afternoon sun, that he began to realize just how much of an opportunity this would be for him. He immediately discarded the Rambler's suggestion as impossible. The hero never agreed to the villain's demands. Instead, he began to think about ways he could contain or stop the Rambler using his own talents. His Shaker powers wouldn't do much against someone who could maintain localized gravity wells. Any wall he put up to cut off the bank could be circumvented, as could any projectile he sent the Rambler's way.

And then he saw Corona, and he was Peter again.

A mixture of emotions swelled beneath the surface of his helm. Resentment and admiration, jealousy and respect all at the same time. Diego was the team leader, and he called the shots now. For the time being, he would defer to his expertise. Leading the others over to where Corona stood, Quake gave a quick wave.

"I'm glad you could make it. What's the plan, man?" He tapped his oldest friend lightly on the shoulder, as if to signify that this was just another ordinary day. He knew that it wasn't, but every little bit of support helped.

[Ecksdee]

SCENE - SANCTI CENTRAL BANK
GUNSHOW

Gunshow wasn't aware they would be getting a new team member. She remained silent during Sparrow's chatter over the comms, a look of mild confusion on her face. Well, the more the merrier as they say. She was never one to turn down honest-to-god help in situations as dire as this. Especially someone who seemed so well-versed on things. She listened as Sparrow laid out the details, stepping out of the van to join the others. Of course, she gravitated towards Quake, standing just a ways behind him. Her eyes flicked over to the several drones belonging to the newest member, marveling at the limits to which technology had been pushed. Tinkers really were an asset. The PRT classified her as one of their number, though truth be told she didn't seem to have the ability to create fantastic new pieces of tech. Instead, her strengths lay in modifying things -- like conventional weaponry. It was still new to her which suggested untapped potential. Maybe she could kindly ask Sparrow to show her a few things later...

Corona had taken charge during this time, as expected. Gunshow cast a wary glance towards Quake. There was some semi-bad blood between the two -- though their friendship seemed to stick it out despite that. She often worried about how missions would go with the changed dynamics, but Quake remained wholly focused and professional. And Corona didn't try to use his authority in unnerving ways. So everything seemed alright. For now.

When the leader addressed her, the masked blonde nodded, hand moving up to grip part of her utility belt. It held everything she needed in the field -- and then some. Being over-prepared was something that had been hammered into her head during training. Hell, it was still being hammered into her head with each passing day she spent as a member of the Wards. "Yeah! I'm all ready to go. But do you think this will work on this guy?"

Speaking of, Rambler decided to make his grand appearance. His appearance was pretty frightening. And the way he casually used his powers to torment the SWAT team members was bone-chillingly awful. Gunshow shuddered, not wanting to even think about being within that psychopath's grasp. To make matters even worse, though, he also had a civilian under his thrall. "Son of a bitch." She found herself cursing, stepping forward with a look of outrage. He wanted them to just let him stroll on out of here after everything he'd done. Like hell! Gunshow agreed heartily with Sparrow and Diamondback. That poor woman was traumatized out of her mind. If they let Rambler make off with her they might as well consider her life utterly forfeit.

The gun-toting heroine turned to face Corona just as Quake queried his friend on the plan. "He has gravity powers, right? That likely means he can do something crazy like... crush my bullets." Which made her pretty useless now didn't it? "Unless we're able to weaken him enough to where he isn't able to pull anything off like that, of course."

[Grim ranger]

Scene - Hospital

Ruin

"Doesn't matter who I blame, the situation remains the same. So I guess I will blame the people who actually might have the decency to shape the hell up" Ruin remarks to the departing Radar before grabbing the note and beginning to walk away as well, ignoring the passers-by that are swarming about a respectful distance away. He knows that some of them have likely recorded the whole incident with their camera phones, but doesn't care all too much: the situation has ended up as his win for the time being. It seems his luck is still holding out, at least when it comes to avoiding the PRT as a whole. Single heroes can be understandably reluctant to attempt to bring him in for questioning, which is generally the result of his well-known track record in cape fights.

Leaving the hospital behind, the vigilante begins making his way towards his hideout at the edges of the city, knowing he will have planning to do before next attack...And weapons to buy. Hopefully the General is in good mood.

Scene - Sancti Central Bank

Rebound

"Chill, guys. I got this" Rebound says confidently, folding his arms and looking at the Rambler, his body language almost EAGER. It is quite clear he prefers the violent option when it comes to resolving the situation, but has not quite yet moved on to battle the villain: although he would definitely love to do so, the Director has rained particularly inventive punishments on him on occasions he has summarily disregarded the orders of Wards team leader and instead stuck out on his own, so he holds himself back for the time being. "He doesn't look so tough. Just let me walk over there and punch him a couple of times. It should be a blast."

[Tuv]

Downtown, Bean Buster's Coffee => Santi Central Bank

Alfred Kaczynski

The change in the atmosphere was immediate, like being soaked in ice water. The two of them hadn't been joking around, but there wasn't blood and death before either. The horrors were happening far enough away that if they left now they could be gone before anything else happened. Was there not enough time to put up a police barricade? Or had they somehow avoided it?

It didn't matter. Nothing really mattered at this point. Alfred's brain kicked into overdrive as he took in the... things that were happening, but he was too far to hear. A story told in pantomime isn't any worse, but it is surely less vivid. He had to get closer. This wasn't a story unfolding, it was an epic, and he would be Homer.

"I... yes, let's do that." He says the words like in a trance, unconsciously walking towards the bank, the PRT, and the death.

He straightens his tatty beige suit.

[Dorian Gray]

Downtown: Sancti Central Bank

Isaac, aka Blackout

Isaac blanches, almost running to grab Alfred but stopping a few feet short of the teacher. Through clenched, pale lips, he chokes out, "What the hell are you going to do? Unless you've been hiding a superpower, you can't do anything!"

Suddenly, the light around the bank darkens. The sky turns deep purple, and the glaring noonday Texas sun turns deep orange, as though it were setting in the middle of the sky.

The light change isn't enough to affect visibility. It might have a bit of impact on Corona, but not much. It's noon, so the effect is fairly small. It might be different if it were dusk or night, but right now it's just a visual effect.

[Tuv]

Santi Central Bank

Alfred Kaczynski

"Such a story, is it a comedy? A tragedy? The militia, the heroes, and the villain, how will they fare? I have to know. Ah, here comes a member of the militia now, come to rebuke me or warn me off. That's no good."

A weedy looking PRT officer approaches Alfred with a worried look. "Uhhh, li-listen sir, you can't go through here, it's really dangerous right now. You need to get back." He stands to bar the path.

"Not a threat, but a nuisance, a whelp, hardly the sort of obstacle to freeze a story dead in its tracks, no."

"Sir!" the officer says more firmly, "if you are going to keep trying to move forward, I'm going to have to incapacitate you."

A laugh, heavy and hearty. "No, the narrator is merely going to slip by the whelp when he glances away to check for backup. He'll move quietly and quickly enough not to be caught so easily." And he was past the obstacle for a moment, but just long enough.

The officer looks behind him, hoping to see another officer to back him up, but everyone is occupied. When he looks back, the man is gone, and not gone back the way he should have gone. He shakes his head briefly as his mind tries to cope with what just happened. He picks up his radio. "Unknown male approaching. I tried to stop him, but while I was questioning him I looked away, and I don't remember why, and now I can't see him. Probable parahuman, Master or Stranger, I don't know."

[Regalus]

The young captain started at the unexpected touch of his old friend, having been to distracted by current events to notice his approach; equal amounts of relief and frustration washing over the boy as he realized his whole team had moved over to join him. The act of support during a hostage situation was welcomed, lord knew his powers were either the best or worst for them depending on the setup; yet the tactician in him cringed at the realization they had all just clustered around him when they were dealing with a shaker. Nothing to do about it now though.

Allowing himself a smile, the lad nodded to Quake, "Shake an' bake; think you can remove the girl and hostages from the equation if ya get the chance?" he quipped, calling up the maneuver's name from their playbook. A tactic where the pair used their powers to neutralize the enemy's spatial awareness between his own blinding incandescent light, and a mixture of localized tremors and/or terrain rearrangement as Quake deemed appropriate based on the terrain he was affecting; it's goal to neutralize enemy mobility, concentration, and awareness of their surroundings to hamper their combat ability as well as generating an opening for the other's to use.

Ideally the maneuver would almost be immediately accompanied by a ranged assault from Rebound, Gunshow and now Sparrow; usually, Diamondback might jump into the fray using her preternatural senses to compensate, but his prior order took precedence. No one was getting near the man until they had more intel on how he worked.

"In any case first one by itself might not do the trick, but it'll still distract'em from the others and fire again when ya get a chance," he answered Gunshow as his attention was torn away by the ear piercing scream.

The apparent Case 52's display twisted his guts, the simple display of cruelty and his casual demeanor slowly painted a rather unpleasant portrait of the man they were facing; to say nothing of what he'd done to the girl behind him. "Sparrow, remember what I said; even if things go south any data you can send to Wiretap can salvage this. Let me know if he stops or starts nay distortions," he reminded as he gestured for one of the PRT officers standing by in the distance to hand him a megaphone; hoping one of the other's might explain the play to Sparrow, or that the girl was telling the truth when she said she'd read all their files, while he handled the situation.

"Guys we don't want things to go pear shaped if we can help it; if and when we act, do so fast and everyone spreads out. We only get one shot at this," he reaffirmed before catching the requested megaphone.

The boy steeled himself with a breath before the device crackled to life, "Hello there! So glad you want this to go over smoothly! You wouldn't believe how many folks would rather start a brawl then talk things out. Do ya have a name I can call ya?" he chimed in faux relief, though the sound was somewhat distorted by the device in his hands.

Despite how terrible the situation seemed Corona was optimistic. So long as he could calm the man down, and hash things out they might have a chance for this to turn out well for most of them; which of course was when life decided to kick sand in his eye as the sky darkened to a mock sunset. A most alien sensation for the heliokinetic as he felt out the area with his power; soon coming to the conclusion that the light wasn't being displaced or manipulated, so much as 'filtered' by something.

"Please tell me someone knows who that is," the lad whispered into his comm, while his eyes scanned the area from behind his his visor; torn between spotting the source of the effect and keeping an eye on the Midnight Rambler as he readied himself for whatever was about to happen.

[3SecondCultist]

SCENE - SANCTI CENTRAL BANK
Quake

Quake didn't need to be told twice what to do. They had certainly practiced the 'shake and bake' maneuver before - it was one of their standard opening tactics, to try and deprive the enemy of a stable footing and observe how they responded. It was usually in place to try and neutralize targets without killing them... but this time, Quake couldn't help but think that maybe this Midnight Rambler deserved one of Gunshow's bullets between his eyes.

As soon as Corona opened communications with the Rambler, Quake began to move away from the tight cluster of Wards. He hadn't thought of spreading them out. No matter his intentions, there was a reason that Diego had been chosen as captain. It was no less of a bitter pill to swallow now, but he saw the logic in Corona's suggestions. The data screen on his right wrist showed him the overall mineral composition of the foundations of the bank, as well as the layouts of the sewers directly beneath the street.

The sewers... now there was an idea. If they could force the Rambler off of the streets and into a cornered space, they could greatly reduce the number of casualties. It seemed as though the Rambler wanted to draw out this fight. He had already displayed a taste for the theatrical. What would happen if they deprived him of an audience? Quake himself would also have a much higher level of control over the battlefield. He thought about opening up a hole beneath the murderer right there, but he had already committed to Corona's plan.

That's what contingencies were for, in any case.

"So, you wanna play? Let's see what you're really made of." The words escaped his lips as a whisper, but he felt as though if he applied enough force, the Rambler would be able to hear him. Over this distance, it was impossible. But that never stopped him from trying. He barely even noticed the darkening of the battlefield as he tapped into the network of the earth itself. A feeling of familiar comfort washed over him, the warm embrace that only a stone could enjoy. At his feet, the ground began to rumble. Spears and embankments of asphalt and concrete began to jut up from the previously flat road, creating a rough perimeter around the scene that would keep most passers-by at bay. But the disruptions began to make their way inwards before long: towards the Rambler. This would give Corona enough time to set up his own attack and coordinate the rest of the team.

[Tar Palantir]

Scene - Sancti Central Bank

Sparrow

Sparrow didn't outwardly react to Corona's instructions, but she did transmit a quick "Acknowledged" before setting to work. She shifted position slightly, putting some distance between her and the other Wards while feigning distraction and inattention; after all, she'd survive no matter what the Rambler did to her humanoid chassis (though it might complicate matters significantly if her nature was publicly revealed), whereas some of her teammates were no more durable than ordinary humans. As she did this, she opened two separate communications channels.

The first channel was a high-bandwidth line to Wiretap. "This is Sparrow, acting Ward on scene at Sancti Central, transmitting thirty three live audio-visual feeds, a curated stream of the most relevant perspective at any given moment, and analysis on demonstrated and hypothesized powers, capabilities, limitations, and behaviors. Situation is within acceptable parameters at the moment, but with someone this strong that could change at any moment. Will advise as the situation develops. Sparrow out." She began transmitting the raw streams from her on-scene nodes, humanoid and peripheral, as well as the curated stream and as much analysis of the Rambler as the data could support. At the same time, she was frustrated by her relative inability to turn that data into as significant a tactical advantage as she was used to. Welcome to the wonders of meat-think. Better get used to it.

Still, she could do some good with it. The second channel was a general address to the Wards. "Sparrow here. I'm monitoring all comm traffic, and I can make sure whatever you have to say finds the right ears, without worrying about harmful cross-chat. It's not unlike how I monitor the sensory input from my drones. Just talk, and whatever you say will get to who it needs to." After this, she transmitted each statement at only the Ward she was addressing, sending out each message simultaneously. "Gunshow, we're going full-on saturation fire and hoping something gets through. My drones' lasers are visible at the deep end of purple; use any distortions in their paths to locate and avoid gravitic defenses. Odds are, he can't block everything all at once. Diamondback, your power suite includes enhanced senses, yes? You might be able to sense his power before it fully activates. If you can, you can probably get close better than anyone, but I'd suggest extracting hostages rather than hand-to-hand; I'd like you to stay in one piece long enough to make it to proper introductions and nervous flirting. Wasn't supposed to say that last bit out loud, disregard. Quake, anything you can do to break line of sight to the hostages would be appreciated. If you can leave gaps or holes of at least two inches, my fire will be unhindered. I'll keep you apprised of his position should he make a break for it. Corona," this last transmission was slightly less no-nonsense and authoritative, with more than a touch of embarrasment, "we don't yet know if Rambler can break the Manton effect, but for reasons I'll explain fully on the ride back to base, I possess no Manton protection. He can tear me in half as easily as those vault doors. It's unlikely that would kill me, but I'd still like to avoid it if possible. I'm sorry for being evasive, but this is so not the time or place for this conversation, so I'm limiting myself to the tactically relevant points. So, um, there they are."

While all of this was taking place, Sparrow also adjusted her drone positioning, favoring a wide spread and high angles of attack, to shoot over any cover created by Quakes half of the "shake and bake". She managed to bump her number of clean lines of fire up to seventeen without drawing any undue attention to her actions, and prepared to fire as soon as Corona struck.

[Regalus]

"No..." Corona whispered in silent disbelief which soon turned into horro as he felt the all too familiar tremors begin to spread out from beneath them, years of experience preventing him from denying what was happening. Quake had gone and screwed the pooch. There was no way to mediate any more, no more advantage he could gain for his team or the hostages. This was happening now with or without him.

The very essence of Corona's being yelled and cursed in panicked outrage as he was forced to go into action, no longer even having enough time to gather enough light to do the deed and having to supplement his maneuver with his own internal reserves. For the span of a blink the area around the Midnight Rambler gave way to chill darkness as the sunset like illumination seemed to be torn away, only for it to explode back into existence where the Rambler stood in wave of scaldingly brilliant light; as all the blazing texan summer sunshine he'd torn away mixed with his own reserves to birth what might have been described by some as the Devil's Camera Flash to blind and burn the monster before them.

The ward did his best to try to pull the area, and angle the blast so that the brunt of it was taken by the Rambler; trying to keep the hostages and the girl in the periphery of the maneuver, but even that was unlikely to save them from the equivalent of a flashbang and heat flare going off a few meters from them. Hopefully they'd come off with a bad sunburn at their worst assuming he'd measured it properly...


Correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe this would be Shaker 5 + Well trained, making this a 6. Seeing as things have just gone pear shaped, I think Never Back Down also triggers turning it into a 7. Quake is a Shaker 6.

Though not sure if either of their attacks benefit from situational modifiers given the change in illumination caused by Black Outs power in combination with Corona focusing his own into action. I'm not sure what the ruling for defending against such different effects simultaneously work when both operate via very different vectors that are attempting to strike in unison.

[TheDarkDM]

SCENE - SANCTI CENTRAL BANK

There was a grating chuckle escaped the Midnight Rambler as the ground around the Wards began to shake, the tremors rippling towards the bank.

"Alright then, children. I can play rough."

With that, the Rambler jumped. Not a human jump, but a jump that cleared twenty feet. And what was worse, he froze at the apex of his arc, feet landing on air as though it were concrete. The SWAT members floated behind him like a perverse Ferris Wheel, but Sandra was left to deal with the impact of Quake's attack.

"Not very heroic, are you?"

He pointed towards the group around Corona with a theatrical flourish, but even as he did so the light around him faded. He had just a moment to register what was happening before he was enveloped in searing light. The pillar cast shadows that stretched for city blocks, and from inside it the Wards could hear the anguished screams of the SWAT members. But then a black stain appeared at the center of the pillar, like the wick of a candle flame, and as the light faded there was nothing but a hole of utter darkness where the Rambler had been floating. The light from Corona's attack bent in tortured swirls around it, and for an instant it looked like a fiery eye. Then the sphere imploded on itself, revealing the Rambler with a wild look in his eyes. He swept his arm forward with a bellow, and the front doors of the bank exploded outwards as the vault door came flying through the air, towards the assembled Wards team that suddenly found itself unable to move.

"I see you brought your pet murderer for a reason!"

Using Rambler's Brute and Mover ratings to avoid Quake's initial attack. Counter with a Personality 5 attack + 1 for Insidious Corrupter.

Defending against Corona's attack with Shaker 10, then attacking the group around Corona with Shaker 10 + Mind 3

[Dorian Gray]

SCENE - SANCTI CENTRAL BANK

Isaac, aka Blackout

Pain. Searing, burning pain.

For about three seconds, all Isaac can see is that horrible white light. Blindly, he stumbles back, fumbling for a patch of darkness- but none is to be found. Rubbing his eyes, Isaac tries to find a shadow through the spots, but his vision is filled with blue spots. Staggering forward, he falls into a dark patch behind one of Quake's walls.

SCENE - SANCTI CENTRAL BANK

Blackout, aka Isaac

Blackout crashes to the roof of an office building two buildings down and across the street from the bank. Slowly, he pulls himself to his feet. Hands aching and weak, Blackout reaches somewhere into the myriad ribbons that form his costume and draws a long, thick black knife. Barely taking in the scene, Blackout launches himself from the roof, dropping down behind a dumpster.

Blackout emerges inside the bank, crouching behind a desk. In a fluid motion, he vaults over the table, dropping through the floor and emerging ten feet forward, before lunging for Sandra with his knife.

Using Body 4 (3) and Mover 4 to attack, with a possible benefit from Star Athlete

BUT- For the next turn or two, Blackout has the condition:
Lights On- Blackout doesn't take well to bright light. He has spotty vision and is weakened slightly.

[TheFallenOne]

SCENE - SANCTI SANCTUM

Flux

Interaction with the good guys worked out about as well as could be hoped and the PRT moved out, leaving Flux unmolested. In a way, he was disappointed they didn't at least start to make a move. He had so well prepared his speech on why it would be bad and inappropriate to try to arrest him given the current circumstances... But surely there would be more opportunity to tease the Heroes and PRT Director at a later point.

Corben didn't go out in costume that often and already enjoying himself in the happenings of the day he didn't feel like going civilian again. Instead he made his way to the Sancti Sanctum at the outskirts of the city, closer to industrial sites than residential areas. Probably not a coincident.

Still in costume he handed over the flasks from his back - not strictly weapons but he never felt like arguing the point - and stepped through the hazy mist-like field blocking the entrance, feeling the slightest bit of resistance. The first time he came here he expected the mist to feel cold to the touch, but in fact it spread a short rush of warmth over his body but not so much it felt unpleasant. A second later he was inside the building.

His Thinker ability stalled. To his perceptive Power everything stopped moving, he sensed the soles of his boots and scales of his costume still in the middle of the field even as he was acutely aware of the steps he was taking towards one of the booths. Some seconds later his Power finally noticed the boots moving, catching up to his booth but still out of sinc with their true position. Disorienting. It had been especially bad the first time he experienced the effect, the contradictory sensory information messing with his head. By now he wasn't perhaps used to it, but it didn't give him headaches anymore either.

Yul Bachmann didn't have a Cape name. The Sancti Herald for a while tried calling him Delay but it didn't stick. Others jokingly referred to him as the lowest rated Trump in North America. Flux wasn't sure this was accurate, it would require someone with full access to PRT files to verify, but it might well be true. Yul's field was narrow in application. Immobile, clearly visible, short range, limited effect and it took him several minutes to set it up. No battlefield application, too short a range of the effect to guard a sensitive building the size of the PRT Headquarters, not to mention the issue of multiple entrances. But he found a way to make it work.

Everyone passing through the field would have their Power's application delayed for ten seconds. Enough time to prevent a momentary burst of anger to devolve into a Cape fight and if not at least enough for everyone else to be prepared. Yul could selectively remove the effect from people and potential troublemakers would be left in the unpleasant position of having their Powers delayed while those trying to subdue them did not. It wasn't perfect as far as protections went, doing nothing about Tinkers and most Brutes for example, but so far it was enough most of the time and the Sancti Sanctum served as the local Cape Bar. Eight to twelve in the evening that is, the rest of the day enjoying an influx of guests who think it hip to visit 'that place Capes go'. The local Cape community alone wouldn't be enough to keep the place afloat.

It probably helped that Sancti had an unusually large assortment of Rogues. Many Heroes couldn't afford the public image of being seen going out for drinks. Villain groups had a tendency to clash with each other, and catering specifically to them would get the place shut down fast. Groups not getting along with each other were encouraged to visit on different occasions. That naturally extended to Heroes and Villains as a whole, so three times a week it was Heroes Night, four times Villains Night, with Rogues free to come on either occasion. One time the Sanctum tried its hand on an All Comers Night. There never was a second one.

On the upside, the new furniture was nice though!

Real chestnut for the table, not some faux wood. He could tell with his Power from some of the things they usually put in or coat onto the fake stuff. The walls were a pleasant, subdued green, decorated alternatingly with traditional artwork and framed newspaper articles concerning the local Cape scene, more focusing on pictures than text. One of them showed Flux, with the 'frozen' lake in the background where the schoolchildren went iceskating in the middle of summer. A fond memory. Too often the Heroes seemed focused on heroics rather than letting people have a good time. Most tried to be role models - and often not really succeeding at that - or at least not be too bad an example, but Corben could tell this was enforced PR as often as not, something they did because they had to.

They tried to inspire, but few tried to entertain. Perhaps they should take some inspiration in turn from children's cartoons. So often there was an important moral in the story, sometimes subtle, sometimes delivered with the grace of a slegdehammer. But always, and that was the important part, it was delivered while making you laugh, telling an interesting story that entertained you. That was the kind of Cape Flux wanted to be. If the Heroes could be likened to a public service announcement he would rather be the DuckTales.

I'll leave it open whether it is Heroes of Villains Night so anyone who feels like it has an opportunity to join Flux in the evening/night for a chat. Perhaps even the villains he fought earlier :smallamused:

[The_Snark]

Scene - Sancti Central Bank
Diamondback

In retrospect, Diamond considers, staying near Corona might have been a mistake. Not for her own sake - with her leader ordering her not to get too close, there isn't much she can do except stay close to defend her teammates - but because it might have contributed to Gunshow and Rebound's sluggishness. People, even heroes, have a kind of crowd mentality; hard to walk away when other people are staying put.

But it's too late to worry about that now, and there is a silver lining. The new girl is right; this Midnight Rambler might not have any smell to speak of, but there's something about his power that sets her spine to tingling, a tugging at her inner ear. It's unpleasant, disconcerting. But it also gives her a half-second's warning as he does... whatever it is he's planning to do. Shaker. All clustered together. Get Corona out. She grabs hold of the Ward leader's hand without warning and spins them about, using the draw of the manifesting gravity well to add to the force of her spin, then releasing him so that he tumbles away. Not as far as she could, she notes - it's as though she's trying to hurl him up, not just away - but far enough that the attack doesn't have the hold on him that it should. Something physics-breaking about that power, she thinks, irrationally calm. A singularity that can bend light should probably have eaten most of the city by now, too. Like Behemoth's radiation, it's not following the rules - shorter range than a true gravity source. Thank God.

She can feel the direction of the pull now, downward and inward, miring them where they stand. Almost too strong to fight already; she feels like she's moving through treacle. It must be worse for the others, who don't have her strength. And it's still getting stronger. Diamondback reaches for Gunshow, changes her mind halfway through - too late to get the other girl out. Instead of trying to throw her like she did Corona, she kicks one of Gunshow's feet out from under her, pulling both of them to the ground behind Rebound.

The distorted gravity is stronger, this close to the earth. Or maybe it's just still intensifying. Too late for worrying now; she's done what she can. Diamondback grits her teeth against the strain and waits, her senses tuned for any change or weakening in the villain's power.

So - we're sort of in a state of flux on rules/no rules right now. If we're using the rules, Diamondback is using Mind 4 + Thinker 4 (reflexes) + Mover 1 (speed) + Brute 3 (strong enough to move better in the gravity well) + Predator's Instincts (animal-like sense that Something is Wrong a moment before the Rambler attacks) to counter the attack for Corona and mitigate it for Gunshow and herself.

If not, well, hopefully this works - it doesn't negate the Rambler's attack, but it leaves the Wards in a position to survive, and for (some of) them to strike back.

[Tuv]

SCENE - SANCTI CENTRAL BANK

The allied capes launch coordinated attacks against the Midnight Rambler, but the PRT wasn't quite ready for the assault due to the suddenness of the strikes, and a call for Stranger and Master protocols to be implemented.

Quake's sudden restructuring of the local utilities manages to disorient the Midnight Rambler, but doesn't manage to put him down or keep him from going airborne.

Corona's pseudo-flashbang is powerful, and well timed, but is blocked in the nick of time by an arrangement of rubble that the Midnight Rambler uses to protect himself. The hostages (that had their eyes open) are blinded and temporarily incapacitated. The (mostly) trivial amounts of heat from the attack interacting with both the altered gravity and (now) heated gasses, cause an effect like fire in zero-gravity.

The Rambler, in response, makes an attack to the credibility of Quake, though only time will tell if anything comes of it. The Rambler also uses his power to make a directed attack against the wards with debris from the bank, but the attack's power is severely reduced due to the fine-control exerted to protect his eyes from the light.

Diamondback moves to protect the wards from the flung debris, and is largely successful. The weight of the vault door is intense, of course, but it wasn't thrown with too great a force, most of the threat seems to be from the increase in gravity in the area, making it harder to move.

The Rambler fails to avoid Quake's power entirely, and suffers from 3 points worth of complication from Injury from Debris, or Disorientation.

Quake gains a point of complication I'm Not a Hero? (This has no effect right now, but may escalate later if not dealt with).

The Wards suffer from Increased Gravity as long as they remain in the immediate vicinity, halving their Body attribute while under its effect (round up).

The area that Quake destroyed is now Unstable (This has no effect right now.)

[Tar Palantir]

Scene - Sancti Central Bank

Sparrow

Sparrow cursed to herself as Quake moved into action prematurely. If there was one thing she'd have to get used to as part of a team, it would be dealing with imperfect communication and coordination. Given Corona's reaction, she was confident he would handle Quake after the fact, so she turned her thoughts to salvaging the situation.

Sparrow held back her drone fire to observe the Rambler's defensive response, and was glad she did. Rambler's defenses were top-notch, and he moved into a counterattack with minimal delay, though she could tell that Corona's blast had affected him at least a little. His gravitic restraint was far less restrictive than that he used on the hostages, and his flung projectile lacked the force to make it a lethal threat, especially after Diamondback's intervention. She dropped to the ground, letting the enhanced gravity pull her out of the vault door's arc, then moved to respond.

Two threats caught her attention: the Midnight Rambler, and a new figure approaching Sandra with a knife. Being the most free to respond with her drones, she elected to engage both, at least until her teammates found their footing. "Be advised, a new player is moving on the hostages. I think it might be a known cape, but there wasn't much available intel on him in the database. Rebound, if you can get over there to discourage him, that'd be appreciated." As she spoke with her team, she moved several drones in the vicinity towards the new cape, and had a laser drone squeeze off a quick shot at his knife hand to get his attention and stymie his attack. She maneuvered one drone between him and Sandra, and through it said, "Step away from the civilians, or this'll get ugly real fast."

The bulk of her drones she kept on the Rambler, and started harrying him with minor attacks. The moment he moved to launch an attack, a stinging flurry of lasers was there to discourage his aggression. If he moved on a drone, that drone broke for cover while others struck from different directions. If he hunkered down against attacks from all sides, she simply waited for him to drop his defenses and punished him the moment he did. No individual attack was very dangerous; it'd likely take dozens of hits to incapacitate him, though this meant redirection was less effective. What they would do was distract him, draw his fire, demand his attention, and (hopefully) keep him from attacking the civilians or the other Wards.

Defending against Blackout's attack on Sandra with Mind 5 Tinker 2 and Learned from the Best for another +1, probably not disarming him with an equal result but certainly getting his attention. Making a Personality 2 attack on Blackout as well, just for grins.

On Rambler, Sparrow's making a Master 7 Body 2 (after penalty) attack, trying to take advantage of his Injury/Disorientation from the flashbang as well (whichever he chooses).

If we decide to change the Attribute/Power Combining thing, I'll revise to match the new numbers, using minimum force to counter Blackout and unloading on Rambler with the rest.

[Tuv]

Santi Central Bank

Alfred Kaczynski

A ridge of asphalt and rubble bursts up in front of Alfred, blocking his view of the proceedings.

"Oh dear, that won't do! Thankfully someone left this stepladder here to help me amble to the top!"

A few moments of awkwardly climbing the ladder and then the rubble, a few moments of finding a solid foothold, and Alfred gets the most glorious view of the battlefield just in time to see a ball light, and fire, and darkness rise into the air.

"Beautiful! Wonderful!" He's yelling at this point, preaching a sermon of reality. "The so-called heroes make the first move without regard to city or hostage. The destruction, the pain, nagging doubt will surely tear them apart! 'Who are the real villains?' they will ask. Fear and doubt wash through the defenders, the protectors. This feeling, if left unchecked, will destroy them! If they don't rally, they might not be able to salvage anything from the situation!"

The man babbling out-loud and snaking his way through the PRT 'blockade' has apparently not warranted much response so far, so now he's standing on something and yelling. The effect is probably negligible, but obvious. Doubt.

[ChrisClark13]

SCENE - Sancti Airport, Sanborn Memorial Terminal

Cyber Beast

Jim stepped into the terminal, dragging a large metal case behind himself that contained his Fox Armor (it had been somewhat of a hassle, but he had managed to negotiate that it be on the plane that brought him here instead of send ahead with the rest of his Tinker materials in case some villains wanted to attack a public hero or something).

He looked around...

Wasn't there supposed to be someone here to greet him and a PRT van to pick him up? He assumed that they must have just forgotten to pick him up, no matter, he'll just call them! He didn't mind spending a few more minutes while he got a bite to eat and waited for them to get here.

He whipped out his PRT issued phone and called up the local PRT headquarters, after a little bit of talking he found out that his ride was busy attending to some sort of parahuman situation in the Mission district and that now that he was here he was to get over there and assist as soon as possible.

Great, he hadn't even gotten the chance to get a bite to eat after all, or even to prank some kids by detaching his arm. He told the PRT to send a van to the airport and got to work putting on his Fox Armor, putting on a small show for the gathered bystanders as he detached his current right arm and connected the socket to the right arm of the power suit.

(It wasn't exactly common knowledge that his right arm was a highly advanced prosthetic (after all who would look up the info on a C-list hero?), but that's actually how he managed to introduce himself to most people. They would ask about his arm, he would tell them he's a tinker hero named Cyber Beast, they would ask about his specialization, he would say Bionics and tell them about his armors, and then he would be on his way.)

[3SecondCultist]

SCENE - SANCTI CENTRAL BANK
Quake

Not very heroic, are you? The words burned though Quake's mind: they were all he could think about. He was so distracted that he barely thought about his power as Sandra stumbled and fell into one of the fissures he had created. Almost immediately, he created a stable platform for the hostage to stand on and quelled the rest of the tremors around the bank. His usual form of terrain control wouldn't do him any good. He would need an alternative strategy. For the first time since he had opened the engagement, Quake looked over to where Corona and Gunshow were standing... only to find them under attack by the Rambler.

Damn him! Who does this guy think he is, anyway? Quake stared up at the floating figure, trying to think of a way to counteract his words. He realized that he had made a tremendous mistake already, by acting too quickly and without thinking. Quake had gotten his friends into jeopardy as a direct result of his actions. He wasn't going to be making the same mistake twice.

For the second time that day, Quake tapped into the earth beneath his feet. But this time, no tremors shook the ground. Instead, bits and pieces of rubble began to soar up to where the Rambler stood. But they did not strike him. If anything, the stones acted as partial cover against Sparrow's latest drone assault. Bits of asphalt and concrete spun headlong around the villain, at the eye of the storm. But he was not quite finished yet. The ground around him began to shudder as it slowly detached from its moorings. An entire section of street began to rise five, ten, twenty feet in the air to meet the Rambler's altitude. And Quake stood at the center of it all, each piece of the puzzle locking into place around him. Eventually, his makeshift platform became level with the Rambler, even as the floating debris field continued to spin in midair. A simple gesture with one open palm was enough to convey an invitation to Quake's new paradigm.

"You're right. I don't know much about heroism. But I'm a pretty quick learner. I attacked you first, but the Wards down there didn't have anything to do with it. These people haven't done anything to hurt you. If you let everyone else go, I'll come with you willingly - as your hostage. Your last one may be dead, after all."

[Dorian Gray]

Blackout

Sancti Central Bank

Blackout stares for a long second at the drone hovering in front of himself, slowly fingering his knife. Suddenly, with a massive crash, an enormous section of street is ripped into the air. In the chaos and falling rubble, Blackout pitches himself backwards, counting on the dust and darkness to hide the nature of his disappearance.

A moment later, Blackout rolls out onto the roof of a building half a block away. Clenching his left hand, he glares down at the scene, black strips of cloth swirling around himself. A massive crater is torn in the area directly in front of the bank, which is scorched and torn, the front windows shattered and the doors ripped from their hinges. God damn. This whole street is wrecked. They outta just shoot that bastard and be done with it.

Making an attempt to evade notice using Quake's Shaker 6 attack plus my Stranger 4 and Body 4, for a total score of 14

[TheDarkDM]

SCENE - SANCTI CENTRAL BANK

The skeletal head of the Rambler quirked to one side as Quake approached. Specks of darkness that could only be nascent manifestations of the Rambler's power swirled around the young hero like a dust storm, but he arrived unharmed. The hero's voice carried unnaturally far, perhaps enhanced by whatever distortion the Rambler had created, making the silence that followed all the more suffocating. Then the monstrous face stretched into a rictus grin, and the Rambler held out a thin hand.

"Give me your word you won't interfere with my escape, and I'll agree to those terms."

His pitch-black eyes drifted back towards the bank, where Sandra crouched insensate. Then they flicked upwards, to where Sparrow's drones hovered, weapons primed to engage once Quake was out of the line of fire.

"And have your friend call off her toys, if you please. They'd be better served helping to locate survivors."

As if to punctuate his statement, a shard of marbled cracked free from the bank's exterior to shatter on the pavement below. The building, it seemed, had not weathered the dual shock of gravity and earthquake intact.

[3SecondCultist]

SCENE - SANCTI CENTRAL BANK
Quake

The word 'survivors' immediately caught Quake's attention, as he followed the Rambler's gaze down to the bank, the ruined street. The mess he had helped make. No, he wasn't a hero. He had made a bad situation worse by interfering before he was supposed to. Everything had gone wrong so fast, he had barely given himself enough time to think. But when the Rambler accepted his offer, he knew it was a step in the right direction.

Slowly - and making sure he didn't look like he was drawing a weapon - Quake brought his arm up to speak into the receiver. "Corona. Tell Sparrow to back down. I've made a... trade. I will be leaving the scene with the mark. Do not follow."

As he looked down at the scene, Quake made eye contact with Gunshow. Milla. How could he have forgotten? Even if he did manage to pull this off, what would happen to her? Once you started, it was hard to forget the innocents at stake. He told himself that was why he was doing this. It had to be. There was no alternative. There wasn't anything he could say to her, not now.

Pulling the comms unit out of his bracer, Quake let it drop to the ground far below.

[Kiranvonstrom]

SCENE - DEAD HANDS

Mad Dog

Well, Mad Dog thought as he exited the car, allowing Lich, or, possibly whoever she was riding drive away, That was certainly interesting. Wouldn't have been how I would have executed things, but there is something of a difference in scope. And, it didn't need to be said, of intent.

Lich, it seemed, was sadly lacking in a grand view. His goal was personal, short-sighted and, ultimately, entirely self-serving. This would not do well at all. He would have to be cultivated. Grown like a plant. The seeds of something truly great were there, if Lich could put aside self-destructive notions of revenge in order to see a larger picture.

But Mad Dog had a particular talent for showing people that larger picture. And Lich was not unready to receive his teachings.

Of course, Lich still had some misunderstandings about how to go about destroying an organization. But those were the mistakes of someone without experience in the field. Mistakes even he had made on his first town. But Lich would have someone to guide him.

The second Lich passed out of ordinary eyesight, Mad Dog stripped off his old Mindspy costume, changing back into the closest thing he had to a civilian outfit. There was no use letting anyone else in the city see it right now. Lich's appearance had set that back quite a while.

Now, Mad Dog had a Graveyard Ganger to find...

***

SCENE - APARTMENT BLOC IN SOUTHERN DEAD HANDS

So, this was where she had fled to. It made sense, Mad Dog supposed. She sought out a comforting environment when things turned out poorly. And my, had they turned out poorly. Which was, of course, so terribly convenient that Mad Dog scarcely believed it hadn't somehow been planned.

Of course, it hadn't. Mad Dog would have known.

It had taken more walking than Mad Dog expected to find this place. And, honestly, he had been expecting a ganger hideout, something with actual security. But instead he had seen her inside this aging apartment building, the sign on the front (probably from an earlier era, before the wells started to go dry. The building might have been a hotel.) hanging only on one side, and slowly creaking in the wind.

Well, this just made things easier, that was all.

Mad Dog pushed the door open, stepping into a lobby empty except for a few junkies sleeping off some high or another. Soundly asleep, Mad Dog noted. Well, more the better. It was terribly hard to reason with an enraged drug addict.

With a smile, Mad Dog made his way upstairs, all the while keeping a close eye on one particular apartment on the third story. Three people inside, one older woman, sleeping, a small child, also sleeping, and her, awake at what he assumed to be the kitchen table.

Reaching the floor, Mad Dog took care not to make too much noise. He didn't need to alert the target any earlier than he needed to. Even if she was rather unlikely to try shooting at him. Once he reached the apartment, he quietly knocked on the door.

"Suri," He said, careful not to wake the other occupants of the apartment. They weren't a threat, but a crying baby could draw attention, "Suri, Grim is very angry with you,"

Inside, he could see, Suri had jumped up, and sprinted to the door. She almost stank of nervousness and stress. Concern, too. Worried about the baby in the next room, no doubt, in addition to Grim's wrath. Excellent.

"What do you want?" She hissed through the door.

"You f***ed up, Suri. You f***ed up bad," Mad Dog returned.

"Look, Ruin showed up. F***ing Ruin! Motherf***er has the PRT running scared! What was I supposed to do, cholo, just fight him?" Suri hissed back. Hm. Ruin. So that was the vigilante's name. Mad Dog filed that for later use. With that kind of reputation, Ruin could be a useful weapon to turn against the gangers when the time came.

"Well, if you had stayed around to fight, instead of running, you might have noticed Brandon stab him in the neck," Mad Dog purred. Oh, and there was that pride. A little bit of ambition, pride, and something to fight for. The first was in danger, the second bruised, and the third a source of fear and insecurity. The right information, presented in the right place, and Suri was putty in his hands.

Suri had fallen silent for a moment, considering the ramifications of the news. Consideration, Mad Dog couldn't help but notice, with a trace of horror and bruised pride in it. Mad Dog wasn't necessarily proud of what he did, but he did take some satisfaction in the knowledge he did it very well.

"Ruin got away with most of the product," Mad Dog said. "Sounds like Grim's holding you responsible for the loss,"

Not strictly true, but a good guess. Grim would hardly be happy with the profits that he did lose in the venture, even if there was the boost to his gang's reputation that stabbing Ruin would provide. Idly, Mad Dog wondered if there was still as much competition in the drug trade as when he left town. In a way, the people killed the trade had, very indirectly, led Mad Dog to enlightenment.

"But, listen, I've got an idea to help you get back in Grim's good books," And there was the offer. Suri was desperate, Mad Dog could feel that. Desperate enough to take advice from an apparent stranger.

"I- What? Who are you?"

Mad Dog smiled. "Call me Oracle. Now, here's what you need to do"

OOC:



Corrupting Suri:

Personality 5 + Corruptor 2 + Master 2 = 9 to convince Suri to complicate Sancti's gang situation Pretty sure that works.



***


Half an hour later, Mad Dog exited the apartment building, whistling quietly to himself. He had thought Sancti would have been harder to get a foothold in. The terrorist was hardly a strong believer in fate, but destiny must have been smiling upon him, to allow him such an opportunity. A prospective apprentice and a useful tool, all from one fight.

Now he merely had to make known what had happened here to certain people, and things would be coming along quite nicely ahead of schedule.

It would of course, mean that he would be working around the clock the next few days, but that was okay. Saving the world, after all, was what he lived to do. And this maggot-ridden corpse of a city could do with saving.

But first, Mad Dog had some arts and crafts to do.

OOC:


This is the first of, like, three posts detailing what Mad Dog is doing the rest of the day. Errands, the life of the supervillain.

So, here's the thing. To better create a 'noodle implement' kind of effect. I do have a plan for these things, so I'm planning to PM Tuv, let him know what's going on 'off screen', and get his okay on starting a gang war.

[Tuv]

SCENE - SANCTI CENTRAL BANK

A deal is struck between The Rambler and the ward Quake. Just as suddenly the PRT start to back off, but not before securing an unknown raving-mad parahuman.

Those of you patched into the PRT comms hear Director Walburn pulling rank. "This is no longer a situation we can effectively deal with. Let this Rambler leave for now, so long as he doesn't destroy anything else, this is Marshal's problem until further notice."

Marshal is, of course, still nowhere to be found.

The scene has officially ended. The PRT is retreating with Alfred Kaczynski. The Midnight Rambler is retreating with Quake. Nobody in the Protectorate can find Marshal on comms since the end of the Dry Gulch scene.

Feel free to disengage yourselves from the scene and go where you please. Plot will be forthcoming.

[TheDarkDM]

SCENE - ROAD TRIP

As Quake's communicator clattered to the ground, the Rambler's smile only widened.

"Good call. Now hold on, this takes a little getting used to."

The Ramber lifted both his hands to his sides, and as he did so he and Quake began to rise over the roof of the bank. Those on the ground below could see a number of small singularities holding the young hero like a harness - to Quake it felt like nothing so much as a hammock. As they crested the roof, he saw the shattered skylight above the lobby, the dark blobs that may have been people scattered below. But more importantly, he saw the fractures running through the roof, almost bisecting the building. The Rambler chuckled at the sight.

"You see, I was telling the truth. Any more violence and who knows when the building would have collapsed."

They floated through the open sides of the parking garage behind the bank, setting down beside a black muscle car. Behind it was a perfectly symmetrical hole in the concrete, and in its trunk was a neat pile of dollar bills. Slamming the trunk closed, the Rambler gave an apologetic shrug.

"It took the first responders almost fifteen minutes to clear the area and form a perimeter. They never really had a chance at catching me. But I stuck around because I wanted to meet you."

As the Rambler slid into the driver's seat, Quake saw his body expand almost like a balloon, his skin turn from dead black to a healthy tan. In moments, the skeletal monster was just a man. Except in his eyes. His eyes remained as black as an oil spill. But despite everything he'd done, despite all the people he'd hurt, he seemed almost jovial as he leaned over and opened the passenger side door.

"Hop in, son. Let's take a ride."

[ChrisClark13]

Cyber Beast - Enroute to Bank PRT HQ

As Cyber Beast listened to the comms chatter he could not believe what he was hearing! Well... He could and was, but he sure as hell didn't want to. He also knew better than to talk back at PRT orders, so he just expressed his anger at them while trying to ask a constructive question over the comms.

"Who the hell is this guy that he can just waltz in and rob a bank and make off with a Ward no questions asked? A Class A? What's his powers and please tell me we've got somebody tracking his movements."

In his anger he had forgotten to introduce himself and he just sat angrily in the back of the PRT van as it made it's way to headquarters.

[Dorian Gray]

Blackout

Blackout watches in shock from about a block away as the PRT goons pull Alfred into a van. Sliding his knife deep into his cloak, he slinks into an alleyway and allows the sky to lighten, wincing at the sudden light. But before he takes three steps, a thought hits him-

The teacher knows me

Pivoting, Blackout sprints straight into a wall and out through the other side of the building, doing his best to catch up with the van.

Mover 4 and body 4 to keep up.

[Tuv]

Scene - Chasing the PRT

The assembled wards can't help but notice the rogue Blackout rushing off in the direction of the retreating PRT with a quickness. If anyone wants to question him, they'll have to catch him first.

As for Blackout, chasing a vehicle isn't inherently difficult when you have powers. No, it's relatively easy to be honest, especially when you know the city so well. But damn that sun. The PRT aren't rushing, but they are on edge because of the business with the Rambler. They clearly notice you, and are reacting to being chased. You have a little more time before they are able to outpace you, but they don't seem willing to go on the offensive. They're spooked.

It's just your mover at this point. Go visit the new OOC thread.



Cyber Beast - Enroute to Bank PRT HQ

The driver seems unable to hear you, or maybe he's ignoring you, it's hard to tell. What was a trip to the bank, quickly became a short jaunt to the PRT HQ. Normally you'd report to the local protectorate headquarters for 'processing', but it sounds like everyone is out in force, and the PRT isn't willing to let you wander around on your own.

You are shortly ushered into a meeting room that seems primed for a debriefing should the involved parties arrive. You heard whispers of security risks, groans, and outrage from some of the workers on the way. A nervous looking man brings you a lukewarm cup of coffee, seeming unsure as to what to do.

"Uhh, hello. I'm uhh... the security officer for the Sancti PRT. Pleased to, uh, meet you? The armor looks... nice."

[ChrisClark13]

Cyber Beast - PRT HQ

The hero takes the coffee as the "snout" of his helmet rotates upwards, "Thanks, you can call me Cyber Beast, I just got into town when the bank scene happened. I missed all the action." He takes a cursory sip from the coffee cup, "I still have basically no idea what happened out there other than some villain showed up, killed a bunch of people, and ran off with one of the Wards.... Ugh. Thanks for the compliment, any idea when everyone else will get here?"

[Tuv]

Scene - PRT HQ

The 'security officer' replies with a noncommittal grunt of affirmation. "The wait won't be that much longer, and the Director is never la-"

The door to the meeting room slam open to reveal Director Sarah Walburn stomping in with a line of PRT staff behind her. She doesn't even look at you, much less stop to speak or acknowledge your presence. The people filing in stop shortly, with everyone taking a seat.

At one head of the table sits Director Walburn, and at the other... isn't someone from the PRT, but rather one of the local protectorate capes. She wears a pure white labcoat, shoulder-length black hair framing and covering half of her face. What you can see of her eyes is gaunt and accompanied by thick dark bags beneath. Her nametag clearly reads 'Good Doctor', and as she passes by she whispers conspiratorially in your ear "New guy eh? You look like you could be useful, so bear with it."

It looks like everyone that needs to be here is, but some of the seats remain empty. Director Walburn clears her throat in preparation for a speech, but Good Doctor cuts her off "Sarah, you really should consider cutting your habit. It's not doing you any favors."

The room gets even more silent, and Director Walburn's eyes become harder. The director finally begins to speak, and her voice is cold and emotionless. "We are here to discuss a grave threat to the well-being of the city, the abject unpreparedness of the defence forces involved, and the current incident involving the Sancti Protectorate's leadership." She goes on to describe, in brief, the showdown with the Midnight Rambler, the damage caused, and the fallout of his escape. "We have never had a failure quite of this magnitude before, and it seriously demonstrates our laxness in firepower and planned response. We will bring this villain to justice in due time, by any means necessary. With that said, the doctor here will now be explaining why she is here, and not Marshal."

All eyes move to the opposite end of the table, onto Good Doctor. She flinches a little bit at the attention, but continues as prompted. "Thank you Sarah. Marshal was kidnapped by an unknown group en-route to the bank incident. None of the local villain groups have taken credit for it, and no ransoms have been made. Until Marshal returns to duty, I'll be the team leader for the Sancti Protectorate branch."

Director Walburn continues with venom in her voice "Very well then, consider this debriefing over. All of you should prepare, because we have a hectic week to look forward to. And doctor? Get the hell out of my building."

[Tar Palantir]

Scene - Sancti Central Bank

Sparrow

Sparrow reluctantly called off her attack at the Rambler's "request". As she saw Quake reach for his comm, she squeezed off one quick message before he let it fall, quietly enough that the villainous Shaker couldn't overhear, "We'll find you. Keep your head, and stay alive."

After the Midnight Rambler departed with his new hostage, Sparrow sent her drones into the bank, searching for survivors and directing rescuers around the most unstable areas. It wasn't much, but it was all she could do to help out here for the moment. With that set in motion, she turned to her teammates.

"Not the most auspicious of first days. It's a bad situation, and our odds of successful capture have dropped significantly, but we have a much better chance of avoiding civilian casualties than we did with a full-on brawl here. With Protectorate capes and as much Wards support as we can expect the PRT to let us provide, I put us at just better than even odds of getting Quake back with minimal long-term physical or mental harm, and only a twenty percent chance of him being permanently incapacitated or killed. Still not ideal, but with the proper preparations, and especially if we can locate Marshal swiftly, those numbers can improve." She paused. "I'm not sure this is the best pep-talk imaginable, but we have a hard road ahead of us, and that's the truth. Hard doesn't mean hopeless, though. We can do this. I have a few ideas that I'll need to run by you," she nods to Corona, "and the Director before executing. It'll take some time, but I'm optimistic it'll work. In the meantime, we should head to HQ. My drones here can handle assisting emergency workers, and there are some, um, things I need to tell you all in, um, private." So not when I want to have this conversation, but it's rapidly becoming need-to-know and it'd undermine any sort of trust to keep it secret longer.

[Mabn]

Scene - cell

As night arrived Faust struggled to sleep as he had struggled to stay awake during the day. His monitor and speaker system were installed in a room about a week before he transferred over. Like the rest of his enclosure they were modular, sealed away beyond what was humanly possible, and self evidently unmaintainable once in use. Faust had specifications to a backup system planned before he requested the original. Said backups resembled a volleyball held midair by a demonic python and sounded like a cheep ham radio from the 80's, but it's setup consisted of someone putting on a protective suit, entering the room connecting to the room connecting to his doorway, and pulling a lever with a two word label that took up 4 square feet. A wall panel near the door would explode towards him and the thing would spring into place on an otherwise identical wall panel like a demonic jack in the box. Rocket science it oh so intentionally was not. Since half a day had passed and no one had felt so obliged something was terribly wrong.

Not having eyes meant never being able to shut them, and staring at a glowing red ceiling Faust lay still and restless.

[Bhaskara]

Scene - PRT HQ

Radar

Radar had spent most of his day picking up pieces of failed missions. He was mostly up to date on events. His first stop after his mission had been Wiretap to find out why his comms had gone out and he'd been shanghaied into helping her fix the system. The entire day's story slowly emerged during the maintenance. The Gulch battle. The Stranger in the system. Wiretap had cut some hardlines, both to try to trap the cape and keep other data safe. Radar had to agree with the decision, even though it had prevented him from getting backup. Then there was the bank incident going south. Finally Marshall's kidnapping. Suffice it to say, they had accomplished a lot of repairs by the time everything came out and there was still lots to do. Radar still had to give his report.

Which was why he stood outside the the debriefing room waiting for the meeting to be over.

[Ecksdee]

Scene - Sancti Central Bank

Gunshow

This felt like a nightmare. She couldn't believe her ears (and eyes) when Quake willingly agreed to be Rambler's hostage, going with the powered maniac in the blink of an eye. Gunshow wanted to scream in protest and pump the villain full of lead. But she knew that wouldn't be effective -- not to mention serve to cause further causalities. Before he left Quake -- no, Peter -- had made eye contact with her. Just that simple gesture spoke volumes. Trust me, it said. And she had no choice but to do that, watching silently as he was taken away, his comms unit left behind on the ground.

Sparrow immediately launched into an assessment of the situation. Though Gunshow heard her, it was hard to take it all in at the moment. Still gazing off in the direction Quake and Rambler went, she weighed all the possible ways this arrangement could go wrong. Finding Quake's mangled body later was a huge possibility. It made her sick. Getting back to HQ was a must.

[3SecondCultist]

SCENE - ROAD TRIP
Quake

Quake suppressed a shudder at the Rambler's transformation. He had certainly picked an interesting captor. His armor clanked softly as he sat down in the passenger seat of the car, but not before he took a moment to glance at the stack of bills before the Rambler closed the trunk.

"So you risked your life in order to meet the Wards?" He let the question hang in the air, without any judgment or condescension. He didn't want to offend the man in the driver's seat. And yet Quake couldn't help but be fascinated by this strange figure who had so easily beaten back the Wards team. Reaching upwards, he removed his helmet, placing it in his lap. At this range, it wouldn't protect him much.

"I don't suppose you're going to tell me where we're going, then." Peter didn't phrase it as a question this time. He knew that the Rambler wasn't going to tell him that easily.


SCENE - LOCATION UNKNOWN
Lich

They woke her an hour before sunset.

The facility showers only had two settings: frigid and blistering. As the water ran down her skin, Anna looked down at herself, at her visible ribcage and bony thighs. She could barely stand on her own, and found herself leaning on a nearby wall for support before too long. Her body was failing. No matter what she had told her handlers, she knew the truth. Before too long, her power would kill her. She had a limited window of opportunity, and it was closing on her.

Once she had been clothed, she was led to the containment chamber. The curtains were drawn back, revealing the man pacing back and forth in the cell below. Brendan. He was unarmed, and yet not bound by any restraints. He had been cleaned up, even though he once again wore the threadbare count of the Graveyard Gang. She would need him to.

Almost before she knew what was happening, she had closed her eyes. She could feel the anchor that bound him there, in a place beyond both space and time. Cautiously, she moved the borders of herself through the void, until her own moorings overshadowed his. He was hers. Time was hers. Life was hers.

When she opened her eyes again, it was through a different set of eyes. She was Lich, and she could stand on her own.

"Wonderful. Now we can begin."

[Grim ranger]

Scene - Welcome to Sancti
Godhand

How long had he been following this highway leading towards the next city? It must have been days already, but he had stopped counting time a good while ago, seeing little point in it. Every since he had woken up without a past and looking like a monster, the nameless man had seen little point in doing much save for avoiding people who seemingly wanted his head on a spike for whatever reasons. Those people had been surprisingly many thus far too... Although he looked rather monstrous, he had not expected that so many people had come after him, the pursuers only seemingly stopping when he had ran out of the city, and even then he had been forced to hide to avoid pursuit for a while before they had turned back and left him alone.

Of course, grabbing things such as extra clothing and backbag to carry food around in had caused somewhat of a scene... Something that had been made even worse by armored and armed men having immediately shown up with a flying man in rather odd costume as backup. They had been the first to attempt to capture and injure him, having apparently trusted their foam-shooters and apparently superpowered backup to make such an attempt easy.

He wondered what they had thought after he had send good number of them flying with his arm-projections and beaten the flying man to the ground with one of the black vans they had arrived with. Likely nothing that could be repeated in polite company.

After that, he had wandered from place to place for a while, following the roads and generally garnering panicked response from most people around, followed generally by someone either attempting to discretely trail him or attacking him. They had called him Godhand during few times someone actually bothered to speak to him at all, and lacking a better name he had adopted it as his own. Having no memory but still just knowing some things by instinct, such as the fact he was not supposed to look like this and how to speak, was a distressing experience to say the least.

Shaking himself out of his thoughts as he finally found himself passing the roadsign welcoming him to Sancti, the Case 53 took a deep breath as he began passing by the first buildings at the edge of town, slinking to the alleyways to hopefully avoid most of the people until he'd find somewhere to get some fresh food from. It might be prudent for him to just find some and leave again: the previous experiences he had had with cities had not been pleasant.