Out of everyone in the room, none sat more stonily than the one known as Margrave.  Rigidly he reclined against the chair's back, both elbows on the table, with his hands folded together over his mouth.  Compared to the likes of Sonar, or Ink, the newly-arrived girl codenamed 'Tulpa', or anyone, he looked positively ordinary.  Dark clothes and a dark hat casting an obscuring shadow over his sharp features simply did not compare to gaudy costumes or physical mutation.  Instead, he distinguished himself with his bearing—one of utmost seriousness, befitting an ambassador present to a council responding to a nuclear threat, perhaps.  Most importantly, though, this invisible mask of fortitude and dignity hid that, beneath it all, Elliot was totally freaking out.

After all, though he'd known the other Wards for a short time, he'd never met these Protectorate capes until now.  In his head, he was panting like a man dealt a garbage hand in a critical game of poker.  Was this what it was like to be in the presence of real power?  For a villain who walked the path of fear such as he, he could not afford to trifle with the masters of heroes.  He could feel cold sweat running down his side, across his ribs and into the cloth of his pants.[i]Oh boy...oh boy....oh boy...[/i]  Just being here made his nerves go nuts, but fortunately, the intimidation also helped keep his body mostly frozen.  To Elliot's chagrin, he could feel himself shaking slightly with an infrequent but almost violent twitch, mostly in his hands.  [i]Are they noticing?  No way they'll figure me out.  My game face is imperceptible.  I'm not scared at all, guys.[/i]  Most frightening, certainly, was his lack of knowledge.  He knew pretty much nothing about the reputation or powers of these heroes, despite the fame of a few of them.  What was a poor guy to do?  Elliot did the only thing he could: listen.  Kens' shpeal played out about how he expected: be friendly, make Tulpa feel at home, yadda yadda.  Though he allowed no hint of rebellion to betray him, Elliot's inward resolve was firmer than steel.  The Margrave would do no such thing.  A force of true darkness could never be expected to stoop to being buddy-buddy with a mere mortal.

Following the director's explanation and instruction, the conference room's occupants all began to move.  The intriguing projection of the enigmatic inventor vanished, more fleetingly than a dream at break of day.  One by one the capes introduced themselves to the newbie, some very warmly.  All the while the Margrave remained still, watching with a face of wrought iron.  First among the Wards to make a move, all too predictably for an astute observer such as the one and only Margrave, was Collin.  Elliot could remember the first time he heard the boy's real name.  It caused him to tremble in barely-suppressed, disdainful mirth.  No hero could ever be taken seriously with a name like that, as Elliot helpfully informed him.  This, of course, led to backlash when Collin found out Elliot's own name, but all too easily, he had a counter ready.  [i]Elliot?  Who is Elliot?  That no-account boy lives no longer.  Before you stands a being transcended, one exposed to the secrets of the cosmos and baptized in darkness.  I assure you, the elusive Margrave has left humanity, and a paltry human name, far behind.[/i]  How perfect that had been!

Elliot pulled himself back to the present.  He found Dean beginning to introduce himself, as well.  In the course of it, the so-called Martyr erred in mentioning Elliot.  [i]How could you?  I am the only one who can do my true nature justice...[/i]

After him, Tulpa responded.  For the first time, Elliot deigned to examine her.  Possessed of both an extravagant costume and a shapely figure, Tulpa caught eyes easily.  Instantly Elliot marked her as an normal person despite whatever power she might be revealed to have.  Like bees, fishes, and birds, fools dressed themselves up in gaudy colors to trick others into thinking they were special.  Ones possessed of true awareness developed themselves in obscurity until they could back up an awe-inspiring appearance with great ability.  That said, she seemed pleasant enough.  If a gun were stuck to Elliot's head and he were forced to say something positive about the Wards, he'd sheepishly admit -definitely without crapping his pants- that heroes were much easier to coexist with than villains.  He recalled all too readily the half-day he spent with the local villain gang.  The bruises still hurt...

With Tulpa's piece said, Elliot felt it time to make himself known.  Slowly he stood up from the table, turning his head to face her.  He held it at an odd angle before straightening up and beginning to walk.  His approach, with its exaggerated steps, radiated confidence and mystique.  Finally, he raised one arm to lay across his chest.  Upon its wrist he placed his other elbow, and he splayed that hand's fingers over his face.  From between his digits he stared into the eyes of Tulpa's mask, and with a voice as firm and sharp as a razor he spoke, [color=8F9779]“I regret to say that you will wonder evermore!  Do not think less of yourself for it, though.  Few can comprehend the true depth of the tragic hero you see before you.  Who am I, you might ask?  I have many names, but above all else they call me the Margrave, named for the noble and ruthless lord of a bastion on the borders of a great nation.  If you must blink, do it now, for now you, newcomer, are a part of my enthralling story.”[/color]  [i]Wham!  How cool is that?  That's right, I'm a badass![/i]