[center][h3][color=yellow]Bank's Alley[/color][/h3][/center]
Blackout started fidgeting impatiently as he waited for the Wards to show up so he could begin the action. The bayonet danced between his fingers, while he hummed quietly because of the delay. He glanced up and studied Drho carefully, inspecting the boy's mask, and the ornate golden design that caught the eye. After a few seconds of pondering, and awkward staring, he decided he liked it. It was flashy, yet still reserved. It drew attention, but didn't keep it exactly. He was a cape, and the black imagery that made up his costume was the only edgy bit. He leaned forward a bit, and studied his other teammate, Serephina. She seemed pretty comfortable in the attire she was given, and as he glanced her over he noticed that she was pretty clean for a vagrant, though admittedly that didn't mean much. He could see her green eyes quite clearly, and he studied her brown hair before turning back to Drho. He had odd colored eyes, that seemed to be a mix of brown and red. Odd.

The sound of footsteps echoed from the bank vault, and Blackout saw the van book it. What he assumed to be a ward had walked out of the blasted bank vault, or that's what Blackout assumed. The Ward spoke into his earpiece, communicating to someone that a van was leaving. Blackout smiled, gripping his knife tighter, as he awaited the moment when the boy would try to chase the van. Then the world turned blue. Plaint splattered the alleyway around him, barely missing Blackout. Right next to the building was devoid of paint, but Blackout didn't bother to check if Serephina had avoided it. Unfortunately Blackout had only fought Chroma once before, so he had no idea what this color paint did, but he knew it would be best to avoid it.

Chroma gave a short monologue that amounted to a cease and desist. A smile graced Blackout's face as he realized the man didn't know what he was up against, and probably thought Drho was the only villain here. His paint wouldn't become a normal substance upon Blackout nullifying his power, but he would lose immunity to it, and be unable to create more. The best solution would be to tell Drho to attack him before slipping into a viable range to nullify his powers. Hand-to-hand combat was preferable for Blackout, as he didn't use his power for a crutch in the way other parahumans did. He worked on his body, though the simple act of having the power did give him a knack for judging distances. Regardless, Blackout could not communicate with his teammate without giving away their presence, so he had to think of a move and fast. Shooting him would be a start, and might confuse him a bit, but he had seen the Ward use grey paint to block bullets. Regardless, a shot to the stomach should knock the breath out of him. . . Assuming his power didn't [i]completely[/i] break physics, but then again most powers did. In fact all did.

[color=335ef9][i]"Focus,"[/i][/color] Blackout thought, annoyed at himself for getting distracted. The knife returned to its holster, though he kept it unstrapped, and in one motion he drew his gun. He steadied himself internally, and took a step around the corner, leveling himself before putting the cross hairs of his nine millimeter on the Ward's stomach. [color=335ef9][i]"I fucked up,"[/i][/color] He thought as his foot slid forward and out from underneath him, making him fall. Hard. His gun went off, firing wide of its target as Blackout slammed into the ground. His helmet saved him from a concussion, though his gun slipped out of his hands. He had forgotten the paint, and it was very, very slippery.